Psycho ➳ H.S.

Chapter 11*

Note: This chapter contains detailed, mature themes. Please read at your own discretion.


It had been three days that Carissa had slept in his bed alongside him. Each morning since the day she brought her belongings into his home, he had woken up to the image of her snuggled into him.

Day by day he would find out little quirks about her; on day one, he learned that she liked the rooms to be set up a certain way.

"Could you move the bookcase to the opposite wall?" she requested after Harry told her he was going to move the furniture back.

"Why?"

"I like to see the books when I walk into the room."

He huffed in annoyance. The bookcase was by far the heaviest piece of furniture in his home with all the additions of her encyclopedias, dictionaries, cookbooks and hardcover novels (she was an avid collector of anything that wasn't published as a paperback). He couldn't turn down her request when she had a pout that cut through every wall he built to render them useless.

"Fine."

He didn't want to admit it, but he was obedient beyond belief.

The exertion of energy it took to heave the book case drained him down to the point where he was sweating by the time it was across the room.

"A little to the left."

"What?"

"Can you move it a little to the left? It's making the room look uneven."

Again, he groaned and did as he was told.

"No, no, wait! It's too far!" she interjected in the middle of his push.

"You're joking-"

"Just a little to the right," she said. He shook his head.

"I moved it across the room for you and now you want it a little to the right after making me move to it the left?"

"Please?"

He paused, but with a roll of his eyes he pushed the book case a little to the right. In delight, she clapped her hands together, ran to him, gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek.

"You're lucky I like you," he grunted. She winked at him before heading off to the bedroom to make an appointment for a job interview.

Later that day, after going around town to various interviews which she had booked earlier on, she recognized a silver BMW pulling out from the parking lot of the recreation center- she turned and walked faster, hoping she could outrun him.

"Carissa! Carissa, wait up!" Lucas' voice called from the road. He pulled up to the curb to talk to her.

"I don't want to talk to you, Lucas," she said firmly, still walking and clutching her folders tight to her chest.

"I'm worried about you," he told her, "and you shouldn't be around such toxic people. Harry is capable of hurting you."

"Well he's never hurt me before, and I highly doubt he'd lay a finger on me."

"He can't take care of you-"

"He's not!" she snapped. How much did he have to degrade her? "I'm staying with him because he offered me a place to stay and I don't need to be taken care of. He doesn't take care of me. Harry is perfectly fine, and so am I."

"You can stay with me, just please-"

"I don't want to stay with you."

"You don't understand-"

"No, you don't understand, Lucas, just stop it already-"

"CARISSA, SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LISTEN TO ME! I KNOW WHAT'S BEST FOR YOU! NOBODY KNOWS YOU LIKE I DO! STOP BEING SO FUCKING STUBBORN!"

Even though she didn't want anything to do with him, she took his words to heart. His eyes were fueled with the spite and anger he used to always have. His words cut through her chest. His tone petrified her. She backed away and his countenance returned to worried once again.

"Babe, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I got carried away. I just...I miss you a lot; I miss us. You know I'm here for you- I'm always here for you-"

"I'm not your 'babe', Lucas. We aren't together anymore. Leave me alone."

Lucas didn't leave, so she did. She kept walking and walking, blocking out his apologies as he drove on the curb of the road. She wished a policeman could've seen him harassing her. As soon as she got to Harry's apartment building, she ran inside and hid in the lobby until he went away. She wouldn't tell Harry- though she was certain he wouldn't hurt her, she wasn't too sure about him refraining from hurting somebody else.

On day two, Harry realized that he felt the need to keep her away from curious eyes- he felt more possessive now that they were living together.

"Carissa, as much as I hate to say this, I'm going to need you to put some pants on," Harry called from the kitchen while she sat on his sofa, busy filling out a job application form. He stared at the sight of her lean, silky legs calling out for him to touch them.

"Why? I'm wearing shorts."

"Because Danny's coming over and I-"

"I'm wearing shorts-"

"I don't want him staring at you, Carissa."

She frowned and cocked her head to the side as he raised an eyebrow. She knew Danny- he was a diver that had acquainted himself with the swimmers- and she was a little shocked that Harry would be so concerned about him, especially when all of his friends took extra caution before crossing him.

"You're afraid that Danny's going to stare at me?"

"His hands follow his eyes. Whatever he looks at, he'll want to...touch," he explained metaphorically, his own eyes travelling down her body.

"Might I add that you're exactly the same?" she stated, crossing her arms.

"Only when it comes to you, princess," he smirked. "Now go change. Please?"

She was unimpressed with his attempt at charming her. She exhaled sharply and went to change. They didn't really talk for the rest of the day. Clearly he had slighted her, and it was something he felt guilty for; she slept in the same bed and kissed him goodnight, but she faced the other way and pulled the covers over her skin- she didn't want to be touched by him.

That night, Carissa was placed in a nightmare.

It was dark out, and rain was falling like daggers from the sky. She could feel the icy water pierce her skin- she checked her arm to see if there were any open wounds present, because she felt a stinging that she could not identify. She was somewhere in the city, masked under a black rain poncho, and the clacking of her heels upon the pavement was the only sign of life.

Just then, she heard a steady stomping, like that of boots, coming from behind her, but she couldn't turn her head. She could only keep walking faster, but the stomping grew increasingly louder. She could feel the thuds ripple into the ground, paralleling her heartbeat. She couldn't change her direction- it was the path in front of her or nothing at all. Her legs picked up their pace from to jog to a run and she started to hyperventilate- she was being chased and didn't have anywhere to go.

She found herself wishing for Harry to come and scoop her up into his arms and help her get away. In an abrupt turn, she was spun around by rough hands and a nasty grip. She screamed, "get away! Murderer!" but the sight before her silenced her- it was a tall figure. She couldn't make anything out about it except that it was lean, and behind a shadowy visage popped bright, green eyes. A shiny blade- a jagged knife- was held up, and her reflection in the chrome was the last thing she saw before pools of red came spilling from a slit in her neck.

She awoke in a panic; sweaty and extremely fearful. She shrieked when Harry's hand touched her shoulder, and she beat upon his chest when she saw his eyes- exactly like the dream, except they weren't as wild and angry. He tolerated her hits, clutching her trembling body in his arms and stroking her hair, hushing her quietly. He rocked her to and fro, kissing her forehead. Carissa began to cry- never had she experienced something so real and so daunting. She forced herself to believe that it wasn't significant; that it was nothing but a bad dream. She and Harry didn't talk- he just waited until she calmed down, then lay her back down beside him. He didn't touch her again.

Currently it was day three and she was once again wrapped around his body, asleep. Though she had went to bed still upset with him, it was apparent that she wanted to cling onto something in the night. The blanket was strewn sloppily across their legs, allowing him to take in her torso's skin under the morning light, just as he did at her old place.

He took this opportunity to discover new things about her- things he hadn't appreciated before.

He liked the dark smudge of circles under her eyes that gave her skin a tinge of purple. It made her seem wiser, not deprived of sleep. He also took note of the silent sways in her breathing like little caesuras in her lungs that moved in time with the blood pumping through her aorta. The nook of her neck reminded him of the trigonometry he recalled learning in high school- sinusoidal, he believed the curves were called; he probably would've done even better in school if she was the one he was studying.

He looked to her palm, which was laying open by her face; the little cracks engraved on them looked like tiny, winding rivers in search of a larger body of water to feed into. The veins on her wrist were faded, like the little blue pen marks he'd have when he was a toddler and didn't have anything better to do than to draw on himself. She had a small mole just to the left of her sternum; it was a like a star, guiding him home, back to her heart where he wanted to reside if she allowed.

"I can feel you staring at me," she grumbled, furrowing her eyebrows and turning around. He wrapped his arm over her and spooned into her body.

"Are you still mad at me?" he cooed into her ear. She tried to nudge him off, but he was too heavy to budge- of course she was still upset.

"You're selfish and unreasonable."

"You don't mean that."

"I do. Let me sleep."

He showered her cheek with kisses while she struggled away from them. He knew she was flustered, even though she tried to hide it.

"Stop, I'm not in the mood," she whined- she was such a horrible liar that it was clear to him he was slowly pulling her from her annoyance. He kept kissing her, hugging her tight to his chest. His hand wandered up her shirt and squeezed her breast, eliciting another whine.

"You know what? You never told me if you hated me or not the other night. We just...passed out," he remembered, tracing circles into the skin of her chest with his index finger. "Do you still hate me?"

"Of course not. I can't hate someone I won against," she teased, getting up and heading to the bathroom to brush her teeth. As she moved, he heard the cracking of some of her joints in her back- little machine gun shots; another sound that could only be characterized by beauty when it came to her. She was even more fun to be with outside of work- to see her telling jokes and showing him how she really was made him wonder what it'd be like to be with her all the time.

He took a shower after she was finished with the washroom. When he came out, he had a brilliant idea that was sure to strike her attention again.

"Carissa?" he called. He made his way into the kitchen to find her sitting outside on the balcony with a glass of water and a book in her hands. She was perched on the edge of the table where they had breakfast the first time she was there. Her body was facing the scenery of the city below them.

"Mhmm?"

"I have a proposal for you."

"And what might that be?"

"It's a game," he replied slyly, knowing she wouldn't back out of a challenge.

"You haven't even fulfilled your end of the bet from the last game yet. It hasn't even been a week."

"I know, but if you win, you get whatever you want. Anything at all."

"Is that so?" she replied, refusing to peel her eyes from the novel, "What if I wanted male strippers at my birthday party? Would you pay for them?"

He kept quiet. Of course he wouldn't.

"That's what I thought."

"Fine, fine, how about this: if you win, you get to go on a date with me, but if I win, I get to take you on a date."

She snorted and snickered, having to put her glass down in order to cover her face and calm herself down.

"That's by far the worst bet someone's ever asked me to participate in."

"Please?"

She rolled her eyes and smirked, closing her book. She shifted so that she was facing his body, which was leaning against the door frame leading back into the kitchen.

"What is your proposal, Mr. Styles?" she asked, her smug look still planted on her face.

He walked towards her and pried apart her legs, standing between them. By instinct she leaned in to kiss him, wrapping her legs around his hips to pull him into her body, their sensitive organs grazing each other through his jeans and her shorts. Her hands grasped his neck and face as their tongues deepened; his palms travelled the length of her sides down to her bum, then pulled her right to the edge so she could feel his hardness right over her core. She giggled and her breaths quickened.

"Well, Miss Lim, it's quite simple: whoever cums first wins," he grunted into her mouth between kisses.

"Knowing you, there's probably a catch," she whispered, pulling away from him to stare at his plump, swollen lips.

"Two, actually," he replied, taking a piece of hair and twirling it on his finger, "One, I get to take a video of you."

"A video? I don't know..." her voice shied away from his eccentric request.

"I'll keep it to myself, I promise," he swore, holding up his right hand, "and if I win the Nationals, I'll have to fly back to the UK- all those hours without you? I'll have to get off to something-"

"Okay, okay!" she said, holding up her hands in surrender. He grinned and kissed her on the cheek. "What's number two?"

"Two is that we do it right here."

"On the balcony? I thought you didn't want anybody staring at my bare legs?" she questioned. Her stomach did back flips- she remembered wanting him to take her right in the open air. She felt herself throb in desire. All she could hear was her brain begging her mouth to spit out the word yes. Still, she used his words against him, to which he rolled his eyes. He pulled her off the table and sat in her spot.

"No one can see us from up here. I'll even let you call the first shot, how about that? What do you want to do to me?"

She bit her lip at the sight of him leaning back on his sinewy arms. His jeans hung low on his hips, defining his sculpted v-lines and giving her a view of the trail of hair that led to the glory hiding under the denim. She felt a little nervous about being outside, but she knew that at their height, no one would really notice unless they were watching his apartment specifically.

She reached down and unbuttoned his jeans, dragging the zipper down and making him shudder. The July heat kissed their skin and egged them on to hurry with the discarding of their clothes. With a slight lift of his hips, and right after he took his phone from his back pocket, she pulled both his pants and boxers down, revealing him. It was an image she didn't want to erase: the sight of him sitting on the table, naked, erect, and completely forward for her.

"Put on a show for me, princess," he requested- almost pleaded- erotically, turning the video function on his phone and focusing the field of view on her, "You want to win, don't you?"

Harry was delighted by the fact that she wasn't camera shy. Carissa obediently followed his instruction, pulling her top off slowly, seductively, moving her body in ways that caused a surge of blood to course through him. He stroked his length, watching her intently. He observed her fingers undoing the knot of the drawstring of her shorts, then pulled them down her slender legs. Every action was recorded by his phone, and he loved it.

She kept her undergarments on, leaned between his legs, separated, and replaced his own hand in stroking his cock with her delicate palm. They kept their eyes glued to each other. She parted her lips and flicked his head with her tongue, feeling him twitch in her hand. She figured that if he was going to take a video of her, she might as well make it good and give it her all.

Carissa licked a bold stripe on the underside of his length and sucked on his head, then popped him from her mouth. He huffed, having a hard time keeping his arm steady to record her. The soft skin of his shaft soon slid onto her tongue and slowly made its way to the back of her throat. She took it slow, making sure he felt each and every taste bud and groove on her tongue. She felt his fingers of his left hand weave through her hair, tenderly guiding her head up and down. Little curses went fleeting past his lips and into her ears, beckoning her to continue. She hummed against his skin with his cock in her mouth, and he shivered.

"Fuck, baby- you gonna give me a chance to make a move?" he asked breathlessly, grinning. She smirked back and pushed up on his thighs, stepping backwards and staring at him with wide eyes and an innocent pout. He paused the video and set his phone down on the table he sat upon, sitting up and turning her around, then pulling her in between his legs so she was facing away from him. He unclasped her bra and let it fall to the floor. His arms made their way around her soft flesh. She nudged her panties down her legs and turned to face him.

"Tell me, Harry," she whispered in his ear, "tell me what you want from me. I'll do anything."

How she learned to talk so dirty was a mystery to Harry, but he wasn't going to question her this very moment. She took him in her hand and began to stroke his cock again, pumping her hand continuously. He strained to get his words out.

"Sit on my face- fucking Christ, just sit-" he hissed, and she did just that. She used her petite palms to push him down onto the table and get him to stay, climbing onto him and slowly crawling up to him, planting kissing laterally on his chest upwards to his lips, then shifting up and hovering over his mouth.

He pulled her down onto him and began his feast, furiously working against her, flicking her clit with his tongue and making her whimper. She fumbled with his phone and unpaused the video, recording his actions as his eyes were closed. Her hands shook, causing the video to be shaky too, but mewls left her throat without a second thought. In a rush, she paused the video and pulled away from his mouth, turning herself around so she was facing away from him again.

Harry wanted to win, but he wanted to hear his name leave her lips too. He had an intense craving for how she tasted- so much sweeter than anybody he'd been with before. He wasn't going to play her like a fool and pretend he hadn't been with people before her, but he could assure she wouldn't end up with the same fate. They were situated antiparallel upon the dining table. Her hands reached for his length and picked up where she left off, taking him into her mouth and bobbing her head back and forth. He resumed his meal, squeezing her ass in his hands, massaging her and making her purr in delight.

He could feel her sucking harder and taking him in deeper and deeper until he felt himself hit the ribbed surface of the back of her throat. He grunted in distress- he knew he was close, but he didn't want to be. Even though the bet was fun and games between the two of them, his natural competitive edge always overtook. He could tolerate losing, but that didn't mean he wanted to admit defeat. Still, she kept going- why wasn't she stopping? She hadn't hit her high yet, and he knew he had to get her there soon.

"Fuck, Carissa-" he gasped, throwing his head back into the table, "- fuck... fuck, stop-"

He tried to nudge her off- he wouldn't win. He couldn't because he wasn't busy lapping up her excitement anymore- his vocal chords were busy moaning out her name in ecstasy.

"Jesus fuck- Carissa...god damn it, baby- Carissa... fuck, Carissa!"

His hips bucked upwards and his groans could be heard loud and clear in the daylight. His strained attempts at keeping his pleasure in failed miserably, feeling himself spill into her mouth. The sensation of her swallowing everything he let out made his head spin- his vision was fuzzy and his chest heaved in sparse exhales. She crooned a tone of gratitude into his skin as she let him fall from her mouth, teasing him with her tongue as she ran it along his cock.

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. She climbed off of him and smirked, mouthing the words, 'I win'.

He took this as another challenge- he got up, reached out for her body, turned her around, then bent her over so that her cheek was planted on the table, She yelped when he held her hands in place, reaching to the floor and grabbing her panties, then tying her wrists up with them. He ass was perched up; her legs were standing together; Harry pushed himself into her impossibly tight folds- her closed legs were doing them both miracles. A wilting whimper elicited from her as his name came tumbling from her incoherent sentences. He drove himself deeper into her until she was practically begging him to let her spread her legs a bit to relieve the tension. He grabbed his phone and started recording again.

"Harry, please move," she pleaded. Her hands were tied behind her and she was in the most vulnerable position. He leaned down and pressed his chest to her back, burying himself further into her. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and kissed the soft skin, then moved up to nibble on her earlobe.

"Tell me how deep I am, baby- tell me if anybody can fuck you as good as I can," he growled in a raspy tone, sending goosebumps to form on her skin. His hot breath fanned over her skin, the moisture sticking to the tiny hairs on her neck as he breathed deeply. She knew that two could play at this game- the longer she held her answer back, the longer he'd have to wait.

Unfortunately for her, he held all the power this time- he pushed up and plowed into her, grasping her hips firmly as he did so. He moved so vigorously and so sharply that the only things to leave his throat were grunts and growls- no words were present to convey how much force he used to thrust into her. He let go of her waist, grabbed her hair and pulled on it, causing her head to jerk backwards too.

"I said tell me, princess," he snarled.

"You're deep! You're so fucking deep, baby- fuck, right there, right there-!" her winces turned into shrieks. He kept going until he could feel her walls clenching around him. He sunk back down into her and gave a couple more thrusts before she finally came undone. He placed his phone on the edge of the table as she convulsed underneath him so that the microphone would pick up her whimpers. He lightly bit the flesh of her shoulder blade to help her calm down. His tongue left little wet patches upon her skin, and he blew on them to make her shiver, the tingling sensations travelling into her body and sending multiple messages to her brain.

He let himself soften inside her before he pulled out and stopped the video. He untied her hands, helped her up, and kissed her again- long, slow, and indescribably romantic. In that moment they were in sync; their bodies moved as one life form; their minds weren't two individuals, but one whole. He held her trembling body in his arms, sheltering her away from the small breeze in the dry, summer heat.

"You're the only one," she whispered when he kissed her cheek. His eyes twinkled even brighter than usual at her words.

"Likewise."

"But I still won," she grinned, placing an embrace of her lips upon his chest before heading off inside with her undergarments for a shower, "so I'll be expecting that date tomorrow evening."

Harry grabbed a towel from his room and wrapped it around his waist while he was waiting for Carissa to finish washing up. He was sitting on his bed and admiring the photo of them in his picture frame and thinking of all the things they could do on their date tomorrow until her phone rang from her bedside table. Interested, he leaned over and grabbed it- the screen read Lucas yet again.

He felt a sudden anger boil in his throat and claw at his chest. Why was he still calling? What did he want to convince Carissa of? The urge to throw her phone off the balcony became increasingly stronger as the ringtone blared on. Wasn't he supposed to be training at this time? Today was a Sunday and he knew that Lucas' training time was always booked an hour before his own. If Lucas had the time to call Carissa, he couldn't have been training- the Nationals were in two and a half weeks, and neither of them could afford to slack off. Up until now, the two of them trained vigorously to beat each other's lap times.

Harry stared at his own phone, which was still at the screen of the video he had created of Carissa going down on him and getting rammed into mercilessly. He played the video for a short while, hearing her moans and her whining under the sound of his skin pounding into hers. He looked back at Lucas' phone number on her screen- now a missed call; the fourth missed call, to be precise- and then paused the video on his own phone. A toggle menu popped up, and a little envelope icon stared at him in the face.

A malicious hatred for Lucas twisted in his heart; Harry's thumb hovered over the 'send video' button.

***

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