#harrison osterfield x woc!reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

greenorangevioletgrass · 4 years ago

Text

picture perfect (h.o.)

Masterlist | Buy me a ko-fi?

summary: Bored and lonely while filming out town, Harrison starts sexting with a mysterious girl he met on social media. As their relationship grows, will they grow along as they go?

word count: 11.2k (!)

warnings: shameless flirting, mutual pining, fluff, idiots to lovers, dumb pop culture references, cameo from our gang, smut!, dirty talk, sexting, phone sex, light d/s dynamics, oral, spit play, unprotected sex, spanking, choking, all the good stuff

notes: FINALLY! it's been a long time coming, and big ups to @tommysparker for being so patient and providing bomb-ass second opinions. i hope you enjoy it! happy reading!

***

Snap, snap, snap.

The clicks of the camera are drowning in Purple Rain droning on the vinyl. In her black bustier top and blue lace thong, she strikes suggestive poses in her bed, the lavender beddings and warm string lights a soft background to an otherwise striking focus. She arches her back and angles her torso just right, sitting on her knees with her thighs spread. Bit by bit, she pushes the straps off of her shoulders and fondles her breasts, yanking down her bra until they spill out. Selfie button in hand, putting on a show for no one.

It’s Y/N’s new favorite pastime, taking smoking hot pictures of herself to put up on her naughty little blog. Completely anonymous, of course, with her face always conveniently cropped out. It started out as a self love project, an appreciation for her curvy form. But as time went on, her posts began to gain more traction, and honestly, who is she to deny free compliments and ego boost from complete strangers?

The likes and the comments start filing in, from the harmless ones like 'goddess! beautiful!' to the more aggressive ones describing what they want to do to her in graphic detail. One comment in particular catches her eye.

blue--moon commented: pardon my french, but WOW 😳

It's definitely someone new. She gets a like, comment, and a follow in that exact order. Naturally, she pulls up the profile to see what this person's about.

He/him. 24. Just looking.

His display picture is a pair of hands. Strong, veiny, beautiful hands with a metal ring on his middle finger holding the phone up for a selfie. And with a cropped selfie of lean, muscular, eight-pack abs (and yes, she counted), captioned ‘im hungry and dehydrated af in this pic but the things we do for validation amirite’, Y/N couldn’t resist shooting him a DM.

She's bored and lonely and a little shameless flirting with some random self-aware hottie sounds like fun.

Little does she know, the boy on the other end is just as bored and lonely and jerking off to some pretty girl’s tasteful nudes sounds like a nice way to end the evening. Purplish red lips caught between her teeth, tits bursting out of bra, wet patch visible on her practically sheer panties… how could he resist?

Harrison was just about to sneak his hand down his sweatpants when a DM notification pops up on top of his screen.

violetformyfurs: that’s a pretty proper comment for such an improper pic

He nearly drops his phone onto his face. He’d grown very familiar with that username in the last 5 minutes-- or rather what that username presented as her online persona. Witty, alluring, a little mischievous. It’s easy to let his imaginations run wild, but when she’s actually there to talk to, Harrison’s not quite sure what to do.

blue--moon: was that too prudish? i didn’t wanna be rude 🙈

Y/N smiles at his reply, his earnestness somewhat refreshing although she can't help wonder how genuine he is. There's plenty of fake nice guys online, after all. So she settles against her headboard and braces herself to test the waters.

violetformyfurs: I think it's cute. I like a good boy every now and then :)

Harrison's heart skips a beat. He's never really been called that before --never even thought about whether he likes it. But there's something about this girl that captures his curiosity...

blue--moon: oh? what makes you think im a good boy?

violetformyfurs: Idk just a guess lol

violetformyfurs: Could be wrong tho. You could be a bad boy, for all I know...

Harrison is freaking the fuck out. He's pretty new to this side of social media and he's never sexted with anyone on here. A part of him wants to go the suave route and be super charming, but he's not sure he can pull it off. What if he makes a complete fool of himself? In his panic, he goes for the more evasive response. Maybe a little emoji to make him sound less aloof.

blue--moon: and what if I am? 😈

violetformyfurs: Then you would be a different kind of fun, that’s all.

No hesitation, no pause. She replies within mere seconds of his message being sent. With that, his cock stirs awake faster than his brain can muster a vivid image of this girl claiming him as her dirty plaything. Toying with his release as she teases his cock in her mouth, between her tits, in her pussy…

blue--moon: shittt

blue--moon: i mean, pardon my french but

blue--moon: that does sound like fun

The devilish smirk on Y/N’s face grows wider. She loves sending boys into a flustered, incoherent mess. She can’t quite picture a face, but she can definitely imagine the quickening of his heartbeat, the red flush on his chest, the rising heat under his skin… it makes her quite hot and bothered.

violetformyfurs: What are you up to now?

It’s the oldest line in the art of sexting, and she is almost disappointed in herself for pulling such a fuckboyish move.

(Almost. She's still trying to read this guy, and she's not about to bring out the big guns for nothing.)

blue--moon: do you want the savoury or unsavoury answer?

violetformyfurs: Try me.

blue--moon: im looking at your pics

blue--moon: which are

blue--moon: wow, as I said so eloquently in french 😜

violetformyfurs: Lol thank you

violetformyfurs: I take it that's the savoury answer?

blue--moon: yep

violetformyfurs: So what’s the unsavoury answer?

Harrison pauses. He thinks long and hard, before he ultimately decides to not overthink it. He's no Casanova and the pretense will only bite him in the ass, so his best bet is to just... say what’s on his mind.

blue--moon: my unsavoury answer is that im looking at your pics

blue--moon: hand down my pants

blue--moon: thinkin abt all the ways i’d let you ruin me

And that’s when the pin drops. It feels like an out-of-body experience for him. It seems like the sensation on his cock goes straight to his fingers and he didn’t realize what he wrote until he’d already sent it. For a hot second, he thinks he’s royally fucked it up. She would tell him to go fuck himself or straight up block him.

Harrison puts his phone screen on lock, resting it on his forehead like a dumbass that he is.

And then his screen lights up again.

To be quite frank, she’s every bit as surprised and curious as he is. Most guys either maintain their bravado by saying shit that makes them sound manly and cool, or be too thirsty for her own liking. Either way, it turns her off.

But every once in a blue moon, someone would say it just right that it would pique her genuine interest. She’s not sure if it’s his words, his pictures, or just her, but she finds herself typing back three words to him. And those three words are more than enough to fuel him on.

violetformyfurs: tell me more.

blue--moon: i keep picturing you as a huge tease

blue--moon: playing with my cock and sitting on it and cumming on it

blue--moon: but you won't let me cum

violetformyfurs: bold of you to assume I'd touch your cock at all before you earn it ;)

Harrison swallows. Somehow the idea excites him more than any fantasy he'd had of her before. He loves a girl who gives him a hard time, and right now, he's having a hard time alright.

He reaches for his hard-on and starts absently stroking it, eager for her next message.

blue--moon: oh? tell me more

violetformyfurs: Well first, I gotta leave my marks all over your pretty neck

violetformyfurs: Little lipstick stains and love bites

violetformyfurs: Trail down your chest to your hip bone

violetformyfurs: And then come right back up and ride your face so you can show me how you earn it :)

He picks up his pace, letting his pre-cum slick his motion. But he pictures her in her bed, anticipating his response, and he doesn’t wanna let her down and finish so early. He wanted to show her he's worth her time.

blue--moon: fuck yes

blue--moon: i wanna taste you through your panties

blue--moon: pull it aside and eat you out real sloppy

blue--moon: let you ride my fingers too

violetformyfurs: Mm fuck yeah, you have nice hands too

blue--moon: they’re all yours

Y/N couldn't resist going back to his profile picture. All veiny forearms and slender fingers. And that ring… She slides two fingers inside her and pretends it's his, working her open, stroking for her pleasure. She likes to think he gets off on it, too.

violetformyfurs: Fuck yeah. Want you to make me cum all over you

violetformyfurs: And maybe if you're good, I'll put my mouth on your cock.

violetformyfurs: Lick the precum off of the tip of your cock, and then taking you deep down my throat

violetformyfurs: And I can go pretty deep too ;)

Harrison curses out loud. Oh, if she could only see him, pumping his hand around his dick faster, wishing it was her sweet mouth bringing him closer to the edge. And who knows, maybe she's out there, touching herself with the thought of him, too…

(She totally is. Panties hooked on an ankle and hips bucking up from her bed, she indulges herself with the idea of choking on this pretty boy’s cock.)

blue--moon: fuckin hell

blue--moon: please please please suck my cock

blue--moon: wanna cum in your mouth while im smothered in your wet pussy

violetformyfurs: Greedy 😏

blue--moon: can you blame me

violetformyfurs: Haha fair

blue--moon: god i bet you taste good

blue--moon: bet you feel so fucking good too

violetformyfurs: Mm, maybe I oughta ride your big hard cock too

violetformyfurs: Bounce on it hard and fast

violetformyfurs: Or maybe I should just.. sit there and play with my clit and clench around you?

blue--moon: ffffuuuuck

violetformyfurs: Which one will it be, baby?

blue--moon: whichever way you'll have me goddd

blue--moon: just wanna cum inside you

violetformyfurs: Beg for it.

She slows down her motions and her breaths, fingertips barely ghosting over her wet and swollen nub. Gosh, she's so fucking close; she just need a little more nudge.

blue--moon: please

blue--moon: wanna feel your little pussy squeeze the cum outta my cock

blue--moon: grippin me so tight

violetformyfurs: You close?

blue--moon: very

violetformyfurs: You wanna fill my pussy with your cum, watch it run down my thighs?

blue--moon: fuuuck yes please

violetformyfurs: Go on, then. Cum for me, baby

blue--moon: fckkkk

Harrison could barely send that last message before he falls apart all over his stomach, pent-up release painted on strong muscles contracting in waves of ecstasy. Chest rising and falling in exertion.

And she pictures the most beautiful sight under her, coming undone as she lets go, clenching around nothing although it feels like one of her best orgasms in a while.

blue--moon: holy shit

blue--moon: made a whole mess outta me

violetformyfurs: Can I see?

blue--moon: you sure?

violetformyfurs: Yeah.

Y/N bites her lower lip in anticipation. She's not usually one for boys' nudes (a lot of them don't know how to take good pictures), but orgasm has been had and either way, she has nothing to lose.

To her surprise, though, he doesn't send her a crude dick pic with horrible lighting. Instead, she gets a picture of his cock, thick and veiny like his arms, resting on toned abs bathed in soft golden light, splattered in his own cum, and she finds her pussy throbbing at the sight.

violetformyfurs: Wow 😳

violetformyfurs: I mean, pardon my French

blue--moon: lol thank you 🙈

violetformyfurs: That was fun haha

blue--moon: it really was… deffo wasn't expecting my evening to go this way lol

violetformyfurs: What, having a wank sesh with some random girl online?

blue--moon: or thinking abt a wank sesh while looking at this girl's pics and then suddenly she dms you out of the blue

violetformyfurs: 😂😂 call me psychic

blue--moon: imma call you magic

violetformyfurs: Haha, call me Violet.

Harrison taps his screen, typing up his response and deleting it again. He ponders whether he should give her his real name-- part of him really wants to. But then again, thirsty social media is a fickle thing and he would hate to get into trouble for lurking about in this lewd little corner. So instead, he decides up with something equally witty.

blue--moon: nice to meet you violet. im blue 😉

***

Morning shoots are the worst, and the only saving grace for Harrison is the coffee in his right hand. He occasionally joins the conversation with his co-stars Thaddea and Jojo on either side, but mostly he just scrolls through his Instagram mindlessly.

Well.

Until a notification pops up on the top of his screen.

violetformyfurs posted a new picture: Rise and shine 🌻💙

He immediately puts his phone down on his lap, trying to discreetly open it, even though his friends are not even two feet away from him.

And there she is. Her arm holding up the breasts he so wants to mark and devour. Her skin adorned with the morning dew of the shower, glowing from the sun streaming in from the window on her right.

He notices the blue heart emoji on the caption, and he can't help thinking this is her subtle way of calling out to him, hoping to get his attention.

(And of course, Harrison's only a man. His attention was caught very easily this way.)

Y/N’s phone buzzes in her jacket pocket as she walks to her morning class. And when she sees his username on her notification bubble, she picks it up immediately, thinking, hook, line, and sinker, despite the genuine butterflies in her stomach.

blue--moon: good morning indeed 👀

violetformyfurs: Never pegged you for an early riser.

blue--moon: im really not, but you're a sight for sore sleepy eyes

violetformyfurs: I would say the same about you, but...

blue--moon: im sorry darling, im already dressed for work 🙁

violetformyfurs: And what are you wearing?

She wants to kick herself for being so forward, but at the same time, she can’t help it. She can see him getting flustered wherever he is, knowing where this conversation is going. And God, she loves it.

blue--moon: a full victorian era suit

violetformyfurs: Ooh, tres sexy

He's not sure what gave it away; the quiet laugh or the goofy grin on his face, but his friends both turn to him at the same time. Curious and mischievous at the same time.

"What is it?" Darci pries, craning her neck to look at Harrison's phone.

He quickly closes the app and locks it. "It's nothing."

"I think the question should be who is it." Thaddea shoots him a knowing look, and he knows there's no escaping this girl's sharp eyes.

So he just answers dubiously, “Some girl.” he playfully shoves Darci’s arm away so he can get back to his message.

blue--moon: haha sure 🙄

violetformyfurs: Well, the more layers to peel off, the more fun, right?

blue--moon: idk your little bday suit looks pretty fun too

violetformyfurs: How so, my lord?

Harrison loves how sharp-witted she is. He pictures her, curious, head tilted to the side, calling him ‘my lord’ with a smirk. Eyeing him up and down, undressing him with her eyes. He somehow feels more naked in his suit and big blue coat than she is in absolutely nothing.

blue--moon: so i can kiss you and taste you and fuck you whenever and wherever

It’s short and simple and straightforward, and it sends Y/N clenching her thighs in anticipation. She likes the idea of this boy pulling her in and pleasuring her all hours of the day --bent over the desk, against the sink, laid out on the couch, in the shower…

“We’re ready on set for you guys,” a PA comes over to inform them, and Harrison fights the urge to groan like a child as he follows his friends out.

blue--moon: ah shit, duty calls

blue--moon: talk to you in a bit?

violetformyfurs: Try not to think of me in my birthday suit too much, Blue ;)

blue--moon: impossible 😜

He means it. It’s cold and muddy where he is, and all he could think of is this girl wearing his blue coat costume, nothing else underneath. God, what he wouldn’t give to dive under the material and get on his knees before her…

And unbeknownst to him, it is just as impossible for her to not daydream any further about this boy. She’s not sure whether his line about a Victorian suit is true or not. If it isn’t, that means he has a sense of humor. Y/N appreciates that-- maybe more than the nudes and the sexting.

If it is, well… she likes the idea of his muscular chest clad in one of those puffy white shirts, a la Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid.

He finally texts back late in the afternoon during her presentation for her Emotional and Conflict Resolution class, and she couldn’t rush through her conclusion fast enough. For a miraculous second, her priority for a perfect score takes a backseat to the possibility of a text from some random dude she met online last night.

Christ, what a simp.

“Thank you very much, Ms. Y/L/N, for a very insightful presentation. Next week, we will be delving into children’s literature…” she tunes out the voice of Professor Getty as she packs up her laptop and gets the hell out of the lecture hall.

She pulls out her phone out of her pocket and bites back a smile at the notification on top of her screen. At least her fumbling earlier wasn’t all for naught.

blue--moon posted a new picture: hope you’re having a wonderful day 💜

But it’s not the well wish that makes her heart skip a beat. Or the little purple heart to signify that the message is intended for ‘Violet.’ It’s the picture attached to it; the frilly low-collared white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows…

A signet ring on his finger, gold glistening against his onyx phone case and marble skin.

violetformyfurs: I was gonna say something about your choice of wardrobe

violetformyfurs: But I’m just a tiny bit distracted by your hand.

blue--moon: like what you see? 😏

violetformyfurs: It’s alright...

blue--moon: i seem to recall you wanting to ride my fingers last night 👀

violetformyfurs: I did.

violetformyfurs: I do

violetformyfurs: That signet ring hits different, just saying

blue--moon: really?

violetformyfurs: Yep. Wonder how much better it looks, drenched in my juices

blue--moon: funny bc i was deffo thinking abt fingering you with it all day

violetformyfurs: It would be my pleasure, my lord.

blue--moon: and mine, milady.

“Harrison Jarrison Osterfield!” Jojo all but screeches into his right ear from the backseat of the car.

Harrison, of course, not realizing he'd been snooping, drops his phone in surprise and squawks, “For fuck’s sake, man!”

“You randy little fucker!” Jojo cackles almost maniacally, pulling McKell into it. “Bro, he’s getting steamy with a girl over text!”

“For real? Wahey!” McKell exclaims as he slaps Harrison playfully on the arm. “Let’s see her, then. Is she hot?”

“Oh, my God. Fucking hell, shut up!” Harrison groans, covering his beet red face in his hands. “I can’t fucking believe this…”

“Who knew, eh?”

“Our golden boy turns out to be a nasty little fella after all!”

The golden boy in question picks up his phone off of the car floor mat, and groans once more when he sees what he’d sent her accidentally. And her response that follows.

blue--moon: sldkf[;

violetformyfurs: ...What’s that supposed to mean?

blue--moon: shit! sorry

blue--moon: dropped my phone. my asshole friends being nosy.

violetformyfurs: 😂

violetformyfurs: I’m about to get on the tube anyway. talk to you when i get home?

blue--moon: sure. wouldn’t want some rando read our naughty texts over your shoulder, right? lol

violetformyfurs: Please. We both know You’re the naughty one between us, darling ;)

The blood rushes right down his cock as the memories of her come flooding in. Hell yes, he's willing to be the naughty one for her. So he endures all the teasing and takes all the piss his friends are giving throughout the car ride to their complex. He ignores the shit-eating grins they throw each other when he turns down their offer to hang out and play FIFA at McKell’s.

“I love you guys,” Harrison starts as he walks up to his door, “But you’re massive dicks. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

He enters his building with his two friends egging him on and humping a flagpole, mimicking the bass line of some sexy club music. For a moment carried away with the amusement and excitement of falling for someone new. For a second forgetting the fact that they’re just personas, tiny glimpses of themselves through the filter of social media.

There’s no new messages from her, and Harrison eventually decides to put down his phone to go shower. He notes the tent he’s pitching underneath his trousers, but decides not to do anything about it. Why jerk off to her, when he can jerk off with her at the same time? He knows his imagination is nothing compared to her and her unbelievable way with words.

And as time proves it, her message awaits him when he gets out of the shower, a gleaming little ray of light among bleak system updates and ad alerts. Bold and witty and somehow quite… romantic.

violetformyfurs: Honey, I’m home!

blue--moon: hey! feel like talking on the phone?

Harrison might as well just shoots himself in the foot. This is way too intimate at this stage. They just met last night, for God's sake, and not even in person! What was he thinking? If she hadn't ghosted him then, she sure will now--

violetformyfurs is inviting you to a voice call.

He freaks out all the same, although for a completely different reason now. He won’t have time to edit what he’s gonna say before he says it. What if he says the wrong thing? What if he sounds weird? What if she sounds weird? Oh God--

"Hi,” he greets her, friendly and even, trying his best to hide his nerves.

"Hey, stranger." There's a smile in her voice. Quiet, but warm nonetheless, and Harrison relaxes a bit.

"Hi," he replies, kicking himself over how stupid he sounds for saying hello twice, sitting himself down on the couch. Just go with the flow, he reminds himself. "Whatcha up to?"

"Eh, just lazing around in the bath, getting wine tipsy..." she sighs, water gently flowing in the background. "Treating myself."

His eyebrows rise, intrigued. "What's the occasion?"

"Psychology presentation well done, which-- you, sir, nearly cost me my grade."

"What did I do?!"

"You sent me that fucking text in the middle of my talk! Distracted me. Made me trip over my words,” she grumbles.

“Aw, I’m sorry…” he grins, not at all sorry that he makes her just as flustered as he is. “What was the presentation about?”

“The Horror of Grief in The Haunting of Hill House.”

“You did a study on Hill House?” Harrison feels the butterflies and fireflies in his stomach. There’s something very attractive about a hot girl who’s also a nerd. “Oh, I love that show!”

“It’s amazing, right?” she gushes back.

“I’m pretty sure I binged it all in one go,” he laughs, quiet and warm. “So what’s your, uh… hypothesis? Is that what it’s called? I don’t know, I’m not really an academic person.”

Y/N finds herself giggling-- thanking God she’s not the only one nervous. “Horror shows aren’t only a safe space to experience horror or thrill anymore. Hill House explores the reasons behind these horrors, the grief and the trauma, which makes it very… reflective for us as the audience.”

“So, no matter how scary the ghosts or the monsters are, it’s still a very human experience,” Harrison concludes thoughtfully.

“Exactly.”

There’s a brief lull between them, but they don’t mind it much. For a moment, it feels like a mundane conversation they’ve had a million times before-- going about their day, their favorite show, the little things they nerd about… I could get used to this, Y/N briefly muses.

“I’m actually doing something that has to do with horror and grief, too,” he pipes up, and Y/N secretly wishes she could curl up into his chest as they chat.

“Really?”

“It’s a… series, too…” he toys with the tassel of a throw pillow, “Hence the Victorian suit.”

“Are you an actor, then?”

He sighs. Being an actor is always awkward, people would ask if they’ve seen him in anything or ask whether he’s famous-- because he’s really not, he’s just starting out. It’s even more awkward when the whole relationship relies on anonymity.

“Kind of. All I do is wear these stupid costumes and fuck around with my friends, really.”

She rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t call that costume stupid…”

“Yeah, you liked that, didn’t you?”

“Hell yeah. The shirt? The ring?” Y/N throws her head back and moans for dramatic effect.

And with that, Harrison is gone and Little Harrison stirs in attention. “Don’t-- don’t do that.”

“What did I do?!” she parrots what he said earlier.

“Make those… obscene sounds.”

She scoffs playfully. “I’m sorry, is doing a period drama turning you into a prude?”

“Fuck you,” he laughs, fighting the blush creeping up his cheeks even though she can’t see it.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Check and fucking mate. She’s so much smarter than him and it turns him on more than he ever knows. “Well, yeah,” he bashfully admits.

She hums, light and airy, bringing the conversation to another lull. But the silence feels heavy this time. The silence of two people who are wildly attracted to each other, hearing each other’s voice for the first time.

Wanting oh so much to be together that they don’t know where to begin.

“What are you up to?” he asks again. But his voice is deeper, lower this time, and she knows exactly where he’s going.

“Told you, I’m treating myself. Bath, wine…” she purrs, playing it cool, “Orgasms.”

He swallows. “Are you touching yourself?”

She slides her hand between her legs, indulging in the shock of her fingertip meeting her clit. She’d been denying herself on any touch, and now she can let out a breathy sigh of relief. “What do you think?”

“Fuck--” he palms himself through his sweatpants, relishing in the sound of her voice. “Are you... thinking of me touching you?”

Y/N’s finger drags lower, running back and forth along her nether lips. “Mm-hm. Thinking of your nice, long fingers teasing me and stretching me open…”

“Do it then.” the words fall out of his mouth all too easily. “Tease yourself ‘til you’re nice and slippery, and slide a finger in for me.”

He hears labored breaths on the other end, and he honestly thought she’s gonna cave. And what a stupid assumption he made.

“Just one?”

Two words. That’s all it takes to get his cock straining underneath his boxers.

"One," he starts out, "...and then another."

Two fingers. She is truly an impatient thing, and so buries them inside at once and curls them in a way that makes her squirm. Y/N's breath hitches as her fingers thrust in, smaller than the one she wanted, but gives her the pleasant ache nevertheless. She lets out a low moan as she caresses that spot inside her.

"That's it, baby. Just like that…"

She doesn’t usually like pet names, but the way he calls her in his sweet, boyish voice drives her mad. She wouldn’t mind having it whispered in her ear as he holds her against his chest and fingers her.

"I don't think my hand can compare to yours, but--" Her moans echo in the bathroom tiles, and it sounds more angelic than any choir Harrison has ever heard in any grand cathedral.

“You sound so good, fuck…” Harrison shifts as he frees his stubborn cock. The irony of allowing himself some release by tightening his fist around his length is completely lost on him.

The corner of Y/N’s mouth pulls up into a half-smile as she hears a low, strained moan on the other end. “Are you touching yourself?”

“...Yeah?” the answer is painfully obvious, and yet Harrison blushes anyway.

She chuckles, low and lazy, and lets it die down into a sigh. “Wish you were here. I could use you to stretch me open and fuck me hard.”

Harrison groans at the sound of her sweet whine. “Fuck yes use me,” he rambles on, drunk from desire.

“Want you to pound into me while I kiss and bite your neck, you wanna know why?”

“Hm?”

Y/N shuts her eyes to regain some composure. She doesn’t wanna waver in the face of her subject after all. “So you’d remember how good you are to me.”

“Fuck, 'm so close...” he breathes, clenching his fist like he imagines her pussy would. His strokes grow more erratic, as if moving in syncopation with her moans and her movement.

It takes her everything to hold out and say, "Come with me, baby,” before the familiar warm tingle rushes through her veins and desperate moans crash through the line.

For a moment, there’s only light rustles of fabric and quiet sloshes of water on the line. Little noises that bring these strangers closer with every heartbeat, every breath taken in harmony. Somehow, somewhere in different corners of the world, two strangers find themselves tied a little closer together. Intimately close and safely distant at the same time.

Y/N eventually caves in breaking the silence. "You are full of surprises, aren't you?"

"I could say the same about you," he retorts. "God, I feel like I need to take another… cold shower."

"Maybe you should," she giggles. "We'll catch up later."

"Right." He tries to hide the sliver of disappointment, but reminds himself that this may not be their last conversation. "Talk to you... soon?"

She bids him farewell and it's like the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. The soft ding of his notification sounds so crass compared to her. The content, however, brings a smile to his face.

A new post from his mystery girl, covered in bubbles, wine glass wrapped around her fingers. The picture is cut just above her smirking mouth.

violetformyfurs: Happy Friday from your favorite fancy bitch 🥂💦💙

***

Over the next six weeks, Y/N finds a fast companion in this mysterious guy called ‘Blue.’ The witty banters and flirty messages become a regular interaction. It’s an awfully convenient arrangement-- she is attracted to him enough to get off, but she doesn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of sleeping with someone new or face the possibility that he might be a bad lay in real life.

“I mean, I like to think I’m alright…” he said defensively about two weeks into their ‘acquaintance.’ “I’ve had zero complaints so far.”

“Show me the receipts then!” she challenged him jokingly.

He didn’t show her his Yelp page, of course. He did, however, control her Lush vibrator from his phone and teased the hell out of her until she lost count of her edges. It wasn’t until she threatened him through her teeth, “Let me fucking come or else,” that he finally relented and let her come three times over.

“Still think I’m bad in bed?”

She could hear the cocky smirk in his voice and she wants to wipe it off of him so badly. “Jury’s still out.”

“Wh-- How is that even-- that is ridiculous! Come on!” He all but squawked incredulously.

“I’m sorry! I still can’t objectively determine the proficiency of your mouth, fingers, and/or dick based on how you operate my Lush. That’s just not how this research should be conducted.” Y/N very consciously uses her ‘serious’ voice, although a light laughter trails behind.

“Alright, you nerd,” he chuckled. “I’ll let you pass, but only because it’s so fucking hot when you talk nerdy like that.”

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

“Mm yeah, talk nerdy to me,” he moans in humor, although there’s a truth to it, too.

(In the end, they stayed on the line and made each other come one more time before calling it a night.)

What’s better-- or worse- is that Y/N enjoys his company, too. His blazing thirst traps and quippy jokes all at once. It pops up at random points of her days-- over breakfast, in the middle of class, on her tube ride home.

Like that time he sent her a very tasteful black-and-white dick pic-- one of the very few he sent her. His uncut cock stands erect, his fingers wrapped around the base of his thick girth. The veins on his wrist and the ones along his curving length make her salivate…

And before she could respond accordingly, he sent another version of that image, this time framed that infamous Nickelback meme, captioned ‘been wanting to expand on more artsy formats wdyt’

violetformyfurs: Thank you for canceling my thirst with the unsexiest reference ever.

blue--moon: how dare you, nickelback is sexy af

violetformyfurs: ...Seriously?

blue--moon: they just get a bad rep, ok?? their music is actually pretty good

blue--moon: heard it's a good aphrodisiac too 😏

violetformyfurs: Lmao says who?

blue--moon: says me??

violetformyfurs: Alright, Nickelstan 👀

blue--moon: ugh so judgy 🙄 imma prove you wrong

(He made her a sex playlist that night. She stubbornly skipped the damn song when she touched herself to it. Out of principle.)

Some nights they didn't even have anything to do with sex. Some nights he would talk her ear off about his day while she prepares herself dinner. Other nights, Y/N would be buzzed from double espresso, ranting about her assignment or the undergrads’ papers she’s grading while he tidied up his flat. And when neither of them could sleep, they would just lie around in their own beds and talk about nothing.

“Oh God, We're young and beautiful; we should be out celebrating life!" he groans as he stretches, head hanging upside down from the edge of the bed. “Instead we’re talking about how homemade Nando’s will never taste the same as real Nando’s.”

“I think you’re just a bad cook,” she pokes fun at him.

“Why don’t you be the judge of that?”

“Ha, right.” the laugh comes out easy until she notices the meaningful silence on the other end. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Maybe... we can, I don’t know, hang out once I’m back in London.”

And then there’s that. Little abstract plans with indefinite dates. Subtle reminders that that’s all they are-- strangers. They might know all the minute details about each other’s body and mind... And none of who they actually are.

Not even their face.

It’s an unspoken agreement between them: he’s an actor, she’s on track to be a university lecturer. Both of them would be in big trouble if this naughty little secret gets out. So they settle on picking up little tidbits about each other. Just to give the illusion that they know each other. That they’re less lonely than they actually are.

Until they don’t have to be.

“Wow. Huh...” she thinks hard to collect her thoughts. Granted, he’s never done anything to cause her distrust, but she still needs to be cautious… right? “Sure. I mean, we’ll see. You probably won’t be back in a while, right?”

“I’ll be done in about a week, give or take,” he replies nonchalantly --or so he tries to be.

One week of their acquaintance felt like forever. They went from strangers to sharing childhood trauma in less time. But one week until they meet each other face-to-face… it’s too brash, too soon. She’s not ready. Her stomach twists and the palm of her hand sweats and --

“We don’t have to meet, of course,” he quickly adds. “I was just throwing it out there.”

But her heart drops. The possibility of not meeting now hurts more now that they’ve been presented the opportunity to do so, and she realizes just how much she wants to.

Y/N scratches her head, frustrated with herself. “I would love to, I just-- I don’t know what to feel about it yet. Can we put a rain check on this?”

“Absolutely. Take your time. Ball’s in your park.”

***

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking idiot!

Harrison internally kicked himself as he felt Violet withdrawing from him in that conversation. She’s completely fair not to trust him; he has access to her nudes and for all she knows, he could be a weirdo. He would retract his statement altogether if he could, if only it weren’t too late.

She assured him she’s fine, but he purposely avoided any talks of meeting up since then. Consciously stopped himself from saying shit like ‘someday’ on things they would do together. He didn’t even tell her when he got back to London. He’s simply grateful that things are slowly going back to normal between them.

Conversation is easy that snowy morning. Fresh off his run, Harrison finds amusement in her grumpy, sleep-deprived texts as he waits in line at his local coffee shop.

violetformyfurs: Is it not enough to snow on the last day of the term?

violetformyfurs: Do I really have to wait in a long line for coffee, too?? God????

blue--moon: just got off my morning run. hello you ;)

violetformyfurs: How do people live like this

blue--moon: out of sheer willpower?

violetformyfurs: Oh go fuck yourself.

blue--moon: 😂 in your defense, some of us don’t have to burn through a million papers til 3am last night

violetformyfurs: Wow, I told you to go fuck yourself and you jumped to MY defense?

violetformyfurs: Guess chivalry isn’t dead after all

blue--moon: call me your knight in shining Nikes lol

“May I take your order, please?” a bored-looking guy behind the counter snaps him out of his reverie.

“Sorry! Uh, can I have a medium hot Americano, please?” he smiles apologetically to him.

“Sure. Name?”

“Harrison,” he answers and pays quickly, sauntering over to the pickup counter to avoid any further embarrassment.

He stands there gingerly, next to the girl who queued in front of him earlier. Pretty cute, all bundled up in a knitted scarf and glasses perched on her nose. Their eyes meet for a moment, and she briefly smiles at him-- well, as much a stranger would out of courtesy. Harrison barely smiles back when she looks back down on her phone, which he takes as a sign to return his attention to his.

violetformyfurs: Haha. You’re hilarious. I’m dying.

blue--moon: you’re mean, thats what you are 🙄

violetformyfurs: I will stop being mean once I get

violetformyfurs: My

violetformyfurs: Coffee!!! 😤

“Hot Americano, medium?” the barista announces.

Both Harrison and the girl reach for the paper cup at the same time. The latter stops just before their fingertips brush against each other and takes a double glance at his hand-- or where the labels are on the cup.

There’s a split second pause before she asks the barista, “Double shot espresso for Y/N?”

Harrison’s eyes go wide. He knows that voice. He’s familiar with its rambles and laughs and whines and moans. He looks at the girl, then at her phone, then at his, barely aware of the exchange happening before him. He hears her speak and he hears her name, and his mind just clicks.

“Ah yes, sorry. Here you go.” the man behind the counter huffs, handing to her and turning to get another cup. “Oh! Another hot Americano. Medium, single shot for… Harrison?”

“I believe that’s yours,” she pipes up, her eyes following him curiously.

“Right. Um. Thanks,” Harrison absently says to the barista. He doesn’t walk away, either. Instead, he turns to the girl, “I’m really sorry, are you--”

“I think you’re--”

“Wait.” she holds a finger up, takes a swig of her coffee like she’s bracing herself, presses a few buttons on her phone, and looks at him expectantly.

Harrison’s phone lights up in his hand and he shows her the screen: violetformyfurs is inviting you for a voice call.

“Fuck,” they both say in perfect unison.

The barista stares at them confused and unamused. He quickly moves onto the next customer, and they swiftly move away from the counter. Both of them feel like they’re floating just above the floor.

“Is this really happening? This isn’t just my sleepy-ass mind playing tricks, right?” she thinks out loud, eyes wide and blinking slowly in disbelief.

Harrison shakes his head, still dazed from it all.

“Wow-- it’s-- I--” her phone lights up in her hand and she barely glances at it before putting it on lock. “Shit, I have to go. My class.”

“Wait! Can I see you again?” he asks immediately, worrying he’s gonna lose his chance. Although now that he’s said it out loud, he’s also worried that she might get scared off. “Maybe after your classes or when you’re not--”

“Meet you back here at 3?” she cuts in, her voice quiet.

Harrison loses all words and just nods.

“Okay. It’s good to finally meet you… Harrison.” her eyes crinkle as she says his real name for the very first time, as if figuring out the taste in her mouth.

He repeats her name over and over as she walks away, heading out into the cold. Loudly in his head, soundlessly on the tip of his tongue. Matches the name to the rest of her that he pieced out, bit by little bit in the past six weeks. What little he noticed of her in their surprise encounter earlier.

It suits her.

***

Y/N keeps opening and closing the message thread between herself and her mystery guy. And when she’s not, the thought doesn’t leave her the whole day. All she wants to do is to say, “Can you believe that we ran into each other totally by accident?” to the very person she ran into.

Harrison.

Whom she recognized by his hand when he reached for her coffee. She knows the line on the back of his hand like the back of her hand. And when she looks at the owner of that hand, it clicks.

Her last class of the day couldn’t go fast enough. She’s only there to monitor the final exams, so she spends most of her 2 hours sitting there, waiting, thinking. The stack of her previous class' exams are ungraded and untouched. And before she leaves campus, she barely makes a beeline to the bathroom to apply some mascara and lipstick.

She arrives at the coffee shop early, hoping she'd get a few minutes to prepare herself for this meeting. Maybe she can even dip if she gets cold feet.

How stupid of her to think she'd get any more time than she'd already had the whole day.

Harrison conveniently sits on a corner table by the window, typing away on his laptop with his AirPods on. He looks so cozy in his knit turtleneck, glasses perched atop his nose. He spots her right away-- sitting facing the door, there's no way he would have missed her.

(He wouldn't have missed her with his back to her, he thinks. Not this time.)

Y/N awkwardly motions at the counter, and they exchange an awkward non-verbal exchange of 'I'll be there in a bit, I'm just gonna order some hot tea to calm the fuck down.' She tries to very discreetly fix her hair, which probably looks a mess from the wind and the tube ride.

"Hey!" Harrison beams, AirPods and laptop cleared and tucked away from the table.

Neither of them are sure where they're going. She goes in with one hand and he's already leaning forward, and they end up in a funny half hug/half handshake situation. As much as it embarrassed the hell out of them, it also gives them reason to laugh at themselves.

"This is… so strange.” Y/N grimaces as she takes her seat opposite him.

"I know, I've never really done this before." he chuckles, warmth rising on his cheeks as he settles back into his seat.

She’s trying to find something to say, but she gets caught off-guard by his eyes. She was much too distracted by the shock and the overall physical presence of him. But his clear-framed Wayfarers frame his handsome face, emphasizing his dazzling eyes.

Blue. Like his namesake.

“You have very pretty eyes,” he breaks the silence with a quiet observation.

She bites the inside of her cheek, chucks it right back at him. “I could say the same about you.”

“That was a cheap line, wasn’t it?” the pink tinge returns to his cheek, although it doesn’t feel like it ever went away. He laughs and she laughs along, but he means it. Her dark eyes are warm and comforting on this grey, icy day.

“Ah, well, I’ll give it a pass,” Y/N coolly looks out the window. Then she flashes a cheeky smile at him, “This time.”

And with her bright personality, it lights a fire deep within his stomach. God, he likes this girl.

“So how’s your last day of class?” he smoothly switches back to casual small talk. “Did Sleepy Joe come through?”

“Right, yeah!” she beams this time. “He came into class just in the nick of time, and I’m... pretty sure he answered most of the questions?”

“Wahey, well done!”

“I haven't graded it, but it looks okay! Like, it’s coherent so far."

"So far." he reminds her. "Who knows, man, maybe he fell asleep halfway through a sentence and started... doodling Shrek or something."

"You're a man with peculiar taste, you know that? Shrek and Nickelback and all that…” she muses, purposely leaving the part where she thinks it’s cute as fuck.

“Come on, you like ‘em, too,” he goads her through his coffee cup. “We both know you’re not always into--”

“Into what?” Her eyebrows shoot up challengingly.

“The deep, important stuff that reflects… you know, the society in the past or present. Or future.”

“You sound like Sleepy Joe trying to bullshit his way through my class.”

The little inside jokes seem to flow easily then, as if they’ve had this conversation numerous times. And in retrospect, they have. Spread over many afternoons, over copious cups of tea. Just always with hundreds of miles between each other. Never separated by a mere foot length of a coffee shop table. Elbows nearly bumping.

Hands well within reach as they catch up like old friends.

Or old lovers. They haven’t decided on that yet. If their knees touch under the table, or their hands accidentally brush as they grab their cups, they say nothing.

And before they know it, they talk and talk until the barista quietly (but pointedly) comes up to them to say the cafe’s closing up. Y/N eyes glints at the sheer amusement of this innocent bystander, and Harrison struggles to keep his laughter in.

“He’s not really a big fan, is he?” Harrison snickers as the guy returns to the back of the counter.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s ecstatic. He just witnessed a meet-cute that held up a long line in the morning and now these assholes are back, holding him up at the end of his shift.” she rolls her eyes playfully. “I’m sure he thinks we’re adorable.”

Truth be told, they are.

And truth be told, Harrison is not quite ready to go back to being by his singular self just yet. So as they walk out of the coffee shop and reach the curb, he musters up the courage to ask,

“So what’s the rest of your night look like?”

“Probably just make myself some dinner, have a drink…” Y/N gingerly scratches the back of her ear. “Join me?”

And there it goes. A simple, two-word question, and a look on her face-- so subtle yet so beyond words- that tells him maybe she enjoys his company, too.

"Lead the way," he offers his arm.

She takes his arm and huddles up closer as she shivers from the cold gust of wind. The layers of clothing a stark contrast to their usual state of undress in their pictures, the surprisingly wholesome conversation at the cafe, the quiet walk back to her flat… they’re not exactly what she expected.

But maybe it’s just what she needed.

"So I gotta ask," she starts, and he knows where this is going. "And I don’t mean this in a nosy, possessive kind of way, but-- why didn't you tell me you were back in town?”

Harrison contemplates an excuse. He could tell her he’d just arrived, or he’d come back early on a whim, or he was planning to visit his mother first anyway. But he doesn’t. “Well… I didn’t wanna make it weird between us. Didn’t wanna make you feel like-- I don’t know. Like I’m pressuring you to meet me, you know?”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” she notes, and then coolly adds, “But honestly, I'm fine. If I feel like you’re pressuring me into anything, I’ll let you know, alright?”

“Of course.” he quietly smiles to himself, although he doubts it would ever come to that. He’d happily wrap himself around her little finger. So bold, so beautiful, so sure of herself.

Y/N catches his smile and finds herself doing the same, too. He looks at her like he’s perpetually in awe of her, and it makes her so fucking weak.

“And for what it’s worth… I’m glad we decided to meet up.” she puts a reassuring hand on his arm.

“I don’t think we had a choice the first time, technically.”

“Man, get out of here with your technicalities!” she jokingly shoves him away with her over-the-top John Mulaney impression, sending him laughing and stumbling on the slippery ground.

She leads him up to the second floor of her building, welcoming him into her humble one-bedroom flat. She half wishes she’d tidied up before she left this morning--she has empty mugs serving as paperweight for assignments she’s grading and her knit blanket balled up on one end of the couch because she couldn’t be bothered to fold it before heading to bed last night.

Not that it matters.

To him, the mess is as much a part of charm as the rest. He likes how her shelves have books stacked and lined up in no particular order that he recognizes, documents sticking out like white tongues and all. He likes how she uses a succulent as a bookend. He likes the Polaroid pictures and bills and reminders on the fridge, held up by colorful enamel magnets. It’s an extension of her that no amount of pictures or conversations can capture.

“So,” she pipes up as he studies the framed pictures and diplomas on the wall, making him slightly jump. “You gonna help me cook or what?”

***

Harrison makes himself useful by picking the music (No Nickelback, Y/N warns, and they settle on a more mutually liked Childish Gambino) and playing sous chef. And he’s a pretty good sous chef, too; sets up the ‘stations’ all neat and organized, chops up the vegetables without so much a chunk out of place, even though he’s rather careful about the amount of seasoning he puts in. He navigates the narrow space of Y/N’s kitchen well enough, hand instinctively landing on her lower back every time he slides past her and vice versa. Chattering away like it doesn't make their hearts skip a beat at that little touch. When the conversation dies down, they let the music fill the companionable silence.

Come dinner-time, they casually play footsie over flirty banters. He compliments her on her scrumptious cooking ("I'm simply using the spices your people colonized my people for," she side-eyes him in good nature.) He takes it as a challenge for when he cooks for her next time. And they go about it as if they're certain that there will be a next time.

And by the time they finish the bottle of wine, they're fully cuddling on the sofa, mildly tipsy and incredibly cozy. Shoes off and sock-clad feet up on the couch, Y/N folds her legs and leans them over Harrison's lap as she curls up on his chest, cheek smushed against his soft grey turtleneck. They're watching The Hobbit although the volume is low and they spend most of the time talking about something else.

"Isn't it funny how we basically put several dates together all in the span of one evening?" he chuckles. "We had coffee, dinner, drinks, Netflix…"

"Man, I don't even know where we're at anymore. I mean, you saw my tits before you even talked to me."

He hums lightly. "And what nice tits they are, too --pardon my French.”

She brushes him off, “Oh, please. Talk French to me any damn day, Harrison.”

He laughs, but says nothing else. When she looks up at him, she catches him deep in thought.

“What is it?”

“It’s just… funny to hear you say my real name.”

“Would you prefer me to call you ‘baby’ like we used to on the phone?”

Her words are playful, but the air swells around them in an instant. Suddenly the weeks and weeks worth of tension is very palpable. They instantly become very aware of how close their bodies are pressed together. His clear blue eyes darken, darting between her eyes, black as night and ridden with mischief. “Do I have to choose?”

She doesn’t miss his quick glance at her wine-kissed lips, and she quirks up a winning smirk. “Harrison, baby… You can have whatever you want.”

And just like that, they close the gap between their lips, neither knowing or caring who goes in first. Not a day goes by without them secretly picturing what kissing the other would feel like, and now that they’re there, as close as they can be, it’s like a sigh of relief. Talking to Harrison has always felt like a thrill, but in that moment, their words cease, fingers weaving into his brown curls, breaths syncing in, and Y/N feels… calm.

Well.

As calm as they can be, all enshrouded in warmth until the growing heat overwhelms them.

He wants more, more, more of her. The red wine is ten times sweeter on her tongue, and the faint smell of her clothes and her shampoo and her perfume just intoxicates him. And when she giggles at how he chases her kiss… God.

He murmurs something Y/N doesn’t quite hear.

“Hm?” she pulls away.

Harrison is quick to bury his pretty face in her neck, leaving a trail of soft little kisses to the back of her ear. Then, “However you want me, Y/N. I want it all.”

“Fuck…” she breathes out, pushing him back. Before he even computes, she pulls him up to his feet and leads him to her bedroom door.

Somehow the six-feet distance between her door and her bed feels like miles, and they’re tangled in the endless layers and layers of clothing to peel off. Harrison trips on his sweater and lands just at the edge of the bed. Y/N laughs at him until her own sweater gets stuck and he has to unceremoniously help her out of it. It's not perfect, but somehow it just makes it so.

The giggles turn into sighs as he undoes her shirt button one by one and replaces it with a trail of kisses down her chest. And the sighs turn into moans as his tongue and teeth get involved, marking and soothing her soft mounds. Leaving a wet patch on the sleek surface of the fabric, and a slick sheen on her smooth skin.

He gazes up at her in permission when his hand ventures up her back, right where the hooks are. She bucks up into him to let him do the honors. He undoes her bra in one swift movement of one hand, but then fumbles for a word at the sight of her bare-chested, spread-eagle like some obscene statue and he’s right there kneeling before her at the altar.

“Jesus fuck me,” is the first thing that comes out of her mouth, and he remembers the telling off he would get back in boarding school.

But far be it for Y/N to reprimand him for that. It’s ridiculous and nonsensical and completely honest. So she bites her lower lip in a discreet smile and remarks, “You like?”

“I love,” he sighs as he puts a pebbled bud in his mouth, one after the other, ingraining the feel of it on his tongue, on the pad of his thumb. The sound of her moans as he sucks and nips at it.

Y/N is completely shameless about reaching underneath her panties as she clenches for who knows how many times. The cotton is completely soaked through, but before she can indulge herself, his hand stops hers.

“No, let me,” Harrison all but whines, like a little boy threatened to get his toy taken away. His fingers hook onto the waistband possessively.

She lifts her hips, but slides slightly off of the bed anyway. He doesn’t seem to mind; his face is only closer to that spot between her legs after all. His hand trails a path from her ankle, along her calf, behind the back of her knee, up her inner thigh… over her glistening pussy.

He can’t believe she’s real.

He licks up her nether lips, slowly sinking into the folds. His tongue ebbs and flows on her clit and fuck if it doesn’t make her shiver. First gently, as if gauging her reaction, then sloppily. As if he can’t help himself. He’s ravenous and she’s allowed him to feast on her.

She is selfish in the indulgence of her pleasure. The moans that come out of her mouth shamelessly fill the room, probably seeping through the walls. Her nail-polished fingers tangled in his brown curls, keeping his head right where she wants her. She chases his mouth with her hips, curves arching and aching to be devoured. He takes and takes and takes, and she wants more, more, more.

"Harrison…" Y/N tugs at his hair a bit. "Your fingers."

And Harrison has heard this request a million times. Only this marks the first time he can actually give her what she wants.

He pulls away to see his middle finger trace the outline of her cunt, watching her clench around nothing at the slightest of the touch. He reaches her clit and rubs circles around it, pressing it gently to let out the beautiful breathy moans from her lips.

"Is there where you want me?" he teases her, a shit-eating grin hidden behind a bite on her thigh.

She groans in response. "You know exactly where I want you."

"I really don't," he replies matter-of-factly, puppy dog eyes staring up at her. "Maybe I need you to tell me."

She's so close to her orgasm, and yet she's inching further and further by the second. "Inside me, god-fucking-dammit!” she urges through her teeth, her grip on his hair sending him enough surge of delicious pain down his spine.

And sends him in line, too.

“You like that, baby?” Y/N pulls his hair back and watches his eyes shut closed in pleasure. “You gonna be good and fingerfuck me like I told you to?”

“Fuck yeah.” he breathes, licking up at her one more time, and in a split second of eye contact, he spits right on her sopping cunt before he sinks his middle finger into her.

Caressing her. One finger and then another.

And she swears she might just come right then and there. No toy, no fantasy could ever amount to this.

To him.

“Harrison…” she whimpers, not knowing whether to grind into his hand or grab a fistful of his hair to steady herself. In the end, she does both.

His motion picks up to an incredible pace, fingers switch rapidly between fucking her and rubbing her, moving so fast he's practically slapping her clit. It sets her body on fire, and she gladly goes down trembling and thrashing in her burn for him.

In her haze of orgasm, she barely registers Harrison crawling up over her, pressing light comforting kisses on her chest. But she needs air, and she seeks it in his kiss. Her own arousal on his mouth brings her back to life, and she laps at the remaining juices on his chin, before kissing him deeply, properly.

"Holy fuck," Y/N says between labored breaths. "You eat pussy like a porn star."

"Still think I'm a bad lay?" he smugly pokes fun at her.

"I never said you were! I'm just saying, statistically, there's a chance that you might be…" she pouts in protest.

"Sure. 'Statistically.'" he rolls his eyes sarcastically, prompting her to turn them both over so she's on top.

And God, what a sight he is, sprawled out in her bed like this. No amount of good angles and quality photographs can ever capture this moment so… authentically. The streetlight illuminates the gentle rise and fall of his chest through the window. In this close proximity, she can closely admire the slope of his nose and the sharp lines of his cheekbones. His kiss-swollen lips turn upward in a smile, and Y/N doesn't even try to resist the urge to bring her own lips to his again.

There's no pretense in their kiss. The walls of courtesy are knocked down, and they bear no shame in their want anymore. She's been dying to explore him, and he's more than ready to give all of himself to her.

Y/N guides his arms over his head, drawing lines over the bumps and ridges of his lean muscles. She gently squeezes his wrists, and he's all too happy to oblige in keeping them in place.

"Excited, are we?" Her thigh brushes over the tent he's pitching, and she can't help but tease him.

He only blushes when she peels off his boxer briefs. She doesn't touch him there yet, of course-- she laves at his hip bone and inner thighs, avoiding his glorious hard-on. His lexicon seems to have left him when she makes her way down his abs. The only words that stay with him are praises in her name and curses to the beautiful agony.

"Y/N!" Harrison whines.

"Alright, alright…" she relents with a light laugh as she finally swallows his cock whole, all at once.

He feels his soul getting yanked out of his body as he hits the back of her throat the first time. Y/N takes a moment to even out her breath, but soon bobs her head up and down along his thick length.

Suddenly keeping himself in place isn't such a small feat anymore. He fists at the bedsheets to stop himself from grabbing her hair. But his hips buck up into her as if without his own accord, making her gag.

"Sorry! Sorry--"

"Eager, are we?" She smirks, glancing down at the precum leaking out of his purplish tip.

"I need to be inside you before I bust, I swear to God…" he sits and pulls her back up with him, her thighs straddling his.

"Can't help it. You taste so fucking good." Y/N chuckles, nuzzling his nose.

"Yeah? Show me."

Her stomach flips as she cups her face. It's a strangely tender moment in this otherwise obscene activity. He tilts back, letting the warm light wash over his features, and she briefly wonders if he's carved by the gods. Her thumb traces his lower lip, flesh instead of marble, and kisses him languidly. His cum and hers melding into one, tasting like absolute heaven. And before long, the thought of his cum and hers melding inside her takes over her mind until there’s absolutely nothing else.

She doesn’t even tease him. No. She lines his cock onto her entrance and bottoms out in one go. All words go out the window. Only breaths spelled out on each other’s mouth. Limbs tangled up as close as can be. Bodies overwhelmed with the delicious pain of being stretched out by his thick girth and blinding grip of her inner walls.

Almost all words.

Harrison whispers her name, kissing her wherever he can reach her. He doesn’t say it, but the words he said earlier echoes back in her head. However you want me, Y/N. I want it all.

And God, she wants it all.

She rides him hard and fast, and he meets her halfway on every thrust. They somehow find their pace in an off-beat rhythm, peppered with lips and hips colliding in the dirtiest fashion. His hand wanders down to her clit, sending the rest of her body in another wave of pleasure until her pace falters.

Y/N clings onto him like she’s gonna get washed away otherwise. And he holds onto her, like he’s afraid she’s gonna disappear as she logs off every night for the past six weeks.

But she’s here, and so is he. And that’s all that matters.

“Fuck me…” she sighs, burying her face in his neck.

“Are you saying or are you asking?”

She giggles, and he can’t imagine ever being tired of her voice. “Both.”

“Say no more, baby.” Harrison squarely kisses her hair and lays her down on the crumpled-up bedsheets.

He kneels before her, his beauty only rivaled by Michelangelo’s David, and slides into her once again. He takes a sharp breath and the Greek statue comes to life. She likes that she has that effect on him. She wraps her legs around his tiny waist, silent claiming him mine, mine, mine.

“You feel so fucking good, what the fuck?” Harrison feverishly rambles, pounding into her in tight, shallow strokes.

“Yeah?” she gives him a sharp smack on his ass. “Get to it, then.”

“Do that again and I just might.”

Smack! It sends shivers down his spine, and he can’t get enough. He quickens his thrusts with every time her palm lands on his ass, and the idea of her handprint on his skin turns him on beyond belief. And when her delicate hand finds her way to his neck, squeezing him into a new height of ecstasy… he’s done for.

“Harrison.”

He spills out her name and his release at the same time. And in the warm spray of his release, she finds hers. Clenching and contracting until they’re both left sweaty and breathless in their own mess. Piling on top of each other in comfortable silence.

“Hey, stranger.” he leaves a peck on the tip of her perfect nose. “Whatcha thinking?”

She ponders over the word he used. Stranger. She ponders over how strange it is that he’s never felt like one to her. And even stranger that they have forever and a night to get to know each other. So she simply shakes her head and says,

“Nice to meet you.”

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