Complicated

by Ashley Love

  My skin is tingling and my body is buzzing, feeling him pressed up against me, his arms holding me tight. His hand is pressed flat against my stomach, rubbing slowly in a soothing way, his hips wiggling against me as his lips slide down my neck, sucking the skin softly. I can't wait anymore. I need him inside me now. I reach out bracing myself on the wall in front of me and lean forward, water cascading down my back, chewing on my lip, waiting.

  When nothing happens I glance over my shoulder and find him staring at my ass, his mouth slightly agape. His hands are massaging over the rounded flesh of my bottom, just staring, his tongue snaking out to wet his bottom lip. I giggle a little, biting my lip as I shimmy my hips against him. "Come on, Harry," I tease, and his eyes meet mine. "You know how this works."

  He chuckles softly, hands still rolling my flesh, and I feel him press intimately against me. "We've never done it this way before," he pants breathlessly and before I can even respond he nudges in slowly.

  I hang my head forward as he pushes completely in, his hands holding my hips steady, a low groan tearing from his throat. I feel him shiver hard, fingernails biting into my skin, and I'm panting already.

  "Fuck... it's so..." he gasps lowly, "Tight."

  I grin, licking my lips, bracing myself against the wall as he pulls out slow and slides back in, a low moan rumbling from his chest and I need him to do this. His hands are moving from my hips, slipping wetly up my back, sliding down over my shoulder blades and down, cupping my breasts. He gives a gentle squeeze as he pulls out again, sliding back in smoothly, his hands slicking down my stomach and gripping my waist again.

  The pace he's setting is slow but deep and I'm moaning with every stroke, body tingling with pleasure, hands scratching at the tile wall. I'm so into it that I guess I don't hear the hotel room door open and close. He must be too because the way he's working me. Shit, I could just...

  "Harry, baby!" his mother's voice suddenly floats in from the other room.

  We both freeze and I gasp as I hear the creak of the bathroom door as its pushed open. Harry's hand moves quickly, covering my mouth to suppress the sound, and my entire body tenses. My entire fucking body. I feel him shiver against me, the hand still on my hip gripping almost painfully.

  "Mom..." he says, his voice slightly strangled. "What...what are you doing in here?"

  I'm panicking, completely and utterly falling apart but I'm paralyzed by fear, unable to move. I knew...I knew this would happen. Why didn't I listen to myself? Why didn't I listen to Joe? I'm going to be fired. I'm going to jail! All for what? Some sex? Why...why didn't I listen! But then I know why when Harry shifts nervously behind me, his dick, still buried deep inside me, nudging that spot and a small strangled sound comes from my throat. His hand tightens over my mouth, his fingers digging into my cheeks hard enough to bruise.

  "Just getting your dirty clothes. The show was great tonight, honey. You did a good job," she says and I hear her rustling around just outside the dark curtain. This is not happening right now.

  "Uh...thanks," Harry replies, swallowing hard and it feels like he isn't breathing.

  "I know you think you messed up during Little Things but I think you're wrong," Anne goes on and this is so not happening to me right now.

  "Yeah," he responds shortly and I'm wondering how the hell is he still hard. But he is. The miracle of a teenage boy's body. I nearly sob at the thought. This is too much right now.

  "You know, I was talking to Trace's mother earlier today," Anne continues and I hate my life. I hate my entire existence. Why didn't I listen?

  Harry hums an uninterested response and I know he's just trying to get her to shut up. His hips wiggle a little and I bite at his fingers. He can't do that right now. He just can't. I know this has to be torture for him because I'm still tense but God, he can't fucking do that right now.

  "She had just gotten some film developed and one of the rolls was those pictures of you and Trace in Rachel's homecoming dresses," Anne continues, the laughter evident in her voice. "You and that glitter eye shadow. You made a very pretty girl, Harry," she chuckles to herself.

  I'm done. It's over... wait... what? My brain jams at Anne's words. Harry? In a dress? I turn my head, trying to look at him but the grip he has on my face is holding my head steady. My panic slowly begins to ebb as the visual of Harry dressed as a girl floats into my brain. Harry, the kid who does everything in his power to seem as manly as possible at all times, wearing a pretty pink dress. And something happens that can only be explained by blind panic...I get the horrifying urge to laugh.

  "Mom!" Harry exclaims and I'm fighting the giggles that are bubbling in my throat. "That...that was a long time ago. We were just playing around," he adds and I know that is more for me than for her.

  "Oh honey, that was just six months ago. Remember because Rachel was gonna wear the purple one to the prom and Trace ripped the zipper out," she says and my body is shaking with repressed laughter.

  "Yeah, well..." Harry trails and I'm pretty sure he's blushing.

  "And you and that purse, Harry," she exclaims laughing. "I swear I have never laughed so hard in my life as when you walked down those stairs in high heels—"

  "Mother, please!" Harry exclaims finally, the hand on my hip releasing me, and I know he's covering his face. It is taking every ounce of willpower I have not to just fall over laughing, the image of Harry in a pink evening gown playing over and over in my mind.

  "Harry..." Anne trails, and I can hear the discomfort in her voice. "Am I interrupting you or something?"

  My entire body seizes again and he gasps, his hand coming back down to grab my hip roughly. She knows. She knows I'm in here and she's going to rip me out of this shower by my hair and kill me, and then I'll be sent to prison.

  "What?" he asks, panting slightly, his fingers digging hard into my flesh.

  There's an uncomfortable silence and then, her voice soft, "You know..." Her trailing sentence lingers in the air and it takes me a minute to realize what she's implying. I don't know whether to sigh in relief or laugh out loud. Harry's hand moves from my hip again and I hear the smack of skin on skin as he hits himself in the forehead.

  "Oh my God," he breathes. "No, Mom...God..."

  "Because that one time..."

  "MOM!" Harry practically screams, his voice jumping an octave and I bite his fingers again to keep from laughing.

  "Honey, are you alright?" she asks with an exasperated sigh. "You sound stressed."

  "Mom!" he cries again and I can tell he's almost to his breaking point. "I'm in the shower...naked...can we please just talk about this later!"

  I can hear her huff slightly. "Alright, alright," she sighs and I can hear her shoes smacking against the tile as she turns to leave, muttering all the while. "Seen you naked since the day you were born... you act like its something I haven't seen before..."

  We wait to hear the snap of the door as Anne leaves his hotel room and both of us heave a sigh of relief, Harry's hand trembling as he pulls it away from my mouth. And I just can't hold it in anymore, giggles bubbling up from my throat.

  "Shut. Up," he says breathlessly. I look over my shoulder at him and his face is flushed and he's digging the heels of his hands into his forehead.

  "A prom dress, Harry? Glitter eye shadow?" I can barely breathe as I say the words, the laughter just rumbling from me, the relieved tension making me a little slap happy.

  But my laughter is abruptly cut short when his hand comes down hard on my ass and I gasp, half from shock and half from pleasure. I can feel his body lean over mine, his chest slick from the water. His voice is right next to my ear as he whispers, "I said, Shut. Up."

  I moan slightly as his lips press against my ear and I feel him grin, straightening back up again before pulling out and sliding back in. I hang my head forward, bracing my hands against the wall, just letting him work me. I should probably tell him to stop. I should probably be a lot more freaked out right now than I really am.

&nbs
p; That was close...

  And that's when it hits me. I don't feel as guilty anymore. I mean I have my moments, but now... right now, him fucking me is the only thing on my mind. Not getting caught, not the moral ramifications. Just his dick inside me. He's torturously slow, his dick massaging in and out of me sensually and each time he pushes in he nudges that spot inside me that makes my knees tremble and pulls the air from my lungs. If he would just go a little faster...

  "Is that good for you, baby?" he asks lowly and pleasure tremors through me at the husky sound of his voice. He's taken to talking to me lately, whispering questions breathlessly, growling instructions. It still amazes me how much he's changed sexually since that first time. He's less inhibited, more vocal, less afraid of doing something wrong, more adventurous. But he still has that eagerness to please and the look on his face every time I tell him yes. God, it's enough to set my skin on fire.

  "Please...Harry, please," I moan, my nails trying to dig into the slick tile, and I say something I've never said to him before. "Fuck me."

  I hear him gasp and his rhythm falters slightly before a deep groan is pulled from his chest and his hips slam into mine. I cry out, staggering forward a little, the side of my face pressing into the tile wall as he works me hard and fast. I use my arms for leverage, pressing back against him needily, gritting my teeth as I feel it build inside me.

  He's grunting with the force of his thrusts, one hand holding my hip while the other reaches up to grab my shoulder, trying to tug me back harder against him. I whimper his name as pleasure shoots through me and I can't fucking breathe, small sounds of pleasure falling from my lips. And I can't stop it. I can't stop from whining and moaning and breathing his name, my hands clawing at the wall just trying to hang on, the water beating down onto my back, caressing its way down my body. My back arches as the first waves hit me and he groans loud, my body sucking at him and I can tell I'm going to scream. He just feels too good not to.

  "Scarlett," he whimpers, and by the sound of his voice I know he's practically there. "Please..."

  And with that my entire body convulses and I open my mouth to cry out but no sound comes, every last ounce of energy being used to clamp down on him. He falls forward against me, the hand on my shoulder moving up to press over one of mine against the wall as he cums hard, hips twitching violently against mine.

  We hold steady like this for a moment, my face pressed against the tile wall. His hand that's covering mine is trembling, his fingers curling to wrap through mine as he rests his cheek against my shoulder, his breath fanning my skin.

  My legs are shaking as he straightens and I try and do the same, my body weak and unstable. His hands grip my upper arms, guiding me back against him. I close my eyes as we stand under the spray together, trying to just breathe. He holds me close, pressing kisses to the side of my face, his arms wrapping around me.

  We let the water run over us for what seems like days, his fingers caressing my skin softly, my head resting back on his shoulder. I whimper when he leans down to turn off the water, shivering from the loss of its warmth. He shushes me gently and I gasp when he hooks his hand behind my knees and lifts me, holding me against his chest as he steps out of the tub.

  He sets me down and I place a hand on the counter to steady myself, my eyes still closed, exhaustion making my limbs heavy and my mind slow. I hum as I feel the soft terrycloth of a towel on my legs and his hands on my thigh as he works his way up, drying me off. I peek at him through heavy lids as he dries himself quickly and when he pulls me to him again I just let them close, letting him take care of me.

  I wrap my arms around his neck as he picks me up again and carries me into the bedroom, laying me softly on the bed, before climbing in with me, cuddling against me. He rests his head on my shoulder, his face burying in my neck and his arm draping over my waist. I struggle a little and his head snaps up, looking down at me confused as I try and wriggle my arm free. I wrap my arm around his shoulder and he smiles, settling back in again. I let my other hand cup his elbow, fingertips reaching to brush the soft skin of his bicep.

  I'm fighting sleep, my brain fading and then snapping back into the moment when I remember I should be leaving. I cannot stay here.

  "I need to go," I breathe hazily, my voice weak from exhaustion.

  "Nooo," he whines, snuggling closer to me, holding me tight, and it's the first night all over again.

  "Harry, your mom wakes you up in the morning," I rationalize, and shudder as I continue, "Being almost caught by her once is enough."

  "No she doesn't," he sighs and I shiver as his breath tickles my skin. "Not anymore." He gives me a squeeze and I can feel him grin as he adds, "I told her I wanted to be more responsible."

  I laugh at this, and I feel his head lift and I open my eyes to find him pouting down at me.

  "What?" he asks.

  "Getting yourself up in the morning...big responsibility."

  He grumbles softly, laying his hand back on my shoulder and I sigh, the hand on his shoulder sliding up to run through his damp curls. He moans softly as my nails scratch at his scalp and he yawns, his nose nuzzling me softly.

  My body relaxes completely against him, my cheek resting against the top of his head as I let myself succumb to sleep...but it doesn't come. My mind is completely blank but alert. Fuck, with the way he worked me I should be sleeping for days, but I just can't.

  My eyes snap open when I realize that my mind is completely blank. The guilt, that bone-crushing, mind-numbing guilt that plagues and consumes me after every tryst is gone. I panic, wriggling nervously and he groans, holding me tighter, trying to still my movements. I settle again, rubbing my cheek against his curls softly and I know I should be happy. Who wouldn't be if gnawing guilt was finally absolved? But it isn't absolved, only merely pushed down so far that I don't even feel it anymore.

  And for the millionth time I wonder what the hell I'm doing with him. What am I risking my entire future for? And then he shifts slightly, his lips resting against my collarbone and he sighs, his breath fanning my skin and I let my eyes close, eventually succumbing to dreamland.

  16

  "You're a fucking liar, man," Niall exclaims and Zayn is shaking his head, grinning giddily.

  "I swear on my life, dude."

  "She did not!" Niall says, smacking his bandmate's shoulder and Zayn nods.

  "She did!"

  These are the kind of conversations I have to endure while riding on the tour bus with the group. We've been on the road for nearly five hours now, the majority of which, I have been fighting with the four other guys for Harry's attention. Between fart jokes, play fights, and talk about girls, getting him to focus on Early Medieval Art has been virtually impossible. Especially since his mother isn't here to rein him in like usual. Harry was practically bouncing off the walls when he told me that she was going home for the next couple weeks for her and his stepfather's anniversary. He says it's really because she didn't want to spend another second on the bus with five guys and needed a break. He just misses her.

  "No fucking way, man," Harry chimes in, looking away from his book for the umpteenth time. "That girl was grade A pussy. She did not just drop those panties. You know what you had to do." He makes an obscene gesture with his tongue and fingers that makes me press my thighs together. Yeah, he misses his mother but he's definitely enjoying the freedom.

  I smack my hand against the page, causing him to whip his head around to look at me. "Focus, Harry," I sigh.

  "Scar, why don't we call it a night," he yawns, leaning back against the seat and stretching, a thin piece of skin peeking from between the top of his jeans and his t-shirt. I look away.

  "Harry," I say lowly, and he leans in to hear me, casting a weary glance at Zayn and Niall who are still arguing playfully and not paying any attention to the two of us. "We're really behind."

  "I know, but I'm tired, babe," he sighs, and I can tell he is.

  They haven't had a day off in nearly two weeks
now: interviews all day, shows at night, club appearances after that and then all-night bus rides like the one we're on now. I glance at my watch and see that it's nearly three in the morning. Harry yawns again, scratching at his stomach before running his hands over his face and sighing.

  "Okay..." I say, giving in and he closes his eyes thankfully. "And don't call me babe," I add in a quick whisper and he grins at me, his foot rubbing against mine underneath the table. I give him a small smile back.

  Zayn comes from the back of the bus and falls into the booth next to me with a sigh. He lays his head on my shoulder and I laugh a little. Harry's eyes narrow before he relaxes his face, pursing his lips as he watches Zayn sit up again. He's getting better at controlling his emotions; better at keeping his hands to himself. He still looks at me in that way he does, a mixture of adoration and lust, and he still smiles that giddy smile, but he's getting better.

  "I'm huuungry," Zayn whines, very much like a child and I can't help but giggle. At nineteen, he's the oldest of the group but sometimes he's just like a little kid.

  "Me too," Harry sighs, looking out the window, resting his forehead against the glass.

  "Food?" Louis asks, finally pulling from his phone conversation, and Zayn turns his head, hollering at the driver.

  "Hey, Justin! You think we could stop for some grub?"

  "Yeah, there's a town coming up," Justin's muffled voice calls from the driver's seat and I yawn a little, looking out the window and watching the trees roll by.

  "Tired?" Harry asks and I glance over to find him looking at me somewhat concernedly, and I give an almost imperceptible shake of my head; the you're-doing-it-again nod. He looks down.

  "I'm fine," I reply, stretching a little and watching as we take an off ramp, curling down towards a small town, lights glittering in the dark night.