Labels || H.S. [#Wattys2020]

E I G H T Y - E I G H T

Pressed against the coolness of his mattress, Reagan felt as if her heart were in her throat. There were a million and one thoughts running through her head as he laid above her. His wavy and untamed hair was in his face, his chest bare and his eyes brighter than she had ever seen them. And just as she studied him, he purposefully glanced at her.

The laughter had come and gone as they had rushed up the carpeted steps. When he led her into his room and he immediately pressed her onto his bed, and when she had kissed him and made fireworks light up, he had to ask, "Is this your first time?"

And hesitantly, almost as if a bit of the fire had dimmed, she nodded.

The nervous energy that had made Harry push Reagan onto his bed had dissipated. Now a certain type of calm washed over them, one that only came with the sureness of what they were about to do.

It was like this only for a moment, the stillness between them almost electric, full of wants and needs and words that just didn't need to be spoken. There was just silence as they looked at each other, almost too aware of what was to come. He didn't care if he was her first, and she had to have known she'd be his last. It was unspoken, unwritten, but it was. It simply was.

Reagan had never imagined it would be this way. She didn't believe she would be in bummy clothes and her too thick rimmed glasses. That her hair wouldn't be freshly washed and that her underwear would not be anything but lacey and delicate. But there she was, her breathing becoming heavier as Harry began tracing the hot skin underneath her thin t-shirt.

All this time worrying about how she looked, what she wore, all the frustrations and self-loathing, it all seemed to begin to wash away. It was not Harry's touch that did it, but rather the knowledge that she was going to let go. That she was going to go forth into the unknown, worrying now only about her happiness.

But Harry's scorching skin upon hers, his inhales and breathy exhales radiating heat upon her already too warm skin, it anchored her in this moment. It made her conscious of her decision to break down her walls and forget her dispositions. It made her fully aware of the person who was right before her, the one who she firmly believed would be the one who would always be by her side.

And it was not some teenage wish, nor was it a desperate plea, rather it was simply an acknowledgement of a fact. She and Harry were inexplicably linked forevermore. It was not a choice, it was fate. They were meant to find each other, they were meant to show each other how to break free of their reservations. And even if this was the only night they had, or if they were to have a thousand more, she would never regret having met him.

Of course though, she didn't articulate a word of this to him, instead he simply peered at her with those knowing eyes of his. They were full of wonder and light interwoven with wisps of desire and bursts of passion. An intoxicating blend that made her dizzy.

He didn't dare look away though, not as he began tracing his hands up and down skin he had yet to touch. Not as he slipped her shirt over her head, or his hands over the curves of her waist. Not even as he pulled her pants down around her ankles and threw them onto the wooden floor.

Harry wanted to look at her for as long as possible. But as his hands slipped over her brightly colored florals, he breathed in trying to restrain himself. He had to draw her against his aching hardness and then all he could think was "Oh my god."

He didn't say it. Didn't want her to feel uncomfortable as he began to explore the beautiful uncharted territory he had yet to feel under his callused hand. He couldn't contain himself. As much as it was about having her physically, it was about having her period. She was his. He was hers. It was damn well time.

He slid his hand over one curved hip, over the smooth skin, slipped the floral material down over it. His fingers slid between her thighs. She jumped, twitched. Sliding his hand over to the other hip, he drew the the remaining material away as she lifted her hips to let him. There was nothing between them now but his own clothing. And he made it achingly clear as he pressed his body to Reagan's, letting each curve match up with the other.

She moaned lightly, her achingly needy voice almost bouncing off the walls. Harry nearly lost it right there, upon hearing her so incredibly vulnerable, so full of need.

All Reagan could feel was his touch, all she knew was the heat that moved through her, the need. She was speechless, nearly mindless. And as he leaned over her to reach into his dresser, she couldn't think of anything but the need to have him. She loved him. Everything else faded away, it was only the two of them.

"Are you sure?" He muttered between heavy breaths and flushed cheeks. He didn't want to stop, he knew what she felt. He could feel her want, her blatant desire.

"I love you." She answered, giving him the only affirmation he would ever need.

"I love you too." He responded, losing himself in the meaning of her words and feel of her skin.

Both of them too consumed with the overwhelming feelings of love and lust, both simultaneously and interchangeable. First love at its finest.

—✴—

Perhaps for the first time Reagan was grateful for the fact that her parents once again had left for a few days. How she would explain her absence from the house for the entire night, she didn't know. But then, it didn't matter. She didn't have to.

"God." Harry breathed into her hair, his arms tightly and protectively hold her to his chest.

"What?"

"You are so bloody sexy. How is it possible?"

Reagan flushed, "Shut up."

"Don't get shy on me now." He said, teasing her, "You're quite possibly an angel without wings. But then, were your wings taken away because of how fit you are? Too beautiful for your own good?"

"I'm going to get up and leave if you don't stop."

"Oh no!" He said fakely, "Please, don't get up and walk around my bedroom naked. The horror." He chuckled and added for good measure, "But if you must, I won't stop you" and unwrapped his arms from her body, as if propelling her off the bed.

She looked up at him judgingly.

"Come of it now, I can't help it if you drive me mad."

She rolled her eyes but made herself comfortable in his arms once more.

"You know." He said, his voice becoming serious, "The difficult part is only about to begin. What's happened, that's only the beginning."

"Yeah." She nodded, her chin brushing against the butterfly tattoo on his abdomen, "But we have each other now. Isn't that the important thing?"

"Remember that tomorrow when Lydia attempts to kill me."

"At least we had tonight." She said, matter of factly, turning her back to him and stretching out upon the bed.

He smiled widely, turning as well and enjoying the fact that perhaps this was only the beginning. That for many more nights they would fall asleep to the sounds of each other's voices. That finally, fucking finally, they had made it.

Now to weather the storm that may come together.