Are you fucking kidding me?" I felt my eyes widen, my mouth go dry as I stared into Oliver's green eyes. They looked exactly like Harry's.
Oh for fuck's sake.
My mind was racing after my outburst- my body was on edge as I expected him to shout, to scream, to hit me. I flinched slightly at my own thoughts of what he could do to me.
"Why do you flinch so easily love?" His voice was low, barely audible even though we were close in proximity. I watched as he lifted his hand, his fingers grasping at a loose stand of my hair. He rolled the hair between his fingers softly, musing to himself, before tucking it behind my ear. "I am not Harry."
My breathing slowed, my lips parting as I watched him move. I couldn't trust him- I couldn't trust his word at all. "I would never hurt you Hannah. You need to trust again, sometime soon you will need to move on from what Harry did to you."
I felt my head start to nod, but my eyes were focused on nothing but his soft lips, his soft lips that moved slowly towards mine. My heart was beating in anticipation, anticipation that felt like the second stage to ecstasy. Finally, they touched against mine, soft lips against soft skin. He moved to me, encapturing his body over mine, fighting me for dominance. My fingers shakily clawed at his dress shirt, buttons popping as I did so.
Am I out of my mind? I asked myself.
Yes.
But it felt amazing, oh god to just let go.
Wait, what the fuck am I doing?
His lips moved from mine to slowly trail down my neck, his smile brushing against my bared skin, the kisses leaving a trail down my flushing skin.
"Hello Harold." He said suddenly, his lips moving against the sweet spot of my collarbone. I moaned quietly, much to his delight, and to my shame.
"Oliver." Replied that equally husky voice I would recognize anywhere.
Oliver didn't stop the kisses, a wide grin appearing on his face as he did so. "To what do I owe the pleasure little brother?"
Harry huffed loudly, his green hard eyes never leaving mine, flickering back and forth as Oliver embraced me. "You are two FUCKING minutes older Oliver."
"I know." Oliver laughed; a throaty refined sound that echoed through the room.
I squirmed now at his touch, no longer lustful under Harry's piercing gaze.
"Would you mind taking your hands off of my fiancée." Harry slowly made his way past us and towards the bar at the back.
I stiffened. Fiancée?
Oliver sat up, off of me, an amused glint in his eye as he took my hand. The atmosphere was something I couldn't quite name- it seemed as though Harry was a crazy child and Oliver was merely scolding him.
It put a weird, uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. The only person that got to accuse Harry of being crazy was me.
"Congratulations dear brother." He said patronizingly, shooting me a wink.
Harry came back with the chair from the stage in one hand, a drink in the other.
"Where did that blonde girl go?" I found myself asking- I couldn't really care less I just had to do something, anything to get my mind off what the hell was happening.
Oliver shrugged besides me, staring at Harry amusedly. "Why don't you ask Harold Hannah?"
My gaze shifted to Harry- he shifted almost uncomfortably, before glaring at Oliver, before turning behind him..
