Something About a Feeling

Something About an Extraction

It's a garbled moan from the backseat of his car, and the sound of a light rustling and an exaggerated groan leaving your lips that, with just a glance in his rearview mirror, he spots your body slumped against the window, your mouth left gaped open.

"Gon' get blood on your hoodie, missy." He watches intently at the small dribble begin to trickle over your lower lip.

There isn't much of a response from you, not when your attention is engrossed deeply on the passing cars and the occasional pedestrian dodging quickly through the downpour of rain. Your mind is stuck in a world elsewhere, in a place curled up between reality and fantasy, where the mundane is captivating, and you think you were born in the royal family.

"We'll be back to your flat soon, okay?" He diverts his attention back to the road, hearing your muffled hum in acknowledgment. "Probably going to need to change your gauze as soon as we get there... Didn't think you'd bleed this much, pet."

Harry is met with unsettling silence, the most daunting of sounds when it came to you; the same girl he can never seem to keep quiet for longer than ten minutes, and considering the number of videos he spent his time watching in the waiting room of people waking up from anesthesia, he expected a more outlandish and whimsical girl talking bat crazy in the backseat, but instead he's met with a nearly silent woman currently hunched over and bleeding onto her pants.

"Babe – the blood, your—"

"Can I suck you off when we get back?"

Harry nearly slams on the breaks and snaps his neck to divert to the backseat, where he sees you wiping off the excess blood onto your hand, smearing a bit across your lips. Despite your cheeks filled with cotton, and your lower mouth still numb from the surgery, he hears perfectly your request, and remains still behind the wheel as he approached your road.

"Was last night not enough for you, darling?"

Last night, though it was mostly spent with you scrolling through copious webpages about nearly everything that could go wrong in a wisdom tooth extraction surgery, you still found yourself tugging down his pants to find some comfort between his legs, a new activity the two of you discovered only recently when you'd find yourself scuttling into his bed in the late evening, or vice versa.

Where you were his or not – though you two found yourself in this rather strange grey area where some things were passed along as suitable behavior, whereas he hasn't properly fucked you yet – he had no reason to stop you when you insisted you suck him off before bed. Because, if it was being honest, he sleeps soundly after a nice orgasm, and nothing feels better than the feeling of your warm, wet mouth wrapped around his leaking cock.

The first time you sucked him off, it was a week after the party; the same party where you kissed him in the bathroom and left him trailing behind you like a lost puppy. You had staggered through the crowd saying your quick goodbye's, before taking one step out the front door before promptly vomiting in the bushes.

He couldn't put the right word down to describe how eager he was if the following morning you'd have any recollection of the events from the night before, but he was taken by surprise when he caught your hauntingly sullen stare from the other side of the room – your body still clad in your clothes from the night before, hair matted hysterically to his pillow – and all he could hear you mutter was, "I kissed you."

The kiss – so quick, yet to tender; he remembers the way your breath stuttered against his, and how your lips tasted of fireball, and how you stalled for just a second longer than his, before you fell from your tippy toes and proceeded out the door.