part 3 of y/n is not a human (Patreon)

I left you on a bit of a cliffhanger before (my specialty) but now they are back! 

part 1 

part 2 

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iii.

Not many things can startle Harry anymore. Hell, he supposes when you have someone living with you that was definitely not a human, it was hard to be surprised by mundane things. He sort of just expected things to be out of the ordinary now. 

But when that non-human requests something that Harry had only allowed himself fleeting thoughts of in their year of knowing one another? Well, that throws him for a loop. 

There is no longer the teasing lilt in her voice, nor the soft smile that would suggest she was mocking him, coaxing a reaction that she could later giggle at. Sometimes she did that -- Y/N did not often tease him nor did she show much emotion apart from indifference, but when she was in a particularly good mood. . .if she had not disappeared for a few nights, he had her well fed, and was petting on her, then she would. She’d taunt and wind him up in a way you might a friend you’ve had for years, and when he would pout at her and respond, she gave this smile; one so dazzling that it nearly took Harry’s breath away. A chuckle would rumble through her body, she would very gently graze his cheek with her knuckles soothingly and cluck her tongue at him, “You are silly, human,” she’d tell him, then turning her head to face the TV, “You make me laugh.”

None of that was there today though, as they sat among the tall grass belonging to acres of German land and she set her gaze unto him. He wonders if she can tell that his cheeks are flushed a cherry red no longer because of the icy wind hitting his face paired with exertion of their bike ride. If she could take one look at him and know that she had thrown him off, made his heart stutter a thud in his chest, his breathing go a little wonky. His bones felt a little like rubber, or maybe that was just a sudden rush of nerves. Why did she make him feel like this? Or, better yet, why was she asking to kiss him?

“Wh--” he swallowed thickly, “Why?” 

Y/N gave something of a heavy sigh, her eyes dart around his face like she might be searching for something, before she settles her stare back into his own, “I wish to try it,” she reiterates, “If you do not want to, that is fine, I will not push you.” 

“It’s not that!” He says almost a little too fast, and maybe a bit too loud as he winces at the lift of his voice, “I just. . .I guess, I’m just not understanding why you want to try it, is all. Have you not kissed anyone before?” 

She shakes her head slowly, “My kind does not do that.” What is your kind? Harry wants to scream, but he bites his tongue instead, “I have seen many humans do so, I would like to understand the pleasurable feelings that are derived from it.” 

The air is cold, but Harry feels like he could break out into a sweat again, while he combs his hair back from his face, the semi-greasy strands flopping limply and the feeling on his fingers reminds him that he hadn’t gotten ready that morning. His legs are stretched out some in front of him but he’s bent at the knee and he keeps his hands preoccupied with the grass, lulling it around his fingers. Y/N sits before him, leaning more of her weight on one side with her palm keeping her upward. The other hand she has rests on the top of his tennis shoes, fiddling with the string, but not in the way that would make Harry feel like they were on equal playing fields nerve wise. No, she was doing it because she was bored waiting for his answer, or so he thought, as he tried to read the impassive look on her face. 

“Are you sure you would want that to be with me?” He asks like it matters; like Y/N, the one who fights off an evil she compares to rot every night, would care who she had given her first kiss. Her kind didn’t do that she doesn’t understand the implications behind him being her first. But Harry knew them, and he suddenly felt very self conscious about how he might be as a kisser, if he would disgust her from ever wanting to do it again. She would tell him -- she’s never been secretive with her feelings ,

Her brows furrowed, “Why would I not?” She answered his question with her own, “Human, I just want to try, do not look so overwhelmed. What is it that we do, touch lips? Why is this so drastic?” 

Harry clears his throat, “It’s not, I’m just -- “ he shakes his head, feeling all bungled up, and he dislikes it. He is normally much smoother when it comes to situations like this, or at least much more prepared; more often than not, he was the one who was initiating the idea of kissing in the first place. He thrived off being able to make other people all giddy and nervous, which gave him the confidence he needed to just dive in for the kiss to begin with, but with Y/N. . .with Y/N, this was difficult. The only time he felt truly confident around her in what his actions were going to be, is when she came to him seeking medical aid or even as she sought out a meal, or sweets. 

He’s going to do it, deep down he knew as such from the moment she’d asked him, but not without his own mental turmoil. Harry stretches his legs a little further apart, “Come here, then,” he instructed and Y/N followed without hesitation, maybe sitting a bit too close only because she was expecting what was to come. She blinked at him, awaiting further direction but Harry didn’t really know what else to tell her. He figured, for now at least, he would start with something small. They didn’t need to have a full on tongue kiss, for fuck sake, why was he jumping so far ahead? She had just asked for a kiss, which could just be -- as she said -- a simple touch of the lips. No harm, no foul, just pushing their mouths together and letting Y/N attempt to understand why humans do it. 

So he tries to make it as such. Yeah, maybe it had been a while since Harry had kissed someone with no romantic feelings attached to it, but he gave his best effort. Sliding his palm around the nape of her neck, he plays with the hair their and Y/N lets her eyes flutter shut as she always does. This made it easier for him to lean forward, their lips meet not in the middle because she’s stationary. When their lips do smear together, she lets out a startled noise in the back of her throat and Harry shivers. It is the first time he thinks he had ever caught her off guard, which tickles a bit of self assurance in his movements. He holds her closer, pushes their mouths together more firmly, and Y/N’s tongue flitters against his lips. Harry is almost so surprised that she knew to do it that he nearly doesn’t open up, but when she runs the tip along the seam, he parts them. 

Y/N’s tongue doesn’t know what to do then, so Harry guides her gently. He caresses them together lightly, rubbing and twisting them around gently until she began to get the hang of it. Harry hummed lowly in the back of her throat, because she tastes like sugared candies, sweet enough to rot his teeth. Their noses are pressed together, she urges closer, her hand reaching up to his bicep and curling around the meat of it before she squeezed gently. 

They part because Harry’s lungs need it; there is an icy burn when he drags in the cold air he had suspended in order to kiss her for longer. His eyes are open as he pants, so he watches Y/N closely, sees as she lulled her tongue over her mouth and looked unbothered by how long she had not breathed. Though there is a gentle curve at her lips as she watched him, his chest heaving a bit from the adrenaline of the moment coupled with his lack of oxygen. A zip of energy sizzles through him though, and it felt as if the act had lightened him on his feet an immense degree. Harry feels as if he could start floating -- like if he stood and hopped, he would fly away. 

It’s a good feeling -- the kind of rush he gets after a show, being regarded with so much love and adoration that strokes his ego. This feeling only furthers when Y/N utters decisively, “I understand now.” Before she tips back in, and captures his lips in another kiss, that Harry happily returns. 

He thinks, he could probably kiss her forever and do nothing else, but feel invigorated. 

                                      .                                   .                                 .

Y/N loves kissing. 

It turned out that she had more of an affinity for it than Harry would have thought. When thinking of Y/N, he had never linked intimate mouth contact and possible demon, together in his brain. But she enjoyed it, reveled in it, asked for about three more kisses periodically throughout the day. And when Harry was unable to give one to her, she began to seek it out; he had overheard her requesting one from Mitch and Sarah both but he had swooped in before they could question her (he laughed, told her to stop teasing, and drug her off to let her know that it wasn’t exactly appropriate to be asking for kisses randomly, especially from someone who was in a couple). 

Each kiss got better as she became more precise and calculated with her movements. She quickly discovered what things made Harry shudder, how to make his hold on her tighten, and how to make it incredibly hard to ward off a stiffy. His arousal had become more of a problem the more eager she had began seeming to kiss him, fitting herself between his thighs as he lay on the bed, her chest against his chest as their mouths worked together. Y/N liked to be held by the hips at first, but he soon learned (within a week) that she rather enjoyed being cradled by the jaw, and when he would stroke her cheek like you might a kitten, she did something short of purring for him. 

Harry thinks this broke down a wall for him. This exposed him to a whole different side of Y/N that he had yet known, apart from her ways of fighting, grunting, and eating. She was gentle in moments like these. . .more gentle than he ever thought him capable. It makes him wonder if sex had also been a thing her species omitted, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t have a guilty handy in the shower to the thought of being her first. How her fingernails might pinch into the skin of his back or her heels might dig into his bum in an effort to get him closer. He knows he shouldn’t be entertaining these images but he couldn’t help that it got him off the quickest, and the hardest, enough to make his toes curl hard. 

Y/N doesn’t ask for them often, she usually just initiates it when she wants one, but when she does ask Harry’s heart flutters in his chest. It’s in a very Y/N-esque way, minus the human delicacies of dancing around wanting it. She would crawl into the hotel bed beside him after a long day, place her hand gently on his shoulder, and state, “I would like to kiss you now. Okay?” To which Harry would open up his arms for her, allowed her to crawl so that they would be chest to chest as she likes, and she lowered down, latching their lips together.

In their essence, they almost feel innocent, especially when Harry is not letting his mind wander. She’s discovering what she likes, expressing her enjoyment for it, and Harry has always loved being someone who could help another feel liberated. The both of them seemed much happier now that this was an addition to their dynamic. Y/N teased him more, she cuddled with him more, and even began sharing her food with him out of her own free will rather than with furrowed brows and a glare.

One night -- or early morning -- when Y/N had returned from where she goes, she was significantly less scratched up than she usually was. There was still a long slice that ran up her calf but that seemed to be the only abrasion of any sort, and when he’s finished cleaning it, disinfecting it, and bandaging her up, she held out her arms for him. When she does this and she’s sitting on the counter, it means that she doesn't feel like moving, and often he doesn’t blame her. He has no idea how physical she might be at night, nor how much she feels it, but if she’s protecting him from evil then he feels like the least he can do is carry her out of the bathroom. 

Y/N looped her thighs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and dipped her face into the curve of his throat. There was a stinging nip at the juncture of his shoulder and throat, her tongue soothing over the spot. A displeased noise left her as she backed away, “You bled,” she murmured, looking at him, “Does it hurt?” 

“Just a sting.” He told her, but Y/N appeared disheartened by this. 

“Humans are fragile,” she remarked, leaning in and curling her tongue over it again. Harry feels a sticky substance that he now knows his blood, but soon the spot does not sting any longer, “It is good you have me.” 

Harry snorted, his palm flat between her shoulder blades as he lowered her down to the bed. 

“Very good.” 

Things were easy. . .they were perfect, even. 

They couldn’t stay that way for long though, could they?