LOVE BONE [H.S. AU]

F O U R

song: when i come around- green day

H A R R Y

Those big brown eyes are trailing my hands while they slide up the tops of her thighs. Her pouty mouth is opened just enough for her to pant out hot breaths for me while she writhes on my lap. Her skirt just barely covers her, her thick thighs are spread around my waist and I can feel the heat of her through my jeans.

I buck my hips up toward her and she tips back, but I catch her. My arms wind around her soft back, and the shift in position makes me moan into her neck. My hips have a mind of their own, rutting against her like a dog in heat. My pants are too tight, and the friction is hot and painful, but when I whine into her skin she tangles her hands in my hair. She squeezes tightly against the roots on my head and tells me to keep going.

I'd go for hours if she asked me to. She's moaning loudly, grinding herself down onto my lap. "Oh fuck, Harry, yes! You feel so good, don't stop." She's crying out my name, she looks so fucking pretty riding me like this. Her tits are bulging out of her tight ass shirt, she's a fucking wet dream. She's so close, she's gonna come. I'm gonna make her come. Oh god, she's-

Ice cold water shocks the air from my lungs and makes my body jerk out of bed.
"Wake up, horndog! Stop humping your fucking mattress and get to rehearsal."

My hair drips ice cold water down my back and chest, mixing with the sweat on my skin from my dream. It sends shivers down my spine and makes goosebumps rise. My breath is still heavy, almost panting. I'm overstimulated, throbbing, and now pissed off.

I push off the bed with a single train of thought and chase after Brad. My lean legs carry me quickly out the door and down the hallway until my hand grips the back of his neck. "Who do you think you are?" In two seconds flat he's pressed against the wall, cheek squished so hard against the ugly brown paint that his tongue pops out a little bit. "If I want to dry hump my mattress for two more hours, I fucking will. You're not gonna rehearse shit without me."

It only takes minimal effort to pull his neck back and slam his head into the wall, the picture frames rattle and it sets the dogs off, barking up a storm from behind the baby gate in the kitchen. "Eat shit, Boo. If you're gonna play the tough guy act, don't play it with me."

"Go fuck yourself, Harry." Brad throws back at me while his elbow makes contact with my rib cage. His fist lands by my mouth, his knuckles grinding the flesh of my cheek into my teeth. I get a good knee to his stomach before he tackles me to the ground. We're screaming curse words at each other, fists, elbows, and knees hitting the floor hard enough to bruise as we fight for the upper hand.

His fingers tighten in the front of my hair and crack my skull down against the hardwoods hard enough to make me yell in pain. It only takes a second before we hear the gate crash to the ground in the kitchen and the chaotic clicking of nails on the floor. Three loud barks and Bruce is all over Brad, teeth snarled and snapping at him as he pushes him back off of me.

"Bruce, heel!" I prop myself up on my elbows and can't help but laugh at the scared shitless expression on Brad's face. "Good boy, Bruce," I say with a smile while my brother climbs his way up the wall.

Bruce is a 120-pound rottweiler that I rescued from a fighting ring at a gas station in Nevada. He was trained to kill on command, he's extremely aggressive when provoked, and he's wildly protective of me. He's also the sweetest boy who's ever lived and a big giant ball of slobber glued together with chunky peanut butter, and a very good snuggler.