‘Strange love, grown bold’

Harry’s POV

Laila grabbed the CD from the case and put it into my hi-fi. For one moment she leant on the shelf of the library, her forehead resting on her arm. She breathed in loudly and the only thing I could do was to wonder what she’d be thinking. She pressed the skip button four times and then I recognised the first chords of the song.

“It’s been ages since I don’t listen to My Bloody Valentine. I had almost forgotten about them…” She said turning towards me. She closed her eyes and began to slowly move her shoulders from side to side as she shimmied her head to the sound. As the first verse started she softly sang along.

When I look at you,
Oh, I don't know what's real,
Once in a while,
And you make me laugh.

She opened her eyes as she was stepping out from a dream and lowly giggled, placing a hand over her lovely smile. A single second, a simple gesture and my heart was pounding furiously. Everything about her was so captivating. I could barely even think.

“I don’t care about music–––I slowly muttered; I don’t care about literature. I only want my bed to smell like you…” She glanced at me amused, her thumb between her teeth. I held out my hand for her to take it. “Laila, lay down by my side. We don’t need to do anything. I just want your scent right here so I can recall you when you’re gone.”

“Do I keep the dress?” She asked reaching my hand. I smiled.

“Keep it just for now. And then I’ll ‘unkeep' it from you if you want to…” I joked, pulling her towards me and holding her tightly between my legs.

“I see you neologise as your father’s Shakespeare,” she said cupping my jaw around her hands, her lips right beside mine, inhaling deeply inside my mouth.

“That’s probably the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me…” I muttered and met her moist, fragrant lips fervently. I brushed the edge of her upper teeth with the tip of my tongue and she shuddered, holding me near by the neck. I ran my hands across her back, caressing her tongue once and again, her plump lips rubbing against mine, our noses grazing as the kiss became more passionate.

I pulled from her until she stumbled and fell over me on the bed without breaking our kiss. I reached the hem of her dress and started to run my hand underneath it. We swapped positions and there I was laying on top of her. She took her flat shoes off and rested her right toe on my waist. My fingertips continued to trace the incredibly smooth skin of her bare thighs, until finally we both moved our bodies so we could reach the headboard of the bed. She gasped as I lightly brushed my fingers on the thin fabric of her knickers. She pressed herself against me, rounding my waist with her leg. We began to move together, slightly grinding each other’s body, and quickly found a pace that made us twitch in pleasure.

I knew Gemma wasn’t home and it tranquillised me, because we couldn’t keep it quiet. To hold Laila’s trembling body into my arms, whilst her ample breast rubbed against my chest, drove me insane, and I was breathing sharply and loudly beyond any sort of control. I felt desperate for her and we were still fully clothed.

Laila threw her head backwards gasping, allowing me to kiss her neck all the way from her collar bone to that soft spot under her earlobe, my hands roaming under her dress. I began to unzip it at her side as she took my shirt off and started to tug at my t-shirt. I finally untied her zip and pulled the dress on over her waist first, and then over her shoulders, trying not to lose contact with her skin. As I totally removed the dress she tossed her hair seductively. Glancing at her was almost painful, resting so close to me in her delicate mesh underwear, her soft waves falling over her shoulders. I tackled my belt buckle as I leant down to kiss her over again. I crashed my mouth on her lips and she moaned. I pushed my tongue between them to capture hers. I suckled her tongue intently while she pressed her hand on my chest, tracing my few tattoos with her fingertips. Her hands made their way down to my waist and she started to remove my jeans, finally dragging them down my legs with the help of her feet.

I wanted her that way so badly, ever since that game at Zayn’s or even before, ever since I laid eyes on her. I tried to play my charms on her when I met her but I knew I was falling the moment she purred those six letter together: ‘Proust.’ It was as if I could see her tongue rattling against her slightly protruded upper incisors. And there we were, barely dressed, feeling our bodies together, hands running hungrily on one another.

“Tell me something I couldn’t understand…” She mumbled on my ear, surprising me, although I knew what she wanted.

“Ich denke dein, wenn mir der Sonne Schimmer vom Meere strahlt,” I murmured after a brief pause.

“Ah,” she gasped intensely, arching her back and digging her fingers on mine. She loves words, she loves sounds; everything was connecting in her mind.

“Ich höre dich, wenn dort mit dumpfem Rauschen die Welle steigt,” I quickly insisted, speaking to her chin and lightly caressing it with my teeth.

“More…” She stuttered, pushing her hands through my hair.

“Ich bin bei dir, du seist auch noch so ferne. Du bist mir nah,” I said, mimicking her movements, pulling her head towards mine until our forehead met. I stared into her abyssal eyes.

Laila slowly took one hand from my hair and reached out for my forearm. She brushed her fingers down to grip my wrist, approaching my hand to her parted lips. Glancing at me she slid my index into her mouth, and then my middle finger and sucked on them. Something tingled along my spine. She pushed my hand and directed it towards her lower belly. I loudly groaned as she slipped my fingers underneath the edge of her knickers. I could feel the goosebumps forming beneath my touch. The contact of her moistness overtook my senses. My mind went blank for a second and when I came back I was rubbing my fingers between her lips, swirling around her clitoris and working on them back and forth alternatively. I threw my head forward bowing her forehead and breathing sharply into her mouth as she moaned jaggedly, my eyes fixated on hers.

Her body shivered as I continued to work my fingers on her, applying different amounts of pressure and changing the pace of my movements. Her limbs twitched against my body. She was almost suspended from me, moving around my hand whilst I held her by the hips. Her eyelids closed half shut and began to flutter. Her body started to quiver and convulse, surged through by an intense pleasure. She frowned her eyebrows and nose, and threw an arm back instinctively, reaching out for the headboard, gasping erratically, her legs tightening at my sides. She opened her eyes almost in despair. I had her in my hand, all her sensations and all her emotions concentrated on the tips of my fingers and I couldn’t let it go. I could have stopped there, removed my boxers and penetrated her, but to have her like that was beyond sensorial; my mind was dazed and all I wanted was for her to orgasm on my fingertips so I could feel her in all her intensity.

“Let me take you there,” I mumbled in her mouth, nibbling her lower lip and her chin.

Laila gasped. She titled her head back and closed her eyes as I sensed a potent surge overcame me from her centre. Her arched back lifted off from the bed pushing me slightly aside. Her legs bent and one of her hands tightly clutched the sheets at her side, while the other reached above her head out of control. Her entire body twitched and shook consecutively as she was swept by a powerful orgasm. I felt a commotion on my chest as she groaned and trembled between my arms. She finally collapsed on the bed and I held her, resting my head underneath her ribcage, trying to feel her still.

A minute later she hadn’t recomposed herself yet, breathing difficultly, legs lightly convulsing, a hand on her forehead, shaking it ‘no.’ Music had stopped a long ago and I was embracing her in a profound silence. I was bewildered by the response of her body to my intimate contact. I couldn’t recall ever sharing a more overwhelming orgasm with anybody than that one with Laila. For a second she almost seemed to soar…

“I need a cold shower,” I mumbled when I finally realised I’d partly released myself into my boxers. I didn’t want her to notice, or she’d think I was a beginner.

“But…” She said as I jumped off from the bed.

“I’ll be right back,” I told her, stumbling towards the door and feeling as an absolute fool. The things she does to me.

–.–.–

Laila’s POV

After Harry left I rolled my body over and covered me up with the duvet, plunging my face on his pillow. It smelled just like his hair and his cheeks. I profoundly inhaled his scent, brushing my hands around his sheets. I desperately needed to continue to feel him. The bed was warm and I was still burning. It all had been so intense. My mind was lively with memories. His potent fingers. The heat. That orgasm. It was as nothing I knew before… My legs continued to tingle, even though my body was submerged into a deep quietude.

A moment later Harry’s head appeared behind the door as he returned from his shower. I could see he had some boxers on. I quietly observed him as he moved through the bedroom: His strong arms, his long, muscled torso, his stunning back. He was fit but maintained that slender, Apollonian quality. He went directly to lay by my side. His body was still fresh and humid when he nestled around me, as well as his hair. I grazed his warm, hairless chest, tracing the lines of his muscles with the palm of my hand to feel him better. After some moments listening to his breathing, I finally gathered the courage to speak.

“Harry, I… Don’t you wanted to…” I hesitated, not sure of what I was trying to say.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” he sighed, kissing my forehead.

“But didn’t you…?” I tried to insist.

“We don’t need to rush in,” he quickly interrupted me.

“I thought ‘rush in’ was our motto…” I joked. He laughed, holding me tighter.

“Well, not tonight,” he said, softly grinning and caressing my cheek. I took a deep look at him.

“Harry, that was…” I muttered impulsively. I needed for him to know what he’d made me feel. His eyes sparkled and I felt my soul suddenly warm up.

“That was perfect–––he slowly said. And do you know why?”

“I don’t. Enlighten me,” I said in a wilful tone.

“Because you belong into my arms…” He whispered and lightly gripped my face. I nodded in acceptance. “You do.” He asserted and I nodded again. He leant to kiss me with a smile on his boyish mouth. “Do you want to sleep for a while before you have to leave?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep–––I admitted. My body is constantly washed by some sort of electricity…” I explained, trying not to blush, but I felt my cheeks burn. Harry smirked.

“And do you know why is that?” He asked cheekily.

“Yeah, I know exactly why it is…”

“Me, meddling with your nervous system,” he said pointing at us, amused by my embarrassment.

“I said I already knew,” I claimed in exasperation, cupping his jaw around my hand and crashing my lips on his. He ran his hand along the skin of my side, making my hairs stand on end. How could he have that effect on me?

“But I just love the idea so much…” He murmured on my mouth as he leant back. I raised my finger to him. He chuckled. “So, we speak.”

“We speak,” I repeated.

“Favourite novel.”

“I thought you didn’t care about literature anymore…” I joked.

“I’m back in my senses.”

“‘Anna Karenina’–––I said. And yours?”

“‘Doctor Zhivago,’” he stated. Both Russian. So appropriate.

“It suits you…” I muttered startled.

“And why is that?” He said, eyes half-shut in curiosity by my statement.

“I don’t know…” I mumbled with second thought. Telling him something like that was probably too bold and personal. But it made incredible sense. “It’s almost as if Yuri and you shared that same vitality, that inner force, so connected to the universe,” I carried on, but I knew I sounded far too emotional.

“Yuri?–––he snapped. Do you love Zhivago too? Swann will get jealous,” he mocked me, allowing me to recompose myself a bit.

“I do, actually–––I laughed. Well, who doesn’t.”

“But I’m not capable of finding anything of Anna Karenina in you.”

“I don’t relate to her at all–––I blurted. I identify myself with Levin.”

“Hmm; I can see Konstantin Dmitrievich in you–––he meditated; so earthly, so profound, yet with a mysticism and an elevated soul that come precisely from this particular contact with the ground.”

“Is that what you think of me?” I asked, absolutely bedazzled by his words.

“You are nothing like water,” he muttered, slipping amongst my legs and getting on top of me. I held his neck as he glanced into my eyes. “You are rock, and fire and air–––he said between smooth kisses. But you are not water. You don’t flow…” He carried on with conviction.

“You are water,” I mumbled, lost in the green of his eyes.

“And I flow through you,” he retorted with a lop-sided smile as he leant in to kiss me again.

“But you extinguish and erode me,” I said against his mouth, as our kiss became hungrier, his hands running all through my bare skin, every inch of his body pressed on mine.

“But I also rest with you and always come back to you,” he replied, staring at me with a look on his face I felt as a stab on my heart. I exhaled a dull gasp. “Do you like that?” He placed his forehead on mine and I nodded. “I’ll always come back to you…” He softly whispered in my ear, bringing the chills all over again.

–.–.–

Notes

Hi, everyone! I'm sorry it took me so long to update. I really hope you enjoy this chapter. It was very special to write.

The poem Harry recites to Laila is 'The Nearness of the Beloved,' from German writer Wolfgang Von Goethe.

Check out my new Fan Fiction:

Dreaming Of You

Thank you so much for reading and to everyone who's voting and subscribing!

Tschüss <3