FINE LINE | HARRY STYLES

FORTY-ONE.

NOVEMBER, 2019.

When I wake up, I feel the heavy weight that is Harry's body on mine. It takes me a few moments for last night's events to resurface and they hit me like a tidal wave.

After the bathroom incident, Harry and I discreetly slipped back into the party scene before eventually deciding to leave. We were both still on that high we get from each other and realized there was better things to do.

Each other.

The second we got back to my place, Harry became an animal. Sincerely, I don't think I've seen him like this in a while. Not since tour when he came off stage running to me. And before that was back when he had long hair and was a completely different person.

There was something in his eyes that I couldn't quite put my finger on, but I loved it. It turned me on more than I could ever imagine and he knew that.

We started on the couch. Ended up on the floor. Which escalated to the kitchen counter and against the fridge. Then the floor again where whipped cream had gotten involved. When we reached my bedroom, we were both exhausted. But for some damn reason we couldn't seem to control ourselves.

The last time was on my bed. It was so rough and a lot of flexibility was involved. My final orgasm of the night brought me to tears. Like, actual tears. I was crying so hard that Harry became concerned for a second and almost stopped but didn't when I begged him not to.

Harry eventually got to his point and came so hard that he had to pull out and spill all over my legs and stomach so he could collapse on top of me and we just fell asleep like that.

And waking up brought everything back to me like I had been run over by a bus. When I say sore, I mean fucking sore. Too sore, I think.

My body is sticky and it's not just from the whipped cream. His warm skin sends waves of heat against my own bare chest and I breathe in, taking a moment to admire him. He's lying with his head cushioned by my breasts of course, arms lazily resting beside me as his legs tangle up with mine.

I scan my eyes over his back and shoulders where the bite marks and scratches have begun to appear. I definitely did a number on him. But it's not like he didn't do the same. I could already feel the bruises on my hipbones and I know there's probably hickeys everywhere.

In an attempt to stretch, I let out a small yelp as I wince at the pain. This wakes Harry, stirring him into consciousness. He moves against me, lifting his head slowly to look at me.

A smile finds his face as stares at me. I stare right back, admiring him. His eyes are still in a sleepy daze and the goofy grin on his face shows pure exhaustion. Nonetheless, he giggles as he begins to roll off me.

"Gentle." I hiss, feeling my bones ache as he moves.

He's looking at me with eyes full of concern now, lifting his hands. That's when he begins to take a moment to observe what he's done.

"Oh, fuck. I can't believe I just let you fall asleep like that." He groans, cursing himself.

"Don't get all worked up now. I'm a big girl, I'll be fine."

"Yeah but...Jesus." Harry scoffs as his fingers ghost over the dried white on my legs and stomach.

"It's all over you too." I smirk, poking his stomach.

"And I bet your body is on fire. Fuck, sunlight I'm so sorry."

"Did you really just apologize for fucking me into oblivion? Because you're wrong for that."