camp cherry two | hs

eleven

baby

✩︎

HANA

After the movie had finished and we realise the rain had only begun to fall harder, - much harder - we're sent back to our cabins in hopes that it would stop in time for the campfire tonight. Unsurprisingly, Harry is rather wound up with my teasing and desperately wanting to know what my surprise was.

He's been staring at me with narrowed eyes for a while before he practically jumped me, his tongue down my throat and hand in my pants within seconds. Deja sits apparently 'staring at him' like he knows what he's doing, so Harry slowly climbs off of me and lets him out, annoyingly exclaiming 'go away, I'm not getting laid with you looking, that's for my eyes only'. I roll my eyes at how he is possessive over me even with a literal dog.

To be fair, it would've been a bit awkward if he'd stayed because he definitely did get laid. He was an asshole towards the end though, so I'm currently not talking to him.

"Tell me what you're planning and I'll make you come," he groans, thrusting once more as if he couldn't help himself and stilling completely.

"Fuck off, Harry."

"Fine," he raises his eyebrows, but doesn't make any move to pull out, although he's visibly struggling not to move.

"If you don't fuck me and make me come, you don't come either," I gasp as he leans down to kiss and suck the skin on my neck until it bruises.

"I'll just make myself come," he whispers, enthralled by marking my neck and pushing even deeper, though he never indulges in actually fucking me, his brows knitted together in a pleasured frown.

"I'll do the same."

"Won't feel as good as my cock, Cherrybomb, you know it."

"Your hand won't feel as good as me, so, are you going to fuck me or not?" I raise my eyebrows in warning; he gets the message and barely waits a second before he's fucking me again.

"Cherry, don't be mad at me," Harry pouts dramatically, irritatingly trying to hug me all the time.

"Piss off."

"Hana."

"No," I say finally, "asshole."

I'm not really mad, just pressed that he tried to use my vulnerability to find out my surprise, which I'm beginning to reconsider.

"I love you," he smiles childishly, grabbing my hand and pressing a light kiss to the back, his soft lips slightly ticklish against my smooth skin.

"What time is dinner?" I ask, stretching and sending him a playful glance to see that he's pissed I didn't return the sentiment.

"Five, I think we're gonna be out the rest of the day - raining too much to do anything," he answers, scratching his eyebrow as he checks outside to see the rain soaking the glass of the window and turning the dirt into slippery mud. "Shit, lightening," he opens the curtain further so I can see the bolt of light flash through the dull sky.

"Thunder?"

"Not yet," he smiles weakly, and I know he's trying to hide his hatred for thunder; he hates loud noises, such as fireworks and thunder, so I often ended up cuddling him with my hands over his ears - that was pretty much all we did on New Years and Fourth of July.