a/n uh oh. you know what that chapter title means... sexy times inbound...
40.
He bites his lip, staring at my own. I think he's trying to figure out what to say to me. He shifts a little under the sheets and draws his knees up to his chest, before clearing his throat and looking away out the window.
"I don't think I can sleep until I know what's going on," I rasp.
He stares out the window for a minute in silence. I watch him, waiting. Finally he takes a deep breath like he's about to start speaking. I sit deathly still.
"When Mitch and I took shrooms," he starts. My heart beats heavier. "I texted Louis."
Well that certainly was not what I expected him to say.
I sit up straighter. "Okay." I manage.
"I was just so confused by the fish."
My face crinkles up at the phrase. He notices and his eyes grow wide.
"Not—I mean it was a nice gesture. I just didn't, I don't know what it means. It's been driving me crazy." He backpedals. I nod.
"I was just, I was trying to do something I'd never done before. To be honest, I don't know what it means either."
"Well," he huffs. "That's not fun for either of us."
I tilt my head. "You were confused about the fish so you texted Louis?" I squint at him, trying to understand. He drops his head back against his headboard.
"I don't exactly remember, but when I mellowed out I checked my phone, and he had texted me back." He stares at his ceiling.
"I see."
"And then I texted him again."
I swallow dryly. "What kinds of things are you texting about?" There's a discomfort settling in the pit of my stomach, but I try to push it away. I have no right to feel upset in any way. Especially after he came to Wes's with me a couple weeks ago.
"Do you want to read them?" He blurts out and reaches for his phone, holding it out to me. I recoil a little.
"No, I don't have to," I decide. He sets the phone down by his side and stares at it. "So you didn't want me to see that you were texting him?" I try to fit the pieces together. He bites his lip and looks back up at me.
"And then I got frustrated and embarrassed, because I don't know where we stand, and if I should even be guilty about it, or if you've been talking to other people..." he trails off, his eyes desperately searching mine for an answer.
"Mm," I hum. "I'm not talking to other people, baby," I reassure softly. My hand reaches out to rest on his knee. The fabric separates the touch. "I don't know what this is, but it's special. It's something I'm taking seriously because I'm realizing just how much it means to me."
He keeps our eyes locked together, nodding.
"I don't like labels," I sigh, impatient with myself.
"I know," he murmurs, there's a teasing glimmer in his eye.
"And it's something I hate about myself more and more—" I look down at my hand on his knee. "The deeper we go, the more I don't like my commitment issues."
He rests his chin on top of my hand, begging it to move to his face. I oblige, running my thumb across his cheek.
"I'm afraid of calling us something," I whisper, "because it will hurt more when it collapses."
"If," he corrects softly.
"It's never been an if," I bite my lip. "All my life, it's never not collapsed."
Which is true. If you look at my track record, with Danny, with my parents, with Wes. It's never stayed intact. He stares really hard at my features, a crease forming between his eyebrows. He leans in closer so our faces are inches from each other. The sheets softly swish beneath him.
"Do you want to be texting Louis?" I ask fearfully.
He ponders the question.
"No," he whispers. "I want certainty."
My mouth twitches back and forth. As I lean closer to him, my hair falls from behind my ear. It sways like a curtain, lightly brushing his face. He reaches a hand up and retucks it for me.
"I need certainty," he repeats.
"I'm trying," the words fall out before I realize I've said them. He sees my pupils grow larger because suddenly his eyes are darting quickly between each of mine, reading my expression.
"I know," he nods. Our foreheads are touching now, I feel his head move up and down against my skin. I lower my hand to rest back on his knee.
"Will you keep texting Louis?"
He's deathly silent, letting my question sink in. His eyes never leave mine, soft willowy green. Then he shakes his head tenderly, my own moving back and forth with the motion.
"No," he reassures. His voice is warm and raw.
The word relaxes me. But I feel an overwhelming wave of guilt. I ruined his day today. He's confused and hurt because of me. There's something he needs that I'm not providing him, and so he's looking in other places to get it.
The thought makes a fear rise in my throat. The thought of him finding someone else who can provide for him better. The thought of losing him because I'm so broken. The thought of not being enough.
I'm not enough.
I feel my eyes well up a little but push it back down, my breath hitching. Immediately, his face knits together in concern. He lifts his hands up to cup each side of my head, his thumbs brushing gently under my eyes, wiping imaginary tears away.
"Hey," he murmurs. "What's wrong."
He's denying himself something he needs, because of me. He's not at his best. He's not comfortable. There's something missing between us. Part of me wants to lie to myself and stick a label on whatever this is. But that's not fair to me either. That's not healthy growth. That's pushing myself to be something I'm not ready to be yet.
I need to give him something. Something. A reassurance. A temporary fix. I believe him when he says he won't text Louis again. But the thought of him being unhappy because of it is unbearable. I rack my brain, finding a common ground. What can I say to get him to stay? To be okay? For just a little bit longer? Until I'm a little less broken?
I lean in closer so my head moves past his, my lips brushing against his ear. His frame tenses up at the contact.
"I'll be whatever you want me to be in your head," I whisper softly to him.
When I move my head back, his eyes are closed, his mouth is pointed upward and parted open. He blinks his eyes back open and glances down at me. "Whatever I want?" he murmurs. I nod selflessly.
"You can call me anything you want tonight," I pull the sheets off of his legs, moving my own to sit on top of him. He stares up at me, big green eyes wide in acceptance of the idea.
His hands reach hungrily for the hem of the shirt I'm wearing, lifting it up a little to expose my stomach. "This is my shirt," he observes. I nod.
"What are you going to do about that?" my eyebrows perk up playfully. He smirks, a devilish look dancing through his eyes. And I feel his hands drop and move around my waist to snake up my back. They're big and warm, softly stroking my skin as they rub up and down along my spine.
And then in an instant he twists and whirls me around onto the bed. My body hits the mattress with a slight bounce and I can't help but let a giggle escape my lips. We've switched positions and now he's towering over me. I can tell he's trying to play the role I just assigned him, be all assertive and dominant. But from what I've gathered about this man in the bedroom, that's not him at all. He's a switch. 100%. And when he's with me, I think he prefers to let me control the speed.
He leans down into me, touching our lips for the first time since this morning. It's a sweet kiss, tastes like toothpaste. I arch my back to press my stomach against his, trying to feel as much of his skin against mine as I can.
His legs tighten around my torso in reaction. It locks me in place underneath him. His hands reach up to grab my wrists wrapped around his neck and push them down against the bed. His fingers intertwine with mine, and they press my hands deeper into the mattress on either side of my head. Suddenly I'm pinned beneath him.
Fuck, maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe he does like the control.
He pulls away from my face and I try to follow after him but I'm pinned against the bed. A thin trail of saliva laces between our lips but breaks as he grows further away. Until he's sitting up straight, looking down at me between his legs on the bed.
"Whatever I want, huh," he mutters again. It makes my heart suddenly thrash in my chest from excitement. I nod obsessively and run my tongue over my bottom lip to get rid of the string of saliva. He smirks at my enthusiasm. "I bet you really want to keep kissing me right now," he teases from his lofty position.
"And it's killing me that I can't," I mumble in quiet frustration, trying to lift myself up to him but continuously being pushed down by his grip on my hands.
He chuckles and leans back down, but doesn't meet my lips. Instead, he tucks his head in between my pinned hand and ear, brushing his nose against my hair, breathing heavily next to me. The sound is so loud. It sends chills of anticipation through my body. I shiver a little at the soft touch.
"That's too bad," he whispers warmly.
He pulls away quickly and simultaneously pushes his thigh up between my legs, pressing it firmly against my core. I gasp out in shock, my body tensing at the sudden sensitive touch.
He lets go of my hands and leans across the bed to open a drawer in his end table. I'm still writhing at the feeling of his leg pressed against me. When he comes back into view, a dark red tie is dangling between his fingers. His eyes soften for a moment, "Whatever I want?"
It's a question that time, he's asking for permission to continue down whatever road he's started on. I look between his eyes and the tie laced through his fingers. My breathing is still heavy from the shock one measly touch sent through my body.
I grin and nod, and he sits back on top of me again, looping the tie around his neck and tying it loosely, before pulling the now knotted material off of his neck. I watch the action closely, soaking up every small detail of his fingers creating a knot and pulling it from his head.
He leans down over me, tugging at the fabric of my shirt. "Take this off first," he commands.
I yank the shirt up over my head and toss it to the side. He grins and leans further over me, one hand gripping the tie, the other disappearing down by my waist.
"You know, I never wear ties," he mumbles. As soon as he says it, I feel the hand I can't see swipe up across my underwear, stopping around my clit and lingering for a moment. I let out a light, quiet moan. "But I've discovered it's pretty convenient to have one in your bedside table drawer."
"Harry," I cry out in quiet mercy. His hand reaches up to collect my wrists, and the soft material of the tie envelops them. With a gentle tug the material becomes tight around me. He does something to the knot before letting go, because when his hands leave the material, I can't loosen it.
"What," he laughs. "You've never been tied up before?"
I shake my head. His hands wrap around my sides and slide down my torso to my waist, holding it tightly. He bends over and his lips meet my neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses up to my ear lobe, which he softly bites. I throw my head back and moan again, making him chuckle in my ear.
"I haven't even started yet," he murmurs.
"For fucks sake don't be a tease," I snap. He pulls back, which makes my legs kick underneath him in frustration.
He tilts his head, his eyes gleaming. "Anna doesn't like being the bottom does she." I stare at the headboard behind me. His thumb glides across my chin, and begins sliding down my neck, in between my breasts, all the way down my chest and past my hip bones. He runs it over the first few inches of my underwear, stopping just before my clit. "Is the anticipation just killing you?" He chuckles darkly.
I suddenly sit up, unable to take it anymore. My tied hands land on top of his butterfly tattoo and grab desperately at his skin. I lean up as far as I can to make our lips crash into one another. He smiles through the kiss and lets me have the small victory for a moment. Before I feel his fingers wrap around my hands and push me away from him, back down onto the bed. His hand presses hard against my wrists, they go deeper and deeper into the mattress above my head. He leans over me, his eyes darting back and forth between mine.
"I'm sure you've tied other people up though," he murmurs. I let out a frustrated groan. "Answer the question," his eyes stay trained intensely on mine.
"Yes," I pant.
"So this is a little taste of your own medicine," he smirks. I huff in annoyance. He leans in closer, his hand still pressing my wrists into the bed above me. His nose a centimeter from mine, our stomachs pressed up to each other. I suddenly feel how hard he is against me.
"Yes," I whisper again.
"Better take your medicine then, Anna," he warns and lets our lips meet.
I press into him as hard as I can, the pent up energy and frustration from his teasing making the kiss that much more intense. He parts his lips to take a breath, and I use it as an excuse to slip my tongue into his mouth. He lets me have the moment of control and initiation, sliding his own tongue between my lips until we're tangled in each other, the sheets balling up at the foot of the bed behind us.
He pulls away for a second, breathing heavy. "I'm going to make you beg for me so fucking hard," he growls.
"You fucker," I can't help but laugh in frustration. A similar expression appears on his own face and he shrugs a little.
"Whatever I want," he reminds me.
This is Harry in a way I've never seen him before. Whenever we've had sex in the past, we've switched. But nothing as intense as this. Neither of us has taken such a controlling, leading role like this. It's new, frightening in the best way. Exciting.
It's really turning me the fuck on.
With one hand still gripping my bound wrists, our lips interlocked, his other hand disappears at my waist again. A suck a breath through my teeth in anticipation for his touch, but it doesn't come.
Instead, I feel his fingers slowly glide up and down the inside of my thigh. They go back and forth at an agonizingly slow pace. Every time he reaches the seam of my underwear, he stops and turns around.
I groan in frustration into his lips. I definitely took for granted the way his thigh felt pressed against my core. There is absolutely nothing I want more than him touching me right now.
But I'm not going to give him the pleasure of knowing that yet.
His hand moves away from the inside of my thigh and wraps around the back of it, pulling it up to bend my knee against the side of his torso. With one hand tightly holding the back of my thigh, and the other deathgripping my wrists, his lips move away from my mouth, his tongue still hanging out lazily.
He smiles at me and I watch as his head disappears from view. I feel his tongue drag across my chest and over my right nipple, which makes me want to scream out. Instead I feel my hips lurch upwards toward him.
"Do you promise to keep your hands where they are?" he rasps. I nod.
"Yes," I pant.
"Hmm," he hums. "I don't believe you."
He towers over me again, I watch him as his hands slide under my thighs to sit me upright on the bed. He takes my tied up wrists and slings them over one of the spires on his headboard. Then he pulls my thighs downwards again so I'm hanging off the headboard, unable to move my arms.
"If that gets uncomfortable, tell me," his eyes flash in sincerity. I nod reassuringly.
"I will."
His head disappears again. I feel his fingers grabbing the sides of my underwear and sliding it down and off my legs. The feeling makes a ball form in my stomach. I curl my toes in excitement. "Holy fuck, Quinn, you're so wet," he whispers.
"I know," I groan back. "And you aren't doing anything about it."
"Do you want me to?"
I bite my lip. This is where he wants me to beg.
He takes my silence as my answer, a chuckle escaping his lips. The exhale lands on my bare genitals and makes me kick at the sheets from the suspense he's leaving me in.
"You're a hard nut to crack, Quinn," he murmurs. His lips meet the inside of my kneecap, leaving a gentle kiss against the skin. Slowly, he makes his way up the inside of my thigh, his kisses becoming longer and harsher the closer he gets to the top. He nicks the skin right next to my clit with his teeth.
But instead of sucking on it next, he exhales over the area, and moves to my other leg, starting on the inside of my left kneecap. I moan and throw my head back. I can feel him smiling through the kisses as he gets closer again, and his teeth nick at the skin on the other side. One of his hands reaches up to rub the skin surrounding my slit. My hips subconsciously move in rhythm with his fingers.
And then he pulls back entirely again, leaving me cold and antsy.
"Harry," I practically shout his name. It's sharp and angry leaving my mouth.
"What do you want me to do?" He asks innocently. His head appears in my line of vision, tilted to the side like he doesn't know what he did wrong.
"For the love of God," I huff and hit my head against the headboard. "Touch me."
"What was that?" He leans forward to look over me again. My mouth twitches back and forth, my brain upset that I let him get the upper hand like this. But my body is practically leaping in at the anticipation.
"Please," the word drips from my mouth. "For the love of God, touch me, please. Harry."
"Mmm," he muses, smirking, drunk off his power. His hair falls down over his forehead. "Say it again."
I whimper and writhe in frustration.
"Do you want me, Quinn?" He prompts. I nod reluctantly, desperately. My legs kicking at the mattress.
"Please, Harry," I give in, weakly opening my eyes to take in his gaze. "Please touch me. I need you to touch me."
Without breaking eye contact, I feel his fingers glide inside of me. They twist around and begin lightly pumping back and forth.
I stifle a moan and shut my eyes. The thumb of his hand grazes across my clit, making my mouth part open in shock of the pleasure. He takes the opportunity to lock our lips together again. His free hand grips my jaw, pulling my face closer to his.
The feeling sends waves of pleasure up my body. I breathe heavily through our kisses, each stroke of his thumb feeding me with an immense sensation of heat. I wrap my legs up and around his back, twisting my feet around each other to hold my grip on him in place. It's the only way my body can move on its own right now.
I want to pull his hair so fucking bad.
"You didn't last very long," he chuckles between kisses. I grab his bottom lip between my teeth and my eyes flash open to stare at him.
He looks alarmed by the sudden aggression. His thumb stops moving and just presses into me for a second, which makes my eyes roll up into the back of my head. But I quickly regain my composure and turn my attention to him, his lip still clutched between my teeth.
"Are you having fun, baby?" I mutter, clenching his lip. "Are you having fun being in charge?"
"I am actually," his voice is muffled from between his own teeth. His mouth doesn't smile because of my grip. But I can see the amusement twinkling in his eyes. He knows what he's doing to me. He knows he's winning. My desperate attempts to regain some semblance of authority are only making him more confident.
He sticks his tongue out and wedges it between my teeth, prying my bite away from his lip. I see the marks in his skin as he leans back for a second.
And then he moves his hand away from my clit, bringing his fingers up to his mouth. He sucks them clean and licks his thumb, before bringing his hand back down and resuming his position.
I cry out at the touch and throw my head back. He leans in, the pressure of his fingers growing with his proximity. His lips meet the center of my neck, sucking delicately on the sensitive skin.
"Untie me," I whimper out the measly command. He draws back slightly, his eyebrows creasing together in genuine concern.
"Why?"
"So I can pull your hair."
The concern disappears and he grins. His eyes flit down to the bare skin of my collarbone. "Not until I make you scream," he rejects my request.
He adds a third finger and moves his head down to my collarbone, nuzzling his cheek against my neck and sucking on the skin just above my breast. I gasp at the width he's pushing into me. His fingers begin to move faster. His mouth bites and sucks at my collarbone. His other hand runs gently through my hair, before gripping tightly at my waist.
"Fuck, Harry," I whine and clench my teeth, shutting my eyes tight. The feeling is overwhelming. Not being able to touch him back is making it so unbearably better for some reason.
"Do you want me inside you?"
"Yes," I gasp, my eyes flying open at the thought. His hand leaves my hip and fumbles with the bedside table drawer for a moment. His fingers lay still inside me as his concentration is suddenly elsewhere. I turn my head to the side to see him pull a condom out of the drawer and then slam it shut.
He brings the wrapper up to his mouth and rips it with his teeth, spitting out the bit of foil that stuck to his tongue. His fingers start moving inside me again. I feel my hips lurch up in anticipation and pleasure. He grins at my reaction, moving his hand down to his boxers and pulling out his erection.
I'm sure people just assume a guy like Harry Styles is packing a punch. I mean, he was in a boyband for Christ's sake. There are girls throwing themselves at him. I don't know, he's just got big dick energy.
So, I mean, yeah. His dick is big.
This is the third time I've seen it, and it still is kind of surprising to be honest.
He pushes the condom over his erection and bites his tongue in concentration, his fingers still rocking back and forth inside of me. After the condom is on, he grabs a pillow from the opposite side of the bed and wedges it underneath me, adjusting the angle I'm sitting at to suit him better.
He pulls out his fingers, immediately shoving them into his mouth and sucking them dry. Which for some reason makes him so much hotter. I bring my left leg up to dangle over his shoulder and give him more space. He grabs one of my hips with his hand, the other guiding himself into me.
There's a sudden, immense pressure in my core. I toss my head back and moan uncontrollably. When I glance back up at him, he has his eyes closed, his teeth clenched at the pressure and pleasure he's feeling. There's a thin line of sweat dancing across his hairline, and his curls fall down into his face, hiding his eyes from. I want to push them back. I want to twist my hands into his hair and yank it.
He slowly pushes himself into me, until I feel his hips meet the back of my thighs. He sharply inhales and shakily exhales, his head dropping down and his chin meeting his chest.
"Holy fuck, Quinn," he mutters harshly.
Both of his hands move up to my hips now, gripping them so violently I'm sure the skin is turning white beneath his fingertips. He huffs from the tightness, and then slowly pulls out a bit, before pushing himself all the way in again.
I lean my head against my bicep and whimper.
"Be louder for me. Wake up my neighbors," He rasps.
Slowly, his hips begin rocking my body back and forth. With each wave, my sweaty back presses up against the cool wood of his headboard. I clench my thigh around his shoulder tighter, biting my bottom lip harshly. A moan escapes me without any warning. I feel my hips buck up at the intensity of the feeling. It pushes him into a different angle inside of me and he groans at the sudden twisting of my body.
A smirk grows on my face. I exhale heavily, sweat lining my hairline. With each thrust he makes, I tilt my body up and down to change the angle. He cries out at the feeling, gripping my hips harder.
"Maybe I'll make you scream," I chuckle through heavy breaths. He shakes his head defiantly.
"Mmm," he stifles a moan and doubles over slightly. "Whatever I want."
His hand leaves my hip and he licks his thumb, before swiping it over my clit again.
I gasp at the gentle touch that sends such an intense pleasure through my body. My voice cries out lightly. I shut my eyes tight. I just know he's grinning ear to ear. He swipes it across again and I try my best, but can't help my voice crying out at the feeling.
When he touches it a third time, he leaves it there, rubbing small, slow circles into the cluster of nerves.
"Harry, oh my God," I groan and twist violently at the feeling. "Fuck me."
"What was that?" His voice is gruff from his own exhaustion and excitement.
"Fuck me!" I shout into the air, finally giving him what he wants.
His head presses down against my chest, and his teeth lightly nick at my right nipple.
"Harry!" I cry out. "Holy fuck," I writhe at the overwhelming sensation, whimpering constantly now.
He seems satisfied with that, his other hand leaving my hip and reaching up to untie the tie. It immediately loosens and my hands come down from the headboard. I waste no time, lacing them into his sweaty hair and yanking at the roots. He exhales sharply and presses his free hand back into my hip again.
I don't give him the satisfaction of finishing on top though. If he wanted that, he should have kept me tied up.
Still inside each other, I wrap my legs around his back and flip us over so he lands with his back against the mattress. He chuckles at my need for dominance, lacing his hands over my lower hips, grazing his thumbs along the skin.
"I hope you had fun," I growl. He can't stop grinning. "Because I'm about to make you cum so fucking fast."
I lean forward, moving his erection inside me with him. The grin dissipates from his face and he shuts his eyes at the intensity of the feeling. He grips at my biceps, pulling me up and down gently at the rhythm he needs. I lapse my tongue over my bottom lip and lean forward again, watching his expression contort as the feeling becomes too overwhelming for him.
"Fuck!" he shouts up into the air, his hand flying up to wrap around my throat.
That's new.
I let him keep it there and glide up and down on top of him, occasionally leaning forward ever so slightly to cause him to arch his back up and toss his head into the pillow beneath him.
He doesn't give up too easily though. He licks his thumb and reaches his hand down to rub circles around my clit again. I moan and look up at the ceiling. He takes the opportunity to move his hand from my neck and grip my right thigh tightly, the one littered in tattoos. I feel his thumb rub against my moon tattoo. He grips my thigh tighter.
"You are so fucking hot," he rasps out. I bite my lip and press deeper against him, making him stifle another moan. I feel a familiar heat rising in my stomach.
"I'm gonna cum," I breathe and look down at him. He nods.
"Me too."
I move faster, making him huff and press his head deeper into the pillow. The feeling is rising in me, making my toes curl, my legs shake. It's like a wall of dopamine building up, about to release. I bite the inside of my cheek and slam my eyes closed.
But just as it's about to boil over, Harry's legs twist around, and he forces me on bottom again.
I gasp and my eyes fly open to look at him with his devilish grin. The combination of the intense pleasure of my orgasm, and the surprise of him flipping me over leaves me frozen. He shuts his eyes and drops his sweaty forehead to my chest. I feel his body grow shaky and irregular. Suddenly he groans into my chest and his body tenses sharply, before melting like putty in my hands.
We lay there, panting for a moment, before he tilts his head up to look me in the eye. His are bright green, tired but playful. They're sparkling. "I win," he chuckles, his sweaty hair looping in curls over his forehead. I push it back out of his face.
"Fuck you," I laugh and push him gently. His head lands against my chest again and I feel his heavy breath leaving condensation on my skin. After a moment of rest, he sits up and slides himself out of me. I drop my legs down onto the mattress and lay flat against the sheets, wanting nothing more than to sleep now.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he slides the condom off, ties it, and drops it into the trash can by his bed. He finds his boxers on the floor and pulls them back over himself. Then he reaches for my shirt he tossed aside and crawls up onto the bed next to me.
"How's it feel to be a bottom," he teases.
I scoff and roll my eyes. "It's fucking torture I'll tell you that."
He reaches above my head to pull the red tie off of the headboard, and tosses it into the drawer. I sit up and pull my shirt over my head, it clings to my back from the sweat. I slide off the bed and walk to the bathroom door. He doesn't comment on it, just starts searching through the twisted sheets to find my underwear.
I pee and wash my hands, before wandering back into his bedroom. There's a gentle burning between my legs now, but I know it won't last long. Harry tosses me my underwear as I walk to the bed. I throw them on top of my duffel bag and collapse next to him.
"You don't want to put those on?" He chuckles. I groan in response, yanking the sheets he straightened out over my body.
"Free the pussy," I mumble through my face stuffed into a pillow.
He turns off the side lamp by his head and the room is filled with darkness. I hear him shifting in the sheets behind me, and then his body heat is radiating against my back. He chuckles to himself.
"What." I mumble.
"Canyon moon," he whispers. I sit up and turn to look at him, squinting.
"What?"
"Nevermind," he shakes his head and presses my shoulder back down against the bed. I follow his motion, curling up into the pillow more. "Thank you," he whispers against the back of my head. My eyes blink open and I stare ahead at the window across the room. Now that it's dark, I can see the stars glittering above the ocean.
"For what," I mumble back.
"For certainty, control," he explains what we're both thinking in our heads. I nod, the pillowcase swishing.
"I just want you to be satisfied with us, with me," I speak tiredly now, not filtering my words like I did before we had sex. He doesn't respond for a second, letting the sentence sink in.
"You said I could call you anything I want tonight," he mumbles. My eyes flutter shut, exhaustion taking over every muscle of my body. I feel his hand run up over my arm and tuck my hair behind my ear.
"Whatever you want," I mumble, half-asleep.
"Tonight, I want to call you mine."
a/n whoa it got kinda steamy in here...
Song: "Medicine" - Harry Styles (obviously lol)