sand and salty kisses

Hard to Tell

Just a little Jamaica Harry to satisfy your needs. xx

Please do *NOT* repost without permission!!!

He hadn’t meant to get so drunk by any means. Honestly, none of you had. But when the shots had started flowing and the music had started playing and the sun began to set against the clear blue water, one shot had turned into two. Two into three, and so on and so forth. 

Currently, Harry is thirsty. Genuinely thirsty. So after giving you a lingering kiss, he stumbles up the sandy beach and over to the little bungalow in which you all are staying. 

The patio sways a bit once he gets up the stairs, and he giggles, reaching out to grab the railing to steady himself. He stumbles into the kitchen, trying to hold on to as many steady things as possible. The journey to the refrigerator feels longer than necessary and Harry mumbles and giggles to himself as he walks.

It isn’t until he’s at the fridge, staring blankly into the bright little light that he notices… his pants are quite a bit tighter than they were a few minutes ago. He glances down to, sure enough, see a tiny tent forming in his pants. “Aw fuck.”

It isn’t anything too serious. In all honesty, he could probably ignore it if he really wanted to. But now that he’s thinking about it, you’ve been looking so damn good lately. All sun-kissed and smelling like sunscreen. He can’t help but imagine how your neck must taste like saltwater and how hot your skin would feel under his tongue. And then he’s twitching. 

He reaches down to adjust himself and swallows at the contact. Glancing around nervously to ensure no one is near him, he tugs a little and gasps. “Fuck,” he grumbles. And he decides he has to do something about this. 

He quickly closes the refrigerator door and stumbles over towards the bathroom. For a split second, he considers coming out to get you. But no, he thinks, too obvious. He has to deal with this on his own this time around. 

 He misjudges the distance he has left to go and falls into the doorframe, giggling out a little “ow, fuck!” When the door closes behind him he places his hands firmly on the counter, looking himself in the eye determinedly. “M'not drunk,” he mumbles, narrowing his eyes. He jabs a finger at the mirror. “You’re NOT drunk.” And he laughs at himself, because he isn’t one to talk to himself unless he *is* drunk and he knows it. 

He shuffles over to the toilet and shimmies out of his pants. He allows himself a small little tease of his cock and fuck, he knows he has to hurry because you’re all waiting for him but it just feels so damn good.

“Ohhhh fuck,” he mumbles, tugging slightly. He swipes his thumb over his tip, immediately sending a jolt through his spine. He hisses a “FUCK” and reaches out to steady himself on the wall.

He’s imagining you. Your lips. Your sun-kissed skin and your curves. The way you clench around him when he squeezes your breasts. How you desperately shove your tongue into his mouth and how whiny you get whenever he talks dirty to you.

He’s not teasing any longer. He’s full on tugging and stroking and grunting quietly. He’s biting his lip to keep himself from saying your name, but his thoughts linger on you. On what you’re doing right now. Outside with his friends, probably with a drink in your pretty hands. And he knows you aren’t wearing panties under your sundress, because why would you?

It isn’t long before he knows he’s close and he’s seeing stars. His hand stays on the wall behind the toilet because he’s getting shaky, and he bites his tongue. His breathing is heavy and he’s struggling to keep quiet and now… oh fuck he’s whispering your name over and over and it feels thick on his tongue.

Everything is buzzing when when he finally cums. He’s trying his best to aim into the toilet but his eyes are squeezed shut and all he can focus on is how good it feels and how he doesn’t want to be too loud with his whispers of “fuck fuck fuck.” But the one image in his mind is you. All of your little kinks that he’s learned to adapt to and how badly he just wants to make you feel good all the time. How good he’s going to make you feel tonight once you’re in the privacy of your bedroom. How beautiful you sound when you’re whimpering into his mouth.

And how pretty his cum looks dripping out of you ESPECIALLY against your sun kissed skin.

When everything is said and done, he cleans everything up until it shines like new and stumbles back out towards the beach, completely forgetting about the water he came inside to get.

And he doesn’t know how to answer because he didn’t realize he took so long.

So naturally, his first response is:

When he comes up from under the cool waves he sees you sitting on the sand talking to Mitch JUST like how he pictured you, with a drink in your hand. You’re smiling and Mitch has probably said something dumb about him to make you giggle, but you’re both watching him with parent-like concern. He could not be more content. Or drunk.

Slowly he makes his way out of the water and up to you. You don’t have a towel to offer him, so you giggle when you see him shiver. “Where were you?!” You ask.

And he just grins and shakes out his wet hair so that it’s dripping on you. You shriek “HARRY” and he gives you a half hearted “got lost.”

He plops down in the sand beside you and presses a salty, wet kiss to your cheek. Which also makes you shriek, but you’re less opposed to this. Especially when his lips linger, and travel up to your ear. “Gonna make y'feel so good when we get to our room though, baby. Promise y'that.”

Concept: you and me on the beach at night, and your splashing me with the salty water and I chase you around. We topple over and lay at the edge of the shore, and I kiss your salty sweet lips and I can taste the vast ocean in your mouth, and I can smell the salty breeze in your breath. And our hair is messy, our skin is gritty from the sand, and we are wet and sticky, yet completely at peace and our hearts sync up to the crashing of the waves. We are in love under the moon and in the sea.

I wish I could stand
With the wind
At my back and
The waves at my knees.

I miss the sea air and
Its salty kisses, the
Way the sand moulds
To the shape of my toes.

Instead my feet find jagged
Ledges and shifting rocks.
The current of this river
Dark and savage riptide.

I was searching for sea glass
To catch the light, to pin down
This moment, your eyes like
Emeralds gleaming with fire.

I can’t catch the fodder
Of dreams, the tesserae of
All my secret longings
At the banks of some

Second rate stream.

Things that comes to my mind when I think about my hometown;
Sand in my socks and shoes
Salty kisses
Smell of apple pie
Prickly pear cactus
Warm nights
Hot asphalt and motor oil puddles
Seagull feathers
Cicadas singing all day long

I want to swim in the sea with you, draw your name in the sand, kiss your salty skin. I want to hike to waterfalls, camp near lakes and rivers, climb mountains with you. I want to explore, adventure, travel, create, and discover with you. I want to grow with you. I don’t want to stop loving you.