A/N:Voilá! Here’s part two of teasy strap-on harry! Hope you enjoy it ;)) sorry for any typos or kinks and, as always, all the love!
It had grown incredibly hot around Harry’s proximity, the air crackling with intense lust and electrifying arousal. He can feel the backs of his sweaty thighs starting to chafe, all do to the friction from the movement of Y/N rocking a strap-on dildo into him. The fabric of the tan couch is rubbing continuously against his damp skin, irritating the lower part of his ass as well as the back of his legs, but he doesn’t care. Not one bit.
He doesn’t care because Y/N is fucking him so good, working her hips against his roughly, every thrust filling him up completely and nudging at his prostate at just the right angle that it has him arching off the couch, screaming sweet mercy and nearly tearing the hair from his scalp.
They had originally started with Y/N taking him from the the back (which had included a lot of delicious hair tugging and left him with a shitload of hickeys scattered across his shoulders and upper back) and then she had told him to sit against the couch with his legs spread wide open, quickly easing the fake cock back inside his tight, wet hole and going at him like her life depended on it.
Now Y/N has him pressed deep into the couch cushions as she is hunched over him, using her steady knees to drive into him, the way he is seated curving his body so that the dildo brushes the sweetest spot within him. She is slamming her hips against his thighs messily, one of her hands working down his painfully red-purple, slightly-bloated cock while the other is snaked around the tops of his shoulders, using the hold as a way to pull him down onto the strap-on as she pushed upwards inside.
Y/N is absolutely entranced by the state of utter desperation Harry has whittled down to, water running down the sides of his neck and the back of his scalp, his black t-shirt darkened by sweat and sticking to his chest and back, his cheeks the color of cherry Kool Aid with his eyebrows scrunched up in an expression of pure rapture. He has his head thrown back against the sofa, his mouth hanging open limply as he gulps for air, releasing the oxygen in tiny spurts along with meek whimpers.
The heavy sweating is causing tiny curls to form in his fairly shorter hair, resulting in them sticking to his forehead and matting against the sides of his neck. He emits a concoction of scents, including the sweet smell of his apple and blood-orange shampoo, the faintest tinge of Axe’s Apollo body spray, and the heavily humid stench of sex. It all combines into a intensely satisfying aroma, making Y/N go lightheaded for a few seconds.
Harry has his hands gripping the underside of his slippery thighs per Y/N’s orders, keeping himself open for full penetration. His nails are digging crescents into his supple flesh, his quivering lower lip tucking in between his teeth as he releases a cracked hum of gratitude towards his girl, eyes misty and ever-so teasing, knowing that she gets off on watching him squirm like this. His hole is shiny with clear lube, the excess liquid brimming over the puckered edge and dripping onto the couch cushions and for some reason, this sight hits Y/N like a bullet, causing her knees to buckle helplessly.
“Y'look so hot, Harry…” Y/N gulps, ramming into him faster and faster because, fuck, he’s just asking for it. With his soft hair, red-tinted cheeks and pouty, raw-bitten lips, he’s practically demanding it.
“Fuck me so good, poppet. Fuck Daddy real go–” Harry’s words are interrupted by a shrill groan due to Y/N giving his sensitive, pulsating cock a firm squeeze. She thumbs over the veiny head, wiping off a pearl of cum that had beaded out. “Oh, angel, please…”
He can’t help how pitiful he sounds– his entire body is corroding in bliss and he can’t seem to grasp onto reality quite right. All he sees through a blurry vignette is Y/N, sweaty and flushed, chewing on her bright red lip as she stares at Harry with so much want in her eyes it looks painful. Her hips are going at a set rhythm, her face close enough that he feels her shallow breathing puffing against his left cheek as she pumps into him. Her silky hair is tickling the side of his neck as it cascades over her shoulder, setting sparks off across the surface of his itchy skin. She smells of clementine and morning dew– sugary sweet with just a hint of freshness– and he drowns in it willingly, the warmth of her body radiating into his and causing him to wriggle around from the heat.
“Do you like this?” Y/N whispers shyly, feeling as if a thousand eyes were watching her, judging whether she knows how to make him feel good or if she was messing up the experience for him entirely.
Harry’s cloudy, startlingly bright jade irises blink up at her drunkenly, their noses nudging as he nods weakly, licking his dry lips and murmuring a quiet, “You’re so fucking good to me. Gonna make me come.“ which is then immediately followed by a frantic gaze as he seems to think that she won’t allow him release. “You’ll let me come, right, muppet? Let you’re baby boy come?”
Y/N’s body twitches at his use of “baby boy”, knowing good and well how much that pet name impacts her. It should be criminal, in all honesty, for such simple words to have the enormous affect they have.
“I dunno,” she looks down at his engorged prick, giving it a few rough twists as she strokes up his shaft, smiling softly when she hears him splutter a needy sob, “should I? You were rather rude before– making fun of me and such.”
Harry shakes his head frenziedly, his matted curls ruffling around as apologies jumble up in his mouth. “’M so sorry– promise I won’t do it again! Swear it! Jus’– jus’ please let me? Please? I need it– need it really bad.”
Y/N kisses at the plump pout on his creamy lips, feeling him kiss back gently as his body uncontrollably thrashes against her weight, loosing all sense as his climax quickly approaches. She sits back on her heels, pulling his thick thighs over her own so that his legs hang behind her to give a better angle. She keeps thrusting up into him at a snappy pace, his shoulders jolting with each slam. Her wrist is flicking as fast as it can, working his twitching, leaking cock in her warm palm to help him get over the edge faster.
Harry screws his eyes shut tight, jaw clenching and back muscles going taut as his entire body prepares for climax. He releases his clamp on his legs, wrapping his arms around her hips and groping her bum with his huge hands, pulling her against him to control her speed.
“Yes, yes, yes– God, yes! Yeah, baby, fuck me so hard!” He’s screaming at the top of his lungs, his arm muscles flexing as he helps Y/N ram into him faster. “Oh, yeah, kitten. Mmmmh…”
Y/N follows his lead, allowing herself to be guided and just floating in the image Harry provides her– the image of him all wet and undone, gasping for air and weeping her named over and over until it seems to be the only word that has meaning.
“That’s my good boy, yeah? My good baby boy,” she kisses the crown of his head softly as he buries his face in her neck, feeling a needy whimper being pressed into the skin of her throat.
“Almost– almost there! I just– ahhh…” Harry is using his legs as a tool to propel himself further, clamping his thighs around her hips and lifting his own off the couch to fuck onto the fake erection. He’s half-riding her, in a way, pushing himself onto the cock faster and faster to the point where she barely has to do any of the work.
Y/N just focuses on threading her fingers through his sopping hair, peppering loving kisses to the tops of his ears and onto the beating pulse in his temples, murmuring quiet encouragements of, “Come for me, H" or “Love fucking you like this.”
When Harry finally does come, it’s unexpected. Not in the sense that he didn’t believe he was going to because he was obviously going to, but that it felt like he could’ve lasted a little bit longer, but didn’t. To him, his orgasms usually carry a pattern that he visualizes as waves– the lowest dip in the wave is the tiny bit of energy he manages to grasp before going up hill, and the crest is the full-fledged thunder of pleasure that shakes him to the very bone. It undulates; one minute he’s floundering for strength and the next, giant pangs of ecstasy hammer into his spine and bubble at the pit of his stomach. He is at the lowest point, taking a deep breath as he feels his release simmering beneath the underside of his balls, when he comes. It catches him by surprise and he lets out a sound that is between a whine of pure euphoria and a shriek of abrupt shock. Y/N would probably comfort him later about it, he knows, saying things such as “it was so sexy, I swear!” But Harry isn’t an idiot; he knows the truth. The sound is no where near sexy and even farther from manly. If he had to place a name to it, he thinks it sounds like a hyena giving birth to a Beluga Whale. Absolutely horrid.
But it’s what strangles out from his throat as he sputters out in frosted ribbons, splattering his whole stomach and chest in his thick cum. His entire body detaches from his orgasm, slouching into the pillowy cushions, brain dead to the world. His fingers and toes feel numb and the pit of his stomach is thrumming with empty content, his limbs twitching every now and then with symptoms of aftershock. If Harry is sure of one thing, it’s that he came a lot. He still is, actually– not with as much force as the first, but a steady stream of fluid is bubbling over the purple tip of his prick and trickling down the side of his shaft, causing his balls to tighten in effort.
Y/N continues to jerk him off leisurely, her thrusting slowing down until she can pull out of him without it hurting too much. He’s really tight, though, so when she draws out carefully, he can’t help but wince.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N,” Harry swallows thickly, running weak fingers through his sticky hair and ruffling it to vent out some of the pent up heat and sweat, inhaling heavily only to let it out in a quick huff. “If you ever do me like that again, I don’t think I’ll make it. You fucked my brains out, pet.”
Y/N gives him a bashful smile, looking down at her hands where they rest on either side of her thighs, the erect strap-on taking up most of her lap. “Happy you liked it. I thought I’d lost my special touch.”
“You definitely did not.” Harry chuckles tiredly, gradually pushing himself up into a seating position, a dull thumping knocking around the inside of his skull as his tear ducts pulse. He gives a gentle grunt, stretching out his back and twisting from side to side as he watches Y/N get up.
She buckles a bit but manages to steady herself, reaching around and unbuckling the leather straps from around her thighs and waist and setting it on the reclinar across from him. Harry eyes the glittery fuchsia dildo all hazy and wary, some watery lube dripping from it and onto the thick carpet floor. A shiver wrings down his spine and his ass throbs as if it were still buried inside him.
Harry snaps out of his momentary trance, Y/N’s concerned voice reaching his ears. She has his running shorts in smaller hands and an extra t-shirt, holding them out before her suggestively. He nods, lifting his feet up off the ground for her to slip the loose pants up his legs. After she has tucked him in securely, she crawls into his lap, helping him out of his soiled tee and slipping on the new one, then nuzzling into his warm chest and hugging his torso. He snuggles her back, kissing the top of her head and rocking her gently from side to side.
“You sure you’re good? Nothing, like, ripped or anything, right?” She mumbles, glancing up at him with worry flashing across her face.
He can’t help but laugh, shaking his head with endearment. “S'nothin, love. Just the ghost of the dildo haunting me, s'all.”
Now it’s Y/N’s turn to release a giggle, drawing closer to him for warmth as the TV returns from a commercial to a rerun episode of Pretty Little Liars. She had completely forgotten it had even been on. They immerse into the show, Harry running his fingers up and down her arm softly and pressing his lips to her forehead every now-and-then as a absentminded gesture of care. Both are so engrossed in the show that when the doorbell rings, they jump slightly.
“Nose goes,” Y/N chirps, quickly putting her finger on the tip of her nose and grinning up at him.
He rolls his eyes, a defeated sigh rolling from his body as he pulls himself away from the cozy sofa. Harry drags his bare feet over to the front door of their apartment right across the room and a sudden dull, satisfying throbbing flares up in his ass that causes him to walk funny. He can hear Y/N snickering behind him as he keeps limping towards the door, swinging an arm behind his back and flipping her the bird, to which she laughs fully. Harry gets to the door, tilting his head up slightly to look through the peephole.
“Who is it?” Y/N asks quietly, the events of the show they had just been watching keeping her on a paranoid edge.
“It’s Mrs. Parkerson.” Harry states, not hiding the curious confusion from his voice.
He unlocks the door and opens it halfway, looking down at the tiny, sixty-seven-year-old woman with her gray hair in rollers and a silk night gown. She is their across door neighbor and, at the moment, is sporting a concerned grimace.
“Hello, Mrs. Parkerson . How can I help you?” He asks kindly while finger-combing his hair down, giving the elderly lady a small smile.
Harry and Y/N know Emilia Parkerson well due to having taken care of her plants and pet-sat her Tonkinese cat of eight years, Hercules, during the summer while she had gone to visit her grandchildren in Florida. She was a kind old woman who fancied knitting blankets, watching Food Network and baking Monkey Bread. She had actually gifted them one of the blankets she had knit back when they had first moved in. It had been a welcome present, and quite the nice one, if Harry says so himself.
“Oh, hello, Harry. I’m so sorry to be of bother but it’s just that I heard some scary screaming,” Mrs. Parkerson points over at where the door of her flat is, across from theirs, to the left, “and I got worried. Just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”
Harry stifles a laugh, covering his mouth with his fist and playing it off as a cough with a soft “excuse me.” He looks over at Y/N, eyes wide with amused guilt. She tries to hide a grin, pressing the palm of her hand to her forehead and closing her eyes in embarrassment.
“No, no, we’re fine,” he answers, turning back to face his neighbor, “Y/N just saw a huge spider and went mental. All’s well.”
“Oh, well, good. I was worried, dear. Better get this fumigated, then. Bug season’s coming and you might get overrun. Gave the company a call myself this morning, actually. ”Mrs. Parkerson gives Harry a curt nod, reaching a wrinkly, sunspot-stained hand up and patting his cheek with care.
“I’ll do that right now,” he nods thoughtfully, squeezing her hand softly in affection. “We’re so sorry to have disturbed you.”
“It’s quite alright, Harry. I get pretty hysterical with spiders, too. Those buggers come from hell itself,” she huffs with annoyance, causing Harry to chuckle.
“Can’t argue with that. You have yourself a good night, Emilia.”
“You, too, sweetie. Say hello to Y/N for me.”
“Will do.” Harry watches as she hobbles back into her apartment, her gray head disappearing behind her red oak door. He shuts his own door, locking it and turning back to Y/N with a huge grin plastered across his face.
“This is all your fault! You’re so fucking loud,” her eyes roll grandly and she shakes her head again.
“What?! You can be pretty loud, too, if I recall correctly!” Harry slumps back onto the couch, laying out longways and narrowing his eyes at her.
Y/N scoots into his side, wedging one of her legs in between his and shivering when his cold feet touch her warm ones. “At least I try to keep a cap on it.”
Harry pinches at her sides, causing her to wriggle around and giggle. “Sure you do.”
Her eyebrows arch up as she looks up at him from her place under his arm. “Are you serious right now?”
He smirks challengingly. “Care to put you’re money where your mouth is, then?”
“You bet your ass I will.”
Harry swiftly sits up, pushing himself onto his knees and straddling Y/N. He eyes her curiously, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Alright, fine. Here’s the layout: I’ll eat you out and you can’t make a peep.”
“Objection!” She pouts, crossing her arms across her chest. “That’s not fair and you know it!”
He blinks at her blankly, mimicking the way she had answered him earlier when she had cheated while trying to turn him on. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Y/N gives him a cruel stare. “Fuck you.”
“Karma’s a bitch!” He quips, making kissy faces at her. “But, since I’m a nice person and I love you, I’ll make an exception. You get three strikes and then,” he does a drumroll on his thighs, “you’re out!”
She weighs her options for a second, tilting her head from side to side while mulling it over, and then nods firmly. “Okay. Sounds good.”
Harry purses his lips to hide a devious smile, knowing that she won’t be able to get through it. Y/N craves being vocal during sex and can never be quiet. There’s no way she’ll win. He knows he should be careful because he had lost last time, but this was something he definitely knows she can’t beat.
“Okay, then. WhenI win, you have to give me head whenever I want, wherever I want, for the next week.” Harry states excitedly, his eyes gleaming with a form of triumphant glee that he doesn’t necessarily own yet.
“And what about me?”
“If you win…” He thinks it over for a moment, tapping his chin with his index finger. “…then I’ll do the dishes for the next week.”
“Would I have to swallow?” Y/N questions.
“Two weeks of dishes, then.”
“What? No! You’d only have to do it for one week, so I only have to do it–”
“Sure, but I refuse to swallow.” A rebellious twinkle sparkles in her irises, daring him to object her offer. She knows him too well.
“Fine,” he grumbles, slouching slightly, “two weeks of dishes.”
“We’re good, then.” Y/N begins to untie the knot of her pink pajama shorts, shimmying them down as Harry eases off her hips so she can kick them from around her ankles.
He sits in between her legs, running his large, warm palms up and down the back of her calves, blinking up at her with a seductive curtain across his eyes. He bends her knees up, nuzzling his head into the plushness of her creamy thighs and feeling her whole body instinctively tighten against him. “Ready, love?”
She shifts around a bit, lifting her arms and crossing them behind her head, just as he had done to her before, a smug smirk adorning her rosy lips. “Get set.”