Pegsters: part 2 (Patreon)

We're getting closer :D (ALSO harry is doing something and i'm FREAKING out) 

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ii.

Harry was desperate. 

He and Y/N had always been a very lovey dovey, touchy feely kind of couple; not overtly so in public, keeping it mild with subtle grazes and locking fingers around belt loops to drag the other back toward them. They never wanted to be that couple, where everyone was annoyed with them because they couldn’t stay off each other’s asses for more than three minutes at a time. Their love was their own, and while they would speak up and down on each other, and how much they love one another they could shout from the rooftops, but one would seldom see them kissing in public unless it was a soft peck on the cheek. 

At home though -- at home was a completely different story, however. They could barely keep their paws off each other, every moment of every day including Y/N and Harry wrapped around one another for some reason or another. Harry would have his arms slung around her waist as she stood by the stove stirring soup in a pot carefully, Y/N would flop down and burrow her face into the nestle of his lap while he took a phone call, or one of them might be playing with the other’s fingers while one was brushing their teeth (this gesture was usually reserved for Y/N, who fiddled with his rings at the base of his fingers, and after he gargled and spat, he’d push a sloppy, minty fresh kiss against her mouth). Harry loves it. . .loves how much they cuddle and snuggle and touch on one another, because he’d never met someone who loves to be close to someone as much as she does. He’d met his match. 

However, Y/N had so humbly decided that she would be withholding such pleasant caresses from him in preparation for what she’d planned for him. Harry had recognized the tactic -- he’d done so only once before, when she had just been the worst little brat he could have ever imagined her being. Everything she could do to prick under his skin, she had done, so he withdrew all his cuddles and kisses and snuggles, and by the end of the week she was so happy and delighted that he was touching her she nearly came with no stimulation at all. 

Harry found that he would much rather not be on the receiving end of this no touching rule. Even at night, when all he longed for was to be wrapped up tight in her arms, she wouldn’t come around until late when he was teetering on the edge of sleep and couldn’t fully enjoy the kiss she pushes to his forehead. And in the mornings, when he’d roll over in search for her, she would already be up and moving about -- which was definitely out of character, so he knew she was doing it on purpose. Instead of reveling in their kisses she keeps them soft pecks, she doesn’t offer her back rubs when he whines about his shoulders hurting, and she’s not even patting his bum when he walks by her (which is something she finds great pleasure in, she once told him, that his “peachy little bum” could get her in trouble one day). 

He was suffering; it’s not as if she’s ignoring him, she’s still the same girl he loved to absolute bits and pieces but that almost made it worse. All the things that she does that make him want to kiss her, touch her, hold her -- he gets denied with a little slip through his gangly limbs, and a promise of soon, Pet, we don’t wanna waste all the build up do we? 

But Harry is impatient and he’s a little bit of a brat when it comes to not getting things he wants, so on the fourth or fifth day of Y/N deterring his attempts at affection, he ambushes her in bed. He usually doesn’t come home from the studio until late afternoon, when the tree’s shadows threaten to cast nice cool spots on the pavement but just don’t quite reach out far enough to be of any use. Not hot enough to me noon but not cool enough to be evening is when she usually expects him home. 

Instead, he creeps in closer to noon and makes sure his footsteps are light. If he knows his girl, he knows that this is around the time she lies down for her Friday midday nap because for some reason she is persistent on waking up when he does, claiming she’ll work out with him, maybe doing ten squats before giving up. Then she’d stay up too long so the thought of going back to sleep is but a distant dream, until she starts feeling that drowsy, dizzy kind of way she does after eating lunch. Though he had come in enough time where she should be in that halfway state, where she could either pass out for a good hour or waver in and out of consciousness until her alarm goes off. 

Harry snuck in, clicking the door closed quietly (she was staying at his place, like she did most days because he more or less begged her too and she didn’t seem to mind it) and crept up the small set of stairs to his bedroom on the far left side. The door was ajar, only taking a few fingers to press open with little noise to make his presence known. As he slips in, he sees Y/N with her back facing the door, tucked beneath his down comforter with her head pressed to the navy pillows. Beside her lay her laptop, lid open and the screen still dancing, but he can tell by the evenness of her breath that she isn’t watching it. 

But she was watching it prior, and what she had been watching was what appeared to be a pegging video. The sound was turned off, a red muted X on the sound bar indicating as such, and his heart and cock both lurch. His cock because of the obvious -- the thought of her fucking him, dominating him, holding him down and doing as she pleased makes him tremble and threatens to make him so hard he’ll leak. His heart because his sweet girl was still looking things up about it. She wanted to do it right. . .wanted to do good for him, and while she could be a dominant person and was exercising this power in not letting him touch her -- she was the same girl that revelled in pleasing him. The same who would let him defile her mouth and still snuggle, pushing kisses to the tender skin of his tummy and holding him close as if she might be the most innocent little doll. 

His lips twitch, a small smile happening at his mouth as he steps over to the bed and crawls in behind her, sliding his arms around her frame. Y/N stirs, a small gasp tore from her mouth but he shushes and cooes at her, “S’just me, baby,” he murmurs, feeling much less feisty than he had started out on his way here, planning on making a fuss about her not touching him. Right now though, he just wanted to be close to her, hold onto her, and like the sandman had slithered his way into the room a drowsiness fell over Harry very suddenly.

“You’re home early,” she murmured, words muffled by her hand smushing her cheek. 

Harry hums, “You’re much more fun.”  He whispers. 

Content with the answer, Y/N relaxes against his chest, “You’re g’na get punished,” she warns him, “But not yet, I’ll let you cuddle me some more.” 

Burrowing his nose into the base of her throat and breathing in her scent deep, Harry decides he can deal with that. 

                                                       .                           .                          .

Harry woke an hour later, with his mind foggy and his cock a heavy throb in the plaid trousers he wore. Y/N sat between his legs, her hands skating up and down the expanse of his thighs and Harry has to bite back on the whimper that tickles his throat. It’d been a minute since she’d been anywhere near his cock, let alone touched him in general, and he basks within it. Stroking up and down, warming her palms against the fabric, her eyes dancing along the smooth expanse of his belly, where his shirt had rucked up. 

He’s always thought she might have a little thing for his tummy -- the way she’ll marvel and tend to it, pressing open mouth smacking kisses against it on her descent towards his cock, or rub it in slow circles when he’s full and bloated (and he quite likes the feeling, it comforts him). She pays extra attention to the tattoos framing it when she takes time to trace them with the tips of her fingers, and that’s normally the spot she decides she’ll nuzzle up against if he’s stretched out and she’s too lazy to do anything but collapse around his legs. 

So when her eyes flicker up and she sees he’s awake, she bids him a soft, “Good morning times two,” before leaning forward and pressing an unchaste kiss just beneath his belly button. Harry shudders, feeling himself throb once again as her tongue grazes against the skin, teeth skimming over the fine hairs that rest there. He intakes a deep breath, letting it out in a soft sigh as he lowers his hand to bury it in her hair. 

Or at least he tries too, but he soon finds with two yanks that he is unable. 

He tilts his head back, looking up to see that his wrists are tied by a silky scarf to the lower base of his bedpost. A small whine catches in his throat as he does another pull, looking down to see Y/N not paying the least bit of mind to him. No, instead, she just continues to suckle kisses all along his stomach, raising goosebumps in the wake of her wet mouth. Y/N is diligent and calculated in how she moves, slipping the button of his trousers undone as she brushes her nose side to side at the tender skin. 

“Baby?” He murmurs gently, wriggling, “What are you doing?”  

“Hmmm,” she hums, index finger and thumb clasping at the zipper over his crotch and Harry hisses, “Touching you. Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

It is what he wanted -- god, did he want it -- it felt so good to finally have her attention and her touch, the relief of it so gratifying he wouldn’t be surprised if that is what made him hard in his sleep. Just the feeling of her fingertips grazing against his skin coaxed his cock awake, his body responding to her easily. Every part of him was yearning for her, calling out to her, pleading to be caressed and held, kissed and licked his skin suckled and pinched between her teeth. 

When he thinks about it, it almost reminds him of a commensalistic relationship in its nature. Not them in general, but what it feels like in this moment -- like he’s an orchid and she’s an epiphytic plant, growing on her to reach sunlight and water. The extent of it, felt as if it was imperative that he has her. . .like the sensation of her fingers was keen on his survival.

“Couldn’t wait for it though, could you?” She speaks against his skin, her breath speaking warmth over the moistened patches she’d been marking in splotches of red, “Had a whole nice thing planned, y’know? A nice Saturday, with both of us home all day, take you out to see a movie, get us something good to eat, then take you home, bend you over the mattress and open up your peachy bum for me.” Harry whimpers, his hips threatening to buck upward but she’s much stronger than she looks and has a firm grip on them, keeping him steady, “Finally give you all the kisses and cuddles that you’ve been beggin’ for. . .but you’re just a little brat, aren’t you? Can’t wait for your treat.” 

Another whimper sound leaves him, a slight cant over his hips that could be mistaken for an adjustment did not fall blind to her as her fingers dig deeper into his hips. She leans forward, dragging the flat of her tongue against the bulge in his boxers and another gasp tore from his throat, his back arching forward, “Baby!” 

She giggles against him, the vibrations a teasing jaunt along his length, “Baby!” She mocks him, and he feels precum slip up against his slit, beading along the head, “I bet you want me to take you in my mouth, huh?” Her fingers pull at the waistband of his trousers, giving a sharp pull that unearths his cock, revealing that he hadn’t been wearing boxers today. If Y/N even thinks anything of it, she doesn’t speak it aloud, instead leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the apex of and torso, where his prick had been lying before. She licks at the small, wet patch and suckles at the skin, and the low, rumbled groan that rattles his chest is one of want and frustration. “And I’ve been thinkin’ bout it too, but you wanna know what keeps me from giving in most days?” Harry’s only response is another moan, when her lips just barely skim along the shaft as she moves to the other side, another sloppy kiss just above the small tuft of hair. “I think about that time in Barbados.” 

Barbados had been the trip he’d taken her last summer. The sun was beaming rays of heat, kissing skin warm beneath it’s onslaught. Drinks were plentiful, the water was lovely, clear and cooled, their hotel room was an open concept built like a small apartment with a kitchen even though room service ran all night. Sheets of woven satin, an ivory color that he could picture Y/N’s bare body amongst, covered in bite marks, bruises, spit and cum. She had surely been a sight for sore eyes, and the lovely thing was so bent out of shape with want that she didn’t care what he did. Hell, a few of his mates had even watched them one night -- viewers to their private showing, of his pretty, soft girl who whined for a mouthful of cum and pleaded with him to fill her up everywhere (he remembers murmuring her safeword into her ear and her repeating it back to him, a mutual understanding that if at any point she got uncomfortable he would kick the bastards out but the whole night she had given everyone a good look into what it was like to be fucked so good you cried).. She’d been begging for him to cum in her mouth for about a week but he’d kept pulling out (if he’d even let her suck him off at all -- he had been witholding it) cumming on her face instead, or moving to fuck her, or truly just doing anything but. He liked how much she liked it, and liked how desperate she got when she wanted it, and she later admitted how much she liked the noises he made when she wrapped her lips around him, and how he held onto her hair a little tighter, bucked his hips a little looser, ending up even more desperate than she’d been..

In short, she was doing everything she could to make him desperate.  

“I think about how whiny you’ll be when I finally get my lips around you -- stroke my tongue against that vein, and lick against your slit so every little thing you have to offer I get in my mouth. How you’ll probably buck and beg if you’ve had to wait a little while. . .even more so if you just so. . .so close, and it’s just --” she’s speaking in a quiet, breathy voice that makes his cock twitch, just mere millimeters from touching him, “--taken away.” 

She sits up, squeezing the meat of his thighs before patting the tender inside and Harry is murmuring a soft, “No, no, no, come back,” which she promptly ignores. 

“How bout you go take a shower, Sweetheart? I’ll be waiting for you in here.”