"Harry," my name was a half sob, half prayer and I clung to her, pulling her down to kiss me. My unspoken promise translating through the contact we were sharing. I was here, here for her. She wasn't alone. I moved my hips to join her now desperate rhythm and the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. The sound was intoxicating, almost as intoxicating as the girl above me. Her skin was glistening, her scent inebriating; she smelled of rich, french perfume, floral shampoo, and sex. Breathing her in, I ran towards the edge of oblivion, leaping off and soaring down into the darkness. She came with me, those heart shattering silent tears slipping between our mouths, flavouring our kiss. I clung to her still as we fell, settling back down into infinite nirvana.
Harry Styles
I had no idea how long we'd laid there. Her head was nestled into the crook of my neck. I could feel the hot silent tears still slowly slipping down her cheeks and onto my skin. I didn't move; I just laid there beneath her, holding her to me, wondering what the hell had happened to this vibrant girl. It could have been minutes later— it could have been hours. I didn't care and it didn't matter; all I knew was that at some point the tears stopped and her breathing evened— she'd finally fallen asleep. No matter how much I wanted to though, I couldn't join her. My mind just wouldn't stop turning. I needed to know what happened to her, what could have possibly left her so hurt and broken.
Absently, I ran the tips of my fingers up and down her naked spine; the gentle bumps of her vertebrae through her skin distracting me. God, she was so thin. What on earth did this girl do to keep up this staggering energy? From the way that her pale skin stretched across her frame, she couldn't ingest much more than I saw her eat tonight. How? Why? Couldn't she see how beautiful she was without trying to starve herself?
Between skin and bone was a thin, but toned layer of muscle. She was obviously very active. I couldn't help the wave of heat that washed through me at the though of exactly what kind of physical activity she'd taken part in to build that muscle tone. I didn't particularly think that I wanted to know the true details.
Cautious not to wake her, I let my fingers explore the naked skin of her back and sides. A shiver ran through her and I moved quickly to right the comforter around her with one hand, before resuming my exploration.
I froze the second my touch brushed over a jagged incongruity in the skin between her shoulder blades. It was so light that I hadn't ever noticed it before; a thin and fading jagged line marred the smooth flesh along her right shoulder blade. Gently, I traced it with the pad of my thumb and a low, quiet sob slipped out of her throat, wracking her slender form.
"Arrêtes, s'il te plait," (Stop, please,) she whispered, her voice breaking over the lilting accent. I froze immediately, but it didn't help, "S'il te plait, je t'en prie, non!" (Please, please, no!) Instinctively, I held her tighter, my hand coming up to cup her cheek and brush away the hot tears.
"It's just a dream. It's just a dream," I soothed, brushing my thumb back and forth along her prominent cheekbone. She quieted a bit, but the tears still slipped out, unintelligible murmurings slipping out of her trembling lips. "Come back to me, Darien," I whispered, willing her away from whatever terrors were plaguing her in her dreams. A shudder raced through her before she suddenly stilled, her breathing changing.
Shit, she was awake.
"I didn't mean to wake you," I breathed, resuming the trail my fingers had been taking up and down her spinal cord.
"What-what did you do?" She asked, propping herself up to look at me with glistening, sleep addled eyes, trails of tears still slipping down her cheeks. I just stared back at her, all thought deserting me.
"You had to have done something," she sobbed, rolling off of me to sit up on the bed. Her legs hung off the edge, her face in her hands. Her entire body shook, "You had to have. That never... I never dream of..." she trailed off. Fucking hell. All of this because I'd touched her scar? I paled. How could I tell her I'd been feeling her up as she slept? Actually, she'd probably laugh at that and make some ridiculous comment.
"Darien, I-."
"How many times do I have to fucking tell you?" She shrieked suddenly, jumping up off of the bed. She took the sheet with her, wrapping it around her naked body in a strongly self-conscious motion, "My name is Ren! I'm not her, I can't be her— not anymore." Full blown, body-wracking sobs choked her, sending her to her knees.
"Ren," I tried again, holding my hands up in surrender, she wouldn't look at me, staring pointedly at the ground. I climbed out of bed, not bothering to cover up. I approached her cautiously— as one would a wounded animal. If she saw me, she didn't move. Once in front of her, I knelt down beside her. I waited several seconds so that she would know I was there, before pulling her into me. I settled down onto the ground, pulling her onto my lap where she curled up, tucking her head under my chin— it was the exact position we'd been in just hours earlier.
Wow, it certainly didn't feel like hours; so much had happened since then. It felt like a different day entirely. I'd gotten more out of her within the past twenty-four hours than I had since she'd stepped into my class at the beginning of September. Part of me was tempted to ask Caleb and John if they could tell me anything, but then that would just open the door for interrogation and that would not end well. Maybe Jas could tell me something...
No.
I shook my shook my head slightly, I couldn't go behind her back like that. If she hadn't told me yet, then there was a reason. Probably some twisted and fucked up reason, but it was a reason all the same.
For several moments, we just sat there, rocking back and forth on the cold hardwood flooring while she cried. I waited until the tears stopped and her breathing evened out before I even thought of asking her all of the questions whirling through my mind. Her hands were wound tightly into the sheet, her entire body still trembling and I couldn't tell if it was from the low temperature or something else. I brought one hand up to her face, cupping her cheek.
Fuck, she was freezing.
"Please come back to bed," I murmured, placing soft kisses against the top of her head, breathing in her scent. My sheets would smell of her later— I would smell of her later.
She nodded, mumbling unintelligibly under her breath, making my lips twitch upward slightly. Awkwardly, I climbed to my feet, doing my best not to jostle the still reeling girl cradled in my arms, while simultaneously trying not to trip on the sheet wrapped haphazardly around her.
Gently, I laid her down onto the bed. Before I clambered in after her, I kissed her forehead, "I'll be right back," I murmured, turning toward the door.
She caught my hand, "Where are you going?" The look she was giving me exposed every bit of her vulnerability— a sweet girl, trembling, lost at sea.
"I need to turn on the heat, you're freezing," I cajoled, brushing my thumb back and forth against her knuckles, my hand still held captive.
"Please, don't go," her voice broke over the words and at that very moment I wanted nothing more than to just climb into the bed after her and forget all about the damned heating in this ridiculous excuse for an apartment. It was completely mad how much people were willing to pay; hell, how much I was willing to pay to live in this massive city. The rent for my studio flat alone was over $1500 a month and the only reason I was even able to afford it was the salary the University had given me to guest lecture. All of the excess went into an account I'd created to cover the cost of living after my dream job was over.
Padding quickly into the hallway, I opened the controls to the radiator and cranked it all the way up. Even though it was only mid-October, winter was coming in hard and fast and I knew that my electric bill would skyrocket, but I didn't care. I needed her warm.
When I walked back in, I found her curled up into a tiny ball, quaking beneath the comforter. Shit.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think the temperature would drop this drastically," I muttered, climbing into the bed beside her. I pulled her into me before wrapping the sheets and the comforter tightly around us. The radiator would kick in soon... hopefully.
"Well, I can think of one way to stay warm," she mused. And just like that, the sexual being was back. My broken girl was stowed away behind layers of calloused rigidity and sexuality. She flashed me her signature wicked smirk it immediately set my teeth on edge. I knew that look; she'd given it to me enough times; it always meant trouble.
"Again?" I asked, still struggling to acclimate to her rapid mood swing. Surely, she was tired. That would mean four times in one day.
"No, I was going to suggest we build a fire in the middle of the fucking living room." Her sarcasm practically took on corporeal form and was laughing at me from the foot of the bed. She rolled her eyes at me, before cocking an eyebrow. She slid easily on top of me, caressing my steadily hardening length. Christ, this woman.
"Now, are you going to chip in this time or are you going to continue the dead fish routine?" Her words took me aback before I realized that this was just a front. She was doing whatever she could to minimalise the connection we'd shared earlier— her fear completely taking over.
"Veni, vidi, vici, Miss Grace," I smirked, choosing to ignore her comment, rather than address the implications behind her avoidance. She smirked up at me before sealing her lips to mine and we were lost.
***
I awoke to the morning sun streaming into the room through the slender chinks in the curtains; the empty place in the bed next to me was cool. I frowned, rolling over— my sheets still smelled of her.
Where the hell had she gone?
Struggling to rub the sleep out of my eyes, I sat up, throwing my legs over the side of the bed. It was ridiculously hot in this water closet of a flat— I was sweating my ass off.
"Fuck!" I hissed, jumping out of the bed before digging a pair of old, pale grey joggers out of the bottom drawer. I'd left the fucking radiator on all night. I practically ran to the radiator. In my sex jumbled daze, I'd cranked it all the way up to 24°c. I was dreading getting the bill this month. Raking a hand through my hair, I stumbled into the kitchen.
I stopped in the entryway, the harsh scent of coffee assaulting my senses. I owned coffee? Since when did I own coffee?
Suddenly, a violet head popped in from around the corner, those heavy waves wadded up in a wispy mound on top of her head. She stretched up on her toes to try and reach my tea cups and saucers. I kept them on one of the highest shelves in the cupboard. I had no problem reaching them; they were right at arm's length for me. Ren, however, was a good five inches from them on her toes. I watched, bemused, as she frowned, eyeing the worktop mischievously. Shrugging, she propped one knee up on the counter, gracefully lifting herself up onto the worktop. She stood, easily retrieving two cups and saucers before scowling at them. She rolled her eyes before setting them on the worktop, sitting down, preparing to jump down.
I grinned, staking forward, pinning her against the counter with my body. She jumped at my sudden entry, glowering at me.
"Good morning, Miss Grace." I smirked down at her, wedging my way between her thighs, my hands on the worktop on either side of her.
"You're in my way, Professor." She quirked an eyebrow up at me, her tone obvious.
"My, you're in a bit of a mood this morning; didn't you sleep well?"
"Actually, I was kept up most of the night and I would like some coffee."
"What on earth could have kept you up?" I gasped. I was not going to allow her to sour my good mood. Aside from my impending electric disaster, I was having a good morning. I woke up and she was still here, barefoot, in my kitchen, wearing only my t-shirt from last night. "You know, there were clean ones in the drawer," I mused quietly, fingering the soft fabric. The dark colour brought out the bright aquamarine of her eyes, and the soft flush in her pale skin.
"Well, you see, this guy I know— he's very... hands on. He wouldn't leave me alone all damn night." She was fighting her growing grin and she was losing.
"I can understand his motivation," I murmured, my hands moving to slide up her far too slender thighs. A chill raced through her, pricking her skin beneath my touch.
"And when I woke up this morning, he didn't even have the decency to own coffee. All Americans should own coffee— immigrant or not." She was full on grinning now, but her eyes narrowed at me as I inched my way up her naked thighs.
"On this fool's behalf, I apologise for the lack of this American... delicacy. Dare I ask where you came across it?"
"His neighbors were very accommodating."
"If you asked them dressed like that, I'm sure they were." I couldn't help the dark undertone in my voice. I had yet to have meet my neighbours, there was no telling what kind of sick bastard she'd gotten it from.
"Actually, I couldn't find my panties when I left, they seemed to have disappeared during the night." She eyed me suspiciously before continuing, "Blake and Lauren were very kind though." I full on glared at her now. She'd left without her fucking underwear, and talked to the couple next door. Was she fucking insane? What had happened if a breeze came and lifted the hem?
"They're such a nice elderly lesbian couple. John and Caleb would love them." She stressed the word 'lesbian' and I relaxed slightly.
She'd still left my flat practically nude. I was none too happy about that.
"Anyway, I would like to have my coffee now— before it burns."
"Can you even tell if it's burned? It still tastes like petrol."
"To the unskilled pallet maybe," she challenged, putting her small hands on my shoulders and pushing slightly. I didn't budge. Instead, I leaned further into her, dipping my head so that the bridge of my nose ran up the length of her neck to her jaw. She sucked in a sharp breath, her nails digging into my bare shoulders.
"I did not like waking up alone," I muttered between soft kisses against her rapidly heating skin. The fire between us threatened to roar back to life, itching just below the surface of my skin.
"Tough shit, I wanted coffee. I need to wake up."
"I can think of other ways to wake you up?"
"As tempting as you believe yourself to be, Harry, you were not the one getting her lady parts fucked into disrepair last night."
"I seem to recall your leading this fuckery," I grinned, my hands winding their way around her slender hips; I had to resist the urge to frown when my thumbs dug into the bones far too easily.
"Not the point, Stella needs a break," she snorted.
"Stella?" Who the fuck was Stella?
My mouth dropped open when she pointed to the apex of her thighs, "Stella, Harry. Harry, Stella." Her face held no trace of humour. She was serious.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I couldn't even begin to understand this girl.
What kind of person names her vagina?
Darien. Darien Grace would.
"Actually, fucking is her favorite past time, she's just a bit... worse for wear at the moment. Give her a few hours." A slow grin was creeping onto her face and into her voice.
"You named your..." I couldn't even finish my sentence. It was too absurd.
"Yes." She crossed her arms over her chest; she was not to be trifled with.
"Why?" was all I could manage; I knew that my face betrayed my slightly horrified surprise.
"If a man can name his dick why shouldn't a woman name her vagina? It's completely sexist."
"Why didn't I see the feminism angle coming?" I groaned, throwing my head back and rolling my eyes toward the ceiling.
"Because you're rather dumb for such an intelligent man," she giggled, pushing me yet again. I held on.
"But I wanted morning sex," I pouted, resting my head in the crook of her neck.
"Once again, tough shit. You have two hands, figure that shit out or take a cold shower," she laughed, trying again to distance herself. Finally, I stepped back, allowing her room to hop off the worktop.
"You're going to be the death of me."
"Quite possibly." She grinned, turning towards the burner. She lifted one of my plates up off of the pot, revealing the dark liquid. Taking one of the tea cups, she dipped it into the disgusting concoction. She'd already covered the other cup with a paper towel. Curiously, I watched as she poured the noxious liquid from one cup onto the towel. Gradually, the dark liquid filtered through the thin barrier, leaving dark granules on top of the soaked 'filter'. She repeated the process once more until she was satisfied with the result. I hated to admit it, but the entire system was kind of ingenious.
"Jet fuel?" She smirked, holding the now full teacup out to me.
"As appetizing as that sounds, I think I'll have a cup of tea," I muttered, reaching around her to retrieve the container from the cupboard. My mum had always refused to by prepackaged tea, always buying the loose leaves; she claimed that it tasted better that way. It was a habit I'd adopted while I was still living at home. It was hard to find loose tea here, though; I had to go to Whole Foods or whatever the hell that place was called just for a decent blend.
"Of course you would." She rolled her eyes at me, taking a sip from her concoction, "You know, we fought a whole war just to keep that shit out of this country," she grumbled, turning her nose up at the shredded leaves as I captured them in the tea strainer, setting a pot to boil.
"Not my fault," I laughed, retrieving a clean cup before turning to look at her, "Why do you think the American stress level is so high? Tea has been clinically acclaimed for it's calming side effects."
"You know, they make these little things now called 'anxiety medications'. They work wonders. I'm sure I could score some for you if you'd like?" she laughed, taking a long drink from her cup, practically emptying it, "You know that they make dishes for grown ups, right? You can quit shopping in the 'my little tea party' section."
I ignored her second comment, "I'll stick with my tea. How about some real breakfast?" I asked, immediately deploying my first move in my plot to get her up at least one weight class.
"I'm good with coffee, thanks," she smiled, returning to the pot to scoop out yet another cup of the rancid liquid. I grit my teeth at her response.
"I have yogurt, eggs, apples, muffins?" I pressed on, opening the refrigerator in invitation. Still, she wouldn't take the bait.
"I'm not really a breakfast person," she shrugged, continuing to sip her coffee. She would eat something at lunch; I would make sure of it.
Just then there was the sound of a key turning in the lock and we both froze, her eyes going wide. I knew that my expression probably mirrored hers, but I was rooted to the spot— completely motionless.
"I'm telling you, she has a fiancé, just drop it. You've wrecked enough relationships already."
"You really think she's happy with that wanker? Jesus, Max, wake up!" I relaxed at the sound of Leala and Max's voices. Those two I could handle. I flashed Darien an apologetic smile, but she still hadn't moved, the color slowly draining from her face.
"Hey, it's okay," I laughed, moving towards her, holding on to her hips through the thin fabric of my t-shirt. "Why don't you go put some clothes on? There are joggers in the bottom drawer in my room." I kissed her gently on the forehead. She still wouldn't move.
"There you are, Hillary, since when do you drink coffee—?" Lee's voice cut off and I turned to see her eyeing me with shocked apprehension.
"Good morning," Ren purred, smirking devilishly at Leala. Well, at least some of her colouring had returned. "How's Ellen?"
Lee just glared at her and I was left standing there wondering how the hell these two knew each other.
"Probably waking up next to her boyfriend," she sneered back, rolling her eyes.
"Pity. I thought that surely she'd be too ditzy to realize her mistake. I guess I was wrong." My jaw was left lying somewhere on the ground. Holy fuck. I looked back and forth between the two women. "Oh well," Ren sighed, taking a firm hold of my chin, pulling me back to face her, "I think I'll have a shower now; you can join me if you'd like." Her usual sexual prowess was back in full force as she sealed her lips to mine, kissing me with more flare than necessary. She pulled away too soon leaving me reeling. She pecked me once more on the lips before turning on her heel and sauntering back towards my room.
"So, you finally shagged the bitch," Leala groaned, setting herself down on the worktop across the kitchen. I rolled my eyes. It was too early to be dealing with Lee's over protective antics right now and I was still trying to figure out what to do with my morning wood. It was only 8:00 a.m. and already I needed something stronger than tea.