~Cassidy~

I was just about to collapse onto my bed the next night and go to sleep when my cell phone lit up, showing me a message on the screen. Unlocking it, I read that it was from Harry.

Cassidy…

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t keep the smile off of my face as I typed back: Yes, Dimples?

Subconsciously, I found myself scooting over to the edge of my bed, where I could see out the window. His blinds were up. He was laying on his bed, dressed in only sweatpants, his toned chest moving up at down as he inhaled and exhaled. His feet were bare, his hair a swept up mess on his head.

Almost on instinct, he turned his head to the left and caught me looking, and I was rewarded with a cheeky smirk.

My phone beeped again with another message from him: ‘Dimples’? That’s new.

A small laugh fell from my mouth, but I just typed back: I’m tired. What is it?

I looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow, but his little smirk just grew wider, his dimple making an appearance. I was suddenly very aware of what I was wearing: a white camisole—with no bra—and a pair of green plaid shorts that I slept in most of the time.

My hair was hanging around my face, curtaining down my shoulders, and nervously, I bit my lip, running a hand through it.

Lost in self-consciousness, I didn’t realise my phone had lit up again with his next text.

I can’t sleep, it read.

My heart began beating just a little bit faster, my breathing accelerating. Was he asking what I thought he was asking?

And that applies to me how…? I typed back.

I looked up to try and analyze his reaction when he got the text; but also just to stare at him and wonder how he could look so good. He unlocked his phone and his eyes flew over the screen as he perceived the message, and then he laughed, throwing his head back and exposing his pearly white teeth.

His fingers flew over the keyboard with a reply, and a moment later I received it: Come over.

Oh my fucking God.

I was frozen, staring down at the two words on the screen, willing myself to keep my cool.

Finally, I looked up and shot him the tiniest nod I could muster. I stood up, throwing my phone onto the bed behind me, and walked over to the far wall—where he couldn’t see me. I opened my drawer and pulled out a bra, slipping it on before I left.

~Harry~

The doorbell rang and I skipped the stairs by two just so that I could answer it. Right before I opened it, I shook my head at myself: way to look desperate, Harry.

I pulled open the door and stepped back, studying her. She wore green plaid pajama shorts—they were pretty short, falling just below her arse and giving me a nice view of her legs—and a white tank top. I could see the white straps of a bra accompanying the straps of the camisole. Her hair fell around her shoulders and down her back, and she nervously tucked a small piece behind her ear.

“Hi,” I said. She smiled at me, “Hi.”

“You look lovely,” I noted after a beat of silence. She laughed, “I’m in my pajamas, Harry.”

“But you always look beautiful, so…” my words merited another laugh, at which I smiled.

“Well thanks,” she smirked at me, and I gestured to my house, “Come in.”

She stepped inside, slipping off her white flip flops. I closed the door behind her, locking it, watching her as she stood back up and turned to me.

We were a little too close for comfort. Her chest was only a few inches from mine. When she turned—only to have her eyes meet my chest—I saw her suck in a small gasp, her breathing quickening. Her gaze trailed up to my face, and I had to look down at her. My lips parted slightly at how beautiful she was, and I knew that we were both thinking the same thing.

And then I was kissing her. And she was kissing me back, my arms wrapped around her waist, hers around my neck. Our bodies were now pressed together, a hot mess of skin and clothing, trying desperately to find some sort of friction, some sort of relief.

My hands slid down to her thighs, where I cupped the smooth flesh and tugged her closer. She seemed to understand, because then she was jumping, her legs twisting around my hips, and I was fighting really hard to control the blood rushing to my crotch.

“Is this why you invited me over?” she pulled back and laughed breathlessly, “So that we could make out?”

“Mm,” I hummed, too lost in my need for her that I couldn’t form proper sentences, “Maybe.”

And then I pressed my lips to hers again. She reciprocated quickly, and I couldn’t help but to notice that she seemed more comfortable doing this now, which made me smile. I began walking towards the stairs, grabbing onto the railing for support as I raced up them. She pulled back, laughing at my eagerness, but I quickly shut her up again with my mouth.

As I approached my room—the door closed—I turned us around, so that I hit the door rather than her. One of my hands momentarily left her body so that I could fumble with the knob to my left, and when I pushed it open, I almost fell backwards onto the floor.

We tumbled inside.

I immediately threw us both onto my bed, me falling on top of her, our mouths briefly losing contact as we hit the mattress and bounced slightly. I crawled on top of her, kissing her again, and we both shuffled up to where my pillows were, lips still attached. I was fighting to breathe, but I loved it.

“God, I love you,” I whispered to her, pulling back.

Her eyes were wide, lips separated as she tried to inhale. At my words, she closed her eyes slightly, the corners of her mouth curving up in the smallest way possible. Her fingers hooked through my crucifix necklace and tugged my face back down to hers.

I understood.

I kissed her again, my fingers finding the bottom of her tank top, occasionally slipping under and feeling the warm skin of her stomach. She gasped into my mouth, and I froze, afraid that I was making her uncomfortable.

But then her hands slid up my body, grabbing onto my shoulders and squeezing lightly, letting me know that she was okay with it.

So I gripped the hem of her shirt between my thumb and forefinger, slowly beginning to shimmy it up her body. Her chest was rising and falling so rapidly that I was afraid she was hyperventilating, but her kisses comforted me, letting me know that she was alright at the moment.

Once her shirt was halfway up her stomach, she pushed me away. I straddled her lap as I sat up, and she quickly followed, grabbing her top and pulling it off the rest of the way. She looked nervous, like she wasn’t so sure if she should’ve done that, but I couldn’t comfort her at the moment.

My eyes were fixated on her chest, on the plain white bra that she managed to make look oh-so-sexy. Her chest was heaving up and down, only fueling my want for her to an extreme. I looked up at her face, only to find that she looked scared, as if she’d done something wrong.

I grabbed her by the shoulders lightly and gently laid her down on her back, my breathing ragged. She looked up at me with wide, doe-eyes, everything about her so innocent. All of our desperation was gone, replaced with slowness, a tenderness that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. All I knew was that I wanted to make sweet, sweet love to her.

But she wasn’t ready. Not yet, at least.

So I’d wait.

I leaned down, my lips ghosting over hers, loving the way her breath puffed out, smelling of a mixture of mint—no doubt from toothpaste—and her fruity scent, the one that I could never get enough of. I gripped both of her hands in both of mine, and brought them up to rest above her head, pinning them both down with now only one of mine. With my left hand, I stroked her cheek as I kissed her.

“You’re so beautiful,” I pulled back and breathed to her. Her lips pursed, her cheeks turning the lightest shade of pink, only illuminated by the moonlight streaming through my window. I pressed a soft kiss to her lips and then travelled lower, kissing her throat, sucking on small parts of her skin and making her sigh.

When I reached her collarbone, I debated with myself. Usually this was low enough, and I knew to stop here. But then she breathed my name, and I looked up at her, my eyes full of concern, hoping that nothing was wrong. Her eyes were wide, staring down at me, so many emotions present—conflicted—that I couldn’t make out a single one.

She nodded; her hair splayed out behind her, and whispered—barely audible, “Take it off.”

I cleared my throat, suddenly nervous, “You sure?”

She smiled lightly at me, her eyes now shining, “Take it off, Dimples.”

With that, all of my resilience and resistance vanished. My fingertips ghosted over the sides of her torso, looking for the clasp of her bra at the back. She arched her body, giving me more leeway, and I unhooked the material, watching at how it loosened and feeling excited.

Before the undergarment came off, I leaned up, pressing a small kiss to her lips, “We’re not going all the way, right?” I rasped.

She nodded, “Right.”

“Okay,” I whispered, and I kissed her chin, “I love you.”

She sighed when I said the words, and opened her mouth, looking as though she wanted to say something more. But then she closed it and clenched her jaw, nodding for me to remove her bra.

I let go of her hands and she extended her arms so that I could slide the material down her shoulders. Once it was off, I threw it behind me, making her smile slightly.

She buried her fingers into my hair, tugging on the strands as I looked down at her bare breasts, my sharp gasp audible, making her laugh, “You’re such a boy.”

I chuckled along with her and slowly, one of my hands came up to squeeze the supple flesh lightly. As I cupped her left breast, I looked up at her, almost as though asking for her permission, asking if this was okay.

She nodded; her breathing erratic and rapid. I slowly let my palm slide over the smooth, tender skin, watching her reaction. She closed her eyes, laying her head back, taking long, deep gulps of air.

“You okay?” I asked her, and she smiled up at the ceiling, her eyes still closed, “I’m perfect.”

She brought her head up to look at me, her hands stroking my hair lovingly, not gripping it or pulling at it. Rather, she pushed a few strands from my face, shooting me a small smile, her eyes sparkling with an emotion that I couldn’t quite recognize.

My left hand came up to her right breast, cupping it and kneading it lightly as well. The whole time, my eyes were trained on hers. I ran my thumbs over her nipples, making her sigh. I gently caressed her chest, watching how she closed her eyes before flashing them back open, how she shot me the tiniest of smiles.

My gaze still on hers, I leaned down slowly, kissing her collarbone. I then proceeded to travel lower, pressing small, peppered kisses onto her upper chest. When I got to the left side of her chest, I turned my head, laying it down on her chest and feeling the loud and rapid beat of her heart, smiling slightly.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whispered again to her, pressing a kiss to where the thudding beat was.

“So are you,” she whispered, laughing.

I chuckled along with her, pressing soft kisses to the valley of her breasts, watching her face as she took deep breaths to try and calm down. Her eyes were on mine as I moved to her left breast, kissing the soft skin around her nipple.

“Harry,” she breathed, and I looked up at her.

“Stop teasing,” she whined, and I grinned widely at her. Without another word, I enveloped her nipple in my mouth.

She gasped, and my body rumbled with a chuckle. Her nipple was erect, goosebumps rising on her soft flesh, making me wish that I could stay here forever. I swirled my tongue around the pink bud, soothing it, and sucking on it lightly, watching her face the whole time.

Her lips were parted, eyes closed, no creases on her forehead as she enjoyed the sensation. I released her nipple with a pop and moved onto the other breast, doing the exact same thing.

Pulling back, I sponged soft, feathery kisses along the mounds of skin that were her breasts. Her hands were still buried in my hair, still stroking along my scalp, managing to comfort me, even though I should’ve been comforting her right now.

Smiling small, I blew on her nipples, making her gasp lightly, and I chuckled. I moved back up to her face and pressed a long, lingering kiss to her lips.

“I love you,” I breathed to her, lowering my body down to hers, our naked chests brushing. It was skin on skin, my hot body meeting her cooler one, warming her up, my cross pendant squished between our sweaty bodies.

We were both still in our bottoms, and I could feel my raging hard-on aching to be out of the confinement of my boxers and sweatpants, but I just told myself that I’d take a cold shower tomorrow morning.

“You’re amazing, Harry,” she whispered to me, running her fingers through my hair absentmindedly.

“Thank you,” I told her softly, unable to tell her how many times I’d wished she would say that to me.

I cleared my throat quietly and then asked, “Was that good? Did you like it?”

She laughed softly, gazing up at me adoringly, “I loved it.”

I smiled down at her widely, something she returned. I shifted down her body slightly, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone and then laying my head on her chest. I felt her intake of air again and I couldn’t help but to smile lightly at how beautifully innocent she was. I loved it.

She sighed, her left hand coming up to stroke my hair some more, something I found so soothing that I couldn’t even explain how relaxed it made me feel. I reached for her right hand in my left and interlocked our fingers, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Exhaling quietly, I let our hands fall onto the mattress beside us, but I didn’t let go.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Her body shook with the smallest of chuckles, “For what?”

“For giving me a chance,” I told her, tracing the back of her hand with my thumb, “For letting me love you, I guess.”

“I wouldn’t’ve been able to deny you, even if I tried,” she replied quietly, making me smile. I lifted my head from her chest, only to find that she was smiling. I kissed her cheek, and then pulled back, licking it.

“Did you just lick me?” she asked in a gentle laugh. I nodded, grinning at her.

She just laughed again, resting her head down on the pillow, “You’re a little bit crazy, Styles.”

“Crazy for you,” I retorted.

She giggled, “So cheesy.”

I chuckled and laid my head back down, my whole body blanketing her. She shifted, “Can you pass me my bra?”

“Why?” I asked cheekily, “It looks so much prettier on the floor.”

She laughed and smacked the back of my head lightly. I groaned dramatically but got up, grabbed her bra, and handed it to her. She slipped it on and clipped it at the back, proceeding to lie back down and sigh.

I pulled back the covers of my bed slipping under and then helping her to slide under as well. Propping myself up on my elbow, I pushed hair away from her face, marvelling at how someone could be so damn magnificent.

“I feel weird now,” she murmured, snapping me from my thoughts. I stroked her cheek idly with my thumb, “Why?”

“I don’t know,” she breathed, looking up at me with her big, chocolate brown eyes, “I guess it’s because I don’t do this kind of stuff. I liked it, but it felt weird.”

“I understand,” I nodded, reassuring her quietly.

She sighed, looking away, “I feel as though that was too fast,” she mumbled, “Are we supposed to be doing that?”

I laughed at how uncertain and cute she was. Leaning down, I pressed a kiss to her forehead, wrapping my arms around her body and pulling her closer to me, “We can do whatever you’re comfortable with. Stop worrying.”

“Okay,” she whispered, nestling her head into my neck.

I kissed the side of her head and looked up at the ceiling, mentally thanking whatever God was out there for making Cassidy Kane.

Notes

That was a bit unexpected, no? ;)

This chapter was rushed, and this author's note will be too. I'm super sorry for taking so damn long to update, and if you want to hunt me down with pitchforks, you have my utter compensation.

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~Love youuuuuuuuuuuuu~