Werewolf!Harry check in part 2 (Patreon)

Hello! I'm sorry this took forever :( but I've got another blurb coming for you guys on Friday! 

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ii.

Harry has always been an impassioned and fervent lover. 

Ever since the first time, when she’d been thrown into a false heat, he was diligent and dominant, made her thighs quake, kissed her breathless, held her close, rocked into her hard, and made her melt in the best way possible. He was enthusiastic and always came in what felt like waves, filling her so full that she leaked of him. Sex with Harry had always felt like such a transcending experience, she came out feeling enlivened and refreshed -- exhausted as all get out but like she could conquer the world if she really wanted to. 

And right then was no different. 

He slides his tongue against her in these slow, stroking movements, his hand cradling her jaw in his palm so gently. Harry had wiggled over so that the heavy, heated bulge that sat heavy between his thighs was hovering just over where she coveted for him. Their noses were pressed together, where his other hand is at her hip -- the fabric of her shirt had skated up her side, so his fingers dug into the bare skin. It felt like touching white hot fire against her, her hips rolling upward idly, and just barely grazing against him. 

Harry’s so hard, she knows that he must be aching for it, and when he tucks his covered cock to the crotch of her panties, he rolls his hips in these deep, digging motions. Her veins fizzle and spark, her own fingers finding themselves burrowed in his curls, bucking back up against him with her toes curling. A wet, throaty gasp pops from her throat against his mouth as she curls her legs around his hips to keep him close, as he undulated his hips against her. 

It’s so good and hot and sweaty; she’s full, sleepy, her eyes heavy but she feels so nice. She’s being satiated in every way she could think possible, as the fabric of her panties grew damper with each roll. He parts from her only to breathe but they’re so wrapped up in one another they’re just sucking in each other’s air. It’s humid, her skin beginning to perspire, and Harry was always so warm in general that it contributed to the growing heat, especially the one that pulsates throughout her entire being. 

“Sweet little thing,” he murmurs, his lips stroking against her own with each word he spoke, and she pushes forward to capture them for a second but he parts, “I can smell how wet you are. Can practically taste it,” he pauses the ministration of his hips and laughs when she whines, their noses pushing together for a moment as he draws backward, “You want me to taste you?” 

She nodded quickly and Harry hums, slipping down to her chest, displacing the soft material of the pajama top she wore and sliding her breast in the divet of his thumb and forefinger. He takes her nipple into his mouth, pursing his lips and suckling, and her back arches some to press closer to him. It felt so good. So incredibly, horribly good, and he was nowhere precise or meticulous; it was truly feral, wet and sloppy. When he switches, he drags the fabric further, only this time he tears the fabric down the middle and Y/N gasps loudly but he couldn’t be bothered. Instead he drags her other nipple into his mouth and wettens it with his tongue, sucking and nipping at the bud as it pebbled beneath his attention. 

Icy hot tendrils of arousal spike down her abdomen; she feels herself pulsate, feeling herself drip into her panties. His movements downward are brisk, but harsh suckled bites at the tender skin of her belly, his fingers digging into her panties and ripping them at the elastic. It snaps back against her, a sting that strips up her hip bone but she has no time to mourn the black cotton, because Harry’s burying his face into her cunt like he was starved. His tongue slips between her licks, deep grinds of the wet muscle from her hole to the swollen bud. 

She’s throbbing, all the blood rushing to her clit as Harry demonstrates his desire wholeheartedly. Slurping and lapping, moving is head side to side and moaning; it’s so wet, like he’s drooling over her, sloppy and messy, these groans that rattle through her body and vibrate her bones. One hand slaps down beside her side, fingers dug into the sheets beside her, and the other tangling up in his hair, which was now even more unruly than when she had left. His eyes had long since fluttered shut, like he was soaking in and enjoying every moment of tasting her. He always licked into her like it was his first and final time -- like he had to commit it to memory in every way he could.

“Harry,” she moans breathlessly, and Harry hums against her as his response -- her whole body quivers, “Fuck, you feel so -- you feel so good.” 

He hums again, removing his hand from where he was pressing on her thigh to keep her spread out for him, and her parts for just a moment so he can place two fingers at her entrance. Her mouth drops open soundlessly but her breath gets caught in her throat, as he sinks them in slow, looking down at it with a small smile before his eyes glitter up to hers, “You haven’t touched yourself since we were together last, hmm?” 

Her cheeks warm at his inference, nodding her head -- it was true; no matter how hard done by she felt, there was no use in her own hands anymore. When she tried, she was just left with an unyielding want for him, a distinct tugging at her chest the beckoned for his fingers, his cock, his tongue. To have his nose smushed up against her mound as he slurped and sucked and licked her dry. Harry had completely ruined her for anything bringing her an orgasm that wasn’t him.

And the bastard knew it! He knew it so well, from that stupidly cocky and beautiful smile that tilts at his lips, “You’re going to cum already.” He remarks thoughtfully, sighing, “So sensitive today, Pet.” 

“Stop teasing me,” she whined, shuffling down, letting her hips thrust forward against his hand. He’s got two fingers inside of her, stroking against the soft, spongy bump that makes her thighs squeeze and tremble, her walls rhythmically throb around him as his palms pressed closed to her clit, “How m’I supposed to hold off when you’re doing all that?” 

Tutting his tongue, lowers his palm and lets his other hand slide into his ministrations, using the pad of  his thumb to gently guide her clit in smooth, round little circles that make the muscles in her abdomen visibly tense, “I’m not teasing.” He tells her, eyes trained on the wet little gash between her legs, “If I were teasing then I would just --” he slides his hands from her, leaving her empty, and cold, pushing his fingers into his mouth. 

“No!” She gasps, wriggling to try and get closer to his fingers and his mouth again, “No, no, don’t --” 

“Look how needy you are,” he hums, framing her pussy with his hands, his thumbs holding her open as her hole clenches and squeezes, “Begging me to claim you -- make you smell like me all over.” He murmurs, leaning down and letting the very tip of his tongue dip inside of her, groaning against her, and sinking in further. She thinks if it were up to him, he would lick her completely dry. 

Harry giggles against her as he swirls his tongue in a circle, before peeling back again, only this time he scales up her body, pushes a kiss to her mouth so she can taste herself on his tongue as he draws his boxers down. His cock slaps up against his abdomen soundly, stiff as a rock, with the aching, purpled head leaking precum in a rivulet down the side. The tip was shiny and her mouth waters instantaneously, like she’s one of Pavlov’s dogs stuck in a Cathedral. 

She would beckon that he let himself into her mouth, maybe rock his hips into with his hands cradling her jaw like she’d asked him to before, but he’s got a way about him when he isn’t in the mood for a blowie. The way his eyes are blown, his movements are gentle, yet quick, and the urgency in which he lines himself up with her are a few tell tale signs, to say the least. He circles the head around her soaked lips, his pillowy mouth dropping open just a little, his brows furrowing in pleasure as he revels in the feeling. 

He sinks into her slowly, groaning out loud that he muffled by latching his teeth around the juncture of her neck and shoulder (his favorite spot). Y/N struggles to keep from pushing him deeper, but she refrains from it, letting him ease in how he likes. Harry wants to feel every ridge, every curve, every wall; like he’s memorizing how she feels inside. She wonders if he closes his eyes, he can feel her -- she can feel him when she focuses on it enough. Can feel the wide head stroking against her insides, nudging and bumping into all the spots that make her toes curl.

The first rock of his hips is just a small roll, where his hips are still tucked against her thighs, and it shifts her body upward against the sheets. This is when Y/N’s legs wrapped around his waist, holding him closely (“Are you trying to keep me in, Baby? Don’t have to worry about me pulling out -- might just have to walk around with you snug on my cock.” He had once said, and she almost hates how much she would love it), her arms around his neck, so that their fronts are mashed together. Another pretty noise leaves his lips, this time as he unbeds his teeth from her skin, moving so that he was slipping their mouths together again. He slips his tongue between her lips, drinking in the heady moan that leaves him when he starts up a steady pace. 

They’re so close that she can feel the muscles in his stomach tense and relax, moving beneath the skin as the filthy sounds of him fucking into her begin to feel the room. The thwack their bodies colliding that reverberates in her ear like a beat, his fingertips dug deep in her thigh while his other hand kept him held up as he pressed it against the headboard, working with the balance he’s deviating onto his knees. 

Y/N would ride him if she could but she knew well enough that he needed this and she needed this. Needed the raw, primal energy of him fucking into deep, hard, alternating between slow and quick -- it made the both of them feel better. She had missed him so desperately, to feel this close after being so far apart was like stumbling upon a hot spring in Antarctica. Their souls have tied and knotted, their hearts beating as one, her eyes water from the undulating pleasure of being loved and getting brought to a mind shattering orgasm after weeks of nothing. 

She reburies her hand in his hair, tangling her fingers up in the strands and she clenches around him when he lets out a low growl as she tugs, “Make you smell like me, Puppy,” he murmurs, almost more to himself than to her, “Bloody fucking bastards had their hands all over you -- don’t they know you’re mine?” He cradles her face, running a thumb over her cheek and Y/N peers up into his soft, green irises with a blurry gaze. Harry doesn’t worry when she cries during sex -- mostly because he can feel deep within his being when she’s actually upset, but partly because he just knows. . .he knows she gets so overwhelmed by the sensations of everything, she can’t help but to tear up. “Don’t they know I’m your Alpha?” 

“They know,” she feels the first tell tale sign of her orgasm bristling at the edges, “You feel so good -- you smell so good, they know, they know and if they don’t I’ll tell them myself. Show them all my bite marks.” 

Harry groans, nodding and leaning forward to smear his mouth over hers, reaching down to her clit and rubbing tight little circles into it. Y/N’s thighs squeeze around him tightly, her orgasm ripples through her in hot waves of static, that sizzles through her body in electric waves. She moans against his mouth and he swallows the sound down, his own orgasm striking him, his knot slipping inside of her. He’s cumming in hot spurts that coat her walls, filling her up and despite his locking with her some still manages to slip out (she can feel it). Harry cumming in her is one of her favorite feelings, as he throbs and pulses, his hips twitch and buck, his grip on her -- wherever it may be -- tightens up and holds her close. He empties everything he’s got until she feels full and she revels in it. 

As they both come down, Harry’s eyes flutter open with a dreamy smile that he gives her, and her heart leaps against her ribcage, “I missed you.” He tells her for at least the twentieth time that night, “With my whole being.” 

She returns his smile, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I missed you more.” 

His brows tilted, “There is no possible way,” he repositions them, so that she was lying on her side and he was spooning her from behind, his arms wrapped back around her, one palm warm palm on her stomach. He dips his face into her throat, breathing in deep, and a low, rumbled purr begins to rattle through him. To know that he’s comfortable, soothes her even more than she had been, as her eyes began to flutter. The exhaustion that they had felt prior catches backup with them, she can tell as they melt into each other. 

“Come with me next time,” she tells him, “Come meet my family.” 

He pauses, raising his head and him shifting makes Y/N crane her neck to peek at him, “You want me to? Even though I am -- I am --” 

“Perfect?” Y/N finishes for him, not allowing him to get insecure about his nature, “Yes, I want you to, even though you’ll definitely show me up.” 

And Harry breaks into a cheek splitting grin, moving forward to kiss her again, his hold on her even tighter than before.