Standoffish Harry check in! (Patreon)

We haven't heard from this guy in a while! This is a check-in from writing I did a few years ago, some people wanted to see how they were doing. I hope you guys love them as much as I still do! (Here's the fic!)  

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i.

Harry wonders at what point had he decided that he liked Y/N enough to be willing to spend more than eight hours in a library without him necessarily having to. He figures it must have been a long while ago before he had admitted his feelings to her and around the time he had gone out of his way to make sure she got a chocolate milkshake at 4 AM because she just wanted one. That would make the most sense, he’d say.

It was easy to want to do things for her though; Y/N would break her wrists if it meant she could do something for him and she’d shown it time and time again. He thinks that she rarely receives that kind of treatment in return, and Harry had refused to be one of those people who benefitted from her kindness without doing anything in return. Of course, she didn’t do nice things to get something, but Harry felt it was only right. Especially when he gets to see that smile...that soft little curve of her lips with her eyes crinkled at the corners. The type of smile that could stop a monster in its track and soften it up like butter in a skillet -- Harry thinks, if she wanted, she could rule the world with that smile. 

Y/N had a research essay due -- 15 pages regarding the unethical abuse of antipsychotics on geriatric patients -- which she’d been putting off. Harry would be more inclined to scold her for waiting until two days before the damn paper was meant to be submitted, if not for the fact that she had pushed it off with him in mind. 

A week or two ago, his mate had called him in immense grief and anguish when he and Y/N were watching a movie. Harry would typically ignore a call during a film but this friend in particular (he went by Jeffery) never called without it being important. So he answered, found out that he lost his job, his girlfriend and he had a nasty fight, he was on the side of the freeway with a box of his things and nowhere to go. 

So they went to go pick him up, and since Harry already had a roommate (a boy called Liam, who was quiet enough, a little bit of a prick but. . . a little dense, and didn’t bother Harry much so he was fine with him), his flat wasn’t an option. He was stressed, wondering where he was going to take Jeffery if he didn’t have a place to go if he could afford to put him up in a hotel. And he’d sounded like he was drunk, crying, and Harry was just not good with dealing with other people’s sadness...he’s shit at it actually. He’d been trying to work on it, but it was still a process. 

Like many things, Y/N has his back. She offers Jeffery a place to stay at her flat as soon as he steps into the car and immediately twists around in the passenger seat, asking him what happened, comforting him as best she could in their situation. He remembers that she’d asked him if he’d eaten and when he’d said no, she told Harry to pull them through Mcdonalds to get him a burger. Jeffery called at 11 PM, within three hours Y/N had fed him, consoled him, and had him set up on her couch, tucked in, and passed out.

She had bared the burden of helping him redo his resume, search for a new flat, and get him entirely moved out of him and his exes flat (they found later that she cheated on him six months prior, they’d tried to fix it, he slept with someone a month ago, they tried some more, she had a one-night stand again -- it was a fucking mess). The efficiency and swiftness that she had been able to manage not only getting him an interview at her old job (she used to work in a coffee shop prior to her new job at the bookstore, where she shelves, dust, and unintentionally sells books to people), but bartering down a down payment on a dingy little flat near campus -- Harry would think she were a witch. Only magic could make things fall into place like that. 

But that was just Y/N -- she got things done promptly. That’s why it took little to no time for her to worm her way into his heart with a muffin, milk, and an unwillingness to move from her spot. Harry had asked her once why she kept sitting there or bothering with him after he had been so short with her. Y/N shrugged, “Dunno’, you seemed lonely.” 

He loves the way she is, and he is so thankful that she helped his friend when he hadn’t known the first thing to do. Harry is more so better reacting at the moment rather than planning in the future -- he’ll jump in his car to come to get you but he doesn’t know where you’ll both end up by the end of the night. Y/N not only knows where you’ll be by the end of the night, but where you’ll be three days from then. They match well together, he tells her as much (and she stuffs her face in his shoulder and squeals about how cute he is). 

Once Jeffery is all moved in and settled, Harry found out that in the time she was haggling him a place to stay, she was ignoring the approaching deadline that had been put into place for her essay. When she admits this to him, he tells her that they’re going to the library, he’ll help her find her sources and scour through databases, and they’ll stay until she’s finished. He set time limits between her writing the essay and when they would take breaks. Every 30 minutes she used researching and writing, she would take a 5-minute break, at 6 PM he would flee from the library and return with her favorite chow mein and sweet n’ sour chicken from the place up the road, and they would eat dinner. She was allotted a fifteen-minute break where she laid her head in his lap and he traced delicate designs along her jaw, but other than that, they stuck to the timeline he’d planned. 

By 12 AM, she was on page 11. Four more pages till freedom and she were starting to tucker out -- every punctuation was ended with a pout, she kept sighing heavily, every five-minute break she spent with her forehead pressed to the wooden table. Harry was getting tired just watching her flip through books, scan through articles, slapping her fingers against the keyboard -- and she was so exhausted. 

“Oi,” Harry rested his palm between her shoulder blades, “You’re so close to being finished.” 

“I know,” she whined pitifully, “I’m just so sleepy.” 

Harry moves his hand as she sits up, and caresses the shell of her ear with his thumb, “It isn’t due until tomorrow night. If you really wanted to you could just finish it tomorrow after you’ve slept.” 

She shook her head, and though she still looked defeated, the determination sets in the knit of her brow, “I would rather finish it now and read through and edit it tomorrow morning, yeah? That way we can just relax.”

“Yeah?” He continues the pad of his thumb down her jawline, “Once you finish your paper and we get to your flat, I’ll run you a hot bath. Before that, I’ll eat your pussy raw.” 

Her eyes bulge, darting around frantically like anybody else would have appeared in their little nook, “Jesus, Harry! You’re so vulgar,” a small smile pulls at his mouth as he watches her -- second to her happy, Harry thinks her flustered is probably his favorite way of seeing her, “A bath sounds nice though -- a really hot one.” 

Harry hums his assent, leaning on his hand, “Eating you out sounds pretty good too.” 

“Harry!” 

                                                .                          .                     .

Around 2 AM, Y/N finally finishes. They have a quiet celebratory cheer, Harry smooches her a few times straight on the mouth and they hurry to clean up their little area so that they could get home quickly. Harry drives, he offers to stop by to get a milkshake but Y/N promises that she’s still full from the many snacks they’d indulged in throughout the course of the night.

And they all but run into her flat, though for different reasons. Y/N is frightened of the raccoons that invade the dumpsters and scour the grassy areas of her apartment building in search of more food. Harry is chasing close behind because he plans to stuff his face between her thighs as soon as they step foot through the door. 

So that’s what he did. She unlocked the door, stepped inside and Harry followed in close behind her. As soon as he kicked it shut with his foot, he hooked his fingers in the belt loops of her jeans and gave her a sharp tug back toward him. Pressing her into the wall adjacent to the door, she squeals as his fingers work diligently on the button of her pants. He hooks them into the waistband of both her underwear and jeans, wriggling them down her hips, over her thighs, letting them fall to her ankles.  

Y/N was compliant with him, stepping out of the clothes, and parting her legs for him. He takes a handful of her thigh and pulls her open, maneuvering her leg so it swings over his shoulder. Harry wastes little time teasing her, sparing a few kisses on the tender insides of her thighs, but it has always been difficult for him to tease her like this. When he wants to taste her, he wants to taste her right then, immediately, and it’s hard for him to wait (he’d be more concerned about this if not for the fact Y/N told him she loved how desperate he got to taste her — “You’re typically so calm and measured, to think you want to taste me that badly always makes me much wetter”). 

So he slides his tongue right up her center, from her dripping hole to her clit, which he suckles into his mouth. He smiles against her when a gasped moan leaves her throat, and chuckles low when her fingers burrow into his hair. He remembers the first time he’d eaten her out, she’d been so nervous to do anything. Her fingers had been curled into the sheets, refraining from bucking her hips against his tongue, barely a noise tickled from her throat. 

Now, she’s not in the least bit bashful. She moans freely, rolls her hips and grinds down against his tongue — she’ll tug and pull at his hair, or squeeze his hand tight. If Harry adds his fingers, she’s a goner -- her thighs will squeeze around his head and she pulsates and contracts. It’s one of Harry’s favorite feelings. 

He pulls out all the stops -- slurps against her, suckles and laps his tongue up between her folds until her whole body is trembling. Her moans are like a melody, and if he could burn it onto a CD and have them playing through his flat, he very well would. Like all things with her, they’re sweet, they turn him mushy and make all parts of him (besides one) soft. Harry is certain he could get off from this alone if Y/N would allow him to keep licking into her after she’s come. She gets so sensitive, it’s seldom that he can continue right off — he normally works her through it, pops off, and pecks, licks, and bites all over her trembling thighs until she could handle his tongue again. If she would — sometimes she starts begging him to fuck her. 

They’re the prettiest begs too, and Harry hardly thinks that’s very fair. 

“I’m g’na cum,” she moans, gentle and pretty -- she sounds so small and far away. Harry suckles at her clit before parting, using the hand from the arm curled around her thigh and rubbing loose circles over her. 

“Already?” He pouts his mouth at her, “You must be sensitive today, hm?” She nods, a breathless response of yes as the fingers she had buried in his hair tighten. It’s a silly question because she’s always pretty sensitive -- but if Harry had to pick the times she’s most sensitive it would be very early in the morning or very late in the night. Really, anytime she’s sleepy, she gets wet so quickly and she finishes even faster. 

Harry doesn’t mind it though -- it makes him harder thinking about it -- he fixes his mouth back against her pussy, and slips his tongue between her lips once, twice. . .three more times before her thighs quiver and tighten around him. He uses both of his hands to press against her hips, keeping her upright as her orgasm rockets through her. Harry works her through it, cleaning her up as much as she would allow (once she starts twitching and bucking away from him, he typically lets up. . .unless she asks him to keep going) before he kisses up her body. Once he’s before her mouth, he smears their lips together and relishes in the fact that she’s tasting herself. His cock twitches in his pants but he isn’t the least bit concerned about it. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he murmurs, his hands still sat at her hips, his forehead pressed against hers, “Finished a 15-page paper in a sitting. Deserve a bloody medal.” 

“I couldn’t have finished it had you not kept me going. I would’ve been face first in the rice if I were alone, so thanks for sticking it out with me, I know it was long. I’ll make it up to you! Maybe after we’ve slept for about 30 hours though.” 

They work together, he and Y/N. They just fit. 

Harry isn’t sure when he decided that he liked Y/N enough to completely abandon his stiffy in order to make sure she was getting a nice hot bath, and having a well-rested night. He used to be very greedy in bed. 

He doesn’t mind it though.