...

That same night, strange things started happening. Falling asleep at eleven did not quite go by plan, as I was wide awake, getting a back massage by Harry at midnight. While I was lying naked on my tummy, Harry was sitting on top of me (also naked), boring his palms into the skin under my shoulder-blades. Not only that—He was fucking interviewing me.

"No way. You did not lose your virginity at thirteen," he said.

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"How does that happen? You got tired of playing bay-blades and started playing with each other's dicks instead?"

I laughed. "I was cool at thirteen."

"Alright." He snorted while pressing his hands down harder. "Tell me the story."

"Um." I reached for the right words while thinking about the scenario in my head. "Basically, I had this friend at school who was really into porn, and he was also really into me." Harry scoffed. "So when I was at his place once he showed me some videos and asked if he could try some stuff with me."

"Sounds like a movie." He chuckled. "What did you do?"

"He sucked me off, I sucked him off, he fucked me, I fucked him."

Harry's hands stopped moving. "You fucked him?"

I shrugged. "Yeah."

"So you're not always a bottom?"

"Now I am."

"Since when?"

"Since my ex."

It was quiet for a few seconds. I assume Harry was taken aback by the word. Maybe he did not expect that I would have past relationships—but I definitely did. However, this one in particular was the only one that really mattered, because that time I was in love.

"Who's your ex?"

I sighed. "He's irrelevant."

"You're over him?"

"For sure."

"What did he do?"

"Cheated."

The conversation continued like that (Harry questioning me and me giving him incredibly short answers). However, due to his constant blabber and extreme need of asking questions about everything, me being timid did not stop him from investigating almost every detail about the relationship.

"So, how come he made you stop being a top?"

I snorted. "He was good, I guess?"

That was true. My ex boyfriend was very good in bed. Regardless of how much I despised him, there was no denying that. Harry, however, was even better.

Did I just compare Harry to the one person I had ever been in love with?

Oh, well. It's just sex. It's platonic.

"How did you lose your virginity then?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"It was with a girl. I was seventeen, she was nineteen."

"Okay." I wondered if he was ever going to continue my massage. He seemed to have lost focus completely. "How did it happen?"

Harry told me the story, explaining how he was at his friends house, playing video games. When his friend disappeared to the bathroom, his sister came into the room wearing a pink silky robe. Apparently, the stunning sibling then seduced him and lured him into her room. He then texted his friend to say that he had gone home for dinner, when in reality he was actually pinning down her sister to her bed. Afterwards he snuck out of her window. In response to his story I told him that shagging a mate's sister is way above the line of friendship, and he agreed.

"Hey, where did my massage go?" I finally reminded him.

"Oh!" he said, circling his thumbs in my lower back. "Sorry."

When he continued I sort of lost my focus in proceeding the talk because of how good it felt to have him use all his force to—basically—attempt murdering my skin cells and back muscles. My body was tensing and relaxing at his touch, and once I was again getting used to the uncanny sensation, I started thinking about what had just occurred, which made me realise; Harry and I had just held our first proper conversation.

And strangely enough, I sort of enjoyed it.

"H-Hey," I hummed, wanting his attention. My eyes reached over my shoulder as much as they possibly could, I could only spot half his face, so I rested my head against the pillow instead. I said, "If you were to use one word to describe how you think your friends would interpret your personality, what word would you choose?"

The reason I asked him this was because I suddenly felt as though I could not really figure out who the person touching me was. Was he the leading type who was always motivated and would under no circumstances let other people control his actions? Was he the enthusiastic social butterfly who wanted to find the fun in every boring activity? Was he the softball who's main activity was to satisfy other human beings while hurting the smallest amount of people in the process? Or was he the careful type, who reflected over absolutely everything and wanted everything in order?

"Stubborn."

Oh.

"Why stubborn?"

"Because I want what I want, and if I don't have that, I'm not content."

"Oh. Okay."

My mind got lost in Harry's words. Being stubborn was not the best quality, yet had still chosen to say that. That interested me. Maybe he was actually trying to open up. But if Harry was so stubborn, what was it exactly that he wanted so much?

"What about you?" Harry asked.

Even though I had contemplated over this question plenty of times before, I let time pass to make it seem as if I was thinking about it. The truth was, there was only one word who could fully define me, because my mind was pretty messed up. One thing was for sure, I almost always remained in my word.

"Determined."

Harry chuckled. "I'd say you're pretty stubborn as well."

I frowned. Hm. Maybe.

"I'm more determined than anything."

"And why's that?"

Did I want to open up about this?

"Um. I don't like going against my own morals. I'm quite honest and I keep my word."

Harry's massaging hands suddenly softened in force. Somehow he was also stroking me while he pressed his knuckles and bones down. While deepening the emotion of his movements he asked me the same question again but ordered for me to make it more positive, considering we both had for some reason decided to make value or answers on the verge to depressing.

"I guess they would say I'm a good friend. I look out for people."

"Okay. Nice."

"What about you?"

I was sure he was gonna say something extremely cocky, but he actually didn't.

"I think...just kind."

I snorted. "That's creative."

He laughed. "It's the right word. I like it when everyone is happy, which—by the way—is quite a difficult scenario to reach for, but I hate letting people down." He started kneading his hands closer to my shoulders. "So, most of the time, I try to make sure everybody is content."

A month ago I would have scoffed at that—but at this moment of time, the statement actually seemed pretty accurate. I wondered, "Including yourself?"

Harry hesitated before stating, "Well, I suppose that connects with the stubbornness. So yeah, I guess."

"I assume this is your way of making sure I'm content, then?" I smiled. I tried to look at him over my shoulder again—this time being able to turn fully due to the slight change of position. "The massage, I mean."

"Exactly," he murmured, smirk growing. "Are you content?"

"Mm-hm," I hummed. "Feels really good."

"Then I'm also content." He leaned in so that his torso was covering up my back, his hands sloping down and sliding in between my body and the warm mattress. Like that he hugged me and kissed my cheek as I still had my head turned, looking back at him. He continued, muttering against my newly massaged skin, "I specifically enjoy making you content."

His scrotum and flaccid cock was being gently pressed down against my spine as he was laying on top of me. I was again pinned down without much control at all, and feeling him against my back while he said those words was putting me in the mood again. The raw emotions were for some reason making me excited and even though we had already shagged a couple hours earlier I was more than ready to do it again.

"Harry?" I said. I had leant my cheek against the pillow again.

"Yes?" he replied, seemingly snapping out of his own thoughts.

I reached for my words, "Um—I know—Uhh—I know we just did it hours ago but I'm a little–"

"You dirty little boy."

I giggled, "I can't help it. Your cock is pressed against me. It's not fair."

"Alright, alright." Harry kissed the skin between my shoulder blades. "Stay in position, okay?"

And like that I laid for another ten minutes. Firstly, he sat on my thighs and supposedly jacked off to the sight of my arse before pounding inside it (with a condom) and pulling out when he was about to release. That was my cue to finally roll around to lay on my back and let him come into my mouth before I ended the session by coming into his.

"Goodnight," he whispered when I had turned to the side and he was spooning me from the side (the blanket covering us both) while placing the tiniest kisses just below my ear. "Sleep tight."

"N'night," was my mumble—and when it exited me, he tightened his arms around me, released a relaxed sigh and slowly started dozing off to sleep.

...