Harry POV:
I waited for Y/N to fall asleep before I left, carefully slipping my arm from around her waist. I knew she wouldn’t wake up; she always slept so peacefully after she’d cried. I quietly crept around the bedroom and bathroom, packing up some clothes and other items, then stood by the side of the bed, looking down at her naked body, half wrapped in sheets. I sighed. In that moment, I realised how weak I was: weak for her. She’d betrayed me, and yet I still stood here wanting desperately to crawl back into bed with her, feeling like I didn’t have the strength, the capacity to leave.
When we met, I remember wanting her so badly, wanting to make her mine, and knowing that I would probably end up doing anything and everything she ever asked of me - which I did. Leaning down slowly, I pushed a strand of hair from her face and kissed her forehead. I clenched my jaw, shaking my head slightly as my lips left her skin. I shouldn’t be kissing her.
Before leaving the house, I left a note on the kitchen counter, explaining that I was going to stay with Tom, and asking her to not contact me for a while. Signing off, I spent some time deliberating whether or not to write ‘i love you’. Obviously I loved her, but I had a sick feeling in my stomach, almost as if it was sinful of me to even say it to her, after what she’d done. I had no idea how long I planned to go away for, because in reality I didn’t want to go at all, but I knew I needed time to cool off and think about what had happened.
- - - - -
I stumbled through the front door, crashing my keys onto the small table and kicking my trainers off. Shit, I should probably keep the noise down, as Y/N would definitely be asleep. Entering our large kitchen/living room, I could only vaguely make out the state of the place: a obvious mess. Unsurprisingly, I could see various items of Y/N’s strews across the floor, jumpers and t-shirts, a bra draped over the arm of the sofa. Although it was dark, the moon shone through the large sliding glass doors which covered the back wall, softly illuminating the room. Weaving my way around the furniture, knocking into things as I went, I noted multiple plastic take away food containers and sweet wrappers: it was clear Y/N hadn’t taken this time apart to learn to cook. I staggered to the fridge, taking out a bottle of water and swigging harshly in an attempt to sober myself up. My lower back leaning against the marble surface, I wondered why I was here. I desperately searched my intoxicated mind for a reason why I’d cut short my night out to come and see Y/N, when we hadn’t spoken in nearly 2 weeks. As I pondered my thoughts, I heard a car pulling up outside, the headlights shining through the front windows. I frowned, looking at the large clock on the wall, the glowing numbers making me squint: 4:14am.
Before I could fully register my confusion, I watched a small girl stagger through the front door, taking similar step to those I had made just moments ago. She reached out for the lighting system on the wall, turning only the soft outer wall lights on, creating a dim glow in the vast space. I shook my head at the mess, which I could now see the extent of. Y/N was happy to live in this lavish house, with fancy lighting systems and expensive furnishings, but whilst I was away it appeared she’d run it into the ground. I could already feel the ‘angry drunk’ side of my personality creeping to the surface.
"Where have you been?" I asked sternly, my deep voice filling the room. Y/N immediately jumped, her head sharply darting toward the kitchen area, seeing me stood, arms folded against the counter.
"Jesus fucking Christ Harry! You scared me!" she screeched in reply, still stood in front of the door. Our eyes locked for a moment, as she was evidently shocked to see me. I took in her appearance: a tight black dress hugging body, accentuating her curves, her hair down, dark makeup and higher heels than I’d like her to be wearing. She’d clearly been out.
"Where have you been?" I repeated slightly louder, feeling the frustration building. She huffed, ignoring my questioning, then dropping her bag and reaching down to remove her shoes, her palm against the wall for support. I watched her struggle to balance: clearly she was drunker than I was.
“Y/N where have you been?!” I was shouting now, my voice immediately commandeering her full attention. My eyes followed her as she sauntered barefoot across the hardwood floor, reaching the island in the middle of kitchen and slamming her phone down. I looked at the device, wondering what might be on there, who she may have been texting and calling whilst I was gone. My gaze returned to hers. I didn’t anticipate it being this difficult, seeing her after what had happened. My jaw tightly clenched, I realised I resented her: the way she looked, her beauty, the power she knew she had over me. I felt like it controlled me, like I could cave and forgive her actions, just from being stood in front of her; but the lull of alcohol flushed my cheeks and fuelled the anger I was still holding onto.
"You can’t fucking stroll in here Harry, unannounced after two w-" her voiced was raised, and I could sense I’d fuelled her temper with my questioning, but I cut her off before she could finish, out-shouting her.
“Yes I fucking can, I own half this house!” my arms were now unfolded, and I thrust forward, my stomach pressing against the other side of the island. I stared at her through the dim light, the solid chunk of wood and marble separating us, as if it were the barrier between our relationship. Once again she’d somehow turned the situation around, making me feel like I had done something wrong. I had every right to come here, and I had every right to know where she’d been. She was still my girlfriend.
"You’ve been out. Where did you go? Who were you with?" I realised how I sounded, jealous and angry, but thats exactly how I felt. Much to my dismay she continued to ignore my questions, snatching her phone off the surface and heading for the stairs. I stalked her trail, following her up and into our bedroom. She stumbled along the way, as did I, realising the extent of my intoxication, leaving me barely able to walk straight. I didn’t want to have a drunken row with her, but I guess I should have expected that, turning up here at 4am. As she walked into the bedroom, she stopped sharply, turning around to face me, my body loosing balance slightly as she’d halted my furious pace. She stared up at me, her eyes bloodshot from the heavy night she’d clearly had. I couldn’t tell if she was going to cry or slap me. Every ounce of me prayed it would be the latter. I couldn’t handle it when she cried. I waited for her to speak, to do something, but she stood her ground, big eyes piercing into my mine: a silent war. Searching my mind, I couldn’t think of anything to say, mainly because I still didn’t know how I felt. I’d taken time away to ‘think’, but I knew deep down I just wanted things back to how they were, but if I forgave her too quickly, it would only further prove the extent of the hold she had over me. She’d slept with someone else, given her body to another man. Her body was meant to be mine, and mine only, but not now. She’d committed the ultimate betrayal, and although I was furious, I couldn’t decide which weighed heavier on my mind: her deception, or my want, my need, to have her back. My head was beginning to hurt and my feet ache, and I could still taste the sting of vodka in the back of my throat.
"You couldn’t even tell me to my face!" I broke the silence. My voice was loud, but the words were slurred. I stood leering forward, causing her to step back slightly, her furious expression showing no signs of remorse. As her body backed into the dresser against the wall, I was stood looming over her smaller frame, my jaw and fists tightly clenched. I didn’t like her dressing like this, especially after what had happened, because I knew other boys would be looking, thinking things they shouldn’t be, thinking they could have a piece of her, not knowing she’s mine. These jealous, irrational thoughts soon began to consume me. She still hadn’t answered my questions, and the thought of her going out clubbing, no doubt acting like she was single, enraged me. I couldn’t tell if it was the vodka or my anger, but I felt myself becoming hot, frustration boiling inside me. She was aware I had a tendency to be aggressive and overprotective when I’d had too much to drink, just as she would become more argumentative, so combined with the tension between us, we both knew tonight would end badly. She raised her hands to my chest, pushing me back slightly.
"I’m not having this argument now Harry!" she seared through her teeth, attempting to weave around me. I darted in response, seizing her upper arms and tightly squeezing her flesh. The feeling of her bare skin against my palms was almost overwhelming. This was the first time I’d touched her in two weeks, and I couldn’t deny how good it felt, smoothing almost. She rattled in my clutch as she continued to look up at me, her expression showing me she held authority.
"Harry, we will not have this discussion now!” she hissed, her temper clearly elevated. I hated her for trying to control the situation, for showing me, once again, that she was in charge and that we would have this much needed talk on her terms; but as I held tightly onto her plump flesh in protest, I realised my physical strength would always overpower her, no matter what. My arms tensed as I effortlessly lifted up her small frame, crashing her bum down onto the dresser behind her, various items tumbling to the floor. She grabbed onto my biceps to steady herself against my sudden, unexpected gesture. As I pushed my hips between her thighs, my fingers found the hem of her dress, roughly yanking it up. I kept my gaze fixed on my actions, deliberately avoiding her eyes. I knew if I looked at her, I’d probably crumble. She didn’t stop me as pulled the fabric over her head, her hair falling across her shoulders. I examined her body for a moment: tight underwear clung to her breasts and hips, luscious curves and soft buttery skin, her cute little tummy. This was the body I’d devoured countless times, the only girl I’d been with since I first lay eyes on her, but now things had changed: she’d given it away to someone else. As she sat on the dresser, silently staring up at me, I couldn’t help but feel her moves were calculated; like she’d play the innocent and let me take her now, as rough as I wanted, and then immediately assume I’d forgiven her. I swallowed hard.
During the moment of stand off, Y/N’s hands had begun to travel up my torso, slowly unbuttoning my shirt. I could feel her warm fingertips brushing over my tattoos, pushing the remaining fabric from my shoulders, making her way down to my jeans. She clutched at my sides, pulling me into her, kissing my chest. A heavy breath left my lungs and I closed my eyes, enjoying her touch, missing this contact so badly. The sound of her unbuckling my belt was making me hard, and I stood ridged, almost scared to reciprocate. I could still feel the warmth of the alcohol blushing my cheeks, encouraging my lust and disabling any rational thoughts I should have in this situation. My breathing became heavier as I tried desperately to control myself, the conflicting feelings of desire and anger battling one another in my mind. As I felt Y/N unzip my jeans, palming firmly over my length, I opened my eyes to see her staring innocently up at me, suckling lightly on her bottom lip. I knew exactly what she was doing, but no part of me was able to stop her. The only option I had was to attempt to control her.
"No." I spoke, although barely audible. My arms quickly darted, capturing her wrists and pushing them to her sides. My movements instantly changed, becoming aggressive and rushed, fuelled by my intoxication. I snatched for her knickers, tearing them down her legs, immediately doing the same to her bra, making no effort to be gentle. I felt a sense of empowerment as she sat completely naked in front of me, legs dangling in mid air, waiting for my move. I drenched the tips of my fingers, tugging my jeans and boxers to the floor with my free hand. As I snaked my arm around her waist, placing my palm on her lower back, I ran my wet digits up her slit, applying further pressure as her neck craned and her eyes fluttered shut. I circled her clit, watching her intently, then sucked at my fingers a second time before slipping one, and then another, slowing inside her. She moaned out softly, her voice making me want her even more. I felt the same pleasure she did, having not done this for so long. The feeling of her wetness on my hand, the look on her face, I could feel myself becoming impossibly hard. Curving my fingers, I stroked at her insides, watching her breasts rise and fall. Using my other hand, I pushed my length down, lining myself up with her entrance. As I removed my fingers from her, I clutched my arm around her back, pulling her body towards me as I edged myself inside her, slowly and carefully. She winced, both our gazes were fixed on my length, watching in anticipation as I slid, inch by inch into her core. The lights were off, the room only dimly lit by the yellow lull coming from the bathroom, casting a beautiful flow over her body. My breath hitched, as did Y/N’s, as we simultaneously looked up at each other, eyes locking. I stopped, almost out of fear as I stared into her eyes. She looked unsure, perhaps even sorrowful. There was so much pressure built up between us, so much that needed to be said before this happened, before we did this… But we were here now.
I could feel myself pulsing half way inside her, and I watched as her mouth opened slightly. I could see she was about to say something, but before she could, I yanked harshly at her thighs, slamming my remaining length inside her. She cried out, a combination of pain and pleasure, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck as I rammed myself into her. I dragged her small body to the edge of the dresser, pushing her plump bottom into the wooden surface, allowing myself to go deeper inside. I buried my face into her neck, enjoying the smell of her perfume, biting harshly on her soft skin. I sucked at her collar bone and gripped my hands fiercely round her thighs, fingertips denting her flesh, wanting to leave marks. As she clung tightly to my body, she felt weightless, allowing me to move her as fast and rough as I needed to. I couldn’t even think properly, her high pitched moans, and my lower grunts filling the room and my mind. I knew this was wrong, and unfair on both of us, but I craved the feeling of her holding onto me, needing me.
"Hh-Harry.." Y/N panted through short breaths. I could feel her tightening around me, her moans becoming more erratic. She removed her arms from around my neck, leaning back and placing one hand flat on the surface behind her, pushing her core into me, as the other clutched onto my taught bicep. I could feel her nails digging into me. Her breasts bounced with my rough movements, and I pulled harder at her thighs, ramming myself forcefully inside her, as deep and hard as I could. I knew she never liked it too rough, but I couldn’t help myself, and she wasn’t stopping me. With her body leant back away from my torso, I could see her properly: her full breasts, small waist and plump rounded love handles. I adored her body, her face, especially like this. I watched her expressions intently as she concentrated on her high, her lips parting, eyes rolling back and her moans egging me on. I felt like I loved and hated her at the same time; wanted to pleasure and hurt her simultaneously. I couldn’t decide how I felt towards her, but as every muscle in her lower body tensed around me, I couldn’t hold out any longer. I took in a sharp breath, my hands abruptly grabbing onto her peachy bum, pounding roughly for the final few rounds, slamming myself into her. My vision went white as her tight, wet insides squeezed around me, her back arching upwards as she cried out for the last time. I grunted harshly as I spilled inside her, immediately slowing my movements.
We sat deadly still for a moment, until Y/N hesitantly sat back up straight, her insides squeezing as she did and I winced slightly at the pain. Again she wrapped her arms around my neck, as we both fought to catch our breath. I clutched tightly onto her frame, my forehead lowering, resting on her shoulder. I listened to her breathing as I held myself inside her, not wanting to let go just yet.
As I came down from my high, the feeling of regret showered over me like acid rain. I sighed involuntarily, raising my head from Y/N’s body, looking down at her, at what I’d just done. She clutched at my biceps, leaning forward to kiss me, but before she could I moved my head slightly. As I did, she looked up at me, her wide eyes making my stomach flip. She looked so hurt. I realised how badly I wanted to come home and be with her, but I knew it wasn’t right, not now. Not tonight.
"Y/N, don’t look at me like that.." I whispered, avoiding her view, pulling myself out of her. Before she could respond, I picked her up off the dresser and walked her towards the bed, pulling back the duvet and carefully placing her down. I sat on the edge, next to her body for a moment, wondering what to do. The alcohol was beginning to wear off, and I realised the implications of my actions. I blamed myself completely. I shouldn’t have come here, and I certainly shouldn’t have slept with her. It just made it harder for me to leave again. All I wanted was to snuggle up behind her, fall asleep with her, make her breakfast in the morning and forget about all this, but I realised I couldn’t. There was a uncomfortable silence, both of us not quite being able to say how we felt. She lay on her back, staring up at me, waiting for me to speak, her soft skin contrasted to the white covers. It felt like deja vu, like when I had to leave the first time: Y/N left naked on our bed, alone, whilst I walked away. I couldn’t help but feel intense guilt. My jaw tightly clenched, I sighed. I knew she expected me to stay, but if I did, she would think I’d forgiven her, and I hadn’t. Before I could talk myself into getting back into bed with her, I quickly rose to my feet, pulling my boxers and jeans back on. I could feel her eyes following me around the room, watching my movements, realising what was happening. I guess a part of my hoped she would beg me to stay, but as I pulled a fresh t-shirt over my head, I looked back to her. She’d turned onto her side, her hands clamped between her thighs, her eyes closed. As I moved closer, I saw tiny droplets of water rolling down her soft cheeks. I was dying inside, realising what I’d done, knowing how this would make her feel. My body suddenly became impossibly hot, my eyes stinging. I felt a sense of panic, not knowing what to do, feeling like I was trapped. Staying was the wrong thing to do, but so was leaving. I hesitated for a moment, stuck in limbo, then carefully leant down wiping the tear from her cheek with my thumb. I closed my eyes tightly shut, a deep breath leaving my lungs as I turned away, leaving her once again.
minaslegs