killer instinct - || h.s. ||

67 *

Don't get me wrong, Harry's got an individualistic beauty to him — externally and internally — that nothing in this goddamn world can compare to but women ... fuck, I miss women.

And this one beside me, she's the cruelest of them all.

Her pretty eyes glaze over in a recognizable taunting glimmer, tracing her eyes over my face with a smug grin on her cheeks tinted in pink blush and the rest of her minimal, accentuating makeup.

"Stop looking at me like that," an irresistible smile creeps up on my face, refusing to admit to the crimson heat I know is evident across my cheeks.

"Like what? Hm?" She softly muses, lifting a hand to thread a piece of my dark hair dangling over my forehead between her fingers to ever-so deliberately tuck behind my ear.

"Don't play dumb," I knowingly whisper to ourselves, blending my voice with the flickering conversation across the flatscreen before us.

She flirtatiously smiles to herself, continuing to tease me further as her fingertips mindlessly trace shapes dangerously close to the apex of my thigh. "You're a literal angel, Rory, it's impossible to not fucking stare," she hums under her breath to drag her words down to the core of me that seeks praise, setting my body in scorching heat of pleasure.

"B," I barely roll my eyes to the words which contradict her own immense beauty, trying my hardest to shake the flustered perception blazing across my cheeks.

But her delicate hand meets my jaw, catching my gaze just as I attempt to look away from the melting stare. "It's only the truth," And my gaze burns into her dangerous waters, practically watching her eyes dilate in lust as her thumb softly drags across the structure of my jaw.

"What's going on with you two?" She curiously inquires, knowing damn well her intent here while my tongue amusingly pokes into the inside of my cheek.

"With who?" I fire back, regarding the way her eyebrow rises to my words.

"You both are hardly subtle about it at this point, babe," she responds with a coy smirk as I breathe out a small laugh.

I nearly melt under her stare, hell, her touch dragging across my bottom lip to tantalizingly roll it down has breath halting in my throat to this weakening tease as she tests the coaxing waters a bit. "I don't know ... I mean, I just don't exactly hate his company." I truthfully admit, smirking through my words.

She proudly smiles as she turns to face me further on her side, laying her arm around the back of my shoulders on the couch while her flirty fingertips begin to tease my hair.

Falling deeper into her trap as she tilts her head in the slightest, "god, he's one lucky motherfucker," she murmurs while her fingertips trail down the arch of my neck while her curious eyes drag with the touch.

I can only lowly hum to her words, reverberating the noise from my throat. "... gets all of this to himself, huh?" She whispers under her breath, and the tempting thoughts only run haywire with Niall and Harry mere meters away from our sinful actions.

I can only hum under my even breathing while my eyes meet her inches from mine, drawing me deeper into her sweet oblivion. "It's a shame, really ... I should have kept playing your game and taken you right then and there that night, fuck, Rory," she boldly teases with her words, piercing her body heat into mine as she leans closer to brush the tip of her nose across the hinge of my jaw.

And the thoughts send me back to the very first night Harry and I danced under the glow of our lonely streetlights to the very same song we danced to in front of all our stupid friends.