Camboy Harry part 3 (Patreon)

I hope you like it :D Y/N is going bonkers (also sorry the updates have been late in the week, finals are kicking my tush)

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Harry was a horrible tease. 

Y/N should’ve suspected as much, considering who he is as a person, and what he does for a living. It should have been on her radar that he was going to be incredibly keen on teasing her in every way he could think. Whether it be little moments while he’s sitting in on the class and they locks eyes only to be followed by him drawing lewd circles onto the knee of his jeans in just the way he likes to rub them into her. Or when he sends her special codes for his shows, biting his lip hard, showing off another one of her scrunchies that he had nabbed in their time together. Spilling smutty thoughts of fucking in bathrooms and tasting someone so sweet that he couldn’t think about anything but them while he was tugging one out. Or even when they met up in the library and he’d excuse himself to the bathroom, leaning down to let her know, “If you’d like to come with me, Pet, jus’ let me know,” before dropping his eyelid in a small wink that sends shivers down her spine. 

They hadn’t done anything past what he’d done to her in the bathroom. When they did go out for dinner they had a lovely time and even shared a kiss that left her feathers ruffled, especially from how he’d cradled her face in his two large hands and nipped teasingly at her swollen bottom lip. Instead of pressing her inside though, stripping her clothes off of her, and ravishing her as he’d promised -- he kisses her on the cheek and bids her a goodnight. And when they’d been hanging out her place a few days after that, when he’d beckoned her to lean against him as they watched a movie and not long after, shuffled so that he was hovering over her just a bit, pecking that deepen into smoldering kisses that had her grappling at his shoulders -- he’d parted breathlessly, nuzzled into her neck and asked her if she wanted him to stay the night (which she’d said yes to). 

Y/N doesn’t see herself as someone who is twenty-four-seven, constant concupiscent person -- if anything, she rubs herself off every so often, rolls over and goes to bed. Doesn’t crave for a boy to fill her or feel as if she’s gagging for it and when she does she just figures that her period is coming and it’d be over soon. But with Harry -- fucksake, it felt like she was needy for it all the damn time. He was soft with her, touched her gently, soothed any worries she had about anything ever, and all around just made her feel good, which only made her want him that much more. The thought of having him in her hand, in her mouth, in her, is starting to drive her a little batty. Imagining him hovering over her, or bending her over, or even grabbing onto her hair has her shuffling in her seat, biting hard on her lip, trying desperately to focus on their conversation when all she could think about was how his amaranth mouth parted and formed around words. 

She thinks he knows too -- the bloody creatine knows what he’s doing. The way he looks at her when she’s staring, slipping his tongue around his mouth to wet his lips, make them all glossy and asking if she was okay when she’d not spoken for a moment, too caught up in her thoughts. His touches linger for longer than they necessarily needed to, his gaze dropped to her mouth more often than not, his fingers likes to trace along the inside of her thigh in these tantalizing circles that go nowhere she wanted them to. 

And she promises she’s not a pervert! She enjoys our their nonsexual stuff and if anything, it’s how careful and slow he’s taking things (even after what had happened in the bathroom at library) that makes her long for it even more. He makes an effort to listen to her, learn her likes and dislikes further than what he’d known before, proper courting her like they were straight from the fifties. Harry also makes it very apparent that not only is he sweet, awfully sentimental, and cheeky -- but he loves when his hair is played with. Probably more than sex, if she’s honest, as soon as her fingers get started in the soft brown strands, he’s nothing but putty in her hands, requesting that she continue for hours and hours on end. He purrs low in his throat, nestles close to her, “Keep goin’ Pet, tha’s nice.”  The little mewls and whines he gives are more than she can handle most days but she is glad to make him feel good, even content enough to nap against her instead of formulating his thesis. 

All those good things just add up into one flustered mess of Y/N, who is sat by a not-so-unexpecting Harry atop of his bed, flipping through different videos on Youtube with her. They’d maybe watched a couple dozen story times (a guilty pleasure of Harry’s that he claims she is the only to know about and, “If I catch you lippin’ off to someone about it, I’ll have you over my knee.” Which he’d said through a cackle but had Y/N all topsy turvy for days afterward), and Harry had a nasty habit of adjusting himself every so often. She guesses the warmth of the laptop had awaken his cock at least to some degree, as he keeps shifting, and a small bump in his trousers suggests a semi that he doesn’t bother dealing with. 

Y/N would enjoy if he did bother dealing with it, however, considering now that she’s noticed it, it’s the only thing she can fucking notice. The My College Roommate Was a Lying Kleptomaniac video was much less interesting when she had some heaven gifted form of Adonis sat down beside her like it was nothing. Could he feel how antsy he was making her? Was she oozing with all this pent up desire in which she’s received no outlet? Even touching herself isn’t nipping whatever this intense feeling is in the bud. She sure as hell wishes that it would, but when she’s got her hand trapped beneath the fabric of her panties all she can think about is his hand, and his mouth, or the way his moans turn to these soft little whimpery noises when he’s getting close and she’s watching from behind a screen. And how soaked she was getting just from the thought of him was just ridiculous -- by the time she was finished most nights her fingers were damn near pruned. 

Then he just sits besides her, picture of all things innocent and holy, requesting nothing but cuddles and ignoring the swell of his cock in favor of spending time with her. He makes her feel like a lecher! 

“Are you okay, Pet?” He turns to face her, his head having previously been flattened against the mountain of pillows he had but he now peeks up to make eye contact with her from behind a particularly fluffy one with a mint green colored case, “You’re a bit tense. Can feel your mind racing from here.” 

Y/N doesn’t know what overcomes her -- or well, she does. . .it was sheer want and neediness and greediness all looped together in a terrible amalgamation of yearning. What she doesn’t know is how she had mustered the confidence to simply lean forward and kiss him -- he’d initiated all the kisses before then. She was always too worried that she would kiss him at the wrong time or he’d pull away from her and admit this was some elaborate joke or just something awful that would leave her never wanting to initiate anything ever again. 

But she couldn’t push down the urge like she’s usually able to. Not when his lips are ample and inviting, begging to be bitten at and suckled on; she smears their lips together and tries not to let the little shocked noise he makes deter her. Though she does wait a moment -- doesn’t move to do anything more than have their lips touch until Harry starts reciprocating, parting his lips as encouragement to slip her tongue in between them. Y/N does almost immediately, attempting to swallow down a moan of her own from how good it feels to release some of her frustration even if it’s merely a kiss and doesn’t go beyond that. 

Harry grips his laptop by the lid and moves it from his body, grabbing for her hips and coaxing her into his lap all while not separating their mouths. He hums when she settles against him, her crotch coming just over that bump in his pants, and she can’t help the little thrust of her hips she gives. 

It feels so good. No matter the fact they were separated by the denim of his jeans and the fabric of her shorts, the friction against her ignored, swollen bud was enough to have her trembling. Harry must realize this, because he digs his fingers deeper into her sides and pulling at her to make her roll her hips again. He continues, aiding her in finding a suitable rhythm for the both of them as she feels him harden even more so in his pants, pressing hard against the zip as she rides up his shaft. Once she’s got a steady pace, his hands travel along her body. One moving up her back, pushing her closer to him, the other reaching around and cradling the side of her face. It’s then that he suckles her bottom lip into his mouth, nipping and biting on it playfully, drawing away with it caught between his teeth before letting it snap back and moving in to deepen the kiss even more so. 

He tastes like the strawberry candies he’d been sucking on earlier (the ones she’d teased him about being a Nan for liking so much) as their tongues stroke together, Harry shivers when one of her hands cards up through his hair. She scratches at his scalp just as he likes and she feels his hip ruck up to meet hers just a bit, then another a little more forceful when her fingers tangle up in the strands and gives a soft, experimental tug. That drags a deep groan from his chest, against her mouth that she swallows down. 

Y/N would have never left the kiss if not for the way her lungs burned, screaming for her to taking a fucking breath and eventually she does part from him with a soft little gasp and a jerked roll of her hips, when she’d rubbed up against him just right. “Fuck sake,” he breathes out, his chest heaving, “Love, you’re g’na make me cum if you keep this up.” 

“Please,” she hates how desperate she sounds; hates the whining, pleading sound of her voice right now but she couldn’t help it. He’s got her all stirred up inside; normally she can keep quiet for the sake of keeping quiet when she’s getting off but nothing keeps these hungry little noises leaving her at bay, “Cum, please, I want you to -- I really want you to, I --” she grinds down a little hard and Harry’s mouth falls open around another moan, “Fuck, jus’ cum, yeah? Need you to.” 

That’s all it took -- her begging had taken its toll on him and he was unfolding, the bubble bursting in what she could feel was a pretty strong orgasm. One that she could feel through his jeans, the way his cock pulsated and throbbed as his cum soaked through his jeans. His moans make goosebumps pimple up the skin of her arms and down her legs, and though she stops for the time being as to not overwork his sensitive state, she’s still just about there. Like if she reached down and touched her clit she would come apart. 

Before she could though, Harry takes the honors, yanking the leg of her shorts to the side and running a thumb over her hole, “Fuck sake,” he murmured lowly, shaking his head, “Look how drenched you are, hmm? Gone and soaked right through these pretty little panties.” He peels them to the side, immediately slipping two fingers inside of her and curling his fingers upward while pushing his thumb against her swollen clit and he merely has to roll it beneath his thumb twice before her thighs are shaking, trying to shut around him as she lets go. It’s a lot and messy and so gratifying she doesn’t know what to do with herself -- his fingers reach so much deeper inside of her that it took him no trouble at all to find that spot she needed. She’s biting at her knuckle to keep quiet but Harry uses the hand not preoccupied with working her through it to pull at her wrist, “Don’t you dare hide those pretty noises from me.” He told her seriously and she nodded, letting herself moan as she trembled. 

It’d been a long while since Y/N’s cum so hard she’d felt shaky after and she tries to formulate this into a thought to Harry as they both caught their breath, but all hope of communication is deterred when he slips his fingers out of her and pushes them into his mouth. He hums happily at the taste of her, and when he drags them back from between his lips now bitten and swollen from their kissing, he wipes them off on the sheets lazily. 

“Wondered how long it would take you to finally try something,” he murmured, his fingers tracing up and down her parted thighs astride him idly, “Suppose I should keep on my promise and fuck you soon, yeah Poppet?” 

Y/N nods so quick she nearly makes herself dizzy.