Harry and I had met each other during our second year of university. The entire team rushed to the field, jumping together and cheering for themselves as the loud buzzer went off signaling the end of the quarter. Harry was under a lot of pressure and I watched on anxiously as he jogged back to the huddle in the middle of the field, shaking out his arms and curling and uncurling his fists as he talked to the team.
Knowing that he had worn this jersey, that he had worked hard, played hard in it, that he had sweat in it. Let me know what you think of it! He mumbled, his hands on my hips as his tongue snuck out to wet his eager lips. He was about to ruin me; always able to get me off faster than any man I'd ever been with, always better than any man I'd ever been with. We were animalistic in the way that we moved, in the way that we talked to one another, tearing each other's clothes off and dropping them to floor haphazardly, not bothering to keep quiet with our words of heated encouragement. The boys were bouncing on their toes, their arms around each other's shoulders as they were told which play to execute, which spot to take on the field. 1d sexually frustrated imagines tumblr hit. I struggled, trying to anchor myself to the earth as my body tried to unravel itself without my permission. When I walked into the room, Harry's bare back was to me, his elbows on his knees as he sat on one of the benches. The feeling I got when I was with him, when I heard his voice, when his name came up on my phone. He asked again, this time more demanding as I had ignored his question the first time.
I was one of the last people left in the stadium, my friends hugging me and planting a kiss on my cheek before following the mass of people out the front gates. 1d sexually frustrated imagines tumblr.com. I always waited and met Harry in the locker room, win or lose, so that we could head back to my flat together. With a quick kiss and a wink, he'd handed me his away game jersey and walked out the door, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder as he sauntered down the steps to get to the ground level of the building. A way for him to tell other suitors to back off when he wasn't around to verbally do it himself. It seemed as if time had slowed down as I watched the arc of the football, the players below it constantly glancing up to see where it would land and shifting around to try to find an open space.
Neither one of us had classes tomorrow and we were reveling in the fact that we didn't have to get up early, that we'd be able to sleep in and wake up next to each other, take our time getting up and starting our day. Letting out a small groan at the feel of my lips on his skin, he lifted the hem of his jersey that adorned my body, leaning back on the bench to tear my mouth from his chest and extract the clothing from my upper half. I couldn't even form a coherent thought, let alone finish a sentence. The last trait being that I was totally down to earth and casual, but could look absolutely stunning when I chose to dress up. He was always on thin ice with his coach, but with him being one of the major players of the team, he tended to get away with more than he should with nothing more than a moderate scolding. For one of our classes, though they were different and in different fields of study, we had to visit the nearest prison.
Harry and I fit together from the beginning, almost as if we were the power couple of the school. With thirty seconds left, and no closer to the end zone than we had been after the first play, Harry sent the ball sailing through the air milliseconds before he was tackled. He'd used some stupid pick up line to sit in the seat next to me on the bus that had been rented for the trip and I had laughed so hard I was afraid of peeing myself. Not in the manipulative way, but in the way that he knew the effect he had on people and would sometimes use it to his advantage. The angle of my hips allowed him to get so much deeper, to hit his favorite spot each time, his name continuously rolling up from my throat and bouncing off the surrounding lockers. In the last quarter, though, the other team had managed to catch up, the score evening out and the crowd incredibly tense. He commented as we walked down the hallway towards the exit of the building, leaning down to leave a lingering kiss on the side of my head. When it was time for me to leave, I grabbed my "My boyfriend is the quarterback! "
I was independent, kind, warm spirited and completely real. As they each took their places on the line, I glanced at the board and groaned. "You're incredibly beautiful, you know that? " With him being a first stringer on the football team, pretty much the whole campus knew who he was, which meant that usually they knew me as well. He always told me that those are the things that drew him to me from the beginning. His lips came crashing down to mine, hungry and lust-filled, tongue snaking out to dominate mine. But he made me laugh and constantly reminded me that there were still good people in the world. He became nervous before every single game, the weight of being the quarterback, of being the leader of the team, pressing down on his shoulders and clouding his mind.
The home stands went silent, the crowd waiting apprehensively to see if this pass would result in the touchdown that we needed. You know I love going to your games. Adrenaline was pumping through our blood, the knowledge that anyone could walk in at anytime a constant thought in the back of both of our minds, but we didn't care.
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