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adifferentbrandofbeans · 4 years

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Affect - 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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words: 3.5k

Get up.

My eyes are open wide, staring at a blank white ceiling streaked with golden rays from the angle of the rising sun as it peaks through the shutters.

Get up.

The sound of gentle snoring blends with the calm waves breaking outside. I know I shouldn’t, but my head turns without my telling it to, the sight of the sleeping body next to me causing a churn deep in my stomach. His lips, parted ever so slightly, let out soft rumbles as he exhales, clearly in a deep sleep. His body is turned in towards mine, one arm trapped under his pillow, supporting his head, while the other lays gently on the bed, his palm resting delicately on the mattress, a short distance from his body.

Stop looking at him and get up.

I know I need to leave him here. This is his bedroom, and if I stayed here beside him, I would not be able to stop looking at him. There is something fascinating about the man in front of me. He is undeniably beautiful. However, seeing him like this is different. It is as though his peaceful energy stretches outwards and wraps me up in his calmness. It is addictive, and that is the problem. I do not want to be addicted to him. That is not what our new arrangement is about. Last night was beautiful, and Harry made me feel so special and wanted. But that is just who he is. Harry makes people feel alive. He was just participating the way he knows how; Harry does not do anything in half measures. So what if it felt kind of right to be so close to him? That is what this arrangement is for, making ourselves feel good. That is all this arrangement is for.

And so, I finally listen to myself. I slip out of his bed, pulling the covers back up in case he gets cold in the night.

Almost ten hours of sleep later, I wake up in my own bed, mouth dry and gasping for a drink. Groggily, I pull myself from the crisp sheets and head to get a glass of water. I am rubbing sleep out of my eyes when I reach the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks.

“Oh, hi,” I say softly when I see him, sat at the breakfast bar, head hanging over a bowl of cereal. His hair is damp from sweat and his whole body is flushed, presumably from whatever workout he just finished.

“Hi,” Harry mumbles, smirking at my as he swallows a mouthful. His smile fades suddenly, replaced by furrowed brows as he looks back down to his bowl. “Where’d you run of to?” he asks lightly once I turn my back to him, getting a glass and running it under the tap.

Grateful that he cannot see my face I reply, “Didn’t think you’d want anyone seeing me sneak out this morning,”. Not a total lie.

Worry starts to crawl down my skin when he does not comment. However, when I feel his presence directly behind me and he reaches past me to put his empty dish in the sink, my skin quickly heats up, burning away any anxiety.

“Shame… Kind of dig those pyjamas,” he teases, and my muscles relax reflexively when he presses his lips against my neck. Instinctually, my hand reaches up behind me and locks itself in his hair as his fingertips glide around my hips and hold me against him until my back is flush with his front. His hips grind ever so gently against the curve of my ass and I cannot help it as my jaw slackens and lips part. “Don’t think I was fully done with you last night either,” his voice is soft in my ear and he spins me around by my hips.

“I don’t know you fell asleep pretty quickly,” I tease, tracing my finger along the length of his jaw, “Thought you might not be able to handle any more of me,”.

He grins and opens his mouth in retort but quickly steps away from me when someone enters the room.

“Morning,” Jeff says brightly as Harry clears his throat and stands up against the sink until any physical evidence of his and my interaction softens. I can’t help but smirk as I take a sip of water.

“You two have fun last night?” Glenne asks, sitting up at the breakfast bar where Harry had been sat.

I look to Harry, faltering for a moment but he is cool and collected when he casually replies, “Yeah, sorry we didn’t meet back up with you guys. Think all the travelling took it out of us…” he turns his head back to the dish he’s washing up and mumbles with a smug grin, “Couldn’t wait to get to bed,”.

Coarse grains rub between my toes as they sink into the sand either side of the blue sun lounger. Salty droplets glide down my back as the sun dries the front of my body. A groan leaves my lips as I close my book, deciding that the rectangle of shade it provided to my face was less beneficial than the agitation of the novel.

“What?” Harry chuckles from beside me, his head turning to the side and opening one eye beneath his sunglasses.

“It was so good, like so good, and it was getting a little racy between the two main characters, right? And it’s like finally… you know? We’ve been waiting two-thirds of the book for this and then it says that his skin tastes like sugar, and you’re like, well that’s probably bullshit, but we can move past it and then it says that her pussy tastes like fucking strawberries,” Letting out a huff as I finish my rant, I slump back against the chair, digging my toes further into the sand in annoyance. “The book was so good, and then the author goes and cops out and says some dumb shit like that. The only way this girl’s pussy tastes like strawberries is if he could still smell her Summer’s Eve or something which I’m pretty sure they don’t have in the apocalypse,”

That makes Harry laugh and he rolls until his back is exposed to the sun, resting on his elbows and pushing his sunglasses up on top of his head to meet my gaze.

“You’re taste in books is interesting,” he comments with a smirk.

“I just hate that misconception that women have to taste super sweet, like, it’s a vagina not a fruit basket,” I grumble. Harry just chuckles softly beside me as I brush sand from the lounger, “Just gives guys more reasons to be weird about it,”.

“Are guys really that weird about it?” Harry asks curiously, fiddling with the chain around his neck, the golden cross slipping across the metal with ease.

“Some are, yeah,” I say, avoiding eye contact with him, this conversation suddenly a lot more intimate than I had planned. “Dunno… some of them just aren’t into it, which is fine… but the ones who pretend that they are usually give up after five minutes,”.

“What about the ones who are actually into it?” he asks. I look at him now, a little incredulously, his smile is faded but still present on his face.

“I’m convinced that they don’t exist,” I say honestly, “If the only way they can stomach the idea is that it’ll taste like berries. Pussy tastes like pussy and it’s not like it’s a bad taste…” my voice trailing away as Harry’s ears seem to perk up.

“You’ve…” he begins to question, wondering how to ask, his shyness bringing a smile to my face. I nod and he nods back, “Learning so much about you these days,” he jokes and instantly I feel a sense of relief that he’s not pushing the conversation to find out all the juicy details.

There is a beat of silence before he sits up on the lounger, swinging his legs over to face me directly. “I think you’re experiences with men have coloured the way you look at it, and I would be happy to rectify the situation,” he smirks.

I cannot help but to roll my eyes at him before allowing my head to roll back, neck extended, catching the sun fully.

“Why not?” he asks with a chuckle.

“Now it’s become a whole thing,” I explain, a little exasperated, “And, in my experience, whenever it’s made into a big thing I can’t relax and they give up after two minutes or I just fake it.”

“How about I promise to try my best to make you feel good, and if it’s not working for you, you just say and we can stop or do something else?” he asks. My head quickly turns to look at him.

“What? Right here?”

“No, you idiot,” he laughs, before pausing and shrugging his shoulders after a moment’s thought, “Although add exhibitionism to my list of things I wanna try,”.

Another sigh as I close my eyes and lay my head back down, enjoying a light breeze tickling my damp skin.

“You never actually gave me a list,” I comment.

He hums and comes to sit beside me, an arm around my shoulders as he pulls me to him, our bodies pressed together as my body curls into his despite the aching heat of the afternoon. Turning my head to look up at him, my hand finds its way into his damp curls, pushing his hair away from his face to appreciate the way the sunlight catches along his profile, illuminating every beautiful inch of his face.

“I just want to make you feel good,” he utters lowly, his eyes boring into mine. I am temporarily frozen, the change in pitch stirring something in me unexpectedly. Also, there is something in his eyes that I am transfixed by, more than the passionate intensity I find myself becoming surprisingly familiar with. It is a new kind of need, not the kind I would expect to find in the eyes of a guy just needing to sink himself somewhere for the night. If I really thought about it, I could probably convince myself it was desperation. However, before I can do that, Harry shrugs, “Offer is there anyway.”

I can feel him shift beside me but something deep in me does not want him to leave, an unprecedented anxiety appearing at the thought of him leaving me here. My breathing quickens at his movement. Placing a hand on his forearm he stops, looks back at me.

“I’d like that,” a whisper is all I can manage. Harry gives me a gentle smile and my heart slows back down.

Of course it does.

“Lets hang out tonight,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to my forehead before reaching down and handing me the discarded book, adding. “Try not to get too wound up,”.

“I think it’s missing something,” Glenne giggles as I take a sip of her drink, wincing at its strength.

“Did you even put any mixer in?” I tease with a laugh, chasing her drink with one of my own. After we had all eaten dinner together, she begged me to teach her how to mix drinks, much to the excitement of the rest of the group as they got to drink the extras we made.

“Yes!” she laughs, looking out at all of our supplies littering the counter before pausing. “Oh wait, hang on,” she says, causing the whole group to laugh as she riffles through various fruit juices.

“We can try again tomorrow,” I promise as the group seems to wind down, everyone ready to disperse and call it a night.

We all retreat to our own rooms, calling goodnight to each other as we go. I meet Harry’s eye as we reach our separate rooms and hold up both my hands, asking for ten minutes for everyone to settle before I meet him. He nods and opens his door with a smirk, the child in him enjoying our secret night-time operations.

Once in my room panic sets in. I decide to take a quick shower, grooming myself to my own personal taste and trying to ignore the overwhelming thoughts swimming around my brain; questioning whether Harry actually wants to do this, whether he is just trying to be nice, whether he will give up too, whether its me that is the problem.

Trying to ignore these paranoid thoughts, I pull my pyjamas on; a large, loose t-shirt and some cotton panties. Before I can question if I should dress a little sexier, I force myself out of the room and knock softly on the door across the hall.

When the door is pulled open, I see him, standing in a white t-shirt and his boxers, the same makeshift pyjamas he would wear whenever we slept in the same bed. Harry smiles gently and closes the door after I step past him. I stop by the bed, hesitating as I remember the night before. Last night had been something out of a dream. Harry had been so gentle and loving, and my god had he made me feel good. What if I was just drunk and that’s why it felt so good?

“Was starting to think you weren’t going to come,” Harry says, snapping me out of my spiralling thoughts. He steps behind me, arms sliding around me and across my torso, holding me against his warm body. His head rests in the crook of my neck, his breath exhaling lightly and tickling the skin there.

“Might think that again later,” I mumble. I feel him exhale against me, tilting his head back and pressing a kiss to my shoulder blade. He turns me around and I can see a smirk etched on to his face as he pushes me back until I fall into the mattress. Climbing on top of me, he grabs my arms and pins them above my head by my wrist.

“You, missy,” he says with an amused but determined grin, “Need to get out of your head, and that’s exactly what I’m here for. So, stop being so pessimistic and give me a chance,”.

Before I can offer any witty retort, or even think of one, his lips touch mine. His kiss melts me. My body relaxes beneath him, sinking further into the mattress. Our lips move slowly together, separating and reconnecting in unison as his hands begin to travel my body. His touch follows the contours of my figure, delicately tracing the outline of my arms, up my sides, resting for a moment on either side of my neck, cradling it as he kisses me quicker, tension in the room thickening with each manoeuvre.

Shuffling down my body, Harry presses kisses to any exposed flesh as he goes. His lips find my neck, my chest, the soft underside of my arm, spreading warmth on his path. As he pushes the large shirt up to my hips, nerves begin to resurface, mingling with the fizzy feeling his lips create, altogether making my heart beat hard against my ribcage. Noticing that my body trembles a little more than expected, Harry pauses, looking me in the eye cautiously, attempting to assess my level of comfort.

“Want to keep this on?” he asks casually, pulling ever so gently at the fabric of my t-shirt he has bunched in his right hand, his left soothingly caressing the soft skin of thigh.

I nod my head after a moment’s thought, “Maybe… yeah, if that’s okay,” I whisper, almost ashamed of how timid my voice sounds.

“’Course,” he accepts, placing a kiss to my hip.

It seems a little nonsensical to insist on remaining covered, considering what he is about to do, even more so considering what we did last night. This feels different though. Far more intimate, far more one-sided. I try to push the feelings of guilt to the back of my mind and focus on the way his lips feel as they inch up my inner thigh.

“Your body is so beautiful, know that?” Harry mumbles, lips affected by their proximity to my skin. Hearing no reply from me he continues as his mouth presses open kisses below my stomach, using them to punctuate his words, “Have no… idea… what… seeing you… in that bikini… did to me.”

“You don’t have to do this,” I mutter softly. He stops dead in his tracks, lifting his head to look at me. “I know it’s not fun for you so we can do other stuff,” I say, shrinking into myself as I grow uncomfortable with every word.

“I want to,” Harry says, swallowing thickly, sounding vulnerable himself. I look at him, checking he is not lying to me and he nods his head reassuringly. I nod my head and Harry instructs me to prop myself up with a pillow so that my upper body is elevated. “Watch me,” he instructs lowly, returning his lips to my skin.

Complying, I watch as his lips ghost over my skin, settling sporadically to pull the flesh between his lips and suck gently. A smirk graces his lips every time he causes a reaction from me, whether that be an arched spine, the roll of my hips, or, his personal favourite, the cross between a sigh and a moan that tumbles from my lips unexpectedly. When he hears the latter, he ensures he pay special attention to that area of my body, stimulating it however he can until my body begins to quiver with sensitivity.

His mouth toys with me until I am silently begging for contact, my fingers interlocking in his hair, desperately trying to signal my need for more. Finally, sensing my urgency, he complies, kissing softly between my legs. His tongue licks gentle lines upwards, hands coming up to rest on my thighs, softly caressing the skin there with his thumbs.

Moving softly, he licks around my clit. Using two fingers to spread my folds, his mouth glides across the width of my pussy before dipping down, collecting my arousal on his tongue.

Harry looks up with a smirk, lips glistening with me. He pauses before humming, “Strawberries.”

“You’re an idiot,” I laugh, grateful for his madness, finding it more calming than I could have expected.

Returning to his motions, his tongue finds my clit, tracing circles around it sloppily. The hand on my leg travels up my stomach slowly, igniting the skin as it moves, reaching my breast and toying with the nipple under my shirt. His mouth works gradually faster, lips occasionally sucking lightly on my clit. My body begins to shake beneath him. Hands wrap themselves around my hips, his forearms applying enough pressure to bring my legs closer to his head.

His pace quickens again as his tongue and lips work to bring me as much pleasure as possible. His face glides up and down the space between my legs with so much fervour that it would be impossible to deny that he is enjoy this. Any doubt in my mind is quickly eradicated when he groans against me after curling a finger inside me, my back arching off the bed and hips rolling towards him.

My hands clutch desperately for stability, one goes to the sheets below me, the other falls in my hair until I am forced to use it to muffle the noises coming from my lips. A new moan emerging with each curl of his finger.

“Harry,” I let slip, thankful it only comes out as a whisper, my throat dry.

This spurs him on even more, licking feverishly at my pussy until I am a quivering mess beneath him, his mouth sending a tsunami of pleasure through my entire body. He is softer as he coaxes me through my orgasm, only stopping when I stop pulsating against him. Slipping his finger between his smirking lips, he maintains eye contact with me as he sucks the last of me off his digit. His hand comes up to wipe at his face, thumb and fingers sliding down his cheeks as he moves to lay beside me, my heart rate slowly returning to normal.

“Now do you believe it’s fun for me?” he teases, but I can sense an element of care behind his words, wondering if my insecurities were still present.

“Maybe,” I grin, “Might have to remind me from time to time.”

“Gladly,” he mutters under his breath.

Swinging an arm around me, Harry pulls me into his side and switches the TV on, flicking through to find something for us to watch as we unwind for the night. A few episodes of a sitcom later, I take myself off to bed, threatening that if I do not leave now, I will fall asleep on him. Harry just nods, kisses the back of my hand and watches as I walk out of the room with a wave.

Part 6

#affect #Harry Styles #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry #styles #harry fiction #harry fic #harry smut #smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #friends to lovers #harry friends to lovers #harry styles friends to lovers #adifferentbrandofbeans #writing #my writing

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adifferentbrandofbeans · 4 years

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Patience

Patience is a virtue, one that my whole life I have prided myself on possessing. As a child I was taught ‘good things come to those who wait’, and I grew up clinging to that idea. When the world seemed to turn against me, I would pause, breathe, and remember that something good was on its way and I just needed to be ready for it when it arrived. And it had worked. When I scraped my knee as a kid, I would get a cool plaster. When I worked hard in school, I got the freedom to choose who I wanted to be. When I was alone in a new city, the universe gave me Harry. That last one has always been my favourite reward. Harry had come into my life like a gentle breeze, I did not notice him at first until I was surrounded by him. He came into my life and wrapped me up so softly that I had not seen it happening. Meeting through a work friend, he had established himself in my world, soon taking over completely, his friendship quickly became my most treasured possession.

Patience had always brought me good things. I trusted in her completely. However, tonight, underneath the pouring sky, hammering on my best friend’s front door, I have no time for patience.

“Harry!” I yell, a sort of half-beg. I cannot help it. Vision blurred by the rain, my whole body covered in goosebumps and shivering in the night air; I feel pathetic, desperate for my friend.

The door opens and I am pulled inside the second he lays his eyes on the sorry sight on his doorstep.

“Where’s your coat, you maniac?” Harry asks softly, his voice gentle and caring, only a hint of mocking present. However, any pleasure he has derived from my sudden appearance vanishes when he takes me in fully, a look of recognition creeping on to his face as he realises the rain is not the main cause for my smeared mascara and runny nose. “What happened?” he asks, gulping slightly as worry flickers in his eyes.

“James and me…” I start, before sniffing a laugh and looking down at the floor, scattered in water from my dripping body, “Well, there is no James and me anymore,” I finish quietly.

I can hear Harry let out a sigh and when I look up at him, I can see his body relaxing, muscles loosening and gaze softening as it meets mine. I must look a wreck. Harry looks great, as always, clearly having a relaxing night in, dressed in a black t-shirt and matching joggers, his hair only slightly messier than usual.

“Let’s get you warmed up, hey?” he utters and offers me a small, sympathetic smile.

He wraps a warm towel around me and brings me into his kitchen, instinctively making me a cup of tea. I wrap the towel around myself tighter to avoid looking at him, instead choosing to breathe in the smell of his fabric softener, woody and warm. The kettle boils loudly, the silence between us palpable as Harry tries to think of what to say, while I avoid speaking at all costs, beginning to question why I came here in the first place.

Finally, with full mugs, we sit down on his sofa, him seemingly unaffected by my hair dripping on the leather. I clutch the hot cup in both my hands, ignoring the slight numbing burn to my skin.

“Talk to me,” Harry begs, and my head snaps up to look at him, replacing the visual of my steaming drink with the desperate look on his face, eyes big and pleading.

I sigh, new tears slipping down my cheeks at the prospect of being fully honest with him, telling him all the details of my night. I nod my head and meet his gaze, admitting, “I did something bad,”.

A few more tears fall as the look on Harry’s face changes, quickly scrambling through worst case scenarios in his head to try and guess what I could have done. I can see the worry in his eyes as he jumps between possibilities, and before his view of me can depreciate too much I hurriedly continue.

“I thought that when I started seeing someone any other… no one else would cross my mind… but it didn’t work,” I’m almost sobbing now and Harry slides in next to me, arm around me and rubbing my back over the towel. “And now I’ve broken his heart,”

“Breathe, angel,” Harry whispers gently, stopping me from hyperventilating on his sofa. Once my breathing has calmed, he nods for me to continue.

“I shouldn’t have let it go on for this long, I mean, we were together almost a year, and that whole time…” I can hear Harry inhale beside me, and I close my eyes, unable to look at him when I finally confess, “I’ve been in love with someone else,”

“What?” Harry asks. I force myself to look at him, ready to have him crush my soul and hate me for what I have done, but he just looks shocked and a little bit confused.

“I led him on, Harry,” I say, harsh tears dragging down my cheeks, “He was so good and kind but he’s not…” I stop myself, not ready to make that admission just yet.

“Not who?” he asks, verbalising the question I came here to answer.

“It doesn’t matter,” I admit, looking back down at the mug between my hands, taking a sip and enjoying the burn as it slips down my throat. “I can’t have him anyway… I wouldn’t deserve him even if I could,” I mutter, a leftover tear dropping into my tea.

“Hey,” Harry sighs, squeezing me in his arms gently as I wipe at my face, fed up with crying. “You deserve the world, no man could ever deserve you,” I look at him incredulously and he smirks and breathes out a laugh, eliciting a small one from me. “There’s my girl,”

I stop dead, gaze instantly dropping back to my drink as I debate drinking it, desperate to ignore his words.

“Can I admit something bad?” he asks, piquing my curiosity, I nod. “This is going to sound awful, but I’m kind of… glad,” his last word sounds like more of a question than a statement, “I don’t know, he was a nice guy and everything but something about seeing you two together just didn’t sit right,”

“Jealous,” I say without thinking, the subconscious of my mind clearly trying to use gallows humour to cope.

But Harry does not laugh. In fact, he does not do anything. And neither do I. For a while we just sit. Until I cannot bare the feeling of his eyes on me anymore. I turn to him, desperate for my friend for the second time tonight.

I look at him, and he looks at me, and for the first time since he swept into my life, it feels as though we are finally on the same page. There is a comfortable familiarity in his eyes, but they shine in a way I have never noticed before. I know this boy in front of me, but only now does it feel like I do not know him at all, and God do I want to get to know him. I know Harry, my Harry, who sits on my sofa with me and shares a bottle of wine with me and pretends to be able to taste its subtle flavours with me. It is as though I have known a water-coloured version of him, still beautiful, but now, seeing him in all his acrylic boldness, I do not think I could ever go back. I feel bare in front of him, desperate to be painted with him after denying anyone else’s colour for so long.

“Can I kiss you?” Harry asks, his breath hot against my cold cheeks.

“No,” I say softly, resenting myself the second I close my mouth. I feel him start to pull away, so I quickly reach out to touch him, my hand settling on top of his. “I just don’t want our first kiss to be all snotty,” I say with a small laugh, praying I have not just ruined any chance I had with him. “I hope you can wait a little longer,”

Harry just smiles.

“Good things come to those who wait, right?”

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