Making You Stay
This was very much unplanned but I had to, thanks to all the torture from @hestylesno and @yetanotherharry. I’m still not used to writing smut so I apologize in advance. All constructive criticisms are always welcomed. Here are my other work.
You stand there hands fisting by your side as you watch him duck the hits. Each time making your heart do a flip in anxiety. You hated this. You hated this and even more so the feeling you get when you watch him do this. There was no reason for you to stand here and be tortured but at the same time you didn’t have the heart to walk out on him.
Your eyes follow him as he stalks his opponent planning his next move. Eyes furrowed, lips parted, biceps bulging through his t shirt, he was cut out for this. Thus he easily ditches the next blow thrown aiming right at his jaw. But that didn’t keep you from gasping loudly grabbing their attention. He gives you a quick glance, eyes falling on your hands clutching on your chest and back to meet yours. Your heart is still racing, threatening to explode out of your chest but your hands drop at his reaction, or rather the lack of. He looks at you for another second, the corner of his lips raising and falling, before shaking his head lightly making the sweat drop from his brow drip.
“Jerk” you mutter under your breath turning back to walk away, refusing to be tortured any further. But you don’t reach far when you hear a loud thud followed by a raspy, “Bloody fuck!”
You turn back to see Harry recoil onto him, gloved hands pulled to his chest as his eyes squeeze tightly breathing silent cusses. In a heartbeat you reach up to him, nearly tripping while getting in the ring. His opponent steps back giving you your space and rambling halfhearted explanations about how it isn’t his fault and its Harry taking a shot prematurely, though it all falls to deaf ears.
“Are you fine?” you ask leaning to him. Your hands rub against the sweaty shirt sticking to his back. He nods lightly before letting out a “Yeah” but you are not convinced and pull his wrists up. He opens his mouth to protest but it turns into a whimper as you tug the glove away exposing the red skin of his wrist.
The anger is evident in your eyes as you look up at him. His eyes lower in guilt, biting on the insides of his cheeks. He is embarrassed but that doesn’t keep him from protesting when you pull him to the corner of the ring. “I’m fine, love. ‘Tis jus- Ouch! Easy there. No, tha’s-wait bu’ “
You have to force him to sit as he takes his seat and you kneel down. The emergency box soon handed to you by his opponent before he disappears in the locker room leaving Harry alone to face your wrath.
“‘Tis nothing, swear. Jus’ a bit of a twist there but ‘m fine.” He keeps on rambling between gasps and cries as you don’t bother to go soft on him right now and he notices that.
“Love, are yeh angry? Please, don’t be.” He reaches up to pull a strand of hair back from your face to see the frown on your forehead. “Hey, you cannot blame me. Yeh were the one walking out on me. Would have left me if it weren’t for m’broken hand, yeah?”
He chuckles but you don’t find the humor when your lips are
held in a tight line and your eyes are stinging. He shuts seeing your blazing
eyes. You return to his hand tying the black elastic for support a bit more
tightly than necessary, winning another whimper from him.
“First of all, it’s not broken. So if that was your plan, you failed. Secondly,” you sit back on your heels, hands falling on your knees as you meet his eyes. “wasn’t leaving you, you know that. But you cannot expect me to stand here watching you hurt yourself.”
“Don’t tell me you were that stupid to take that blow intentionally. In
fact, this whole thing is stupid. You just have to drag me here to watch you
take hits upon hits and jus- “
You are cut off by his lips as he pulls you with his working hand. You try to push him but couldn’t when he is begging you with his lips smacking against yours and tongue swiping on it. You give up pulling him closer with his wet shirt and he obliges moaning in your mouth.
“You know I need yeh here.” He says through heavy breathing when he pulls away, eyes finding yours.
It breaks your heart a little to see him like this, all vulnerable and begging. When you both know that your relation has gone way beyond casual fuck but neither of you can bring yourself to say that out loud, not with the circumstance he is in.
You cannot bring yourself to answer that so you opt to press your lips against his avoiding his eyes. And he too picks on it as his hands squeeze around your waist pulling you closer. The kiss intenses as your tongues battle and your one leg swings over his to straddle him, feeling him harden right underneath you. But your senses recover for a second when you pull away and look around investigating your surrounding for any prying eyes.
“Harry, not here.” You moan as his teeth graze over your neck exposed to him and he hums in agreement pulling you up with one hand. It is a struggle when you are clinging on him, pepper kissing your way from his jaw to his chest and he has only one functioning hand to balance you both, nearly falling off the ring when tackling with the ropes and knocking into a punching bag while pawing at each other.
At last you find yourself in the haven of the musty locker room, which has now been thankfully abandoned by any other users allowing him to back you into a locker, your head hitting the locker door with a bang. His bandaged hand comes instinctively to cup head for an ineffective massage along with his muffled apologies as his mouth is still press on the crook of your neck, sucking hard determined to leave a mark later. His other hand grips at your waist, pulling you into him as he pokes in your stomach.
Your hands rest on his shoulders, halfheartedly pushing him to straighten your back.
“Yeah, pet?” he asks pulling back though his grip on your waist doesn’t loosen. The cool stale air of the room hits you through your now wet shirt soaked in his sweat and you shiver a bit forming the words in your head.
“Your hand.” You manage to say reaching for the wrapped hand from behind your head.
“S’fine, s’fine.” He says shaking his head pulling his hand out of yours. But you glare at him and he has to smile at your stubbornness.
He leans in to give a peck on your lips but lingers a bit longer letting his hand trace your curves and squeezing at the pudge of your hip before abruptly backing off requesting a breathy “Turn ‘round f’me, love, will yeh?”
And you do turn around but not before giving him a sharp look to see his blown off eyes and disheveled hair, puffing through his parted swollen lips and you know you would have obliged anyway. Your hands press against the locker as he kneads and squeezes your bum. A hand snaking in the front palming your sex earning a groan from you.
“Want me, pet?” He knows he is pushing his luck but you are too gone to say anything and just nod allowing him to reach for the button of your jeans. He struggles a bit, having to unbutton from a different angle at last making you come to his aid clucking at him in frustration.
“Shit!” he mutters kneading on your bare cheeks as your jeans pool around your feet along with your panties.
You can feel his hot breath fanning on your equally heated skin making you feel woozy. His fingers rim around your entrance before sliding in your folds. “Wet, are yeh? Wet f’me.” His smirk resonating in his voice.
You buck on his fingers but he removes them moving back.
“You got any rubber on yeh?” he is unsure of the question but sighs in relief when you nod. You make a futile effort to bend to get your jeans but your mind is hazy and your hands numb. Thankfully he is faster and more sober than you to get the foil from your back pocket and in a blink his boxing shorts joins your jeans on the floor.
You resume your position on weak knees when he sighs again. “Yeh ready, pet?”
You nod but he is too impatient as you feel him push in you at your first bob. He is big and you are tight, but it is a snug fit and you relax around him at last exulting in the feeling of being filled up.
There is a momentary pause for you to adjust to him before you nod against his shoulder and he impels making you both moan with each thrust. His parted lips are pressed on your sweaty temple as your head tilt back on his shoulder with your mouth stretching in a silent cry.
His working hand press beside yours against the locker supporting as a leverage while you pull on the other over you stomach, holding it right above the bandage to keep yourself from falling. You desperately try to be mindful of it but often miss your grip running over the bandage making his teeth nick at your skin.
“You’re so good t’me, love. Gonna stay, won’t yeh?”he says into your skin between moans and expletives.
You cannot believe he is doing this now, you want to fight him off and tell on him but right now you’re on your edge and he feels so good that you can only moan his name.
“Didn’t I tell yeh, I-I’m fine. Doin’ so good for you, yeah?”
A groan escapes your lips when his fingers add to pleasure you, rubbing on your aching button. You are zoning out, your ears buzzing. Your head rolls on his shoulders at the building up feeling and you can feel him approach his high as well when he gives a throaty groan in your ear getting sloppier with each thrust.
“Need yeh here. Need yeh with me.
Need… I need…” his words dissolves in your bliss as you tremble with your orgasm.
His hurt hand tightening over you to keep you from falling off. Soon his teeth grit beside your ears with the intensity of his high and you mewl at the
feeling of him cumming inside you, though through a barrier.
After he is spent and you gain your senses, you both stay like that, close, clinging on to each other as a support, covered in sticky sweat drenched clothes, panting and you know you won’t ever be able to actually walk out on him.
“Did yeh good, didn’t I? Got something good out of breaking m’hand.”
You fall forward, your flushed cheek pressed to the cool locker, letting go of his hurt hand.
“Not broken.” You say between pants and though you can’t see his face you know he has that smug grin when he pats on your bum before walking past you.
You look at him pulling on his shorts as he throws the used condom in the bin, your mind going back to what he was ranting about when he was inside you. You have to screw your eyes shut recalling his desperate voice and pleading, hoping that it was only the pleasure talking. And yet feeling torn between your feelings and reasons.
“Take a shower.” You say to him after clearing your mind to contemplate on it later as he sits on the bench to ease his breathing. He looks up at you as you pull on your jeans.
“You’re leaving?” he enquires with an underlying panic.
You head to the door but look over your shoulder to find him still looking at you with tensed eyes and you have to smile at this 6 feet tall baby in front of you.
“I will for sure if you don’t drag your sweaty ass in the shower.”
And though you don’t wait to see his reaction you know he is giving that dimply smile that will always make you stay.