first time

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(Y/N) felt breathless with Harry's lips smeared against her own. Her hands were on his chest as he worked to unbutton the sweater draped over her form. His hips were fit between her thighs, heavy against her core as she could only whine against his mouth. It was with reluctance that she dropped her hands from his chest so he could pull her sweater from her body, leaving her in the soft white bra that cradled her chest.

Harry kissed down her chest, drawing his messy kisses down the curve of her throat as she placed her hands in his hair. Her chest heaved under his mouth, thighs tightening around his hips as she felt the swipe of his tongue drawing over the swell of her breast. Her back arched as Harry slipped his hand under her spine, drawing her closer to his mouth as he nudged the cup of her bra out of the way. An absent smile spread across her lips as she pressed her head back into the pillow cushioning her head.

Thank god Naomi had a late class today.

Physics had been particularly distracting today as she sat at Harry's side, his hair having grown out longer than she'd ever seen on him causing her to think a little too long about running her fingers through the strands and messing the curls that topped his head. He hadn't helped her concentrate any, giving her sly looks whenever he caught her stilled fingers on her keyboard, much too preoccupied to be copying down the notes he was so generously offering to her. More than once he drifted his hand to lay across her thigh, giving the doughy skin a squeeze to grab her attention. By the time lecture had been dismissed, she was practically dragging him out of Mr. Stanfill's hall and towards his car so they could get back to her empty apartment as soon as possible.

That was how she found herself topless, back pressed into her mattress with Harry's own shirtless torso hovering above her as he worked his way down her chest.

"Harry," she whined, the call coming out breathless.

"What do y'need, sweetheart?" he murmured into her skin, his hand under her back flexing against her spine.

"I-I want—" she stuttered, cutting herself off with a huffed whine as she felt the scrape of his teeth against her breast.

His smug smile could be felt against her skin, the tip of his nose skimming the valley between her breasts. "Want what? Tell me, sweetheart."

He wasn't making his ask of her easy with the way he ground his hips against hers, his hand gliding over her side with teasing fingers drawing goosebumps to the surface of her skin. It took all the willpower she could muster to loosen the grip of one of her hands in his hair to draw down the broad of his shoulder, nails dragging behind over his skin. She traced the strong lines of his muscles, corded and flexing as he held her tenderly despite the depth of his strength.

Down she went until she hit his tattooed wrist, tugging the hand that traced over the dip of her waist down to the apex of her thighs. The tight leggings she had clad over her form for the day did nothing to hide the desire she felt for him, her wetness already soaking through her underwear until her bottoms could mold to the shape of her pussy. She pressed his palm against her center, the heel smearing over the bump of her clit while the length of his fingers followed the line of her slit clearly outlined due to the slick fabric of her leggings.

"I-I want you here," she breathed, feeling as he all but slumped into her, his forehead pressing into her sternum. The frames of his glasses grazed against the heated skin of her chest, a brush with clarity that only served to make the moment so much more vivid.

"You're so wet, flower," he practically moaned into her skin, a slew of messy kisses being pressed between her breasts as if he couldn't get to her quick enough. His hand flexed over her center, fingers dipping gently into the split between her thighs. "I can feel y'through your pants. How long have y'been like this for me, love?:"

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