she can’t finish and they fight.
warnings: smut (18+), angst
•••
stress was coursing through her veins at every waking moment.
she had been feeling like this for the past two months. scoring a promotion at work meant a lot of things. it meant she got paid more, sure, but it also meant that she had more responsibility than ever before.
ever since her days at school, she craved validation; she needed somebody to tell her that she was doing good, that her efforts were not going unnoticed, that she did the right thing, and that she was good. she never quite figured out where that need came from, but she had an inkling that it must have something to do with the way her mother had raised her.
she, also, never quite figured out how to deal with it healthily, which is why all of her friends knew her as the archetype of a workaholic. she was working all the time and rarely had any time for herself, but she loved her work, so it didn’t seem like a big deal to her.
it was a big deal to harry, though.
harry, who was also a self-proclaimed workaholic, saw how much it was tearing at her and could practically smell the burnout from miles and miles away. it didn’t help that her boss didn't believe in words of affirmation and just piled on more work for her to do every chance she got. harry knew that it was eating away at her, he knew that her way of coping, which was not at all, would eventually come back to bite her in the ass. in any other situation he probably would have done something. he keeps telling her to take a break and to rest a bit; the hypocrisy of it doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them, though. truthfully, harry was also as busy as ever. with the release of his new album, movie promotions and public appearances, he rarely has time to rest himself.
before their lives got all too complicated, they had plenty of time to spend together, even with their already busy schedule. they’d go on hikes and cook and watch movies; they were a proper couple. happy and unbothered. shielded from any and all obstacles. maybe they both knew, deep down, that their honeymoon phase was coming to an end. to them, however, that seemed like it was light-years away.
and yet, here they were.
it was the umpteenth time that she had returned from work at an ungodly hour, even later than harry. he usually left to go to the studio after making breakfast for the both of them, and usually, neither of them would end up eating most of it. harry used to playfully bug her about her eating habits. he tried reminding her of the importance of three meals a day, every day. she brushed it off then and it was fine; now, however, it worries and agitates harry to no end. this morning she had left without so much as looking at it, once again. she bid her rushed goodbye and chose to forego a peck on the lips. she had forgotten so much lately that harry began to wonder if it had been on purpose, but since he isn’t the kind to ask for affection he guesses he will never know.
they meet for what feels like the first time that day in their shared bedroom. she comes in with her bag in tow and exhaustion written all over her features and it pained harry to see her like that. however, he too was feeling more than exhausted. it became harder and harder to feel sorry for her if he was being honest with himself. not when he felt like it was preventable.
“hi.”
“hello.”
silence.
“I’m sorry for coming home late again. I know it’s been happening too much. I don’t mean to…” she tried explaining herself as she did so often. harry understood and he wasn’t mad, but the defeat in his demeanour was palpable.
“it’s alright, came home late myself. how was work?“
“same old. how was the studio?”
“fine.” a lie.
harry had been having trouble writing as of late. everything he did write was either too sad to release or just not good at all. apparently, the way their relationship was falling apart seemed to directly affect his creative writing process. it was a mess, truly. he didn’t have the heart to tell her that though. he didn’t want to make her feel more guilty than she probably already did.
“okay, good.”
harry returned to reading his book, albeit halfheartedly, while she was busy looking at him - really looking at him - for the first time in ages. she is shocked to find him looking so… defeated? she wants to beat herself up for not noticing the prominence of his under-eye bags, the dullness of his skin, and even the way his hair looks unkempt and tousled. does she also look this restless? she realises, then and there, that they haven’t made proper conversation for the better part of 6 weeks, and she can’t help but feel like it’s her fault. she knows they have both been very busy, but had she made an effort to do something to at least save her relationship? she doesn’t think so.
“so, uh, we haven’t talked in a while, huh?” she sets her bag by the door and moves to her side of the bed, her side facing him while she removes her jewellery. harry sets his book down as well, hoping they would finally be able to break the cycle. the moonlight shines brightly into their bedroom window, illuminating the side of her face. if the situation was different, he might tell her how beautiful she looks, despite her visible fatigue. he doesn’t know what’s stopping him if he’s honest. what he doesn’t know is that when she faces him and sees how the warm light from the lamp on his bedside table illuminates his features, her breath oh so subtly hitches, too. she thought he was beautiful, always. like the sun, always illuminating. unfortunately, his light seemed dull lately.
fire and ice; the sun and the moon facing one another. that’s what they represent. so close, yet so far away. they used to dance in unison, but they seemed to have forgotten how to dance. why? what happened to them? it felt like they both knew, and yet? they didn’t know what to do.
except she thought she did.
she moved closer to him, fully sitting on the bed now. her blouse pulled out of her trousers, her hair down and her glasses thrown aside somewhere. facing him, she took the book out of his grasp and bent over his stretched-out legs to put it back on his nightstand. she made sure to let her chest graze over his crotch. she wanted to dance again, in a different way. a way they used to have perfected. the last time they danced was way too long ago, though, but she hopes they still remember the steps.
he held his breath, not quite knowing what to do just yet. where was this going? he wasn’t entirely sure and he didn’t want to risk fucking it up. this was the first time she had been close to him in what feels like forever and he missed her touch so much that it hurt. she moved back into a seated position, facing him.
“tell me something. anything. I miss your voice.”
he looks at her, puzzled. what could he tell her? he wrecked his brain for something, anything to tell her. something that wasn’t too boring or too sad. he found himself feeling insecure, for whatever reason. so, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he decides to listen to his heart and let his mind stop working for a bit. this was his love, he would be fine. he knew how to talk to her, he was fine. he was fine.
he opens his eyes again and speaks.
“well, mitch and sarah might want to try for another baby. they’ve been loving parenthood, it seems. I think it really suits them, too. and, uh, jeff and I have been talking about tour dates, which is always a hassle, as you know. oh! I might have to go to italy to reshoot some scenes for the movie. um, yeah.” his monologue was cut short by the sheer fact that he doesn’t know what else to talk about. the oxygen in the room seems to lessen by the second and his throat feels tight. why was he like this? could he not just act normal right now? why did he feel the need to talk to her about how he felt like they were falling apart? and how that was scaring the hell out of him? losing her seemed like such an unrealistic concept not too long ago, whereas now it feels like it’s just around the corner. he feels constricted and he hated every second of it.
“that’s nice, hm? mitch and sarah having another baby? god, I hope it works out for them. it would give you more godfather duties.” she tries to lighten the mood and it works, if only for a second. harry wants to ask her about her day, as well. however, listening to her work struggles right now would be sure to set him off, so he decides against it. and thus, silence falls heavy upon them, once more.
“what happened to us, love?”
he spoke up, his voice sounding uncharacteristically little. he voiced his fear.
here we go.
“I used to be able to talk to you for, what, hours? without any problems. but now it just feels so…different. why?”
he faces her and finds an apologetic look on her face, probably mirroring his own. they felt defeated. lost. what did happen to them?
she sighed heavily, not even trying to deny anything. “I…I don’t know, harry. I don’t know.” a beat of silence lingered again. “I miss us. I miss you, all the time. I don’t like what happened to us, it’s like we drifted apart, don’t you think?” he says. his heart feels like it could burst out of his chest at any given moment with how nervous and stressed he felt.
“do you still love me?” he asks, knowing just how pathetic he must sound. she replies instantly. “of course I do, harry. always. do you still love me?”
“yes, I do. so much.”
her fear turned into desperation. she had to do something, and she had to do it now. she moves closer to him, their faces now mere inches apart. she laces her hand into his own, slowly and carefully, afraid to do something wrong. she looks at him once more and tries not to wince at how dull his eyes looked. if she dwelled any longer on how it might have something to do with her, she might collapse. so, urgently, she moves their joined hands onto his lap.
“good. let me show you how much I love you then. please, can I?”
their hands apply pressure on their resting spot just over his crotch, clearly sending a message. he closes his eyes and relishes the feeling. he felt like they should talk first, to work through any of the problems they might be experiencing. he couldn’t bring himself to do it, though. because right now, the only thought in his mind was how he needed to feel close to her, immediately. he felt selfish, but couldn’t bring himself to care. so he nods. “please.” and in an instant, she moves closer.
their lips attach. relief floods him.
there she was. his moonlight.
heat surrounds them, quicker than they’d care to admit, and everything felt good, for once. the world stopped, and it was just the two of them. nothing else mattered. he was feeling her again, and it was good.
she moves to sit on his lap with her thighs surrounding his own. her hands migrate to his scalp to tangle them through his hair, the way she knew he liked. he moved his own hands to her blouse, desperate to take it off, desperate to feel her. he undoes the buttons and slides it off her shoulders, removing her hands from his head in the process. their mouths move in unison, their movements are rushed and desperate. they needed this. they needed to feel connected like only they knew how. in a rush to feel her skin, he peels off her sports bra, leaving her in nothing but her dress pants. his hands find her chest and in an instant, he starts playing her like an instrument, gaining a plethora of sweet whines from her. she grinds down on him, feeling the growth in his trousers. everything is hot, rushed and filled with need; their arousal growing by the second. she detaches her mouth from his to take a breath, a string of saliva connecting them, still.
“fuck, harry. please, please. I need… I need, god-“
he didn’t wait for her to finish before attaching his mouth to her nipple, sucking harshly. a high-pitched whine leaves her and she grinds down harder, making him groan. he uses his other hand to play with her other breast, and when he moves his head to lick a bold stripe in between the valley of her chest, squeezing her tits in his way, he wonders if this is heaven. this, or the treasure between her thighs. as soon as the thought enters his brain, he detaches himself from her chest in an attempt to move them into a laying position.
“need to taste you, angel. please, let me-“
“no, harry, please. need to feel you. need to feel you inside, please. need to feel full.”
they make eye contact and he contemplates her words. “you can taste me whenever else you want, honey. just need to feel you in me now, okay?” she says, with her hands in his hair once more. he closes his eyes and basks in the comfort she radiates. she was truly remarkable. and truthfully, he couldn’t possibly think of a better sensation than to be berried deep within her walls.
“yeah, okay angel. let me make you feel good, hmm?”
“yes, god yes. thank you, thank you, thank you.”
she lifts herself from her position on his lap and steps off the bed. they simultaneously remove any remaining articles of clothing, leaving nothing but naked skin in sight. she kneels onto the bed once more, resuming her previous position. harry's hands roam all over her body, squeezing her behind and finally resting on her love handles.
“you’re unbelievable. so fucking stunning, god. kiss me, please.”
she grants his wish momentarily, letting his tongue roam freely. they were in ecstasy, purely and utterly consumed with one another. she blindly reaches for his length underneath her, gripping him at the base and gifting him a few languid strokes. her thumb finds his tip and she starts spreading any and all precum around, preparing him. he moans, no, whines into her mouth, his eyes screwed shut in utmost pleasure.
“fuck, fuck, fuck. please, baby, I can’t take it. let me feel you, now.”
she smiled, kissing his nose. she loved his eagerness and how he wasn’t afraid to show it.
“I’ll give you what you need, don’t worry, baby.”
and so, she moves to sit down and truly, she couldn’t wait to feel him, as she had really, really missed it. terribly so.
she guides him inside, preparing herself mentally for the highest form of pleasure she had ever experienced-
or…not?
“ah, fuck! wait, hold on-“
she couldn’t get him inside, but not because of his size. no, she just so happens to be bone dry. no arousal was surrounding her, not even a little bit. this had never happened before, and it left her at a loss. she looks down again, just to make sure that she was feeling it correctly. and there it was, nothing. she should be dripping by now, especially with how turned on she was, but alas, the contrary seemed to be the case.
she looks at him now, helplessly, and at a loss for what to do.
“what’s wrong, you okay? not feeling up to it? we can stop-“
“no! no, absolutely not. I want this so bad, you have no idea. I don’t know what’s happening, honestly. I- I- maybe I can- or we could-“
he grabs her by the jaw, grounding her for a moment. his eyes search for hers, offering reason and calm, and relief floods her as she sees how his eyes look more alive than they did a few minutes ago.
“hey, hey, calm down. you’re okay, petal.” a kiss. “let me just get the lube, yeah? don’t worry about it.” she takes a deep breath. “yeah, okay. thank you.” another kiss.
he reaches over to his bedside table, opening the little drawer underneath. located in-between packs of condoms, some melatonin tablets and an emergency pack of cigarettes, he finally found what he was looking for: the small bottle of water-based lube. neither of them exchange words, just glances, as he shuts the drawer, opens the bottle, and squirts some of the product on his hand. once the bottle is closed and set aside, he uses his clean hand to guide her slightly upwards, freeing him from the delicious confines of her thighs. he then spreads the product on and around his length, wincing slightly at the cool temperature. once he feels like he’s coated himself sufficiently, he guides her down once more.
“tell me if it hurts and I stop, okay?”
she nods.
deep breaths. shaky hands. unsure glances.
and then…
“oh my god.”
euphoria.
“holy shit, baby. fuck. so fucking perfect for me, aren’t you? jesus.”
she sinks all the way down his length, filling her up to the brim. her head is thrown back and her mouth agape in pleasure, not a single sound escaping her for the first few moments. that is until he starts thrusting up and into her.
“good god, harry, fuck!” the delicious stretch of her walls made her want to scream, a feeling that she doesn’t think she could ever get tired of. “please don’t stop, oh my god!” her words only encouraged him more, making sure to keep his pace steady and to hit her spot every single time. with her head still thrown back and her jaw slack, harry took the opportunity to just stare at her pleasure-filled face, which only got him off more. she always looked beautiful, but like this? she was unbelievable. he thinks at that moment that he should probably write a song about it.
a particularly hard thrust made her snap forward. “fucking hell, I feel you in my tummy.” she laced her hands around his jaw and rested her forehead against his own, staring deeply into his eyes and stealing the occasional kiss. harry took this moment to steady her hips and thrust up into her with such vigour, that her eyes rolled all the way back into her skull. she had to wrap her arms around his shoulders and hug him close to stabilise herself. and then, something weird happened.
usually, with the way he was pounding into her and with how he was moaning straight into her ear, she would be done in seconds. however, now that his face was no longer in her line of sight, her mind started clouding itself with other images.
“make sure you get this back to me by the end of the day. no more slacking off.”
she squeezed her eyes shut. this couldn’t be happening, not now.
“you have to do this over entirely, this is not what I had in mind at all.”
god, no. no, no, no!
“this is unbelievably sloppy, you cannot be serious, right? you’re staying late today, this is unacceptable.”
what the actual fuck was happening?
“baby, you okay?”
her eyes opened wide in an instant. he tried prying her arms away so he could look at her properly. she, however, only hugged him closer.
“yes! yes, I’m good. so fucking good.” she made sure to make her voice extra sultry, grinding down on him to make it all more believable. she cannot let him know that she got ridiculously close to having an anxiety attack in the middle of what was supposed to be mind-boggling sex.
he couldn’t help but groan at her actions, however, he continued. “you sure? your heart is beating very fast. do you- ah!- do you need some water, maybe?” he tumbled over his words as she made sure to squeeze her walls tight to shut him up.
“I’m okay, I don’t need anything. just need you to make me come, please.” she continued squeezing him, both with her arms and her walls until he was putty in her hands. no more words left him as he started thrusting up into her once again, moaning at the sensation her delicious pussy was giving him.
“you feel fucking unreal right now, angel. how do you feel, tell me? please, god, tell me.” he was begging for her, another thing that could usually make her come in an instant. right now, however, she really didn’t think that it was going to happen anytime soon.
how was she feeling? well, for starters, she was feeling embarrassed and confused because somehow, she didn’t get wet when her hot shot of a boyfriend practically devoured her tits and called her angelic, especially because she thought she was super turned on to begin with. and as if that wasn’t enough, she was now drowning in mental images and intrusive thoughts of her workplace and her bitch of a boss, which was the very thing that is currently tearing at her relationship. and she worried, that if she doesn’t get her shit together immediately, she might not come at all. so, fake it till you make it, she guessed.
“fuck, harry, I feel so fucking good. y’make me feel so. fucking. good.” slurring her words and repeating simple sentences; that should be enough to convince him that it’s genuine. she was trying to get into it again, but so far, nothing. she made sure to grind down and twist her hips how she knew he loved. on top of it all, she nibbled at his neck, jaw and ear to really get him going. and she knew it was working when his whines got louder with each thrust.
“shit baby, you feel bloody fantastic. please, god, tell me you’re close, need you to cum f’me.”
he was begging and whining for her like that was his sole purpose in this life, which made her feel all the more guilty for how her body was not reacting at all. he could very well be stroking her thumb right now, and it’d probably have the same effect. but she was determined to make him feel good, both physically and mentally, because he deserved it. the last thing she wanted to do was to make him feel guilty about something that he had nothing to do with.
so, she did what any other stupidly in-love woman would do: she faked her fucking orgasm.
“harry, god, fuck, I’m so close- I-“
“yeah, angel? let go f’me, get my cock all wet, c’mon.”
and that’s exactly what she did, or at least, tried to make him believe.
“god fucking- ah!”
and with all the core strength that she had, she squeezed her walls incredibly tight around him. she even tried to put some pressure on her bladder to maybe release some fluids, just to make it more believable. she was all too aware of his eyes on her, staring in awe at her alleged release. and just like she hoped it would, it triggered his own release just mere moments later.
“baby, fuck! that’s it, good god, that’s- oh!”
warm fluid filled her to the brim and she thinks under any other circumstances, the sheer intensity would’ve had to trigger her own orgasm. and yet, there she was.
shame was making her blood run cold, goosebumps littered her skin and she had this sudden urge to get out of the room to forgo any awkward conversation, but she knew she wasn’t going to be that lucky.
“you okay?”
he ripped her out of her thoughts in an instant, and suddenly he was facing her. his face was soft with pleasure, a post-orgasmic glow etched his features and a tired smile was gifted to her. he looked relaxed, comfortable and most of all he looked really, really happy.
she could not mess this up.
“yeah, I’m good. you?”
“very much so, angel.” he moved his hand to her cheek and oh so very softly moved any stray hair away from her face and tucked them behind her ear. the silence around them felt heavy, almost deafening to her. to him, however, it was pure bliss.
they stared at each other until it became unbearable for her, so she tried to move but his hand on her waist stopped any movement in its tracks.
“wanna cuddle for a bit?”
it became apparent to her that he was holding on to this sliver of positive energy they had created. she felt flattered over the fact that he wanted her around. the feeling however quickly dissipated and was replaced with guilt, shame and fear. she had to be by herself for a bit, she needed to get her head straight.
“let me just do my thing in the loo really quick, okay? i’ll be back before you know it, darling.” she reasoned. he nods, gives her a chaste kiss on the lips and nose, and lets her go. a hiss leaves both of them as she removes herself from him and she makes sure to keep the mess to a minimum. without looking back, she quickly walks to their shared bathroom, locking the door behind her. as soon as her bum hits the toilet seat, the tears flow and the shame begins to manifest itself into a big, green monster in her mind. how could she do this? how could she lie to him about something as stupid as this? more importantly, why could she not come? as the questions multiplied, the answers came short. she never wanted to be this person, and yet, there she was. does she tell him? does she keep the lie going? does she pretend to be so tired and fall asleep as soon as her head hits the pillows? she doesn’t want to do any of those things. instead, she selfishly wants to bask in the warmth radiating from her boyfriend, now that he is in post-orgasmic bliss. maybe she’ll be selfish for once if her mind allows it.
“oh god.”
frustration is now emanating from every pore of her body and she decides then that she has to leave this bathroom before things start looking suspicious. so, she finishes up, takes a deep breath and does not dare to look at herself in the mirror as she leaves.
she comes back to their bedroom and is momentarily confused when she finds him in his boxers and surrounded by a cloud of smoke. his back was facing her as he leaned over the railing of the balcony, shoulders visibly sagging with every breath.
“h? why are you smoking? everything okay?”
harry is by no means a smoker. he’s the kind of person to only reach for them when he is going through heavy emotional turmoil. he wouldn’t even smoke when he drank, so this scene was more than upsetting to her. especially because she already had an inkling of what could have possibly caused this action of his.
he turns around, the lazy smile no longer to be seen. instead, his eyes look even more dull than before and his cheeks have a rosy tint to them, almost like he just finished crying himself. she felt her heart sink and suddenly becomes increasingly aware of the severity of the situation.
this was bad.
“why don’t you tell me who you’re cheating on me with, darling.”
•••
a/n: hiiii, i’m back! sorry it took so long, i’ve been super busy with preparing for my move and also seeing harry in hamburg (and getting covid </3) anyways, this needs a part two, but that isn’t quite finished yet. this is also very different from anything else i’ve ever written before, so any feedback is truly appreciated!!!
4.7k words, not proofread (sorry!), lowercase intended