His breathing was uneven, showing his worn-out and fatigued figure after a day of nothing but sex, causing his chest to heave continuously as he tried to catch an even pace, his skin covered in a thin sheet of sweat that began to glisten above you from the lamp-lit bedroom. A bedroom you’d both been succumbed to staying inside of, giving in to the wordless pleads of the bed calling your name, tucking beneath the duvet with nothing but underwear upon your bodies – underwear that had been slipped on the previous night after a relaxing bath together, bathing in candlelight and drinking anything that you had in the cabinet in the living room; vodka bottles that needed to be emptied, tequila that needed to be finished off and champagnes that were half opened with the cork pushed back into the neck.
Turning to wine for the final portion of the evening, where you’d fallen into a heap of giggling messes upon the bed, with red teeth and sweet-tasting lips being sported upon your faces. Bodies close and intimate, skin on skin contact and a variety of open-mouthed and pursed lipped kisses being applied to body parts, starting at the shoulders and somehow finishing at the ankles of one another. Professing love and admiration and adoration to the flaws the other had grown to find more upon themselves, poking at the blemishes that always caught their focus and speaking fondly about how much they made the other who they were.
The two of you enjoyed going out, of course. But, if you had the choice of deciding to cop out of the party for just one night, you’d opt for the latter of staying in and getting cosy in front of the TV.
But there was something in particular about staying in and enjoying one another’s company, talking about anything that came to mind and chatting freely about what was bothering you. Crossing the line of what was the natural conversation topic and progressing further into a sense of intimacy between you both; intoxicated or not, they were conversations that would have a home in your subconscious memories.
It was safe to say, and it was visible to those outside of your close-knit friendship group, that you and Harry had a bond that was so rare between couples. A bond that the media always tried to tear apart but always failed in accomplishing, making the both of you stronger than possible and almost concrete ad set in stone. Your girl friends had heard you talk to Harry about something you couldn’t confide in them with knowing, and, Harry’s mates had seen him give more than enough PDA that was absent in the public eye; soft touches, deeper kisses, feather-like bumps of the nose and nestled into your side as he proceeded to be spoilt with love – something the media hadn’t seen, and, something the media flipped around. Harry had always been the one to show love in public, doting on you and making sure he had a hold upon you to ensure you weren’t lost in the deep-sea of fans and flashing lights.
Throughout the day, after texting his sister and his mates that the both of you were going to stay in, you’d done nothing but kiss, watch his old boxset of Friends, and, have sweet and intimate sex to pass the time away. Grunting and moaning and thrusting to the sounds of Monica and Chandler conversing in their apartment, and, orgasming together to the laughter caused by a line only Joey could say with a straight-face.
Experimentation had pursued.
He’d began to use his fingers more often, rubbing your clit and inserting them deep between your walls, massaging the spot within you that had you clawing at his back and marking your territory upon his skin. He’d began to use his tongue a little more when he’d found a comfortable position between your legs, blowing air onto your wet flesh and watching you squirm and wrap his legs around his neck, ankles locking at the dip between his shoulder blades. He’d found a way to incorporate his teeth into the mix; nibbling at the flesh upon your thighs, tugging at the flesh of your slick folds, and, biting at your one of your fingers as you trailed your palms down his cheeks whilst he was thrusting and pulsing deep within you.
You’d began to use your tongue more often, licking up shaft and feeling every ridge and vein and bump with your wet muscle, wetting him and readying him for your hand’s tight grip. You’d found a way to include the cheeky little toy he’d purchased for you when he was away for longer periods – a small, pink, vibrating vibrator – sliding it up and over the leaking head of his cock, watching the object become covered in his pre-cum and ooze down to your fingertips. You’d included oral pleasure, which was something you were no stranger too, and you’d found his pleasure spots much easier than before; pushing upon his prostate with a finger and squeezing at his balls as he edged closer and closer to his orgasm.
You had equal turns at having orgasms throughout the day, starting with Harry as you woke him with a blowjob – a simple yet tired and drowsy grin on his lips as he felt himself twitch and spurt down your throat – and ending with you – his fingers plunged deep with you, curled and pushing upon your small nubbin inside.
“Gon’a cum for me again, yeah?” Harry cooed, his feet planted upon the floor as he hunched his upper body over you, your knees bent with your arms hooked behind your knee caps, “gon’a get you to cum one more time f’ me, and, then we can make proper love.”
“M’so tired, Peaches,” you whispered, your face contorting with a mixture of shock and pleasure as his fingertips brushing upon your g-spot, a heavy groan panting its way past your lips, “right there. Fuck, Harry. Gon’a cum f’you keep touching me there.”
A devilish smirk carved onto his lips; that’s what he wanted. He wanted you to unravel one last time from his fingers, squirming into his palm as you ground your hips and rode out your orgasm. Whispering profanities yet egging him to continue until you were dry of a release.
“S’that good? Right there, yeah?” He whispered, his voice deep and raspy; and if you weren’t already being pleasured by his fingers, you were sure just the simple sound of his voice could have you cumming into your knickers, “y’like it when I do this, hm?”
“Feels,” you grunted, your mouth open wide as you forced yourself not to give in to the urge of rolling your eyes back into your skull, “feels so good,” you cried out, desperately.
“Close to cummin’, hm? I can feel you clenchin’,” he pointed out, “gon’a break me’ fingers soon, aren’t you, hm? Clench like a vice in a workshop, you do.”
The more he spoke, the tighter the knot located in your belly got.
You were so close.
And with one final jolt of his wrist, you unravelled. Releasing upon his fingers as you felt a state of higher euphoria than you’d ever felt before; something felt incredible with this orgasm, something felt different.
“Did ye’ just,” Harry’s eyes widened, “did ye’ just squirt?”
“I don’ know,” you whispered, breathlessly. Tiredly and achingly, a state of sensitivity running over your clit as he brushed his fingers over your wet skin, “felt incredible though. Tired me out.”
“Ye’ just squirted, m’sure of it. My chest, my wrist and my arm are soaked,” Harry whispered, holding his wrist in the air, droplets of liquid trickling down his fingers and dropping upon the carpet beside his feet, “ye’ just squirted, Gorgeous.”
A sense of pride washed over you; in your 4 year-relationship, you’d never once done that. Yes, you’d had plenty of orgasms formed by Harry and his pleasurable self, but, not once had you released in a way you’d heard about but never considered trying yourself. You couldn’t help but think to yourself that maybe Harry had done some background research onto the squirting topic – maybe that was why you’d found him almost falling asleep at his computer, in a haste to close it as you opened the door and revealed your tired looking self to the man at the desk.
He’d been wanting to do this for a while.
“Wan’a go again? Can I make ye’ do it again, Gorgeous? Please?”
He was almost begging, disregarded to the tired and drowsy state you were in, eyes silently pleading to be shut and limbs shaking as they stayed bent up to your chest.
“Harry, m’tired,” you whispered, “can we call it a night?”
You cracked an eye open, unsure of when you’d closed them, catching his disheartened look.
“We can still make love,” you reminded him, “jus’, that tired me out. I didn’t know I could do tha’.”
A chuckle left his mouth, “did some research, and I tried to talk to you about it but it got a bit nerve-wracking so I decided to surprise you. Found some ways to properly get you to do it online.”
“You’re such a bugger,” you giggled, his hands wrapping around your ankles and coaxing your sore legs back to their regular position, toes brushing the carpet, “c’mon. We deserve to have some relaxin’ sex where we just prove to one another we love each other.”
“Tell you everyday tha’ I love you,” Harry smiled, hunching closer to your body and nudging his nose to yours, “gon’a tell you again.”
“I know you love me,” you grinned, cupping his face in your soft palms and running your thumbs beneath his eyes, over the curves of his red and flushing and warm cheeks, “I get told a hundred times a day.”
“Gon’a tell you for the hundred and first time today,” he whispered, green eyes filled with lust and a sense of softness lingered in his coloured orbs, “I love you.”
He pressed his lips to yours, his plump mouth tasting sweet and juicy, the lingering taste of the Chinese you’d ordered whilst he went for a mid-sex wee. A taste that had you slightly cringing but wanting and craving more of, your arms wrapping around his neck as you let your fingers rake through the strands falling from the ponytail he’d stuck his hair up in that morning, mumbling about how greasy it looked and how it was making his face look shiny; a spot forming on his cheek where his fringe stopped and levelled out to his skin.
Your legs hooked around his tense thighs, your heels nestled comfortably into the peachy flesh at the top of his bum, pulling him closer to you, his body heat radiating as he fell forward and pushed all of his weight upon his elbows, resting either side of your head. The tip of his fully hard and properly erect cock brushing over your slit and nestling softly between your thighs, resting upon your naval and twitching mindlessly.
He was eager to get inside you, properly bare and very naked rather than being suffocated by a latex condom that had it’s tendency to kill the mood on occasion.
“Gon’a fuck you again, yeah? Like we did this mornin’ after you woke me with a blowie. Sweet and slow,” he whispered against your lips, his own brushing over yours, his breath warm and flushing your skin, “nice and deep, intimate and close, and so fucking sexy.”
His whimpers and pants, grunts and groans, moans and whispers melded with your own filled the room as he reached between your bodies and took a hold of his shaft, his thumb and forefinger squeezing the leaking head. Spongy between his pads and removing any build-up of ejaculation that settled at his slit, a dribble of white liquid trickling down his thumb nail and settling at his knuckle.
As his hips made sudden movements, causing his cock to push deeper within you, heavy moans and his name left your throat in pants, deep and guttural and loud enough to be heard in the room next door. And, at the back of his mind, he knew exactly what they were thinking – again, they were victims to the Harry couldn’t keep the smirk off of his face as you repeated his name over and over and over again, his mind wandering off to just what the neighbours must have been thinking.
His cock massaged your wet walls with each thrust he made as you clenched and squeezed around his throbbing muscle, slick and glossy from your arousal. Your movements and sweating bodies adding to the scent of sex already lingering in the air around you both, a heavy wince leaving Harry’s lips as he settled his hips to a halt, lips moulding with your own as he felt the knot in his belly begin to grow and tighten and contract his belly muscles together.
As you scratched at his back, egging him to continue to work through an orgasm, his nose nudged around your jawline. His hot breath sending tingles around your veins as he nipped at your ear and suckled on your earlobe, letting the skin retract back to it’s original position with a pop.
A swallow sounding from your throat as you gulped loudly in response to his action.
Unexpected to you and giving you no time to prepare, he began to move his hips and grind against your pubic bone in a rougher movement, pushing deeper into you and feeling your limbs begin to squeeze around him. His hips jolting more visibly as his toes curled against the carpet and his calves tensed to keep his shaking legs stable, propping his substantial body up on his pins.
“Think m’gonna cum, Harry,” you whispered.
“Still on birth control, right?” He hummed softly, strands of hair sticking to his skin with the sweat building upon his hairline, “need t’ know so I can fill you up wi’ my juice when I’m bare.”
His voice was full with seduction, a hint of amusement lingering in his words; excitement behind his tone, knowing he was moments away from busting himself inside of you. Bare and naked and feeling every inch of you fill with his orgasm. He was moments away from watching you unravel as he unravelled with you, orgasms mixing together into a concoction of your love.
And it wasn’t long before his eyes rolled back behind his lids, his legs shaking as his cock twitched within you. Spurting thick liquid into you and fusing with your orgasm. Soft ‘fuck’s and and mumbles of how great it felt to be bare and fresh inside of you – because it did feel good to be free of a condom, letting himself breath and feel the real magic of filling you up to the brim.
“Tha’ felt brilliant,” Harry whispered, his body finally giving in to the weakness of his muscles, falling down upon the mattress beside you, “today’s been a good one, huh?”
“Very good,” you muttered through a yawn, eyes crinkling at the corners, “had more sex wi’ you than I’ve had cups o’ tea. And, you know how much I love some good cuppas.”
A chuckle left his lips, raspy and broken, before a comfortable silence engulfed you both. Companionable, soothing and relaxing after a day of being close as ever and intimate as you could be. With sex act after sex act after making love after a quickie happening to pass the time, it was nice to relax your muscles and be intimate in a whole other way with one another.
Cuddling close.
Kissing softly.
Soft touches.
Interlocked ankles and laced fingers.
“I love you,” he whispered with an almost inaudible voice, breaking the swift silence engulfing and drowning you both, a tired smile on his lips and eyelids heavy and threatening to shut instantaneously, “I really, really do.”
“Hundred and two,” you retorted, rolling your head to the side, “but, I love you too.”

Notes

* Warning: NSFW, mature language, sexual content, sexual scenes. It’s all in the tightly - please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with this concept. *