Tom Holland Imagines

Common Courtesy - 3 [Harrison Osterfield]

"Thanks, Haz."

But...

The disappointment led to longing.

I think I want a little more...

Harrison broke away from the "kisses" with you and always looked away quickly. You couldn't read his expression, but you knew your face was burning hot. Blame it on the alcohol, you would chide to yourself, but that didn't account for the rumbling in your heart or the way your eyes lingered on his rosy lips.

Fuck.

The boys around the circle kept a close eye over you two, and still choose you for all the "punishments." Tom is drowning in the alcohol from being you "mate" in the game, and you listen to the cheers of the group as Harrison places his thumb on your lips and "kisses you" again and again and again

Hmm.

You breakaway from him and catch sight of his clear blues, the sides of his brows softened and it looked like he was saying something with a simple stare–

"Okay, okay,  okaayyyyy," Tom slurs, his voice way too fucking loud as he points at you, "You guys have to kiss for REAL!" he waves his hand when you open your mouth and shouts,
"No more stage kisses!"

Harrison laughs, a warm hand patting your shoulder than makes you shiver. He was determined to keep the rouse up, to protect you. His eyebrows hardened as he tries to convey that to Tom, chuckling,

"Fucking dumbass, if we do it, then you gotta drink again–"

"I have all night, baby," Tom laughs, shrugging back, swirling a half-drunk bottle of beer. His hair was a wild mess, but the smile on his lips was unwavering.

"Well, Y/N and I have been–"

And you don't know what he was going to say, because suddenly you have his face in your hands. His cheeks are smooth, and your thumb pulls against his lips as it's his turn to mouth something to you in confusion. His hands come to tough the sides of your elbows, a weak protest.

But it's not like he was stopping you.

This may have been 60 percent of the alcohol speaking on behalf of your lust, but the other 40 percent still wanted him prettybad.

Fuck it.

You cut the gap between you, kissing him roughly, bringing your face down to his. You tilted your head and sucked on his bottom lip, daring to let a moan escape. Your tongue flicked over his for a second, finally tasting heaven in his mouth and you felt yourself tremble. A warm rush trailed up your body, and you were sure he could feel it from your lips.

The way that you were leaned over him on all fours meant that you were probably flashing Jacob with your whole ass, but you didn't care.

You had Harrison Osterfield lips in yours.

And it was crazy amazing.

A pang of realization hits you, but not enough to make you feel remorseful.  You pull away with a soft tug to his lips, watching his icy eyes flutter open. He scoffs a little and his whole face has gone red, redder when you wipe the spit off his lips and sit back.

A silence hangs in the air, as Harrison's eyes dart over you, beyond stunned. You blink slowly and lick your bottom lip.

In the background, Tom finishes off his drink with wide eyes and a smug laugh,

"Well... holy fuckin' shit."

-

Somehow ya'll move past this "moment" and the next round ends with Jacob popping open the tab. Everyone erupts into sharp cries, and you're all standing around him, giving him hard smacks on the back as he chugs down the beer.