Naughty & Nice

It took a day for Savannah to realize what the hell her life had become. It took her a day to realize how badly it hurt to know Niall spent most of their relationship cheating on her – that he couldn’t find simple satisfaction in her or their relationship. It also took a day to realize she ended up doing the same exact thing to him. Maybe not for as long as he did, but she still cheated on him. She still broke promises to him. And maybe she was worse – she did after all choose his brother to sleep with. But then she thought of how Niall’s mistress was pregnant and all that anger came back with a vengeance and she no longer felt sorry for him.

Harry crossed her mind more often than not during her spiral of shame. She couldn’t get his face out of her head. She couldn’t get the words he said to her to leave her brain. His words before all this mess – the words of sincerity.

“I am ready. I am. I’m not exactly sure what for, but I have an idea.”

Was it so bad to want that now? But not in the intense way like before. Things would be different. Would it be so bad to want that?

Yes. Yes, it would be.

Because she didn’t entirely know if she was ready for something like that – for a commitment with Harry. She just ended her relationship with Niall. There was no telling what kind of fucked up feelings she was feeling in the moment. Was she really ready for Harry? Could she handle being with Niall’s brother like that?

She decided then and there that she couldn’t – that she shouldn’t. Things with Harry would never happen. And she was right to tell him that from the beginning. It would be better for both of them just to forget it. But of course, like most things dealing with love – it was easier said than done.

Savannah spent the next couple of days just crying – mourning the loss of both Niall and Harry. Because that’s what it was – a loss. She relied on Niall to always be there – to be her partner through thick and thin. She was going to marry him. She loved him – she truly did. And with Harry – it was never quite right for them, yet she still felt things for him. And she couldn’t just push aside those feelings, as hard as she tried.

She was lost and broken. She felt like she had nothing left in her. She didn’t leave her apartment for days. She just wallowed in her misery. Niall didn’t contact her. Harry didn’t contact her. She was alone. And that made everything worse.

On the third day of her self-banishment, her mother sent her sister over to ‘brighten her day’, as she so delicately put it. But that didn’t help much either. Her sister was only sixteen. How much could she actually tell a teenager about her sort of situation before she start corrupting her with her perversion?

By the fifth day of loneliness, Savannah was completely numb. She was walking around like a zombie, unable to feel. Unable to show real emotion. It would have scared her, had she been able to care. The only thing she knew was that it wasn’t right and that she needed to do something to change it.

Later that night, she found herself on Harry’s door step without logical reason. She needed something from him that she couldn’t get from anyone else. She needed him to overpower her. She needed him to make her feel – something, anything.

She rang the doorbell without hesitation. She couldn’t go another minute living with the numb feeling that overtook her in the last week.

The door swung open revealing the always confident Harry Styles. He wore a look of surprise, yet she could tell he definitely looked angry deep down seeing her on his doorstep. He stood in front of her, wearing more stubble than she had ever seen on his face in the months she knew him. His eyes looked overcast and sunken in. Not only that, but the underside of his right eye was swollen and purple and he had a tiny cut on his upper lip. She knew instantly that Niall had gotten to him. She just hoped that Harry got at least one good punch in to mare up Niall’s pretty face as well.

Savannah knew Harry was mad. He had every right to be mad at her for many different reasons. She had a lot to be sorry for. But she didn’t say anything and he didn’t say anything. And for a few moments they just stood like that.

“Savannah…” He said finally as his eyes raked over her.

His eyes took her in and begged her to just leave or to stay or to go die or to just something. She didn’t even know what he wanted. She didn’t even know what she was thinking he wanted, but she wasn’t going to give him a chance to push her away.

“I need you to make me feel,” she breathed, her voice coming out squeaky and mousy.

She couldn’t even look him in the eye as she said the words. She didn’t want to see the way he was looking at her. If she looked him in the eye, she might have lost her nerve and she didn’t want that. She needed him, whether he liked it or not.

“What—” He started.

“I-I need you to fuck me like you used to. I need… I need something,” she said finally, getting choked up over the mess they were in.

She really didn’t want to cry, but if it got her what she wanted then it would be worth it. She knew it was selfish, but she didn’t know what else to do.

Harry just stood there, speechless and Savannah realized she needed to do something.

She took a step forward and kissed him, her hands balled up in fists at her sides, not sure what to do. And for a second, he didn’t move. He just stood there like a statue. But Harry, being the patron saint of sex, kissed her back. He tasted her back and moaned when she pushed closer.

She knew she had him. She had him right where she wanted him – at least for the time being. Savannah pushed him through the door, kissing him the entire time. His fingers tangled through the hair on the back of his head, while his own hands pulled her tightly against his body. They were back in each other’s embrace and it almost felt right. Almost.

After kicking the door shut, Savannah maneuvered their bodies over to the couch in his living room and pushed him down on top of it. She was too impatient to do thing like find a bed to fuck him in. She couldn’t wait. She missed him so much. Maybe she would go insane if she had to go another minute without his lips, insane without those hands and hips and fingers, insane without all of it – without Harry, Harry, Harry.

She quickly pulled her shirt over her head as she stood in front of him. She hadn’t bothered to put on a bra since she knew what she came there to do. It would have just been something she would have had to remove anyway – an unwanted obstacle in the way of her getting to Harry.

He watched contently on from the couch as she peeled down jeans and panties. She huffed when she looked down to find him still clothed. Luckily though, she was in an assertive mood. Her fingers found the hem of his dark shirt and ripped it over his head not caring how delicate or forceful she was being. She smiled deviously at him as her hands made their way to the waistband of his sweatpants. He smirked back and lifted his hips so she could pull them down and off of him. He wasn’t wearing underwear, which pleased her because it meant there was less clothing to remove.

Savannah placed each one of her knees on either side of his lap and knelt down on the couch, straddling over him. Her lips met his again with more ferocity and hunger than before. He had no idea just how much she needed this. And somewhere deep down, she could feel his own desperation – his own lustful need for it. She figured it was what made them so concurrent with one another. They were kindred spirits with an aching need that only the other could fulfill.

Harry groaned against her mouth when she bit down on his bottom lip. She wanted him in her, more than anything she had ever wanted in her life. She wanted his weight on her – she needed it.

“Harry… you have to…” Savannah moaned, bucking her hips into his.

“I have to what?” He asked, breathing against her jaw.

“I need it like before… like you used to. I need it rough,” she groaned, anxious that he wasn’t reading her like she needed him to.

“Are you sure, Van?” He asked, pulling back to try to meet her eyes.

“Just do it,” she groaned, purposely evading his gaze.

“Van…” She heard him breathe.

“Come on, Styles. Don’t bitch out on me now. If you want to hear me scream, I’ll scream. If you want to hear me moan, I’ll moan. Just… just give it to me,” she pleaded.

“Van, are you serious right now?” His voice sounded surprised, yet careful.

“Yes, Harry. Jesus Christ. Just fucking do it,” she practically screamed in his face.

With that, he threw her back against the cushions of the couch and positioned himself between her legs. She couldn’t help but relish in the fact that she was getting everything she wanted. A small smirk danced across her lips as he grabbed onto her thighs as he pushed himself in roughly, just how she asked for it.

“Oh, god,” she groaned loudly, tossing her head back.

Harry grabbed her arms and restricted them above her head as he buried his face in the nape of her neck, biting at it. He was playing a role and he was doing it well – so fucking well. Her breaths came out rapidly, yet shallow. She knew she needed this. She needed Harry’s strength against her. She needed his dominance. She was letting go of all control.

The feel of his stubble on her flesh, poking and tickling, only added to the desire. It was like rods of lightning striking all over her skin. She felt Harry’s deep thrusts penetrating her over and over, causing her to cry out in pleasure. Yes, this was what she needed. The gratification was almost too much to handle and she felt the tears well up and stream down her face before she could stop them.

“Savannah, are you okay?” Harry asked, stopping almost immediately when he noticed her tears.

“Don’t stop! Please,” she begged him desperately.

“Savannah, you’re crying,” he pointed out.

“Keep going. Just don’t stop. Don’t stop, Harry,” she cried.

He leaned down and kissed the tears away, which only made them come stronger and faster. But he kept on – his thrust shallower this time, but it was still everything she needed. All her tears blended together as he moved over her like waves. He crashed onto the shores of her chest and buried his face in her neck, crying out her name.

Savannah’s tears subsided as she came. She bit her lip and tried her best to keep her eyes open and focused on him. He kissed her delicately as he spilled into her, seeping out and around her and it was so fucking perfect she almost couldn’t handle it.

Harry collapsed on top of her a moment later, trying to catch his breath. And her tears once again returned to stream from her eyes, only not as forceful as before. Harry wedged his way between her and the couch and just held her close to his body. She could feel his accelerated heart beating against her back as he spooned her to him.

“Savannah, it’s going to be okay,” she heard him breathe in her ear.

Somehow she knew to believe his words would be a mistake, because it wasn’t going to be okay. She knew it, he knew it – and they were both just fooling themselves if they thought otherwise.

It wasn’t long before Harry’s breathing evened out and she knew he’d fallen asleep. His arms were still wrapped around her body and the feelings of love that she felt from him and toward him were too much for her. Harry made her feel once again, but it was worse than feeling nothing at all, because she knew she and Harry could never have what they both so desperately needed from one another – a partner, a lover, an equal through thick and thin. It just wasn’t in the cards for them and she seemed to be the only one who was thinking clearly enough to realize that.

Savannah slowly moved his arms from her waist, careful not to wake the beautiful sleeping giant. She tiptoed across the floor to retrieve her clothing, replacing the articles swiftly. She grabbed a blanket from the nearby chair and placed it over his naked body, gazing down at him. He really was beautiful.

Her heart was heavy as she snuck out of his house that night. She didn’t leave a note because it wasn’t anything permanent between the two of them. She never meant it to be. And she secretly hoped he knew that.

The sadness enveloped her almost immediately as she took the bus back to her apartment. Every kiss, every touch, every word that ever came from Harry had been forever burned in her memory.

Once she got home, she washed his smell off of her and fell asleep on clean, sterile sheets. She ignored his calls in the morning. She ignored his messages begging her to call him – to please don’t be angry with him, to please, just tell him if she was angry. It was just all too much to handle. She needed to make a clean break. But unfortunately, it was nothing but jagged edges and questions left unanswered.

Notes