vicious — 36 (Patreon)

Author's note: This is long over due! So sorry it took so long!

wc — 3.6k

Warnings: the following chapter contains SMUT, rated R content, +18 content.

"I know," she whispered, her voice low and possessive. She pulled his head down an inch, her breath ghosting against his lips. "I want you.

Harry let out a rough groan, the sound vibrating against her mouth.

Harry shoved the ruined straps of the lace bodysuit down her arms, trapping her elbows at her sides. He stared down at her exposed chest, his jaw tightening as he took in the sight of her—pale skin against the shredded black lace, her breasts heavy and full, the nipples already tight peaks demanding attention.

"Christ," Harry swore, the word rough and breathless. He ran a thumb over the swell of her breast, pressing into the soft flesh. "Look at you. Walking around all day with these hidden under that coat. It’s a fucking crime."

He didn't wait. He lowered his head, dragging his tongue in a wet, heavy stripe up her left breast. He felt her shiver, her body arching into him. He ignored her soft noise and swirled his tongue aggressively around the areola before clamping his lips over the nipple.

He didn't just suck; he pulled. He drew on her hard, his stubble grazing her sensitive skin.

"Fuck, you're responsive," he growled against her skin, feeling the nipple harden like a rock in his mouth. "Look at that. One touch and you're already desperate for me."

He pulled back with a wet sound, leaving the skin glistening and red, before moving to the right breast. He gave it no mercy. He flicked his tongue sharply over the tip, making her gasp.

"You like that," he stated, not asking. He bit down lightly, just enough to threaten, before soothing it with his tongue. "You like when I’m rough with you. Don't you?"

"Yes," she hissed, her hips bucking up to meet his mouth. She didn't shy away from the bite; she leaned into it. "I love it”

Harry let out a dark, low chuckle, the sound vibrating against her ribcage.

"greedy little thing," he murmured, pulling back.

He sat up on his heels, towering over her, his eyes burning with a hunger that made her toes curl. He didn't rip his shirt this time. instead, he held her gaze, his green eyes darkening to black as his fingers went to the top button.

"You have no idea," he said, his voice rough, undoing the first button slowly, "how hard it was to sit across from you at dinner and not drag you onto the table."

"You have terrible self-control," Y/N teased breathlessly, watching his fingers move down to the next button.

"On the contrary," Harry corrected, undoing the last button and shrugging the white shirt off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. "I have excellent control. Because if I didn't, I would have taken you in the hallway."

He was fully bare from the waist up now—inked, sweating, and terrifyingly broad. He crawled over her, the rough wool of his trousers brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

He didn't ask her to open up this time. He took charge.

Harry reached out, his large hands clamping onto her hips. His fingers dug into her soft flesh through the sheer tights, bruising in their intensity.

"Come here," he growled.

With one strong, sharp motion, he yanked her down the mattress, dragging her body until her center was lined up perfectly with his face. Y/N gasped at the rough handling, the friction of the sheets against her back sending a jolt through her.

Harry loomed over her, spreading her legs wide with his elbows, pinning her in place. He looked down at the wet, torn nylon, seeing exactly how ready she was for him.

"Soaking wet," he noted, his voice thick with satisfaction. "And I haven't even touched you yet."

He didn't give her a chance to respond. He buried his face between her legs, his tongue pressing flat and hard against her, claiming her with a hunger that made her scream.

Harry didn't tease. He devoured.

He licked into her with broad, heavy strokes, his tongue pressing flat against her clit, using the friction to wring a cry from her lips instantly. He held her hips down with bruising force, anchoring her to the mattress so she couldn't escape the pressure.

"Christ, you taste good," he growled against her wet skin, the vibration sending shivers through her. "So fucking sweet.”

He used the rough stubble of his jaw to graze her inner thigh, satisfied by the way her legs trembled around his head. But the taste wasn't enough. It was only making the ache in his groin unbearable. He needed to be the one causing those tremors from the inside.

"Enough," he rasped, pulling back. His face was wet, his expression bordering on pained. "I’m done waiting."

He rose to his knees, towering over her, and went for his belt. The metal buckle undid with a sharp snap, followed by the hiss of his zipper. He shoved his trousers and boxers down just enough to free himself, his cock springing out heavy, thick, and demanding.

Y/N’s breath hitched. He looked massive, a weapon of flesh hovering above her.

Harry didn't waste a second. He grabbed her hips, his large hands bruising in their grip, and dragged her body up the mattress until she was flushed against him. He lined himself up with the tear in the black nylon, the head of his cock brushing against her slick heat.

"Don't close your eyes," he ordered, his voice gritty. "I want you to see exactly what I'm doing to you."

He thrust his hips forward, burying himself inside her in one long, smooth stroke.

Y/N screamed, her back bowing off the mattress as he filled her completely.

"Fuck," Harry roared, throwing his head back as the tight, wet heat of her swallowed him to the root. He held himself there, veins popping in his neck, overwhelmed by the sensation.

He looked down at her, his eyes wild and dark.

"You're trying to kill me," he groaned, feeling her walls spasming around him. "You’re squeezing the life out of me, Y/N. God!"

He withdrew slowly, the friction maddening, before slamming back in.

"I’m going to make sure you feel this for days," he promised darkly, staring at where they were joined. "Every step you take tomorrow, I want you to remember exactly how deep I was.”

Harry didn't give her a moment to adjust. He began to move, setting a punishing, relentless pace. He withdrew almost completely, leaving her aching for the fullness, before snapping his hips forward and burying himself to the hilt again.

The bed frame groaned in protest, hitting the wall with a rhythmic thud, but neither of them cared.

Y/N’s nails dug into his shoulders, leaving crescent moons in the skin, her head thrown back as she tried to muffle her screams.

"Don't you dare be quiet," Harry commanded, breathless. He grabbed her wrists, pinning them to the mattress above her head with one large hand, leaving her completely open and vulnerable to him. "I want to hear you. I want to hear how much you need this."

He drove into her harder, the friction of the nylon adding a sharp, erotic texture to every thrust.

"Harry!" she wailed, her hips lifting to meet him, trying to get closer, deeper.

"That's it," he praised, his voice rough. "Take it all. You're taking it like a champion, love. God, you're so good for me."

He leaned down, his face inches from hers, sweat dripping from his brow onto her chest. He ground his hips against her, hitting that sensitive spot deep inside that made her vision blur.

"Tell me who owns this," he demanded, thrusting deep and holding it there for a torturous second. "Say it."

"I'm yours," she sobbed, broken by the pleasure. "I'm yours, Harry. Only yours."

"Damn right you are," he growled, slamming back into motion. "And don't you ever forget it."

The admission seemed to snap the last of his

Harry released her wrists, but only so he could slide his hands down her body, tracing the curve of her ribs until he gripped her waist. He pulled her flush against him, eliminating even the millimeter of space between them.

"Fuck, you're tightening up," he groaned, his voice strained and guttural. "You feel fucking unbelievable."

He didn't slow down. If anything, he sped up. His hips snapped against hers with a guttural, animalistic rhythm. He was sweating now, his hair sticking to his forehead, his face twisted in a mask of pure concentration.

He reached down between their bodies, his thumb finding her clit, swollen and slick. He rubbed it in circles, timing the pressure with his thrusts.

Y/N threw her head back, a strangled cry leaving her lips. “I'm close—I'm so close!"

"I know, darling" he rasped.

He watched her face, fascinated by her unraveling. He loved this power—knowing he was the reason she was falling apart.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough. "Open your eyes."

She forced her eyes open, meeting his intense, burning gaze. It was stripped of all the walls he usually kept up. He looked completely undone.

"I love you," he groaned, the confession torn from his chest by the sheer force of the pleasure. "God, I love you. I love you so fucking much."

Y/N’s breath hitched, the shock of it hitting her harder than the pleasure. He had never said it. Not once.

Hearing it now, in the heat of the moment, shattered her completely.

The words pushed her over the edge. Her body seized, her inner muscles clamping around him in a violent, rhythmic spasm. She screamed his name, the sound tearing through the room.

The force of her orgasm, and the truth of his words, destroyed him. Harry let out a roar, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He slammed into her one, two, three more times. Deep, desperate thrusts, before he emptied himself inside her, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

"Christ," he breathed against her skin, holding her tight as the waves rolled over them, his heart hammering against hers. “my god”.

The room fell into a heavy silence. The only sound was their ragged breathing.

Harry did not pull away immediately. He collapsed on top of her. His weight was heavy and grounding as he buried his face in the curve of her neck. He was trembling slightly. The fine tremors running through his shoulders had nothing to do with physical exertion and everything to do with what he had just admitted.

Y/N lay there and stared up at the ceiling. Her heart still hammered against her ribs. The words echoed in her mind. They were louder than the blood rushing in her ears.

I love you.

She lifted a hand and wove her fingers into the damp hair at the nape of his neck.

Harry let out a long and shaky exhale against her skin. He pressed a kiss to her pulse point. It was gentle and apologetic. Then he leveraged himself up on his elbows. He took his weight off her but kept his body caged around hers.

He looked wrecked. His lips were swollen and his hair was chaotic. His eyes were wide open and unguarded. There was no Boss left. Just Harry.

"You okay?" he asked. His voice was rough and quiet. His thumb brushed a stray hair off her sweaty forehead.

Y/N nodded slowly as she searched his face. "... what you said."

He stiffened slightly and his jaw clenched. But he did not look away. He did not try to take it back.

"I know," he murmured.

"Did you mean it?" she whispered. Her voice was barely audible. "Or was it just the moment?"

Harry looked at her as if she were crazy for even asking. He shifted and cupped her face in both of his large hands. His thumbs stroked her cheekbones.

"Y/N," he said. His tone was serious and almost solemn. "I do not say things I do not mean. Especially not that."

He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes.

"I love you," he repeated. It was softer this time but it held the same intensity. "I think I have loved you since the day you walked into my office and told me to go to hell. I was just terrified to give you that much power over me."

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and slid into her hairline. Harry chased it with his thumb and wiped it away reverently.

"You have all the power anyway," she choked out.

"No," he corrected. He opened his eyes to lock onto hers. "You have no idea. You could ruin me, darlin. You could bring me to my knees without lifting a finger. And the scary part is that I would let you."

He kissed her softly. It was a stark contrast to the bruising possession of minutes ago. It was a seal. A promise.

He pulled back and glanced down at her body. She was still clad in the shredded remains of the black tights and the bodysuit. He frowned as his protective instincts kicked back in.

"We are a mess," he murmured. There was no judgment. There was only affection.

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stood up completely naked and covered in the evidence of their night. He reached down for her.

"Come here," he said softly. "Let me clean you up. Let me take care of you."

He did not wait for her to move. He scooped her up into his arms bridal style and lifted her effortlessly against his chest. Y/N buried her face in his shoulder. She inhaled the scent of his sweat and expensive cologne. She felt safer than she had in weeks.

Harry kicked the bathroom door shut with his heel. He did not put her down immediately. Instead, he sat her on the edge of the marble vanity. The stone was cool against her skin, but his hands on her thighs were searing hot.

He did not step back. He stepped in. He pressed his forehead against her shoulder and just breathed.

"Harry?" she whispered.

He did not answer for a moment. He just stood there. His large hands rubbed soothing circles into her skin. His face was hidden in the crook of her neck. It was as if he was trying to absorb her into himself.

"I missed you," he finally admitted. His voice was muffled and thick with exhaustion. "God, I missed you."

Y/N softened. She reached up and ran her fingers through his damp curls. "I was right here, Harry.”

"You were in the same house, but I could not reach you. I did not let myself reach you.” He lifted his head to look at her. His green eyes were dark and tormented.

"Why?" she asked softly. "Because you were angry?”

"Angry?" Harry let out a rough, incredulous laugh. He moved his hands to cup her face, his thumbs tracing the delicate skin under her eyes. "No. I was never angry at you. I was terrified.”

He looked down at her body, his gaze lingering on the faint, healed scars from where her captors had hurt her weeks ago. His jaw tightened.

"When I got you back," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "when I saw what they had done to you... I thought I was going to lose my mind. You looked so fragile. You were covered in bruises. You flinched when the doctor touched you.”

He met her eyes again. The vulnerability in his gaze was staggering.

"I was scared that if I touched you the way I want to," he confessed, "if I touched you with this... darkness that I have... I would break you. I thought you needed softness. I thought you needed space to heal. I did not want to be another man hurting you."

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. She had interpreted his distance as rejection. She thought he saw her as damaged goods. She had not realized he was treating her like glass because he terrified himself.

"I am not glass, Harry," she whispered. "I survived them. And I can survive you."

"I know," he said. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. It was a gesture of pure reverence. "I know that now. You are stronger than I ever gave you credit for. You are the strongest thing I know."

He pulled back and turned to the large glass shower. He reached in and twisted the handle. The pipes groaned. A moment later, steam began to fill the room and misted the mirror above the vanity.

Harry turned back to her. His gaze dropped to the ruined lace bodysuit still clinging to her frame.

"Let me get this off you," he said quietly.

His hands were incredibly gentle now. He peeled the shredded fabric down her arms. He was careful not to scrape her skin with the zipper. He worked the material down her hips and discarded the ruined tights and the bodysuit into a pile on the floor.

When she was finally bare, Harry did not leer. He did not look at her with lust. He looked at her with a profound sense of worship.

"Beautiful," he breathed. "You are so beautiful."

He lifted her into his arms again and stepped into the shower. He kicked the glass door shut behind them.

The warm water hit them instantly. It washed away the sweat and the tears. Harry did not let her go. He pressed her back against the tiled wall. He used his body to shield her from the spray and let the water hit his back first.

He reached for the bottle of body wash. He lathered his hands. The scent of sandalwood and vanilla filled the small space. He began to wash her. He started at her shoulders. His large, soapy hands glided over her skin with slow and deliberate strokes.

He washed over the faded yellow bruising on her ribs. He washed the scar on her arm. He was reclaiming every inch of her skin. He was washing away the memories of the warehouse and the fear.

"I thought I lost you," he murmured over the sound of the falling water. "Those weeks you were gone... the silence in the house was deafening. I sat in our bedroom and stared at the wall. I bargained with a God I do not believe in. I told him he could take everything else. He could burn the business. He could take the money. As long as he gave you back."

He stopped washing her and rested his hands on her waist. He looked at her with that private, desperate yearning that he usually kept locked away.

"I am never doing that again," he vowed. "I am never letting you out of my sight."

"Good," she whispered. She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his wet torso. She pressed her ear against his chest and listened to the heavy, steady rhythm of his heart. "I do not want to go anywhere."

They stood there for a long time. They just held each other under the spray. They let the water wash away the last of the fear. By the time Harry finally turned off the water, the bathroom was thick with steam.

He stepped out first and grabbed a thick towel from the warmer. He wrapped it around her immediately. He dried her with the same attentive care he had used to wash her. He patted her hair dry. He rubbed the warmth back into her arms.

When they finally walked back into the bedroom, the air was cool. The bed was a mess of tangled sheets. It was a testament to the storm that had just passed.

Harry walked over to the dresser and pulled out a fresh t-shirt. He brought it over to her and pulled it over her head. It swallowed her frame and hit her mid-thigh. It smelled like him.

"Better," he decided. He smoothed the fabric down her arms.

He quickly pulled on a pair of boxers and killed the lights. The room plunged into darkness. He climbed into bed and pulled the duvet up.

"Come here," he commanded softly.

Y/N crawled in beside him. She did not stay on her side of the bed. She moved into his space. She rested her head on his chest and threw a leg over his. Harry reacted instantly. His arm came around her. He pulled her closer and locked her against his side.

He exhaled. It was a long and deep sound of pure relief. It was the sound of a man who had finally come home.

"Comfortable?" he asked into the darkness.

"Yes," she mumbled. Sleep was already tugging at her eyelids. "Perfect."

Harry pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He tightened his grip on her just a fraction. He knew the world outside was still dangerous. He knew his enemies were still out there. But tonight, he had secured the only thing that actually mattered.

"Go to sleep, darlin’," he whispered. The title fell from his lips with a heavy and permanent weight. "I am right here."