Sonata (Harry Styles FanFiction)

46. Do-Over

"You goddamn tease," he growled, grabbing me harshly by my hips. I had the sincere feeling that there would be more than a couple bruises there in the morning, but I didn't care. They were the fun kind of bruises.

"What happened to that 'patience' is a virtue bullshit?" I giggled, winding my fingers into his sopping, overlong hair.

"What we are about to do is in no way virtuous," he scoffed.

"Fair point." His now contraception covered friend prodded my stomach. I cocked an eyebrow up at him and he shot me a wicked grin.

"Jump," He murmured, ducking his head so that his mouth was at my ear; his teeth closed around my lobe and tugging. For the second time that night, I actually did as I was told and jumped, wrapping my legs around his waist.

"There's a good girl," He breathed, lining his length up with Stella's entrance. She was cheering him on, rolling out the red carpet in welcome. He slid into me with glorious ease, his impressive length stretching and filling me to the core. I swore I could feel him all the way in my stomach. It was unbelievable, so much better than I'd been imagining for the past week. Charlie had nothing on Harry. He took two solid steps forward, pressing my back firmly up against the tile of the shower and I grasped the shower head for some sort of leverage. Hot water cascaded around us and be began to move, picking up his rhythm until it was nearly punishing. The sound of our fractured breathing, the slap of slicked skin on skin, and the barrage of water all around us echoing in the steam filled bathroom.

"Fuck, Harry," I gasped, letting go of the shower head. I drug my nails along his scalp, tugging on his hair to control at least a bit of the storm raging within me. "Faster." He obeyed, and I began to build, strangled moans slipping free with a higher frequency. I could already feel him beginning to harden again. He was still highly strung after I'd denied him, but I wasn't ready— not yet.

"Holy on, babe, just a little longer," I pleaded with him. With every brutal stroke I neared the edge. He grit his teeth, struggling to stay with me. One of his hands suddenly darted between my legs, punishing my clit as he rushed to throw me over the precipice. I could feel it now though, euphoria lingering just along the fringe. "Come with me," I breathed, claiming his mouth as my body tightened and exploded around him. The flexing of those deep and forbidden muscles triggered his own release. He pushed into me three more times, dragging out what was left of his high while I binged on mine. I was drowning in ecstasy, letting it carry me far away from the heat of the shower onto my own personal Isle of the Blessed.

From somewhere far away I felt him pull out of me; the motion followed by a dull ache of emptiness between my thighs. Arms wrapped around me as I slowly returned to earth, mewling from the ferocity of our final connection. It had only taken god knows how long. Jesus.

"You can't fall asleep on me yet, Darien," he chuckled, shutting off the barrage of heated water and scooping my exhausted form up into his arms. It had been a long goddamn day full of pain, frustration and alcohol with an unfortunate lack of naps. I lived for naps. Plus, it didn't help that all I'd really had in the past week had been alcohol, half of a cupcake and a Ninja Turtle roll at lunch today. Not much sustenance for such strenuous activities.

"Yours or mine?" I almost snorted at the normality of his question. I'd never before considered our 'Otherwise' as normal and that question just felt so out of place.

"Mine's closer," I sighed, squirming so that he'd know to set me back on my feet. I knew where the towels were and he didn't. "Grab my dress please," I mumbled, padding over to the linen closet to grab two of the plush navy blue towels Greg had folded neatly inside. For a Fraternity President he definitely kept his shit clean and put together. He'd always get all huffy when I had left my shit all over his room, even before he was put in charge. How I'd ended up with another neat freak, I had no idea. I hated folding shit and putting it away. I usually kept two bins in my room, one full of dirty clothes, the other full of clean. The only things I actually hung up were my gowns for Daniel's. If I was going to pay to have that shit dry-cleaned then I wasn't going to leave it out where it could get wrinkled. Steaming those dresses was next to impossible.