Verboten

20.

You and Harry lay interlaced together in bed, your legs knotted and your fingers playing intimately. He traces the bones and knuckles on the back of your hand and tickles the skin of your forearms, pulling goosebumps to the surface of your skin before his fingers ascend to your neck and into your hair, tilting your face towards him to slot your lips together.

The pads of your fingers circle and trace the tattoos on his chest, pinching his nipples and scratching gently down to the soft band of hair below his belly button. You weave your digits with his, kissing each one of his rings and stroking your hands through his hair. Your fingernail outlines his lips and he closes his eyes to hum, the sensation of your light tickle making him shiver.

His cock rests semi-firm between your bodies, hissing each time it accidentally gets grazed and whenever you reach down to tease him. He mutters against your mouth that it'll be worth the wait and you don't quite understand, but every instance that he thinks about his impending release his nostrils flare as his breathing picks up exponentially.

The trapped sexual potency intoxicating his blood is making for an unbarred and admissible atmosphere; his gaze intense and his teeth bared like the transformation of a werewolf when the clouds clear to reveal a full moon against the black night. He pushes you onto your back and fucks you again, pulling out at the last minute and crying into the base of your throat, his body quaking as he calms his pounding heart and talks himself down from the edge of the cliff.

He snakes down your body and strokes himself slowly in his palm as he gives you his tongue once more, allowing you to release in his mouth and moaning at the imagination of what it will feel like when he finally gives in to his pleasure.

He flips you on top of him, your legs straddling his hips and your centers aligned and electric as he pulls you down for a kiss. He holds you close as he ruts his hips up, his insanely sensitive and painfully firm length putting pressure against your entrance. He pants and whimpers, almost caving for a moment but clearing the haze from his mind and convincing himself to wait. He tugs on your hair and taps his tip against your swell over and over, "I'd like to have you this way. Do you enjoy being on top?"

You nod and he uses his thumb to fix himself with your heat, lifting you by the hips to sink you down his thickness. His stomach muscles tense with the feeling of you around him, his eyes roll back and close, his head collapses into the pillow as he holds you still and focuses on his breathing. You're too afraid to move - you can feel him throbbing inside of you, his cock harder than you've ever felt before, "Harry... you're torturing yourself. If you're not careful, you'll-"

He cries out and digs his fingernails into your skin, pulling you off of him and depositing you onto the bed beside him as his hands fly up to squeeze his balls and the head of his cock, "oh my god, Dove. Too close. That almost ended me. You feel too good. I've got to stop."

You lay on your side and hush him, brushing his hair from his temple and cheekbones before leaving a kiss on his scruffy jaw. "I feel quite bad for you actually." He glares at you playfully from the corner of his eye and you giggle as you dip your fingertip into the divot between his clavicles.

He eventually calms himself down enough to the point of being able to hold you without wailing about how susceptible he feels. Your hands have restored their original cherished and affectionate exploration, but this time your loving caresses are met with heart-splintering spoken truths from Harry. His never-ending erection is acting like a catalyst for honesty, as if his blood has been replaced by candid maple syrup and his cock is working to pump it through his body rather than his heart.

The tip of his nose wiggles against yours as he speaks, his pace slow and deliberate, his volume sedated, his tone sensual, "when you're free and my work is done, I'll bring you back home to England with me and I'll plant a garden for you in our backyard with a hundred different kinds of roses. You can wear any dress you want, read any book. I will find you a creek close by in which you can escape and swim and bathe. I will fuck you until you fall asleep and again the moment you awaken. I'll make you eggs and tea for breakfast. I'll treat you like a queen if you let me."