Mellifluous || H.S (HIATUS)

28

This had always been their game of chasing a little mouse, Amelia knew she had nowhere to run, but in the depths of her heart, she knew she didn't want to leave. Her place was next to Harry, next to the comfortable feeling and the safety she felt from him, next to the one who would die for her. A few minutes had passed since then, a few minutes since her encounter with Janus and a few minutes since Harry's pact with Adrian. Of course, Harry fought with every fiber of his being to pull away from Amelia after he pinned her to the wall, but his heart was more than just a heavy burden and he couldn't let her go. He didn't want to.

''Amelia.'' He whispered into her ear, and the girl found herself shivering from the seductiveness of his voice.

Amelia, that was her name, not Dike. Amelia, now and always, Harry's little Amelia. She didn't care about the world or how she would be known as, as long as Harry kept calling her name, that name that made her the good person she was, and not the real name that made her the warrior she was supposed to become.

His hand, sometimes so unsure and sometimes so eager, slid down her hip ever so slowly – teasing her – and gathering the skirt of her dress up her knees, his fingers brushing the oddly tender skin of her thigh. He wanted to crave his claws into her thighs and mark her as his, mark her in any way he could do so, without consisting of the mating process that would soon engage them in a life together for all eternity. His mouth had a mind of his own, tugging her head to the side as his lips slid over the expanse of her neck, a soft gasp leaving the ginger at the touch.

Her eyes fluttered closed, her mind consisting in nothing more of Harry and the way she wanted him to touch her, to disassemble her to the point that she didn't know where she began or ended, to the point where she didn't even know who she was anymore. Biting her lip, she slightly spread her leg, the one Harry was holding in a silent invitation for him to adventure himself further.

The Alpha groaned at the movement, his claws lightly digging into the tender skin and for a moment, he was afraid he had hurt her, but the moan that left her throat – all breathy and at the same time, panting – made his mind turn into a harem of dirty thoughts.

''Who knew you would be such a dirty little thing?'' He whispered against her neck, his claws digging deeper into her flesh and he felt something warm and liquid drip down to the tips of his fingers.

She didn't pull away, not at all, she wanted it, wanted his marks on her, wanted him everywhere on her and in her, in any way she could possibly imagine. Her lips were parted, her breathing was ragged and her head was – so gently – thrown back over his chest, the expanse of her cheeks fully tinted red.

''Turn around, let me see it.'' He groaned lightly in a tender demand.

''S-see what?'' She whimpered, mind hazy.

''All of you.'' He breathed out, gently tugging his claws away from her thigh. ''Gather up the skirts of your dress and show me everything.''

That command in itself made her squeeze her thighs together impatiently, keeping herself from moaning out to him, to seduce him further. Harry always had a way with words, and with her, words were what turned her on the most, whatever he said to her while indulging in their intimate activities, always made Amelia as wetter as she never thought she would be.

Calmly, Harry took a step back from his lover, giving her room to turn to him. He waited patiently, not wanting to pressure her in case she didn't want to do it. But the boy was surprised when he saw her calmly turning around, gathering the skirts of her dress up to her hips, and the sight alone was a sin that Harry would happily go to Hell for.

The girl's back was pressed to the wall, back arching just slightly as her breasts pushed against the confines of her corset, wanting to free herself from its confines. Her trembling hands held the skirts up to her thighs, fingers struggling to contain the whole expanse of it and her thighs – those fucking thighs that inevitably left him insane. Milky skin was fully on view, the gentle swell of her thighs touching against each other just before making a small opening before her core, were lightly covered in blood from the wound Harry had inflicted. Her secrets were hidden beneath an endearing piece of red clothing that hugged her hips so pleasurably to the eye, and she showed him everything.