Inclination

Sleepovers, Sharks, Soft Piles

You salute him and he laughs, tugging at your shirt and untucking it from the waistband of your pants, pulling it up over your head and sucking in a breath of air through his teeth at the recognizable baby pink bralette, "you're fucking wearing this? You wore it to work? Were you thinking of me all night?"

You shrug modestly, perching your hands on your hips and looking down at your chest, "hmm, oh right. This old thing."

He chuckles and smacks your bottom playfully again, ticking his head to the blankets and speaking through a loud smile, "get comfy." He paces backwards and watches you peel off your pants to reveal the matching sherbet panties and squeezes his center to release a bit of tension. He tosses on a record and rips his shirt and pants off to lay beside you in the pile of blankets, pulling your body close and spreading his fingers wide across your stomach.

The fireplace spits a spark every so often as you lay quietly with The Cure buzzing on the record player, Harry's index finger tracing along the lines of your arm and shoulder, your collarbone and your neck before pressing against your jaw and tilting your head towards him. His eyes scan yours and there are a lot of things that he wants to ask you but he settles on a kiss, pulling you onto your side and pitching your hips against his.

He slips the strap of your bralette from your shoulder and drops a kiss onto your bare, warm skin. He keeps his mouth close when he finally collects the fortitude to ask, "will you go out with me?"

Your legs weave through his and a sigh leaks through your nose when his tongue darts out to trace the line of your clavicle to your throat, "what do you mean? A date?"

He nods and lifts his head for eye contact, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth, "yeah. I wanna take you out for dinner, drinks, dessert. In your most beautiful dress... or I'd like to buy you a new one if you let me. A proper date."

Your mind reels back to the beginning of your friendship when you helped Harry plan a blind date that he was going on. You helped with all of the details; the restaurant they went to and which outfit he would wear. He ended up not desiring a repeat but you remember wishing to find someone to take you on that exact date. You dreamed of it being Harry and you never thought that it would actually transpire.

You feel overwhelmed with pride at how much he's realized and how far he's come. You can't imagine how much self-reflection and inner understanding it must take to go through an identity upheaval like he has and your mind is swirling with so many thoughts that your jaw just hangs open in surprise as you stare at each other.

Harry takes the silence as dilemma, "or I can just go fuck myself..." You laugh and shake your head sincerely, cupping his cheeks and pushing him onto his back as you straddle his waist.

You lean forward and run your fingers through his hair, his cock gaining momentum in his briefs and his chin lifting towards the ceiling with a satisfied hum. You kiss his mouth and scratch your nails against his scalp, "I got a shitload of information all at once. Yeah, I'll go on a date with you. I'll date you so hard."

He titters and nods but you continue, "just wanna tell you again how happy I am for you. What you've done isn't easy - takes a lot of self-realization that most people never accomplish in their lives. You're amazing."

He closes his eyes and digests your candor, his fingers digging painfully into your hips, "you're amazing. You're fucking amazing, Ace. Only person I'd switch teams for." You laugh loudly in appreciation of his ability to be both respectful and humorous at the same time; your laugh turns into a squeal when he's flipping your bodies so that he's hovering over you with his lips brushing yours, "kiss me."

You lift your head to close the gap between your mouths, you can feel his cock pulse against your core when you wrap your legs around his waist. He whines when your tongues meet and your hips rock against his involuntarily, his stomach tangling with the feeling of your damp panties pressing against his length.

He pulls the cup of your bralette down and sucks your nipple into his mouth until it's a stiff peak, pulling the other cup down and repeating the process on your other breast. Your head falls back into the pillows as your back arches and Harry opens his mouth wider to absorb as much of your skin as he can.

His fingers roam down to your panties and pull the material covering your entrance aside, his fingertips dragging up your folds before pressing against your swollen bud in light, teasing circles. He became skillful really quickly, memorizing your body with hours upon hours of practice. He knows how to make you come in less than five minutes but also enjoys drawing out the process, provoking you until you're on the edge and backing off just to hear you beg and watch you squirm.

He moves his fingers out of the way to press the head of his cock against your entrance, the material of his briefs the only barrier between skin on skin contact. You mewl and dig your fingernails into his shoulders as he presses himself in and out in little increments, his voice trembling when he checks in, "you okay, pretty?"

You nod and lift your gaze to him, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as your core pools around his tip, "yes. Are you?"

He nods but his insides are tumbling and rolling as if he were falling from an airplane, his thickness leaking and soaking a wet spot into the fabric of his briefs.

You assume his nonverbal response as hesitance and you smooth your hands down his back and into the elastic of his briefs, holding tightly to his hips as he rocks into your folds and puts pressure on your opening, "there's no hurry."

He closes his eyes and pulls in a heavy breath before looking at you, "feels so good... feels so fucking good though."

You nod and drag your hands up to cup his cheeks, making sure you have his full attention, "feels unbelievable. We don't have to do this right now... I want you to be ready."

He ceases the movement of his hips, dropping his forehead against your shoulder and whining, his voice a whisper, "m'ready. I wanna have sex with you. So fucking bad. Please? Don't you? It's not like I'm a virgin... I've had plenty of sex."

You nod and kiss him slowly, soothing his disappointment by rubbing your hands up and down his back, "yes, I do. And you kind of are. I just want you to think about it and... make sure." You trust him and believe he's being honest with himself and all of the strides he's made in terms of his sexual identity, but there's a little pinch inside of your stomach that's asking for the slightest bit of extra reassurance from him.

You haven't spoken too deeply about how he continues to feel about men and if he would ever want to be with one again. The details and nuances of bisexuality or pansexuality seem to dip a bit farther when you're in a relationship and you suppose you don't quite understand how he could never need more than just you considering his history.

He licks his lips and stares into your eyes, speaking with clarity and conviction as if he has given this a lot of thought, "I'm sure. Since you seem reluctant, we are going to wait. But Ace?" You nod for him to continue, "I love your pussy because it's attached to you, pretty. Your mind and your body. I know my past doesn't reflect my present, but you're what I want. You. No one else - male or female. Hear me?"

You nod again, impressed yet again with how insanely self-aware and intelligent Harry is. He rolls off of you but pulls you close, pressing his mouth to your hair when he speaks again, "wish I said that to you before my dick was practically penetrating you." You laugh and he joins you, relieved that it doesn't feel awkward, "sorry."

You kiss him and wrap your legs around his, "don't be. Good talk."

He snickers and hides his face in your neck, dragging his nails up the skin of your back before they fold into your hair, "but I'm gonna fuck you soon and it's gonna be breathtaking."