camp cherry | hs

thirty three

the fact he has the audacity to look like this ... jail

what's your favourite tattoo of harry's

✩︎

HANA

I barely have the chance to process Harry's words before he slams into me, the movement easy from my previous orgasm and the cool slickness from my arousal, obscene sounds leaving both of our lips. "Fuck, yes, Harry, fuck, fuck, fuck," I pant, momentarily forgetting how to breathe as he gathers my hair once again and pulls it harshly, my upper body straightening until my back is against Harry's bare, sweaty chest. His hand travels upwards, trailing along my chest and to my neck. Applying the correct amount of pressure and restricting my blood flow slightly, I suppress a whine, "harder."

"Getting fucked how you want now, huh?" he sounds so cocky and I'm trying so hard not to react but my eyes are rolling back in my head from the pleasure.

His hand slips up further, his thumb snaking into my mouth and hooking against my cheek, restricting my ability to talk coherently, "mm."

"I bet you don't even know how rough you like it, I'm gonna show you. I'm gonna fuck you every day because I'm yours now, Cherry. I'll fuck you however you want, whenever you want, just ask," he seems unable to stop talking, groaning out the first words he thinks of, but they're all perfect, though crude. His hand squeezes more with each syllable until I really can't breathe, from his choking and the relentless pace of hips rutting into me, the sound of his skin hitting mine only turning me on more.

I know I probably can't last much longer, and neither can Harry, judging by the jerky, uncontrollable snaps of his hips, his cock filling me flawlessly and his tip slamming into the heavenly spot inside of me with each smooth thrust until I'm practically crying. Sliding his hand from my throat, Harry forces me back down so my forehead rests tiredly on the table.

Tightly, his hand grips my shoulder for some sense of stability, my mouth wide open in silent moans. "So fucking good," he grits out, the hand on my hip leaving to slap a harsh mark onto my ass, again and again in the same spot as he had done on my thigh. By the time the painful tension in my stomach snaps unexpectedly, the area of reddened skin feels sore.

Harry pulls out as he promised and gently guides my limp body from the desk and to my knees. He wraps his fingers around his cock and slowly slips his hand upwards, tightening his grip the further upwards he travels. Without warning, he comes, incidentally catching my chin as he purposely finishes on my chest, just like he'd expressed his desire to do so the day of the zip line.

"Fucking shit, fuck, God," he groans dramatically, following me and dipping to his knees. Briefly securing his lips around my nipple and gladly licking the taste of himself from my chest, I whimper sensitively and squirm away with little conviction.

He still grabs a tissue and wipes the skin down, my back now resting against the wall as wincing and shifting to sit on the side which he hadn't turned a shade of shocking red in the very distinctive shape of a handprint.

"Am I alive?" I mumble, Harry slumping beside me with a tired chuckle, pulling me into him and resting my head on his shoulder. Reaching for the key with a stretch and removing the handcuffs which had created light red marks around my wrists, I melt into his comforting warmth.

"Don't think so, I know I'm dead," our skin is shiny with perspiration, our bodies laying lazily for a while before Harry picks me up, arm under my neck and the other under the bend of my knees. Eventually, he settles me onto the bathroom counter and allows me to lean against him, my ear pressed flat to his shoulder, looking at his toned chest as he wets and wrings out a towel, dabbing it across my forehead to cool me down and try to bring some life back into my sleepy brain. "Come on, Cherry," he lifts me with one arm, which is impressive even in my confused state, ripping back the covers of our bed with the other hand and placing me there, continuing to cool me down with the cloth, replacing the water every so often to keep it cold, until I thankfully start to revive. "Hey, lost you for a while," he teases softly, using the towel to wipe down my chest once more and then between my legs, making sure I'm comfortable and chuckling when he returns from the bathroom and I'm curled up, completely prepared to fall asleep for at least a week to recover from that entire experience.