1D Sexual Frustrations

Harry : Do you trust me?

I awoke the second the alarm went off. Immediately aware of the large hands which were clasped around my waist, I ran my own up and down the familiar forearms that were emblazoned with a cluster of tattoos, smiling fondly as my fingers passed across some of my favourites. My mind allowed me a few brief moments of peace and simple happiness that could only be attained when waking up in the arms of the one you love. It was as if a second alarm clock had gone off, an inner one, that went on to awake the dread that had been following around me like a ghost for the past week. Not enjoying the feeling of my stomach plummeting down to the ground, I instinctively twisted around in Harry’s arms to bury my head in the crook of his neck and wrap my arms as tight as physically possibly around him. I heard him sigh quietly, felt him lean over my body to stop the alarm, before he tightened his arms around me. He nuzzled his nose into my hair and I heard him take a deep inhale. The words I spoke were incoherent, muffled as my lips brushed against his neck, causing Harry to give me a light squeeze on my forearm and a large hand brought to my chin, encouraging me to look into him.

Harry locked his gaze with mine, and I felt myself entrapped by the lure of colour of his eyes, the faint light from the sun seeping through the curtain as it begun to rise making his green eyes appear even darker than usual. His piercing stare was too intense for me at this time of the morning, and it sent a shiver to snake down my spine. He delicately pressed his lips to my own before dotting kisses around my entire face, a smile unwillingly curved it’s way upon my lips as giggles gushed from me whilst I made a pathetic attempt to push on his shoulder to move him away. It wasn’t much of a surprise when he didn’t even move an inch, I was used to how much stronger Harry was than I – as well as how much stronger Harry was than most people.

While my eyes caught Harry’s again, my hand seized his own. My breaths were shooting out like bullets and my smile began to fade. I then reached my hand out to stroke Harry’s cheek, to which he closed his eyes complacently and leaned further into my palm.

“I don’t want you to do this,” I told him, quiet and soft. The words shook as I uttered them. The fear that I tried to hard to conceal easily forced itself through the feeble wall that I had attempted to build. The wall that was powerless to any thought and emotion concerning Harry. He sighed once again, removing my hand from his cheek and placing it in between our bodies with his remaining on top, his eyes still closed.

It was a topic that I had ventured to discuss many times this week, yet it would always result in arguments – angry shouts, slammed doors, the stomping of feet – before a completely silent house was born and filled with a tense atmosphere lasting the next half an hour. Had I not been so desperate, I would have been more irresolute with the words I chose to approach him. However, I could no longer afford to dither about, time had officially ran out. I was finally permeated with the dread that had slowly dripped into me and rose day by day, as if I was a clogged up drain left to deal with a leaky tap and unable to do anything about it other than fill up until I overflowed.

Harry eventually reopened his eyes, and behind them I could see his brain ticking at lightning speed as he pondered on what was the right thing to say. Propping himself up on his elbow, he moved his hand from mine to gently pull on his bottom lip, before his tongue swooped out and glided over it. With him leaning over me slightly, I could easily reach and trace my fingertips over and along his hard chest, taking care special care to drag them slowly across the two swallows, my absolute favourites of his impressive extensive collection.

“Sweetheart, I have to. You know I have to. It’ll be over before you know it.” The tone of his voice was so gentle and mellifluous that for a moment my worry washed away. Yet it returned as fast as it had left, and my fist curled up into a ball to rest on chest and my eyebrows furrowed deeply. Harry once again placed his hand above my own, soothing out the fist and entangling his fingers with mine. Bending his head even lower, he kissed me – slow, smooth, controlled. Quickly becoming heated as my hands made their way upwards to intertwine themselves in his dark curls, whilst Harry’s traveled down my body and rested on my hips as he positioned himself above me.