crave — part 4 (Patreon)

Authors note: Hey everyone! I wanted to take a moment to thank you all for your incredible support. I’m currently 164 subscribers away from being able to cover my medical school tuition, which is a huge milestone for me. I’m not sharing this because I’m asking anyone to contribute more, but rather to see if you could help spread the word by reposting so I can get more reach on Tumblr. Sharing my posts and helping me reach new people would make a world of difference, and I’d be so grateful for your help. Thanks again for everything!

 Their breaths mingled, hot and unsteady, as they remained locked in place, staring at each other, caught in the aftermath of the kiss that had shattered every unspoken rule. Harry’s hand was still at her jaw, his fingers grazing her skin, while Y/N’s hands remained tangled in the fabric of his shirt, holding him as if letting go would break whatever spell had brought them here.

The pause was delicate, a chance to pull back, but neither of them moved. Instead, Harry’s gaze dipped lower, tracing the curve of her neck, the soft line of her collarbone. There was something in her eyes that made it impossible for him to look away, a spark that matched the one igniting inside him. He knew he should stop, that he should step away before this went further, before they crossed the line entirely. But her skin was so warm beneath his touch, her scent intoxicating, filling his senses with a quiet, inescapable lure.

Y/N’s fingers tightened in his shirt, her chest brushing against his, pulling him back to the present, grounding him in the reality of the moment. Her lips were still parted, her breath shallow as she looked up at him, waiting, daring him to make the next move.

Harry swallowed, his voice hushed and rough. “Y/N… I don’t think I can…”

But she cut him off, her hands reaching up to cup his face, her thumb brushing lightly across his cheek as she pulled him down to her again, sealing his words with another kiss. This time, it was different—deeper, more desperate, as though the floodgates had finally broken. Every restraint he’d held onto slipped through his fingers as she pressed against him, her body fitting against his like it was meant to be there, igniting a fire that neither of them could ignore.

They stumbled backward, barely making it to the edge of the desk, his hands gripping her waist, fingers pressing into her as though afraid she’d disappear. He could feel her heartbeat through his fingertips, her warmth against him, and it felt like nothing else mattered, nothing else existed beyond this moment.

Y/N’s hands found his shoulders, slipping beneath the collar of his shirt, her touch sending a shiver down his spine. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, trailing soft, lingering kisses along her skin, savoring the way she gasped, the way her hands tightened in his hair as he pulled her closer, letting the pent-up tension between them unravel into something real, something uncontainable.

Y/N's fingers tangled in Harry's dark curls as their kiss deepened. His muscular arms encircled her waist, pulling her flush against his body.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Y/N murmured against his lips, even as she pressed closer.

"Do you want me to stop?" Harry's voice was low and husky. His piercing gaze searched her face.

Y/N hesitated, desire warring with her sense of propriety. "No," she admitted softly.

With a groan, Harry lifted her onto his desk, scattering papers to the floor. His lips traced a scorching path down her neck as his hands roamed her body.

Y/N gasped as Harry's fingers deftly unbuttoned her blouse. "What if someone hears us?"

"My office hours are over," he assured her, trailing kisses along her collarbone. "No one will disturb us."

She arched into his touch, thoughts of consequences fading as passion consumed her. Their remaining clothes were quickly discarded.

Harry's hands roamed her body, exploring every curve and contour with reverent intensity. Y/N arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips as his fingers trailed fire across her skin. The air around them crackled with electricity, charged with the pent-up desire that had finally found its release.

Harry reveled in the sensation of Y/N's soft skin against his, his hands exploring her. The scent of her perfume, a delicate mix of jasmine and vanilla, filled his senses, intoxicating him further. He trailed kisses along her neck, savoring the taste of her skin and the way she shivered under his touch.

The desk creaked under their combined weight as they fell into the intensity of fevered passion. Y/N moaned his name, her inhibitions melting away like snow under the noonday sun.

Harry's hands and mouth were everywhere, and Y/N felt more alive than she had in years. His touch sent shivers down her spine, each caress setting her aflame.

"I've wanted this for so long," Harry groaned, his eyes meeting hers.

Y/N's only response was a whimper as he entered her.

It was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. The raw, primal need between them was primal, consuming. Their movements were frantic, urgent, as if they were clinging to a fleeting moment of stolen pleasure.

Y/N could feel the tension coiling inside her, like a tightly wound spring. "Harry, I'm... I'm..." she panted.

"Let go," he growled, his pace relentless. "Give in to it."

As if his words were a catalyst, Y/N's world exploded. She cried out his name as her orgasm crashed over her, leaving her trembling and spent in his arms.

Harry followed close behind, his body tensing as he muffled his own climax in her neck.

For a brief, shining moment, they were two people, united by desire, their respective stations in life forgotten.

The silence that followed was thick, a quiet that held everything unspoken and unsorted between them. Y/N sat up slowly, pulling the edge of her shirt over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed and her mind racing as she tried to collect herself. Her heart was still beating wildly, and every nerve felt alive, but a creeping embarrassment began to settle in, her face warming as the reality of what had just happened started to sink in.

She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know where to look, or even how to meet his gaze without feeling vulnerable and exposed in a way that went beyond the physical. He had seen her stripped bare, both body and emotion laid open before him, and the weight of it was overwhelming.

Harry was silent, leaning back slightly as he watched her with an unreadable expression. His eyes softened for a moment, catching the way she fidgeted, clearly unsure of herself. He reached out, his fingers brushing hers, a small, reassuring gesture that somehow made the air feel lighter.

“Are you alright?” he murmured, his voice gentle, careful.

Y/N managed a small nod, though she still couldn’t bring herself to look at him fully. Her thoughts were scattered, a mix of exhilaration and self-consciousness, but his touch, the steady warmth of his hand, grounded her a little.

“I… don’t know what to say,” she admitted softly, biting her lip. It was strange—she had wanted this, even imagined it, but now, faced with him, she felt strangely shy.

Harry’s mouth curved into a small smile, his gaze warm and understanding. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his voice quiet but reassuring.

Harry’s smile faltered as he leaned over, reaching for the box of tissues on his desk, handing her some with a quiet, almost apologetic look. There was a heaviness in the air now, the adrenaline fading to make room for a colder, more sobering reality. He wiped at his hands, taking a deep breath before moving to straighten his shirt and pull on his jacket, the intimacy between them slipping into a guarded silence.

Y/N could feel the shift. His expression had changed from the tender warmth he’d shown her just moments ago to something more restrained, cautious. She watched as he buttoned his cuffs, his jaw set, gaze averted as if deep in thought. Her chest tightened as she took in his posture, the sudden distance that had settled between them like an invisible wall. This was different from the tension she’d felt before—it was unsettling, unfamiliar.

He finally looked back at her, eyes dark but resolute. “Y/N…” He hesitated, his words laced with a careful gravity. “I didn’t—” He paused again, as if struggling with how to continue, his gaze flickering down before he met her eyes once more. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, not like this.”

The statement hung between them, heavy with unspoken implications. He shifted, running a hand through his hair. “You know I can’t… we can’t… do this again.” The words sounded final, like a decision he didn’t want to make but knew he had to.

Y/N felt a pang in her chest at his words, her fingers tightening around the tissues he’d given her. She wasn’t even sure what to say, her own thoughts a mess of confusion and lingering vulnerability. She nodded, trying to look composed, but she couldn’t help the flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck. The intimacy they’d just shared now felt distant, like it was slipping away before she’d even had the chance to understand it.

Harry took a steadying breath, his eyes softening as he looked at her. “It’s not that I… don’t want you,” he murmured, the words barely above a whisper. “But you know how complicated this is.” There was a regret in his tone that told her this wasn’t easy for him either. “I can’t afford to risk it all. Not for…” He trailed off, almost as if catching himself, his expression turning inward.

Y/N swallowed, nodding slowly. “I understand,” she replied, voice small. She did, on some level, but it didn’t make it any easier. There was a vulnerability lingering between them, a mix of longing and regret that she didn’t know how to dispel.

As he gathered his things, she stood, smoothing out her clothes in silence, avoiding his gaze. He was so close, yet a strange distance had settled between them, a reminder that this connection was as fleeting as it was forbidden.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said quietly, looking at her one last time, a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. She nodded, but her chest ached at the finality in his tone. He wasn’t just her professor; he was a man caught between what he wanted and what he knew he couldn’t have.

Without another word, she slipped out of his office, the echoes of their time together lingering in the silence, knowing that things could never be the same between them.

The door closed softly behind her, but it felt like it echoed, loud and final, down the empty hallway. Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions twisting inside her—embarrassment, confusion, and a lingering ache that refused to go away. She wrapped her arms around herself, her footsteps heavy as she walked away from his office, every step making the memory of what had just happened feel more surreal, like it had been a dream she couldn’t quite wake from.

In the days that followed, she did her best to keep her head down in class, sitting further back than usual, determined not to draw his attention. But it was impossible not to notice him, the way he held himself with that confident air, his gaze passing over her with a practiced indifference that cut deeper than she expected. Every time his voice filled the room, each word felt like a reminder of what they’d shared and the divide that had grown between them since.

For his part, Harry seemed unruffled, his demeanor as professional and calm as always. But Y/N caught the subtle flickers, the way he’d hesitate ever so slightly before glancing in her direction, as if wary of what might be seen there. Their eyes met once, just for a fraction of a second, but the impact felt like a jolt, his gaze unreadable, dark, and complicated.

One afternoon, as class was ending and students began filing out, Y/N packed her things quickly, eager to escape before anyone could catch on to the tumult inside her. But just as she stood, Harry’s voice cut through the low hum of conversation, stopping her in her tracks.

“Y/N, could you stay behind for a moment?”

Her heart lurched, and she froze, forcing herself to nod as the last few students drifted out, leaving them alone in the quiet of the lecture hall. She could feel the tension hanging in the air as he walked closer, his expression carefully neutral, his voice steady.

“I wanted to make sure we’re clear on… everything,” he began, each word chosen carefully, the weight of their meaning heavy between them. “I know it’s complicated, but I want you to know that you’ve done nothing wrong. And that…” he paused, eyes meeting hers with a softness that took her by surprise, “…that none of this changes the way I see your work, your effort.”

She tried to keep her face calm, but the words made her throat tighten, and she managed a small nod. “Thank you,” she whispered, looking down at her hands.

But as he turned to go, she couldn’t hold back any longer, the question slipping out before she could stop it. “Did it…mean nothing?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but in the quiet of the room, it felt loud and vulnerable.