Pegsters: part 3 (Patreon)

:D GETTING STEAMY!!

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iii.

Harry is frustrated.

Unbelievably so. The kind of frustrated where he could just explode if he focused on the feelings for too long. He doesn’t know how Y/N does it, really, for such long periods of time and so frequently -- it makes him respect her all the more to be able to stand this amount and then some when it comes to denial.

He was whiny when she parted, shuffling and wriggling and pleading with his eyes to keep going but she removed herself from the mattress and disappeared behind the door. Harry had already showered today and Y/N had known that -- not even four to five hours prior to this had he stepped from the steaming glass to her with his breakfast smoothie that she had been proud of (“S’really good this time! Even better than yours, I’d say I really outdid myself this time around”). She was doing it to leave him wanting and resort him to that needy state that he only ever shows her in small increments. Like when he’s buried inside of her after a long while and allows himself these small, frustrated little grunts and whimpers trying to stave off cumming before she does. Or when he wakes up swollen hard, tenting in his boxers and their spooning, her bum tucked against the curve and he ruts and whines with his face burrowed in her throat.

She loves it -- he can feel that she loves it, in the way she moaned a little louder or grinds up against him, or orders him to take a shower while she prepares for him in the room. Harry was already feeling incredibly needy and he knows it would only get worse as the night when on. A terrible, terrible tease she was and always had been beneath the surface, she just rarely showed as much to him. He knew if she were given the right circumstances that she would just ruin him.

This gets his mind wandering though, to what she might have planned for him. He’d seen the video she was watching before she’d fallen asleep; the man had been on his back, legs pulled up, with his arms slung underneath his knees and holding himself up and open. The girl was in front of him, tucked deep inside of the man, one hand’s fingers looped around his solid prick, twisting and working him intensely. It makes his stomach pull at the thought, knowing that Y/N is even more handsy than that. He wonders if she’ll squeeze and tug on him. If she’ll nip and bite and suckle at his skin until it blossoms and purples with love marks. If she might twist her fingers up in his hair, if she’ll flip him around and fuck him from the back, if she’ll be all soft and gentle because it’s his first time or if she’ll set reservations to the wind -- he can’t decide which he’d like best.

Harry washes himself with the rose scented soap she had in the bathroom for the nights she stayed over (which is most every night) and the hot droplets soothe any tense or ache in his muscles. His cock had softened some but he still maintains a semi with his mind wandering and by the time he steps out of the shower, wrapping his waist loosely in a towel. He’s nervous and excited and it makes him tremble a little. His heart is hammering even though he continues to remind himself that it’s just Y/N out there -- his girl. . . the one who had seen him in every which way and he had opened himself up to her so wholly, that this was no different. He would just be exposed in a way he had never been with anyone and he wants Y/N to be the first person he’s like that with. To be that vulnerable only felt good with her.

Opening the door of the bathroom, the cool air from the bedroom washes over him in a flush that pimples goosebumps up his skin. Y/N’s lying on the bed, her stomach against the mattress with her legs bent at the knee and her ankles interlocked. Beside her lay a tube of Astroglide, a black strappy harness that he’d seen once or twice in a video or two (or three maybe four), and a smaller, yet still ample in girth -- flesh colored dildo just beside it. His heart began to speed up in his chest again, when she turned her gaze from where it had lie on her phone screen to where he stood in the doorway.

“Hi Sweetheart,” she hummed, locking her phone and tossing it onto the ottoman, “All nice and clean?”

He clears his throat, “Squeaky.”

“Good,” she murmurs decisively, "Drop your towel and get on the bed.”

He shudders, his cock swelling up again as he lets his hand find where the two ends of his towel were tucked into each other, giving it a small tug. The fabric slides off, dropping at his feet and revealing himself to her. Usually when he does so, it is in a much more domineering manner, where Y/N is sat on the edge of the bed waiting for him and her eyes go wide like she was just enamoured by his size, no matter how often she sees him. Now, however, she stares at him with her brows raised as she sits up straighter, a look in her eyes that questions what’s taking him so long to follow through with her order and a fire sizzles low in him.

The walk towards the bed is so much different than usual, as he feels much more meek and withdrawn than he has ever really. Y/N waits patiently for him, gaze undeviating like a drooling wolf watching a bunny nibble on grass. He crawled up on the bed, and when Y/N motioned for him to go to the pillow, he did, and the only other instruction she gives him is a gentle, “On your belly.”

She had placed his favorite pillow strategically, so he laid his cheek against it on the side that faces her, his arms wrapped around the pillows so that he could squeeze at the corners. He takes in a deep breath as Y/N grabs for another pillow -- one of the smaller ones, that they mostly use to fold up and place behind their necks when they want to be propped up some more. Her hand is small against his hip, urging him to raise it silently before she pushes the pillow up beneath him and the most pitiful little moan escapes him as the silky fabrics rubs against his swollen head.

A small laugh huffs from her chest, and he sees and feels nothing until Y/N slips into his line of sight again. There is a small smile on her face as her fingers come to comb through his soft curls, scratching at his scalp and his eyelids flutter, “You’re too pretty, y’know that?” Y/N murmured to him, pushing a few strands back behind his ear before her hand moves down his neck, to his back, her fingers trailing feather light strokes along his back, “I can never focus on anything because of it.”

It’s not what she’s saying but the way she says it that has driven them both further into their roles tonight. Y/N had always told him this, though it was usually under a breathy whine and a wriggle or a pout. She would tell him he’s pretty even when he was spanking her bum raw, or he had her legs folded up praising her for how bendy she was. Even if he were angry with her after being a terrible brat and was set on punishing her, he would ask her why she was upset with the blindfold and she’d whimper a, “Don’t like when I can’t see you,” that would tug on his heart and test his ability to continue her punishment.

Soon the fingers at his back stroke down to his bum, making a pit stop at his back dimples, pushing into them before she begins shuffling around his body. A soft hand comes to tap at the inside of his thighs, ushering them to the side so that she could fit herself in between. When her hands return to his lower back, they almost immediately slide down to the rounded slope of his bum, petting and rubbing at the cheeks similar to how he might if she were in this same position. Harry’s breath hitches in his throat like there was something caught in it, when he feels her carefully -- yet without hesitation -- spread him open for her. He feels himself clench, his whole fluttering beneath her gaze and his cheeks go rosy. He can feel the flush crawl down to his chest, pinkening him right up, and he knows she would have teased him about it if he were flipped around the other way.

Having her touch him was so gratifying after so long of it being withheld from him. He’d never known how greedy he was for her hands to be on him until this very moment, when each caress felt like sparkles, and his whole body had suddenly become an erogenous zone. It takes everything in him not to rut his hips into the pillow beneath him, because he really, really wants to -- god, he feels like the build up alone, as little as it was currently, is enough to have him cum.

“Look at this pretty hole,” she murmurs, her fingers moving closer to him but not touching, just moving to the slit and holding him open a little further -- Harry squeezes tightly on the corners of the pillow when he feels her warm breath wash over him, “You always say my holes are pretty but I think I like yours much better.” Her nose catches at his cheek and he tenses some, having some clue of what could be coming but also knowing that she could just as easily be riling him up.

He thinks he’s right about that, when he feels the tip of her nose disappear, but quickly finds he’s wrong when the broad of her tongue runs over the tight ring of muscles. Harry squawks a surprised groan that graveled from his chest, his hips pushing down into the pillow and stroking against the head of his cock as Y/N laughs against him. She keeps her tongue stationed there, laving slow, long, and wet licks against his hole. He moans again, though it sounds more like a wet gasp because she nuzzles her face in between his cheeks unreservedly and purses her lips, sucking at him.

His hips move at their own accord, pushing up closer towards her mouth and she hums, allowing him to for a moment before she parts from him and presses him down. She blows cool air over his wet hole, and it makes him shiver, “Baby,” he sighs, wriggling his hips and huffing, “Please, I --”

“You want me to eat your peachy lil’ bum but you don’t deserve it.” She tells him, giving him a small squeeze and keeping him spread apart, “I just wanted to get you all needy so when I finally touched you, you’d practically be coming --”

“I am,” he whines, shaking his head, “I am, I feel like I could cum right now baby, it didn’t -- I just wanted to cuddle.”

“Hmm,” she hums, but sounds unimpressed with him, and the heat in his stomach pools and tips to swarm through his thighs, “Might have been better if you hadn't been such a needy baby and ambushed me in my sleep,” she sighs, and leans forward, and Harry is unsure what’s about to happen until he feels her teeth dig into the ample flesh of his bum. He hisses, his nails clawing into the pillow, and his toes curl hard. His heartbeat is rapid, and he struggles to keep his hips from moving but even the smallest of movements grazes against the head. “You’re lucky you taste so good, or I might’ve left you here all hard and needy.”

With this, she returns to him, flickering her tongue against the rim before deepening her movements, suckling and lapping at his hole in an almost greedy manner. Harry’s noises leave him shamelessly, loud and abundant. Nobody had ever done this to him before and he can’t believe that he had been deprived of this gorgeous, delightful feeling. It felt like glitter had been poured into his veins, sparkling through him in a dazzling light as she parted from his hole and bit down on him for a second time.

Harry’s keening when she draws back to spit over his hole, the pads of a few of her fingers brushing against the puckered skin, dragging the spit across him. Y/N sighs, lulling her tongue out and around his hole again, and slicking and licking around him. She’s just ravenous about it, like this is all she was set on doing for the rest of the day, and Harry would be a hundred percent okay with the fact.

She does eventually part from him, with her own wet gasp, withdrawing and Harry whimpers a noise. Her palms knead against the flesh as he pulls back and maneuvers, and Harry wants desperately to look back to her. Wants to beckon her up to him so that he can smear a kiss over her mouth, because the love that has swarmed his heart for her is immense. However, when he tries to turn back to look at her she tsks at him, “Keep your head down.” She murmurs, enough authority in her tone that he listens, despite the furrow that meets his brow.

So he’s left to listen and imagine what she must look like, as she grabs for the tube Astroglide and pops the cap open. He uses one hand to pull him back open, squeezing a liberal amount of the cool gel directly over his hole and he winces, feeling himself clench around nothing. Y/N giggles, spreading him open and spreading it around, getting it all over her fingers as well. Harry’s growing tense with the knowledge of what he knows is about to happen. His breathing wavers and nerves zip through his veins; he’d done this himself a few times before, when he was particularly hot for it and a hand around his cock just wasn’t doing it for him. He knew the feeling and he’d known what it was like to stretch himself out and to catch that soft, special spot inside of him that made his whole body simultaneously twist up in knots and relax all at once.

He didn’t know what it felt like to have someone else press into it though. Didn’t know what it was like to have Y/N push his thighs apart, stretch him out with her fingers and poke and prod at the bump inside of him. Harry wonders if her fingers will be long enough -- they should, shouldn’t they be? The thought only catches him because he remembers her whining when he’d told her to fuck herself with her own fingers if she wanted it so bad (instead of waiting for it once he finished his work), “My fingers aren’t long enough they -- they don’t reach the spots as nice as you do” (she had added a nice pout at the end too, to punctuate it).

By the time he’d finished reviewing this in his head, Y/N had guided his hips upward so that his cock is bobbing and swaying between his thighs. Her hand is holding onto his hip, his back at a slant and his face was still smushed into the pillow. He’s holding onto it tight, as she takes her index finger and circles it around his hole, “Take a deep breath, yeah?” She instructs him, her other hand holding him steady by his lower back. His skin is lit, a blaze like wildfire all throughout his body, “With me.”

He listens to her, one big, long breath in that he follows suit in. His lungs expand with the air, his chest pushing outward, and when he hears her exhale he does that as well. And as the air leaves him, Y/N’s finger slides inside of him slowly. The end of his breath draws out into a long moan from his mouth parted in an ‘o’ at the give of his walls for her finger. It’s a faint, burny feeling that zips through him and his toes re-curl, his prick twitching -- he’d always been a bit of a masochist and the bite of pain only makes him throb.

“There we go,” she hums, patting at the flesh of his bum comfortingly as she buries the finger knuckle deep, “How does that feel?”

“Good,” he breathes out, “So, so, so good, Baby, please.”

Y/N giggles a little, shuffling again and he would kill to see her right now. To see the look on her face -- if she was keeping up the act of being this dominant little minx, or if she was biting hard on her bottom lip the way she does when she’s invested in giving her all to something. It’s that look she gets when she’s riding him, desperate to make him feel good, rocking and rutting her hips against him even though her thighs burn and she just can’t get it at the right angle.

If she is making that face, her voice doesn’t give her away, “What are you begging for? Another finger?” She questions him, pausing and dragging her hand from his lower back to his hole, teasing him with the tip of another finger. Harry pushes back onto her hand. “Or did you want me to find that spot?”

Before Harry could even think of parting his lips to answer her, she curled her finger down and Harry all but cries out. Precum drips from his slit, a thick string that levels down to the satin pillow beneath him. Y/N’s finger is insistent, a sure prod and a push, pressing and stroking at the soft little bump inside of him. It feels like he could cum just from this alone — hell, he was going to cum from just this alone. Again, his moans do not bother to lay dormant in his body, but instead leave him in a flurry of whimpers and whines, moaning and struggling not to grind himself back on her finger but he does.

“Please don’t stop, please don’t stop — oh —“ he groans, writhing, his thighs trembling, and Y/N swats the back of his thigh.

“Stay still.” She orders, a stern infliction to her voice, “Stay still or I’ll stop.”

He tries to pause but he can’t, feeling himself pulsate around her finger and his cock gives another warning throb. He thinks he’s going to cum, when very suddenly the lube slick finger that had been tucked inside him, was withdrawn from that special spot, she drew it almost all the way out and when she saw his hand going towards his cock she slapped it away. Harry gives a meager whine, his brows furrowed deeply. When he tries to look back at her, there’s suddenly a hand tucked in his curls, shifting his gaze back to the pillows and wall.

“If you don’t listen, then I can’t give you what you want, baby boyl.”

Harry’s going to melt.