Camboy blurb part 2 (Patreon)

The highly requested camboy part 2! 

First part here 

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Each of Y/N’s cells is riddled with anxiety.

She thinks she has every right to be; anyone who had seen their tutor’s prick while he moaned out some fantasy that was quite explicitly involving her would be, or at least she sure thinks so. How was she meant to face him? Especially after working herself through a guilty orgasm, wetting her thighs all sticky, and thinking about his throaty groans about fucking what might have been a fantasy of her while he twisted at his cock until he’d came, spurting white that decorated his lower belly, thighs, and painted around his knuckles. She’d been thinking about it every night since she had saw it, and each time a very knowing burn coiled in her lower stomach. Thinking about it! What the hell was going to happen to her when she was sat besides him now? If her crush was barely containable before, would she burst from her bones if he even looked at her? 

Dammit, she was more stressed about sitting next to him than him critiquing her paper at this point, and for someone who hates when others read her writing, that meant a lot! Hearing him speak about semicolons and thesis would not erase the sound of him spewing filthy imagery into his laptop’s microphone. Seeing him clutch a red inked pen wouldn’t obliterate the picture of his fingertips dragging over the head of his prick. Watching him open up his computer wouldn’t quash the thought of what his webcam had witnessed -- what she had witnessed.

She wonders what he’s thinking -- if he’s nervous too. Couldn’t imagine that he would be, considering he was the one who sent her the code to watch the show, but there had to be some inkling of anxiety. Would he be worried that she hadn’t liked it? She did -- she certainly did. Hadn’t explicitly said that in the message, merely answering with a smiley emoji with blushing cheeks because she wasn’t sure how to reply. She didn’t want to be too transparent in her enjoyment of it, nor did she want him knowing that she had sunk her hand beneath the waistband of her underwear and played with her swollen clit until she soaked the fabric. But she also didn’t want him to think that he put on a bad show and she didn’t want him to think that he had made her uncomfortable any. It’s why she kept up their messaging as normal as ever, telling him about her day, sending him pictures of her bearded dragon eating strawberries, pretending like she didn’t know how his plushy pink mouth dropped open when he came.

The messaging was normal but her feelings were awry, only getting progressively worse as she rounded the shelves towards their little alcove, seeing Harry waiting for her, laptop open, editing pens ready -- completely wonted. With a few deep breaths (five to be precise -- not because the number had any significance,  but that’s the only amount she’d been able to squeeze in as she walked the short distance to him), she was before him, slipping her bag from her shoulders while he turned around to greet her with that same prepossessing grin he always gives her, “Top ‘a the evenin’ Poppet,” he plays the cockney tone well, and when she rolls her eyes, he chuckles, “What, you don’t like it? New character ‘ve been trying out -- think m’gonna go for the lead in the theatre production.” 

“Yeah, n’I’ll be taking the next lead role from Angelina Jolie.” 

His lips pout deep, “Grumpy,” he tuts his tongue, “You should have more faith in your friends, yeah? Should be mo’ supportive,” he flicks her bicep as she settles down in the seat besides him, “You’re lucky your so cute, or I wouldn’t be able to stand a grump like you in the mornings.” 

Y/N hates that her heart trips on a beat at the compliment, so instead of commenting on it, she swats at his thigh and ignores it instead, “Dr. Cambridge told me my thesis was weak, so I need a bit of help on it,” she tells him, flopping her folder down, “Wanted to tell her she needed a bit of help with her piss poor attitude, but I don’t think my grade could handle a cruel remark.” 

“Eesh, good choice,” he nods, “She’s one to hold grudges -- wouldn’t forget that until you were out of her class. If ya ever wanted to pursue what you really think with her, ya could say sayonara to a good grade.” 

The tenseness that had been adhered to her muscles eased with each passing minute, as that Harry way of comforting by doing absolutely nothing at all (even if he was the reason for her troubles) managed to soothe her. Did he tear her thesis to shreds? Sure, but she knew it had deserved it. Her mind had been so caught up in him that she could barely formulate a complete thought the day after, let alone come up with the basis of her paper. He did it as sweet as ever though. . .maybe even gentler than he normally is, picking the purple pen instead of the red since, “It’s much too harsh for someone sweet as you” (which of course had made her think of “....She -- oh, fuck me -- she begs me to fuck her. Asks me all nice and sweet like she usually is…” but she tries to brush that from her brain as best she can). 

Everything went on as usual. . .for a moment, she’s so relieved thinking that they probably wouldn’t bring up the elephant sitting quietly in the back of the room, even though its presence was still quite significant. 

Until Harry has finished helping her construct a new thesis, before snapping his fingers, eyes lighting up with a short, “Oh!” As he reaches into his bag. She had no clue what it might have been that he was looting around for, until he straightens himself back out, presenting her with a scrunchie.

Her scrunchie. 

Her scrunchie that he had wrapped around his wrist while he got himself off. 

Her scrunchie that he had accidentally let his cum paint with a few streaks of white. 

A knowing, sly little smile lights his face as her own cheeks grow hot, eying it like she’d never seen it before in her life, “Managed to get the stains out just fine, and it smells n’ feels good as new!” He puts four fingers within it, stretching them out laterally, “Took everything in me not to pocket it for keepsake till me hair grows longer, but I figured I owed it to you at the very least since I -- y’know -- came on it.” 

Blinking at him, her mouth falls open at the casual spirit in his voice, hand raising with her fingers pinched together so that he can slip it onto her wrist, where it clings to her snugly. Harry, instead of just leaving it on her wrist and going on, decides to exercise his devilish ways and stroked his fingers against the top of her hand and tickled her palm with the tips, all feathery light, “Speaking of your scunchie,” he says, voice low, quiet -- like for the first time he actually gave a damn that they were in a library, “How did you like the show, Pet?” 

Her mouth runs dry, swallowing thickly, “It was -- it was really good, Harry,” she nods her head, avoiding his gaze, “I understand why people enjoy it so much. . .the chat was dinging every few seconds.” 

The smile at his mouth is nearly permanent, fingers of his other hand lifting to raise her head back up by the chin, “Aish, look at you, shy little thing,” he murmurs, “Did you enjoy it? Tha’s all I care about, wanna hear you say it.” 

Her heart is hammering hard, thudding against her chest, shuddering underneath his piercing stare. The shift in tone in the room was enough to have goosebumps budding at her skin. What is he doing? Is he teasing her? Is he being serious? What in the hell was she supposed to say but the truth? 

“Yes,” she shifts in her seat, the air in the room thickening, “I liked it.” 

He nods, stroking beneath her chin for a second before sitting back up, “Good. Thought I might’ve frightened you with the story.” Patting her knee, he tells her, “It doesn’t have to mean anything, yeah? Just a fantasy. . .a smutty lil’ fantasy that I’ve been keen on for a while.” 

Harry looks like he might be ready and willing to turn back towards their work, but in a weird twist and shift of both confidence and curiosity, Y/N remarks, “What if I wanted it to mean something?” Does she immediately regret the words as the fall from her lips? Of course she does -- not thinking her words through before she says them is encrypted in her being -- but the way Harry pauses. . .the way he looks back over to her, a glint in his eye unfamiliar to her. “I mean --” she begins, mouth dropping open, before lips pursing, brows furrowed at herself as she looks off to the side, “Like -- the story. . . the fantasy was nice. Sounded nice -- um,” she shakes her head, “You know what? Forget I said anythin’, yeah?” 

She twists back around in her seat, dragging her paper back in front of her so she could at least pretend she was forging some semblance of an introduction for her paper. Harry, however, doesn’t let it slide like that.

“Oh, Lovie,” he murmurs, “It turned you on, didn’t it?” She bites the inside of her cheek, pausing some, swallowing thickly once more and he chuckles softly, “Thinkin’ ‘bout me taking you right here in the library, gets you wet?” Scooting nearer, Y/N feels his breath graze against her ear, “Bet you’ve been thinkin’ about it since, huh? That’s why you’ve been a bit withdrawn too, innit?” Her brows deepen their furrow, looking at him proper confused. She had almost been certain that she was acting as normal as ever since then. 

As if he could read her mind, he tuts his tongue and rolls his eyes playfully, “You think I don’ know my girl well enough to see when you’re acting different?” 

His girl?

His girl! 

Y/N was sure to explode now -- pop right out of her skin from the sheer amount of butterflies swarming through her body, in hoards of fluttering wings tickling her insides. So the feelings blossoming on Harry’s end in his story. . .that was real? 

“Here,” he hums, “Nobody uses the bathrooms up here, ‘cos nobody is ever up here. I’ll be in there; if you’d like to pursue this, then come on in. If you don’t want to, then I’ll come back out in five minutes and we can pretend this didn’t happen. Understand?” He asks and she nods quickly, every cell in her body jittering with nerves, as he trails his fingers against her arm as he stands, ambling towards the bathrooms tucked away in the far left corner. 

The whole room is pulsing around her, blood roaring, vibrating her eardrums with electric noise of excitement and worry all at once. Was this really happening or was she stuck in some hyper realistic dream? Should she just waltz on in there? Was she even ready for anything regarding sex? How does she tell him that he should have given her at least a four business day warning before offering something like this? 

Her body moves at its own accord as she pushes the chair away from the table, fighting against the carpeted flooring before she gained her footing. As she follows in his footsteps, she finds herself trying to remain casual, despite the fact that nobody else was on this floor with them, and if they had been they were on the complete opposite side where there was a separate set of bathrooms. The nerves jittering throughout her exceed those that had plagued her when she had originally been on her way to the library in the first place. 

It’s weird -- his effect on her. It’s certainly not like she hasn’t had sex before, because she definitely has, but for some reason it feels like she’s a virgin all over again. Especially as she twists the knob open into the men’s room, slipping through the crack of the door. 

Almost immediately as the door had clicked shut, Y/N had been pressed against it, blinking her eyes open to see Harry looking equal parts grateful and lust ridden, “Good,” he murmured gently, just before his mouth pushes into hers, the heat of it bubbling within her body. His lips are as soft as they looked, smoothing against hers, while his hands skated down her sides and slipped beneath the fabric of her shirt. Fingers cold against the warm skin, reawakening the goosebumps that had finally settled, her abdomen clenching, body bowing back and knocking against the door and Harry chuckles against her mouth, parting from her with a soft smack, “Sorry,” he pulls her nearer to him, walking backwards as he leads her to the last stall and nudges the door open with his shoulder, only letting go of her to lock the door before his hand returns, “Palms a bit cold, yeah? Can I use ya to warm ‘em?” 

She nods, itching to feel his mouth on hers again, and like always, he reads her like a book. Bends down and smears their lips back together, only this time he lets his tongue trace along her bottom lip, momentarily suckling at it before she gets the hint and parts her lips. He licks into her mouth, carefully touching the tip of his tongue against hers; he tastes like candies and sweets, and Y/N likes that. Likes it so much that she presses against him more urgently, her hips dragging forward, nudging into the hard bulge, prominent in Harry’s trousers. 

The moan it elicits from his throat is pure filth and sin, tickling low in her stomach as he drags back, “Sweetheart,” he hums, pecking a kiss at her lips before moving to her neck, “G’na eat your little peach, yeah?” He murmurs, suckling at the thin skin, slipping down lower, and lower, nimble fingers with an expertise finesse working at the button of her jeans, moving quick to wriggle them down her hips, “Would like to fuck you,” he notes, kissing the back of his teeth quietly, and shaking his head, “But if m’gonna do that, then I wanna do it right. Not in a library bathroom -- you deserve more than that.” 

Y/N never thought someone could say something that made her melty while they were currently pushing her pants down, urging her to take off her flats, and removing them entirely -- she would say that they were batty. Especially because she would be too nervous to think about anything other than whether or not she was nice looking down there, or if she smelled good, or if she tasted good. With Harry though, all those things felt trivial in a sense. 

With Harry, he stays on his knees, and noses at the pink cotton covering her clit and breathes in deep like he’d been waiting for this forever. Her thighs work to close on instinct, but Harry reaches up, coaxes one of them onto his shoulder. Y/N gasps when he licks up once, from top to bottom, leaving a soft suckle where her clit swells beneath the fabric. He smiles against her, looking up and winking as he drags the crotch of her panties to the side and actually lets the wet of his tongue run along her slit. Her toes crinkle and curl, a choked moan leaving her as one hand holds onto the toilet paper dispenser and the other strokes helplessly against the wall. With the hand not holding her panties over, he takes her by the wrists and sets her fingers atop his head, and they curl amongst his curls immediately. 

Her folds are slick from her own arousal and his spit, as they split from the welcomed intrusion of his tongue, dipping into her hole like a butterfly sipping the nectar of a flower. He pays ample attention to her clit, folding his tongue over it, flicking the swollen button, suckling, kissing -- it’s like he couldn’t get enough of it. . .of her. He moans against her like he’s found the most satiating oasis after days of being thirsty. 

“You taste so good,” he parts to say, his breathing bated as her own while he works to slide her underwear off, helping her bend her knee so he can slide them over her ankle, “So sweet -- have me dizzy for it, s’better than I could’ve ever imagined.” 

Y/N looks down, swallowing hard as her pussy pulses and her insides clench in anticipation, “You’ve imagined it?” She asks breathlessly, watching close as Harry’s fingers skate against the skin of her thigh while he settles it back over his shoulder. 

“Course I have,” he murmurs, reaching up, the tips of his fingers running down from her clit, to her awaiting hole that flutters beneath his touch, “All them fruits you eat, I could only guess you would taste like nectar. And this pretty little hole,” he slides his index finger inside of his slow, sucking his plush bottom lip into his mouth as her walls contract and accommodate his entry. Once he curls his fingers, Y/N all but mewls for him, abdomen clenching as he strokes against her soft, wet bump inside, “S’been in my thoughts to. You never think about it? Being with me?” He clarifies and Y/N’s hips buck up as he’s close enough his warm breath gusts over her clit. 

“I do,” she breathes, “I do, I do, s’just --” the fingers in his hair tighten as he withdraws his finger, only to sneak the second one in and return to the same place, stroking against her bump, “You’re kind of. . .amazing -- untouchable, n’all,” the pads of her fingers press hard into the dispenser, a small squeak emitting from the pressure she’s forcing onto it, “Didn’t think you’d ever think of me like this.” 

Harry scoffs, shaking his head like she might have suggested to him the most absurd idea, “Didn’t think I’d ever think of you like this? You’re all I bloody think about,” he admits, slipping his fingers out of her, repeating quietly against her, “All I think about.” And his tongue is back on her, licking and suckling her orgasm to the surface; whether it be only the ministrations of his tongue or a combination of both his words and his actions, she wouldn’t know, but she’s rocketting. Her whole body is hot, little pin pricks sparkle through her nerves as she cums, soaking his mouth with her desire and he groans against her the whole time, lapping her up greedily. 

Once she comes down from it and Harry draws away, she watches him run his tongue over his lips, getting every last bit of her into his mouth and her insides clench again. Though nothing will be done about it, she supposes, considering he’s helping her re-step into her panties, still seated on his knees, then her jeans. Even buttons and zips them up for her, patting her bum and giving a sure squeeze before dragging the back of his hand over his mouth. 

When he rises, Y/N notices his cock again, near popping from the zipper but when she reaches down and begins to bend to relieve him, he catches her wrists and shakes his head, “No, baby, you’re not gettin’ on your knees in a bathroom for me. You’ll get your chance with my cock, just in a better setting. Maybe once I take you to dinner.” 

“But you’re --” she begins, because it looks painful -- like feel your heartbeat in it kind of needy, but he silences her with another small kiss. 

“I’ll survive,” he strokes her cheek, “Now, we’re g’na go out there, finish up your work, and then we’ll plan a proper date. Sound good?” 

Y/N nods quickly. 

“Sounds great.”