Killing Me Softly[Harry Styles One Shot]

"You mean nothing to me." You mean nothing to me. You mean nothing to me. It hurt to hear them words leave his lips, all out of spite.

"I hate you." Bitter arguments. Petty things. I was done. So done. He was poison. Poison. Infecting me slowly. Everybody had warned he was no good for me, but I hadn't listened. I never listened. Frowning, I left the room, leaving him with his head in his hands. He wasn't sorry, he never was. He'd never change. 

Sighing heavily, I opened the door to the guest bedroom.  Throwing myself onto the bed, I sunk into the lilac quilt, and just lay there, thinking. Thinking about everything, anything, him. Harry was my everything, but the feeling was clearly less than mutual. I hadn't even realised that I'd began to cry, until a fat salty tear rolled down my cheek. Then, the tears began to flow freely. I must have been there for hours, staring at the ceiling before my eyes finally began to droop.

***

My eyes fluttered open slowly, and adjusted to the dim light of the purple room. Groaning, I rolled off the bed, and headed for the bathroom. Stripping down, I climbed into the shower, letting the hot water run all over my body, relieving the tension and stress from each and every muscle. Climbing out, I wrapped a towel around myself. Shit. My clothes were in Harry's room. Tiptoeing in, I tried not to wake him up. I couldn't face him. Not after last night. Rummaging through the wardrobe, I heard a choke from behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed Harry was looking at me with weary eyes. The emerald eyes that I'd fallen for in the first place. They made me want to forgive everything he'd done and just cuddle. But I couldn't, not that easily anyway.

"Babe, talk to me." He pleaded, his voice hoarse and deep. He sounded like he'd been crying, and that broke my heart. 

"There's nothing left to say Harry." I whispered, turning round to properly look at him. His curls were a mess, his eyes looked sore and tired. It was at times like these, when he seemed so, so...vunerable. Weak. Alone. He rarely ever seemed like any of those things. Usually, he appeared confident, brave.  Seeing him like this was definitely a contrast. 

 "I'm sorry."His voice cracked, as he held his eyes with mine. "I love you, and I know deep down somewhere, you love me. I know it."

"I do, but what you said is enexcuasble." His eyes filled with tears again, and a stray one managed to escape, despite his obvious attempts to hold them back.

"I know. What I said was wrong, but I didn't mean it." He slumped, as if his whole body was deflating, like he'd had a pin stuck into him.

"Don't." I put my hand up, dismissing him. "Don't even try to feed me that bullcrap."

"No, it's all truth. If I meant it, do you think I would have been as heartbroken when you left me to sleep alone?" Something inside of me sparked, making me believe everything he was saying. Like somehow, I knew it was all true. Like somehow, everything had been made okay. 

"Okay." Okay? Was that all I could manage to spit out? Really?

"Come lie with me?" Harry asked. Dropping the clothes I'd grabbed to the floor, I crawled on top of him, and he wrapped the duvet over me. His warm skin grazed mine, sending shivers through my body. He smiled down at me, snaking his arms around me. Breathing in, I inhaled his familiar musky scent. He smirked down at me, his eyes shining. Leaning up, I came face to face with him. Placing my lips on his, but not kissing him.

"I love you." I murmered against his lips, twisting my lips into a smile. 

"I love you too." He murmered back, before softly pushing his lips out, taking mine with his. The kiss began slowly, but gradually began to gain speed. My hands began to run through his hair, my fingers entwining themselves into his curls. His hands cupped my face, and his tongue licked my bottom lip, asking for entrance. I knew where this was going, and I didn't want it to stop. Opening my mouth slightly, his tongue met mine. Most people describe it as their tongues dancing. Ours were fighting for dominance though. Finally pulling back for breath, Harry's hands travelled down to my hips.

"Why'd you stop?" He pouted. I giggled slightly.

"I need to get dressed." I shrugged, attempting to wriggle free from his grip.

"We were just getting to the good bit." He whined. Rolling my eyes, I let him kiss me again, my hands exploring his body. He let out a little whimper, and his little friend began to prod into my hip. Taking my chance, I teased him, my hand hovering just above the band of his boxers. His body shook beneath me, and I took pleasure from the fact that I knew Harry Styles' weaknesses. I knew how to tip him over the edge, with the tiniest of touches. 

"Stop teasing." His voice trembled as he pulled away from the kiss. His hands moved up to the top of my towel. "Two can play at that game."

"Go on, I dare you." No sooner had the words left my mouth, he'd unravelled my towel, leaving me exposed in the cold September air.  "Eyes up here Styles." 

"Spoilsport." He frowned. My hands tugged at his boxers, and began to slide them down, before throwing them on to the floor. Harry flipped us both over, before placing delicate kisses down my neck, then my collar bones, chest and trailing his lips down my stomach. I wanted him. I needed him. Knowing he was all mine drove me crazy. His tongue traced around my entrance, before he pushed it in gently, swirling his tongue about inside me, each time going deeper and deeper. 

"Harry." I mumbled, trying to bite back the moans. "I'm going to-"

"You can hold it, right?" He cut me off, pulling his tongue out of me. He climbed back up, so that we were face to face. Slowly, he slid his length into me, grabbing my lips with his own, trying to distract me. At first, it was slightly painful, but that pain soon turned to pleasure. My whole body was filled with tingles, as he began to thrust gently. All these rumours floating around, about how Harry's wild when it comes to sex. Tsk. He could be wild at times, but he could be gentle and meaningful too. Soon, he picked up the pace, and his thrusts became more frequent. I turned us over, so I was on top, and began to straddle him, riding his length. This tipped him over the edge, and he began to moan. I continued, until I reached my high. Soon after, Harry reached his, spilling his fluids into me. Smiling, I rolled off the top of him and cuddled into his side.

If fighting with Harry always means makeup sex, we should fall out more often.