Perfect Teeth

Harry slept like the dead. Which would've been impressive, really, if I wasn't half scared that he was going into a coma. Every few hours or so he would shift, roll over to his stomach or fling an arm over his face, and let out the occasional sigh or grunt. So he was alive. Technically. Perhaps barely. But he was alive.

When I woke up fully on Wednesday, after 18 consecutive hours of sleep for the first time ever in my life, Harry was curled around me. His entire body was enveloping mine, wayward strands of his hair tickling my nose. I extracted my body from his slowly, shoving a pillow between his arms where I had previously been, and then stumbled my way to my bathroom to pee.

I had missed one of my photography workshop classes and a chemistry lecture. No video had been uploaded for Wednesday. I hadn't tweeted in what was almost twenty-four hours, which was probably a record for me. But I felt great. I had slept hard, for the first time in weeks, and even though I was now behind and should have even more stressed out than anything, I felt relaxed and calm and happy. When I got out of the shower, Harry was still asleep.

And when I got back from the Tesco across the street with a bag full of snack food, Harry was still asleep. He looked like he had shifted and he hadn't wet the bed, so he was in full control of his facilities, so I let him sleep. I Googled if sleeping for two days straight was unhealthy, but the results were inconclusive and just kept pointing me in the direction of cancer and lupus, so I moved on to video work.

I was done compressing and exporting and was in the middle of uploading a video, flicking between my Tumblr tab and my chemistry lecture slides, when Harry woke up. First he let out a groan, then he orchestrated an impressive body stretch (I was squirming uncomfortably but I couldn't look away) and then he was raising his fists to rub against his eyes. It was like watching the birthing of a fawn, the confused look on his face and the awkward stretch of his limbs incredibly precious.

"Morning," he rasped.

"Evening," I greeted back, and it was then that he must've realized that the only light in my apartment was artificial and coming from the string lanterns round his head and the floor lamp next to me.

"Oh shit," he let out a chuckle. "What day is it?"

"Wednesday night."

Harry's eyebrows shut up, but his lips were quirking into a smile. "I slept so well. Haven’t slept that well in weeks."

His voice was hoarse from lack of use and his words were slower than normal, falling out of his mouth languidly. And then he ran a hand through his hair, the chaotic mess on his head sticking up even further, and I was hit with a sudden pang of longing and crushing and something that it made me sit back in my seat, stunned.

I liked him. I liked him so much. I liked the way he looked like a confused baby deer in the morning and the rasp in his voice and the fact that he had just slept two days in my bed and seemed completely okay with that. I liked that he brought me chocolate banana milkshakes when I was upset and he knew what my happy movie was and he just cared so much about people. I could see it in his face when we would chat about the tour when our movies were buffering or hear it in his voice when I asked him about Gemma or his mum. And as he slowly sat up in my bed, the duvet falling to pool around his hips, I realized that I wanted him.

I wanted him so bad. Which was a potentially dangerous path to go down, because liking Harry as much as I liked him had the potential to ruin me. I could feel the balloon expanding in my chest, pushing around my lungs and other vital organs to feel right at home. Crushing me.

"I thought you were dead for a minute there." I finally stuttered out, not really thinking about what I was saying because holy fucking shit, I liked him.

God this was bad.

So so so so so bad. Especially when he was half naked and sprawled out in my bed, looking as inviting and delicious as ever.

He chuckled. “Just really tired.” He let out a little groan and twisted around to stretch. “How long’ve you been up for then?”

“Just a few hours.” I gestured to the plated sandwich sitting on the coffee table in front of me. “I needed sustenance.”

Harry looked between the sandwich and me, looking hopeful.

“It’s all yours.” I conceded, nodding. I’d already devoured two bags of chips and a brownie, the least I could do was give my peanut butter and banana on wheat. Especially when he hadn’t eaten in probably almost twenty-four hours.

Harry moved lethargically, stretching out his legs before standing up. He was still in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, but that didn’t seem to matter as he padded over to the couch and collapsed down next to me, picking up the sandwich plate on his way down.

He left barely an inch of space between our bodies, even though my couch was big enough for at least three people. I switched back to my lecture slides, copying the text down while Harry chewed noisily in my ear. I probably would’ve snapped at him for it, if he wasn’t casually lounging next to me in nothing but a heather grey pair of Calvin Klein boxer briefs. If I concentrated on that too long, I was probably going to start having heart palpitations.

“What’re you doing?” He asked between bites, still looking half asleep.

“Coping chemistry lecture notes.” I let out a small sigh. “I missed class this morning.”

“How late did you sleep?”

“Late into this afternoon. So I have nothing on you, but it’s later than I normally do.”

Harry chewed a bite of the sandwich and nodded. “Are you feeling any better?”

I looked away from my laptop briefly, catching his curious glance, and nodded. “I think I was just tired and stressed. Sleep helps.”

“Whoever said sleep is for the weak has obviously never slept for twenty hours straight, because I feel fit as a fiddle.” Harry agreed.

“What does that even mean?” I shook my head incredulously, already laughing at his ridiculous. Some of the shit that came out of this kid’s mouth, seriously.

“Whaa-?” He had a mouth full of sandwich as he talked, giving me prime view of his morals and some half-chewed banana. Yum. “It means – y’know,” he swallowed. “Good. It means good.”

“Since when are fiddles fit?” I mused. “And who decided that was the model instrument? Was it just alliteration? Fit as a fiddle? Why not as ‘vivacious as a violin’ or ‘miraculous as a mandolin’? Personally, I think that’s a phrase. ‘I’m feeling miraculous as a mandolin.’ It’s got a nice ring to it, y’know?”

Harry continued to chew at me, the edges of his mouth twisting up. He swallowed quickly. “Stop making me smile when I’m eating, it gives me cramps in my jaw. But seriously – ‘miraculous as a mandolin’? And you say I talk absolute rubbish.”

“Dude. You do. Admit it.”

“I’ll have you know that there are at least seventeen million people on Twitter who think I’m articulate enough to follow, thank you very much.”

“They only follow you in hopes that you’ll accidentally post a nude, let’s be real.”

“I’m offended.” Harry scoffed.

“You should be.” I smiled.

He shook his head, but his lips were still quirking up when he devoured the last bite of the sandwich. I wondered what non-smiley Harry looked like, if he looked even more handsome with his lips drawn tight in concentration and the little crease between his brow. I reckoned that if he spent a large quantity of time being smoldering Harry it’d probably kill me.

He fell back into the couch with a sigh, the empty plate resting on his stomach.

“I missed breakfast with Nick.” He observed. “And I was supposed to call my mum.”

“Nick knew you were asleep,” I told him. “I don’t know about your mum, though. You should probably call her.”

“Don’t feel like it.” He shrugged, bringing a finger up to pick some banana from his teeth. I still found that attractive.

“You love your mom.” I reminded him. “Of course you feel like calling her.”

“I called her in the car coming back from the airport.” He reasoned, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Besides, right now I’m spending time with you. This is Hezra time.”

“You’ve spent the last two days with me.” I pointed out. “And please, for the love of god, do not embrace the ship name. It’ll only make it worse.”

“Yes, well, while the two days spent with you were, what was it, as magnificent as a mandolin—“

“—marvelous—“ I interjected.

“—I’ve been asleep for the majority of it. I would like to spend some time with you where we’re both conscious.”

“Eh.” I shrugged. “I’m not that interesting. You’ll get bored in like an hour and you can call your mum then.”

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes. “You’re plenty interesting.”

I shook my head in disagreement but didn’t say much else. I think people expected my life to be a hell of a lot more exciting than it actually was. Maybe it would be, if I was just doing YouTube or just doing school, but I had to be an overachiever and attempt to do both.

“I mean, I wasn’t the one who went as Miley Cyrus for a late Halloween party. I feel like if anyone has a story between the two of us, it’s you.” I help up my hands in concession.

Harry had a faint blush staining his cheeks, but he was smiling. “It was a pretty great costume.” He admitted.

“How much did the nipple tape hurt to take off?” I asked.

“I was too drunk to really remember.” He laughed. “But I think it hurt a little bit. Worth it, though.”

“Yeah, worth it to put the Internet in a fucking uproar.” I chuckled. “Everything was calm one moment and then the next it was like total chaos.”

“Can’t say I didn’t already know that was going to happen.” Harry confessed. “Still fun.”

“Seemed like a blast.” I agreed, because in the pictures he looked like he was having the time of his life. The drunken time of his life, but still pretty great.

“How was your Halloween, then?” He turned the subject back onto me, even though I really wasn’t that interesting. “You were Wednesday Addams, right?”

“Oh, it was great.” I laughed. “Probably no where near as magnificent as your Japanese tryst, but there was a party for DailyMix and I got to see people I haven’t seen in a while.”

“Do you have pictures? I want pictures. I feel like you make a great Wednesday Addams. You have the glare down.”

“Oh, Styles, you flatter me so.” I fluttered my eyelashes at him.

Harry laughed, his body shaking softly at my side, before he looked at me for a long moment. He looked contemplative, his eyes scanning my face for something, and I opened my mouth to ask him what, but he moved suddenly. He leaned forward slightly, one long limb reaching out to grab the base of my laptop and move it from my lap to the coffee table in front of us.

“Hey—“ I started to protest, but I didn’t get very far, because one second he was gently setting my computer down on the Ikea coffee table and then the next he was turning to me, pulling my face towards his as he kissed me.

I had thought about kissing Harry before. I thought about kissing him when his voice was gravelly or he was making that stupid smiling face, his tongue pressed up against his teeth and his dimple so deep I was pretty sure I could store water in it. I always imagined that I would be the first person to initiate whatever type of physical intimacy between us, one day finally getting fed up with wanting him and deciding to go for him. I assumed that day would be months from now, when my tolerance was at my limit, and I would kiss him and scare him and freak him out and then we’d probably never talk again.

I never factored in that he would be the one to kiss me first.

His mouth was soft, lips yielding gently to mine, and it only took a second of shocked resistance before I was melting against him, my eyes fluttering shut as my hands reached for the back of his neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer.

He was doing just the same, grabby hands reaching for my waist and pulling me up, my legs scrambling madly on the couch until my knees were on either side of him. One of his hands left my legs to cradle my jaw, slender fingers tilting my head this way and that as we kissed. One moment he was delicately pressing his lips to mine, taking soft sips from my mouth that made me feel faint, and then his mouth was open against mine and everything was hot and strong and delicious.

I was lightheaded and jumbled when he pulled away for a breath, his forehead falling against mine as he breathed heavily.

“We probably shouldn’t be doing this,” I stuttered out, my lips barely brushing his as they formed the words.

Harry’s eyelids were heavy and his mouth was the perfect shade of raspberry pink, and yet here I was, stuttering out some type of resistance because it was my automatic response, the excuses that I had been making for the past eight weeks quick to the front of my brain.

“I don’t care.” He breathed heavily against my mouth, looking just as affected as I was by our kiss and I wondered how that was.

I felt like I was going to keel over and die if he didn’t keep touching me, but then I felt like I was going to explode if he kept on.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for three months,” Harry pulled away only slightly, both hands moving to cup my jaw and the back of my head and keep me perfectly still, looking at him. “But I waited, because I didn’t want to make things weird, and then I waited because I was going on tour, and then I waited because I was in Australia and you were here, and now I’m sick of waiting.”

I didn’t know if I had a response to that, my mouth opening and closing like a confused guppy fish.

He wanted to kiss me.

He wanted to kiss me almost as much as I wanted to kiss him, apparently.

He didn’t keep me floundering for a response for too long, his head dipping back down to mine to press a longer, lingering, scorching kiss to my mouth.

“I think,” he breathed out, moving his lips from mine and pressing a kiss to the side of my neck, voice just by my ear. “That you’re kind of brilliant.” His tongue swiped over my pulse point and I lost complete control of my facilities, eyes shutting and skin tingling and breath heaving. “And sexy.” His lips sucked on my pulse point. “And hilarious.”

I might have stopped breathing completely, my body stilling and my hands resting limply on his chest. I was having trouble processing.

“And I haven’t stopped thinking about you for the past three months.”

I let out a sound that might’ve been a mix between a sigh and a squeak and Harry’s head popped back up. He looked slightly flustered, but was smirking. “Thoughts?”

“Thoughts?” I echoed, my brain still goo.

Harry nodded. “Thoughts on this? Comments? Concerns?”

“Give me a moment,” I requested, pulling back slightly, hoping that maybe by distancing myself from his lips I would have an easier time concentrating.

Didn’t really work, but I tried.

Thoughts? Did I have thoughts? I knew that they were there somewhere, these thoughts. The reasonable ones like – was this more than a kissing type of liking? Was Harry even allowed to date? Were we going to date?

But most of those were cancelled out quickly, because I could feel him underneath me, the hard plane of his stomach and his pelvis and his thighs, and he looked so inviting, his eyes wide and lips parted as he stared up at me.

“I think,” I was practically wheezing, my breathing was so labored. “That I don’t ever want to stop kissing you.”

Harry’s reaction to that might have been a blinding, toothy smile, but I was already moving onto the next order of business, which was that I needed to touch him.

Once I started touching Harry, I couldn’t stop. Every other thought process was halted by the need to feel his skin on mine, to trace my fingers down the curves of his chest. I wanted to devour him.

I attended to his jaw line, my lips and tongue covering the perfectly jutted skin above his neck, taking Harry’s breathy sighs and moans as encouragement as I struggled to think of an appropriate way to tell him that I liked him back.

Because goddamn, did I like him back, and it was like once he admitted it the dam broke and all I could think about was the different reasons why I was so enamored with him, prime example number one being the little groan he made me when I shifted in his lap and accidentally rolled my hips into his, the shocking jolts stunning us both.

“You have Beethoven hair.” I murmured quietly, my lips skimming the length of his jaw, lapping at the skin. “And you tell awful jokes.” My tongue traced the pulse point in his neck, circling it before sucking on the skin. “But I still think you’re kind of brilliant too.”

Harry sucked in a breath as I nipped, letting out a shudder as I slowly rolled my hips into his again, electrifying us both.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about touching you since I met you,” I confessed between kisses, my mouth open and warm against his neck. “Which, truthfully, scares the fuck out of me.”

Harry’s eyelids had fluttered closed as I slowly rolled against him, but at my admission they blinked open quickly. His hands tightened around my hips. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it either.” He breathed, before moving his neck and catching my mouth with his.

Harry’s kisses started out gentle, but grew stronger as he fit his mouth against mine, his tongue tracing and curving and drawing. His mouth was a warm, wet cavern that I never wanted to leave.

I was hyperaware of his body underneath mine, of the jutting v-lines of his pelvis and the thin pieces of stretchy cotton separating his body from mine.

Touching Harry was kind of like setting myself on fire, the burn starting slow in my belly but then spreading out, an undeniable heat in my veins. Everything else was eclipsed by my need to feel him, to move my body against his until I could feel nothing but the heat between us. And he must have felt the same way, because he was pulling me closer to him, removing any inches of space between our bodies as we kissed.

“I want to touch you,” he spoke into my mouth. “All of you.”

I had no words for that, only the ability to nod and slip my tongue back into his mouth, before Harry was pulling me up and we were stumbling the few feet to my bed, limbs still encircling each other and mouths still attached.

Harry and I fell onto my bed less than gracefully, hands still reaching and tongues still searching. It was like every ounce of sexual tension that may or may not have been between us for the past three months was suddenly sparked between us and I couldn’t stop my hands from pawing at him, moving across his chest and down his hips. He hovered over me, pressing kiss after kiss to my lips before finally breaking himself away to spread an expanse of hot, wet presses against my neck.

It was hard to concentrate on anything but the feel of his body over mine. My legs were twisting with his, the hair on his thighs tickling my inner thighs.

I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to stop touching him. As I pressed my body against his, I could feel the heat of his arousal against my body and I knew that we weren’t going to stop. I didn’t want to. I wanted to feel him everywhere, against me and inside of me and our bodies made me feel like I was burning up from the inside.

Knowing that you’re going to have sex with someone is nerve-wracking, because all of the sudden I was slightly jolted out of the fantastic things Harry’s mouth was doing to my neck and his hands were doing to my skin because I was thinking about logistics.

Like the last time I had shaved or if I had condoms and I could feel him, all of him, against my stomach and how exactly was that going to work?

“You look like you’re concentrating way too hard,” Harry murmured, pressing another kiss to the underside of my jaw as he moved his way up, lips and tongue leaving a scorching path from my neck down to my collarbone.

“I’m trying to remember the last time I shaved,” I answered truthfully, my breath hitching from the performance he was leaving on my neck. There was going to be a mark. Several, by the feel of it, and suddenly I was glad that it was November and scarves were encouraged.

A chuckle ghosted over my skin, just as his teeth slightly bit into the crevice of my collarbone, stinging for just a moment before he soothed the area with his tongue. “Really?” He questioned, tone teasing. “That’s what you’re thinking about?”

He pressed against me harder, his hips rocking against mine, as if to remind me of what I really should be concentrating on.

“I was just,” I shuddered a little as he sucked on a patch of skin, a shiver running down my spine.”—trying to remember.”

Harry let the skin go with a gentle kiss, peppering them from one collarbone to another, groaning against my neck as I moved my hips back against his. “I don’t care.”

“You might.” One of his hands was trailing deliciously up my side and I could feel the heat of him through the fabric of my shirt.

“Would you like to pause, go shave, and then resume this in ten minutes? Will that make you feel better?” He asked, but he made no move to stop touching me, mouth moving along the collar of my t-shirt before his hands smoothed down my sides, picking up the hem. “But trust me, I don’t care. Now can I take this off?” He fingered the hem of my top.

I nodded and his hands were ghosting underneath the fabric, pulling it up, up, up until I lifted my arms and it went over my head. He tossed it in a careless pile on the floor.

I was still contemplating if we should pause and I should go and shave when Harry’s tongue dipped around my belly button and everything I might have previously been thinking was wiped. My breath hitched and he smiled against my skin, eyes rolling up to meet mine for just a second before he continued to press hot, open-mouthed kisses from my stomach down to my hipbones.

A groan escaped from my mouth as his teeth gentle dragged across one hipbone, tongue replacing it soon after. “I want you so bad.” He murmured into my skin.

He pressed kiss after kiss along the waistband boxers I had on, his tongue licking along the edge as his fingers traced the elastic. His fringe was falling down, the hair tickling the sensitive skin of my stomach, and I squirmed while a hand snaked its way down to curl into his hair.

“Can I take these off too?” He asked, before his tongue dipped a little under the waist band, of the boxer briefs I had changed into after going out, stretching dangerously close to exactly where I wanted him to be.

“Yes,” I said, and it sounded more like a moan than anything else.

His fingers slowly dragged the boxers and my underwear down and I lifted my hips, helping him get the fabric down past my thighs until they dropped to my feet and I kicked them away. I was reaching behind me to unclasp my bra and shrugging it down my shoulders before he even asked. The air in my apartment was cold, but everything between us was warm. I tried not to think about how I was suddenly bare underneath him, all pale thighs and stretch marks on my hips and one boob that was definitely bigger than the other.

Being naked in front of someone is weird. You’re vulnerable. It’s like, here is my naked body and the weird marks on my skin. And your body is a road map of everything you’ve done so far, the scars and the marks, and sometimes it’s hard showing that to someone without automatically thinking that they’re going to judge you or reject you.

Harry was not the first person I had even been naked in front of, but for a moment it felt like the first time I had ever shed all of my clothing all over again, my breathing quick and my body tense as his eyes swept across me in my entirety.

“Brilliant, I tell you,” he muttered against my skin, lips leaning down to press against my hipbones before he hands were cupping underneath my thighs and spreading my legs apart slowly. “Absolutely brilliant.”

My entire body was flushing, presumably red from my scalp to the tips of my toes, but there was something in Harry’s stare as he smiled up at me that made me feel less self-conscious. Like it wouldn’t matter what I looked like, almost; like whatever I might have thought were imperfections on my own body were completely irrelevant, because it wasn’t completely about that for him, and suddenly I was relaxing against him.

His kisses moved from my hipbones, to the inside of my thigh, until his fingers were reaching between my legs and he was pressing a kiss right at my center and I was practically jolting off the bed.

He chuckled, the vibrations forcing out a small, breathy moan, and then his tongue was pressing against me and it was difficult to focus on anything, let alone breathing. One of his hands moved from my thighs to my center, his fingers rubbing gently as his tongue swiped at the top of my clit, sucking the delicate nerve into his mouth until I was vibrating off the bed, my hands shaking as they twisted in his hair. His fingers were exploring, circling at my entrance, before he was gently pressing one finger inside.

“Shit,” I let out in a breath, my hips jolting and wanting to desperately buck against him.

One of his hands moved to anchor my hips down as his tongue tapped against my clit, alternating between licking it gently and sucking it into his mouth while his fingers moved inside of me. He pressed another finger in, curling the tips of his fingers up, up, up until I was moaning uncontrollably and he had to press his entire hand flat against my stomach to keep me still.

He moved slowly at first, thrusting faster as his tongue flicked against my clit and his lips pressed against me. I was a writhing mess underneath him, hands tugging at his hair and thighs shaking as the burning spread, slow and then fast, in my stomach.

“C’mon, baby,” he spoke into my skin, fingers still twisting deliciously inside of me, coaxing. “Ezra, baby, let go.”

His lips moved back down to my clit, his fingers moving faster, faster until I—

“I—I,” I tried to gasp out something, some type of warning, and Harry’s fingers and tongue just moved faster, until the warmth was bursting inside of me and I was arching off of the bed, making some type of pathetic mewling sound as I came.

I couldn’t think clearly for seconds, couldn’t even recognize Harry gently removing his fingers, pressing another kiss to my clit, before he was moving up my body, hands cupping my breasts as his mouth found mine again.

“I--,” I was still trying to say something, but no words were forming. My chest was heaving, the breath coming out as near wheeze as I came down, slowly.

Harry was smiling, his lips quirking up in the familiar grin. “I’ll take your lack of breath as a compliment.” He teased.

“Shut,” I breathed out. “Up. Cocky little shit.” I moved to smack him, but I didn’t have enough energy for that.

Harry said nothing, just moved one hand up to cradle my neck and kiss me again. He pulled away only slightly. “You sure you want to do this?” He asked gently, lips only leaving mine for a moment before he was pressing them back again.

My limbs felt limp, the exhilarating vibrations from my earlier orgasm still lingering there.

“Do what?” I asked stupidly, blinking up at him and still trying to comprehend what he was saying. His mouth was moving, but all I could think about was how I wanted his lips back on mine and my body joined with his.

There was a distinct pulsing between my thighs and a vibrating in my chest and I wondered if Harry felt like that too.

Like he was going to explode, he was so happy.

Harry blinked down at me. “Have sex. Are you sure you want to have sex?”

“I – yes.” I shook my head slowly, blinking to clear my mind. He was asking an important question and I needed to focus. “Yes.” I answered more resolutely. “God, yes.”

Harry seemed relieved, bringing his body down to press a kiss to my nose. “Thank God,” He breathed. “You looked a little wary there and I thought I was gonna have to hobble home with the most painful boner ever.”

I choked out a laugh. “Don’t give me ideas.”

“Like you could resist.” Harry practically rolled his eyes, punctuating the statement with a well-timed body press that had me tingling.

“Shut up and have sex with me.” I commanded, but my voice was so breathy and I was smiling too wide for it to be an actual command.

Harry laughed, then kissed me again, and then pulled away only slightly. “Condom.” He reminded. “Where are my jeans?”

I nodded my head towards the side of the bed, where he had discarded them thoughtlessly last night. There was a moment of fumbling, where Harry attempted to lean as far off the bed as he could without actually getting of the bed to reach his jeans, but he successfully retrieved the foil packet from his wallet.

We were all hands and mouths and limbs after that. I was touching Harry everywhere, my hands gliding from his neck to his chest to his shaft, my fingers enclosing around him and causing him to suck in a deep breath.

“Jesus,” He cursed against my mouth as my hand moved around him, stroking him slowly. He pulsed and jerked in my hand. “Fuck.”

“Bad manners.” I chastised, tutting as I pressed a kiss to his ear.

“I’ll show you bad manners,” He replied, lips barely even moving as he used both hands to pick up my thighs, slipping between them as he pressed into me slowly.

I hissed in pleasure, arching against him as I moved my legs up to wrap them around his waist. It was a stretch, months between the last time I had sex, and Harry was slightly larger than normal, but he kept checking and making sure that I was okay, stroking the side of my face as I adjusted to him.

It seemed like everything after that was a blur, a tangle of arms and legs and lips and teeth and moans. One of Harry’s hands braced my thigh and I kept my fingers buried in his hair, moaning and mewling against him, raising my hips to meet his as he cursed into my neck.

It was like being in a bubble with Harry, wrapped up in my apartment and all I could think about was how good everything felt. How good he felt against me. How good his lips felt against mine. How my skin tingled when he touched me and my body sparked when he moved and I was warm all over, not just from his skin but the realization that he liked me.

He liked me and it had been building for months, apparently, and even though I knew that god, that was a complicated thought, the notion of me and Harry, it still had me absolutely breathless with want.

When he collapsed next me much later, sheen of sweat on both of our bodies as we panted and came down, he pulled me to his side and pressed kisses to my neck.

“Confession?” He mumbled into my neck a few moments later, breathing back to normal.

I was still too spent to actually form words, so I just nodded into his chest.

“Think I’ve imagined that about fifty times,” he said. ”And this was even better.” One of his knuckles was ghosting along my spine, trailing along the ridges and making me shiver.

“Same.” I agreed when I could finally form words.

Same, same, same, same, same.

“Same?” Harry seemed surprised. “You always seemed so indifferent. Like I never affected you.”

“Ha.” I scoffed. “That’s my defense mechanism. Had to seem indifferent or I would’ve been drooling over you like a thirteen year old girl. I had it so bad.”

“Really?” He asked skeptically.

I turned up to face him. “Yes, really. Remember that day you called me, after the Radio 1 thing, to ask me out to lunch?”

He nodded.

“I was practically panting and pressing myself against a wall, I was that turned on.”

“All I did was ask you to lunch.” He protested, as if the notion that his very voice couldn’t get someone all hot and bothered. Please.

“Yeah, in your raspy, just –woken-up voice!”

“Huh.” Harry seemed pleased. “Didn’t know I affected you that much.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Were my multiple orgasms throughout our sexual intercourse not evidence as such?”

Harry twisted up his face in disapproval, scrunching up his nose. “Sexual intercourse?” He scoffed. “Way to set the mood.”

“What other euphemism would you prefer?” I asked, as serious as I could manage. He was ridiculous. “Do the dirty? Glaze the doughnut? Hide the sausage?”

“Something a little less food related, please,” He requested with a cheeky smile. “You’re making me hungry.”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” I allowed. “Were my multiple orgasms throughout the course of our frick fracking not evidence enough for you?”

“Oh my God,” Harry laughed into my neck, his chest moving heavily as he snorted into my skin. “Frick frack? Frick frack?”

I shrugged. “You asked me to rephrase.”

“You’re ridiculous.” He kissed me again, this one longer and lingering than the one before, leaving me blinking and breathless as he pulled away.

“Yes, I know.” I smiled, dropping one eye in a wink. “But you find me, what was it, absolutely brilliant anyway?”

“I can take that back, you know.” He threatened, but he didn’t look nearly displeased as he pulled me closer to him, grabbing the covers from the bottom of my bed and pulling them over both of us.

“I really don’t think you can.” I argued, settling back into his chest and letting my lips graze against the top of one of his swallows. I wanted to trace all of his tattoos with my mouth, let my tongue outline them as I tasted his skin.

I couldn’t stop the thoughts from rolling in, how much I wanted him really hitting me.

“Yeah,” Harry sighed contentedly, as if admitting defeat, before pressing a kiss to the side of my head. “I don’t think I can either.”



www.tumblr.com/tagged/harry-styles

there is legit nothing you can do to convince me that did not spend 3 days in ezra’s bed. look at those fucking tweets okay he did

homeboy u have a home why r u spending time in someone else’s bed (unless ur having sex r u having sex???)

1st he wears those fucking shorts then he is MILEY FUCKING CYRUS for Halloween and we see his drunk ass partying AND THEN he goes and FALLS ASLEEP for THREE DAYS in Ezra Callil’s bed??? WHY DO YOU HATE US

www.tumblr.com/tagged/hezra

THEY ARE SHARING A BED HOW OBVIOUS CAN IT BE THEY ARE SHARING A BED IT IS REAL

Idk if it’s just me but the fact that they’re casually dropping that they’re sharing a bed doesn’t sit well with me. It makes me uncomfortable, like it’s for publicity or something. And like, Ezra didn’t specifically tweet ‘oh harry styles is in my bed’ but she might as well have and I just worry that she’s using him for publicity or something and he’s the only one who doesn’t see it

She didn’t specifically say anything. She made a joke. She does that. But even if she did say something, she’s allowed to. She’s allowed to tweet what she wants. You’re all just jealous because she’s sharing a bed with Harry Styles and you’re not, but obviously she already wins, so step off.

I think it really says something about them that Harry is back in the country for not even 3 hours and he’s with Ezra even if they aren’t dating they need to be

www.tumblr.com/tagged/ezra-callil

everyone hates on Ezra but tbh I think she’s great for Harry. Maybe I’m biased bc I’ve been watching her since she started but she honestly seems so genuine and funny and nice. I wanted to meet her at VidCon last year but her signing time was the same time as the Jack & Finn but then I was walking around and saw her and I was really intimdated to stop her but she was so so so so nice. She asked me how I was and what I was doing with the rest of my day and how I liked VidCon so far and I told her that I loved her channel and her and her sense of style and she just seemed so genuinely flattered. Like she was blushing and smiling and making jokes and she seemed really humble. Everyone’s always wishing the boys could be with someone “normal” or “real” and I think Ezra is. Just because she makes YouTube videos doesn’t mean she’s fake or whatever. Idk I just really love her and I wish more people would give her a chance.

I don’t get the hype about Ezra. She’s fucking average. Harry Styles is a millionare, one of the most influential bachelor’s in the world, and he could have pretty much anyone sucking his dick, yet he chooses some plain, not even pretty YouTuber? Fuck that. And it seems too obvious for it to be more than anything but publicity on Ezra’s end.

god I want 2 b ezra callil so fucking bad like she lives in London, she gets to do collabs with daily grace and jack and finn and marcus and zoe and tyler Oakley, she has enough money to support herself at 19, she’s friends with Grimmy, she gets invited to cool shit like movie premiers and stuff, and now she’s pretty much dating Harry Styles. like my role model right there.

She’s fucking rubbing her being friends with Harry Styles in everyone’s face fuck that noise