camp cherry two | hs

twenty eight

look at this baby

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i'm here to officially announce that you should STREAM WALLS OR YOU'RE A TURNIP tbh

stan louis tomlinson besties

no louis slander on this book or ever ‼️

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HANA

"What do you want, baby?" he teases, and I'm getting closer to punching him, but at the same time, I find myself not even wanting to defy him at all.

"You, I want you."

"What about me? My fingers? My tongue?" he pushes, linking his fingers with mine and pulling me straight, my chest flat against his. He spins us easily, sitting back and immediately slipping his hands up my shirt until he can kiss along my lower stomach, his eyes burning into mine.

Fuck off, Harry. "Your dick, Harry, please," I half-snap, half-moan as he lightly drags two of his fingers through my folds - not to give me any pleasure, obviously, just to see exactly how much he's affecting me, which is a lot, of course.

"Where? Your mouth? You have to be specific, Cherry," he remarks, sliding his tongue through the arousal on his fingers and very clearly enjoying it. "Take your shirt off," he orders, standing up from the bed and making his way to the desk where the bottle of fancy alcohol he'd bought from the bar when no one was looking; though we're legal here, I'm sure someone would've objected for some reason.

He pours us both a drink, keeping one for himself and gently passing the other to me, gesturing for me to drink it.

"You know you don't have to get me drunk for this," I raise my eyebrows as he tips his head back and swallows the drink in one.

"I'm aware. Drink it."

Fine, don't have to be so rude about it.

I manage not to roll my eyes at him and do exactly as he said, pouring the drink down my throat and trying not to embarrass myself by grimacing at the taste whilst Harry doesn't seem to even flinch - enjoying it, in fact.

"Can I have more?" I request, glancing to the bottle eagerly.

"You want more, baby?" he asks, his tone almost mocking as he takes the bottle again, still almost full, and unscrews the cap, flicking it across the room carelessly and very decisively filling up his own glass, but not mine. "More?"

I nod, his hand plucking the glass from my own and placing it with the bottle back on the desk, taking a small sip of his drink and appearing to contemplate his options, "please?"

"Open your mouth," he orders confidently, slipping the tip of his thumb past my lips as I follow instantly and pushing it against my tongue, challenging my gag reflex, which I'm thankful seems to hold off decently well. "Can I?" he asks, and I nod although I'm not entirely sure what he's asking. He pushes harder on my tongue, taking another sip of his drink and swallowing a little, glancing down before parting his lips and allowing a string of spit to fall into my mouth, landing on my tongue and tasting heavily of the alcohol he's drinking. "Don't swallow," he raises his eyebrows as my tongue reflexively fights against his thumb, the glass still held firmly in his other hand as he takes another gulp. "Be a good girl and swallow, baby," he finally loosens his grip on my chin, stepping back and watching as I swallow slowly, tasting the strong alcohol and mint from his gum.

I'm aware he's spat in my mouth several times over the past year, but this time is certainly so much hotter.

"Please, fuck me," I exhale desperately, feeling a little pathetic that I would do anything to feel him inside of me in the next minute.