Art | Harry Styles

31

Sophie's lips are brushing lightly over the surface of his neck, this time with nobody to interrupt them. His heart is racing; a mile a minute, as her lips drag over his throat and his breath hitches in it, his eyelashes brushing over the top of his cheekbones. Her hand trails over his stomach; over his lower abdomen where she knows the butterfly is inked cleanly onto his skin.

How they've ended up in this position is a whole other story - but what matters now, is that neither of them plan on putting a stop to it. His arms wind around her waist, an ounce of nerves, rather than reluctance, sneaking in.

"I-I-I've never.." he trails off, lip taken between his teeth as he remains incapable of tearing his eyes from her. She doesn't even flinch, nodding her head slowly.

"Is that because you prefer making others feel good?" she asks, not really looking for an answer, "selflessness, and all that?"

He lets out a hum in response, which soon turns to an approving hiss as Sophie's upper thigh grazes over his crotch while she readjusts herself on his lap. "Something like that," he manages not to stammer, but the sentence is weak and somewhat submissive. Though he's ultimately lacking nerves around her, now, he feels something similar in his chest, but this is good - exciting. She's aware he's been with others before, but is surprised that he's never had somebody solely give him pleasure. Her lips gently reattach to his neck, and his eyes flutter shut, focusing simply on the feel of her lips on his skin while his fingertips trace subconscious shapes on her waistline.

She nips at the skin below his ear, murmuring against his earlobe, "I can't believe nobody's ever done this for you.." there's silence for a moment, the gentle noise of her lips now against Harry's throat the only sound to be heard, and he's certain he's about to burst with adoration for her, before she speaks again, "are you okay with me being the first?" She won't push him into anything - especially if for whatever reason he doesn't want her to do such.

"I'm-" there's a pause as she detaches her lips from his skin, and he has to refrain from whimpering at the loss of contact as his eyes drop to stare at her lips. He wants her to. He really, really wants her to. But how is he supposed to tell her?

His eyes are now burning into hers, as she awaits a response. He can feel himself beginning to harden against her thigh, and he's sure that must be permission for her to continue in itself, but she truly wants verbal confirmation. His cheeks are flushing a dark shade of red in a mixture of sexual frustration and nerves, as she cocks her head slightly to the side.

"Harry," she says slowly, and he swallows thickly, as if she's about to drop a bombshell on him and walk out of the door. Much to his surprise, she lays a gentle inquiry, "Do you want me?"

She's asking to ease the pressure from his shoulders. This way he won't even have to form a full sentence - a simple 'yes' or 'no' will suffice.

"Yes, love," he responds, one of his hands moving from her waist to trail over the small of her back and up to rest between her shoulder blades, "bloody hell, yes."

A short giggle leaves her lips at his response, as she takes it upon herself to nudge her nose back against his jaw and bring her lips back to his neck. He lets out a short, content sigh of relief as she works her lips against his skin. She wraps her lips around a spot, sucking on it and earning an audible gasp from his parted lips as she drags the flat of her tongue over it, soothing the sting, and his hands work of their own accord as he trails them over her body.

Sophie's hand falls between the two of them, her palm moving dangerously close to Harry's crotch, where he's already evidently excited. Something between a smile and a smirk pulls on her lips as she shuffles back a little to sit comfortably on his thighs, allowing her hand to properly palm against Harry's crotch. Her eyes land on his face, as his lips part and his eyes close once more, a soft profanity leaving his lips at even the simplest of touches. She likes having this effect on him.