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"I, I'm I'm so in love with you
Whatever you want to do
Is all right with me
Cause you make me feel so brand new
And I want to spend my life with you"


I barely managed to crawl into bed before Harry was yanking me towards him and kissing me like he never wanted to stop, just tangled in each other with the covers ended up bunched at our feet.

It was like that the whole way up to the apartment, I was being stopped on the way up the stairs, the hallway, the front door, the lounge room, bedroom door - it was like he couldn't last 30 seconds without proving to himself he was actually able to kiss me now.

I'm not complaining, I've just never had someone seem like they were so beside themselves with wanting me.

I know we are both acting like a couple of kids that've discovered making out for the first time but neither of us can seem to control ourselves.

Harry is laid on his side with me pulled against him, folding and moulding his lips against mine lazily, tracing his tongue with mine like he's memorising it.

I've been slowly trying to figure out what I'm meant to be doing with my hands, taking opportunities to smooth them over his chest and stomach, taking in all the details and ridges, feeling the sparse soft hairs scattered around, from his pecks to the dainty trail of hair below his belly button.

It feels so strange, but nice, body hair isn't something you really feel on a torso with a woman, I mean, everyone is different, I've just never experienced it.

Never had any bearded ladies in my history of conquering the land of vaginas.

Everything with women is so soft, and everything with Harry is such a contradiction, he's taught, hard, angular but also smooth, like wrapping silk around a damn brick.

This feels like learning to drive a car for the first time, figuring out to steer, work the pedals and how to shift gears.

Harry breaks the kiss and mumbles against my lips "Can't stop, m'obsessed with these damn lips of yours" before connecting our mouths again, being slow and indulgent with the kiss, savouring it.

Ditto Harry, and I mean the literal meaning of that, I'm obsessed too.

His hand trails over my thigh that's hooked over his leg that's resting between my own, and he reaches the hem of my sleep shirt, dipping his fingers underneath it experimentally before he pauses, pulling his face back to look at me.

He glances down to where his hand is, looking back to me and chews on his lip nervously "Can I? Just want to feel you, it's okay if it's too soon"

I could just kiss him again over how respectful and caring he's being, so instead of answering I grab his hand and slide it under my shirt, over my hip to my waist.

Harry let's out a heavy breath, flexing his fingers against my skin as I rest my hand back against his chest.

He ghosts his lips across mine, exploring and palming his hand over my waist, hip, down my thigh and back up again.

"So soft...better than I imagined" he sighs, almost as if he's amazed by it.

The feeling of his large hand gliding over my skin makes it tingle, and burn at the same time.

It might seem so meaningless to other people, something as simple as just touching each other, exploring skin so gently that we haven't been able to before, but for us it's like finally being able to sneeze when you feel like you've been holding it in for months.

Unforgettable |H.S.| Harry Styles|Where stories live. Discover now