Sweet Tooth [HS]

TWENTY SEVEN

His lips tasted like strawberries. Like red wine. Like something delicious. And Max was hungry, was desperate for him.

She felt bold, felt empowered by his words from minutes before and she pulled on Harry's hair, ground her hips into his.

She needed him.

Needed his love, needed his touch.

She could feel him smile against her. Felt relief as he started kissing slowly, carefully down her neck.

"Maxie," he breathed as she rolled her hips against him again. She could feel him hardening, could feel his chest rise faster.

And he cared about her too.

He fucking cared about her too.

"Maxie," he pulled back, despite his throbbing longing to touch her again. "Maxie, I just- you need to know. It's not just this. I don't just want this."

And Max couldn't decide if she wanted to kiss him because of his kindness, or scream at him for stopping.

"I know that now, Harry," she grinned, beaming her sunny smile down at him and again, he found himself in awe of her beauty.

Harry wanted to know how this creature, this goddess above him was even real. Every time he saw her, every time he merely thought of her, he found himself struck by her perfection. Her skin was this exquisite dark creaminess, her brown eyes were deep and huge with these long heavy lashes that cast shadows on her cheeks. And her lips were rich, round, so secret and so tempting that Harry felt dizzy as he stared at them. Felt blood surging through his body, pounding in the tips of his fingertips to the tips of his toes.

It was like everything became simplified when he looked at her. Like all the mess and all the other things in his life were erased because it all became unworthy of his attention as soon as she entered the room.

It was like everything inside of him focused on this one point. Like he had this insane tunnel vision and the end was only, was always on her.

And she cared about him, too.

He inhaled, could hardly breathe as Max leaned down to suck gently on his neck. "I want you, Harry," she whispered. "Please. I want you so badly."

And she was almost whining. Was feeling the hot heat between her thighs, feeling his hardness through her jeans.

"Take me," she whispered. "I'm yours."

And those simple words and the feel of her breath on his neck was what did it for Harry. He felt like an animal as he growled, as he grabbed her hips and pulled her tightly against him. It was carnal. It was pure, unadultered desire. It was this need to possess her. To have all of her.

He needed her.

So it took no more convincing for him to undress her, and then undress himself, burying his mouth in the soft skin of her chest when she was naked and above him, her soft thighs either side of his waist.

He felt a physical pain, a physical aching to touch her, to hold her, to make love to her. And so Harry stretched out his hand, touched her silky, naked skin and pressed up and into her body gently.

Their bodies became one line of electricity as he entered her, as they both moaned in relief at the feel of each other finally together again. She wrapped her legs around his waist, tightening in relief as he started rocking upwards inside her.

"Oh, Harry," she moaned from above him, throwing her head back as he hit those secret places inside her.

"Yes, baby," he whispered raggedly, unable to think for the pure pleasure, the pure desire he felt as he rocked harder into her.

It felt endless. Felt like forever as they made love like that.

Her breaths became lost inside of his mouth, became breathed back into her and Harry thought they'd be able to survive forever like that- breathing each other's breath back into themselves.

"Fuck, Harry," she cried out, after what could have been hours. "Harry, I'm-"

But her words evaporated as she stilled and came apart above him. Harry revelled in watching her, like how he always did. Watched as those eyes of hers rolled back for a moment, dark brown turning almost violet as she stilled. Her mouth hung open and her fingernails dug into the hot skin of his back and Harry growled.

He felt so satisfied, so powerful watching what he did to her.

"Baby," he said again, kissing her hard before driving his hips up and into hers one last time.

They lay together there on the sofa for a long time afterwards, sort of unable to move, sort of unable to speak. Max didn't know where her skin ended and his began and she didn't care. She loved it. Loved this togetherness, loved how it felt like they were one body as they lay there naked and breathing and so alive.

Max felt like she could burst.

She felt like she might explode with her satisfaction and her longing and how perfect this moment was.

"You're so beautiful, Max," Harry whispered, shattering the still silence in the room.

He nudged her nose with his, and delighted in the way it crinkled up. In the way her eyes squeezed closed and the laugh that escaped from her mouth sounded as sweet as honey.

She smiled and raised a hand to run through his hair. It was slick to his forehead from sweat and Max giggled, all soft and all sweet as she flicked it off his face.

His green eyes followed her. Were boring into her in that way she recognised, in that way he did sometimes. Like he could see through her skull, like he could see her soul and read her mind. It was so intense. So passionate. And Max found herself shocked at how she hadn't noticed the softness in it before.

It was almost blindingly obvious that he cared about her now. She could see it in the way his eyes sort of lit up, the green turning so bright and electric, and it was in the way his fingers seemed to reach for her. Claim her as they pressed into her skin. And it was in the way he spoke, the way he whispered her name and made it sound like a prayer.

God. Max wanted to scream at him that she loved him.

That she was fucking obsessed with him.

But she didn't. Couldn't.

Wouldn't.

Not yet, anyway.

But as they lay there as one body, as one heart, those three words were all Max could think and they haunted her even as she fell slowly to sleep.