Breaking Points

Part Three of Sophie Miller's Stockholm Syndrome
Sophie Miller is no stranger to kidnapping. Getting kidnapped four times in the span of nearly three years practically makes her an expert on the matter. Anne Miller though, Sophie's newly found sister and first time kidnapee, knows one thing her sister doesn't: never let Stockholm Syndrome into your head. It's easier said than done when the One Direction boys prove to not only to have sick, perverted sides, but also worried and loving ones. Will Sophie succomb to the boys' charming attitude once and for all, or will Anne manage to get herself and her sister out before she too is stuck with Stockholm Syndrome? After all, Harry, Niall, Louis, Zayn and Liam have proven repeatedly that their breaking points are right around the corner...


27. Hot and Cold

Sophie’s POV

“Good morning sunshine,” Harry whispers behind me, wrapping his arm over me whilst approaching our bodies.

“Hmm hi,” I respond, sleepy.

He starts pressing kisses in my neck.

“I love you Sophie,” he mumbles between gentle kisses.

“I love you too Harry,” I reply, smiling. I turn around to face him, splaying my fingers on his chest before joining our lips. His lips are soft against mine, his hand cupping the back of my neck. He rolls on his back, pulling me over him. My hair falls in messy waves around my shoulders, his hands sliding down my back lazily.

“What are we doing today?” I enquire, my fingers tracing his tattoos.

“The only thing I know for sure is the show we have tonight,” he replies, voice still husky from sleep. “And Zayn’s birthday party at a club. But we have another show here tomorrow, before we leave for Arizona and jump on another plane for Philadelphia afterwards,” he explains, moving a strand of my hair out of my face. “Then we have a small break.”

“And what about immediate activities?” I whisper.

“I was thinking about something along those lines,” he begins, pulling me down for a sweet kiss. His hands cup my face before he’s rolling us over to end up on top. “And a little bit of this too,” he trails on, his mouth pressing soft kisses in the hollow of my neck, descending slowly to the valley of my breasts. “And some of that,” he continues, his hand sliding to caress the inside of my thigh.

“Hmm I like your idea,” I smile, pulling him in for another kiss. He smiles on my lips.

“So... Soft or rough?” he questions, his hands still caressing my thighs.

“Make love to me,” I mumble, gazing into his endless green eyes.

“Your wish is my command miss Miller,” he replies softly, kissing me tenderly once more. I melt under his touch as his fingers skim the rest of my body slowly, before pulling the hem of my shirt and lifting it over my head.

“Knock knock!” Louis barges in, surprising the both of us. I rapidly hide under the sheets. “It’s not like I haven’t seen either of you naked before,” he points out.

“Doesn’t mean you get to see it again,” I reply.

“What do you want Lou?” Harry huffs, his body shielding mine of Louis’ eyes.

“We have an interview today with Ellen DeGeneres, lover boy. So you don’t have time for this,” he motions us, “if you want to take a shower. Anyways, breakfast will up soon and then we’re taking a van to Burbank to head to Ellen’s studio,” he trails on, shooting us one last glance before leaving.

“He’s such a cock block,” Harry mutters once he’s gone, shifting on the mattress.

“You know, we could do some water saving...” I propose innocently, fingers walking on his chest.

“I like the way you think Soph,” he smirks, pressing another kiss to my lips before we stand up and head to the bathroom. We’re quick to remove the remaining clothes off our bodies, stepping inside the shower. Harry turns the tap and lets the water flow, holding his hand out to gauge the temperature.

“Is that warm enough?” he enquires, his wet hand caressing my shoulder. I nod and move under the stream. My eyes shut as water cascades through my hair and down my body, relishing the calm and soothing sensation it left in its path.

“So, do we pick up where we left off?” Harry mumbles in my neck, pressing his warm, wet body flush against mine. His wet hands slide effortlessly along the side of my body, catching several droplets of water as they glide over my skin.

“Please,” I whisper as I turn around to face him. I smile, wrapping my hands around his neck before bringing him down for a deep kiss. My fingers tangle into his wet locks as he hoists me up in his arms, pushing my back into the wall to keep me up. I whimper as his mouth presses urgent kisses from my mouth to the inside of my neck. My left hand descends from his hair to his back and I dig my nails into his skin. He grunts, wrapping one of my legs around his hip.

“I thought you wanted it soft,” he murmurs between open mouthed kisses.

“A bit of both would be nice,” I respond breathlessly, water dripping in my face.

“With pleasure,” he mumbles, his right hand gripping the back of my neck tightly to hold me in place as his lips press open mouthed kisses in the hollow of my neck before heading upwards.

My eyes shut. I whimper as he nibbles on my skin lightly, tilting my head backwards so it rested against the marble shower wall. Harry’s free hand cups my butt, his thumb and forefinger massaging the skin slowly. I grab his head once more and pull him in for another kiss.

“I love you,” I say softly, pressing our foreheads together.

“I love you too,” he responds just as quiet, moving his right hand down my body before bringing it back up to caress my breast. His touch leaves a trail of fire, igniting my body pleasantly.

“Harry,” I whimper. My breath hitches as his hardening member slides shallowly between my thighs, teasing me.

“Fuck Soph,” he grunts, pulling me in for another kiss. His fingers trail down my chest and slide down below my navel. His green eyes meet mine as they inch lower. I shiver as his digits finally touch me where I need him the most.

I moan lowly, clutching his neck before pressing my lips to his. His fingers cup my sex before slipping between my folds, one of them entering me swiftly. Another one follows almost immediately, water making everything slicker. He digs his face into my neck once more, kissing the skin.

“Harry,” I beg, grabbing his shoulders tightly.

“I’ve got you love,” he murmurs, slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of me whilst rubbing my clit with his thumb. A third digit penetrates me. The curly-haired boy caresses the inside of my walls softly with his fingers before he curls them, making my breath hitch.

“Harry please,” I repeat, holding on to him for dear life as a fourth finger slips inside. My head rolls backwards as he circles my clit with his thumb. My toes curl as the need to be with him grows.

“You’re ready for me?” he enquires.

I nod eagerly, panting softly. He pulls me in for another heated kiss, removing his fingers only to have them stroke the side of my body in a slow, arousing gesture.

Harry shifts our positions a little, taking his member in his hand before pressing himself into me deliciously slowly. I forget to breathe momentarily as he pushes himself to the hilt. His eyes are locked on mine as our chests touch and water cascades down on our joined bodies.

Both his hands reach to cup my behind as I grab his face and kiss him enthusiastically. He holds me up against the wall, pulling out before pushing back inside my clenching walls. He grunts, shutting his eyes. I find myself doing the same as his mouth travels from my mouth to the side of my lips, descending leisurely to my chin then latching on the underside of my neck.

“I want to try something,” he says between kisses, briefly looking up at the shower head. His hips pull away from mine and shove themselves back again. “Will you let me try something?” he continues, his emerald eyes meeting mine, thrusting in and out once more. His hand moves a wet strand of hair from my face. I nod, unable to form a proper sentence. He smiles and reaches up to the shower head, removing it from its support.


“Shhh you’ll love this,” he responds, pecking my lips. I’m still confused as he plays with the shower head, changing its settings from the traditional numerous streams to a weak, lone one.

“Harry?” I question. He gives me a sneaky smile, placing the shower head between our bodies, right above the area where we’re connected.


“For wh―” I can’t even finish my sentence that he’s moving the shower head directly over my clit, changing the setting to the stream is at high pressure. “Oh my God Harry!” I squeal, pleasure eating away hungrily at my body as the jet of water hits the sensitive nub. My hands wrap tightly around his neck as my toes curl. “Harry,” I whine.

“That’s it love,” he groans, now thrusting in and out of me at a constant pace whilst keeping the shower head pushed against my clit. It’s so pleasurable it’s nearly painful.

“Oh God Harry,” I moan loudly, digging my face into his neck as he keeps pounding. My whole body is tingling, nearing climax at a rapid rate. My breathing accelerates, and so does his. “Harry,” I whimper, the feeling building. My breathing becomes ragged.

“Let go love. Come on,” he ushers.

And I do. Suddenly, I’m not being held down by gravity. Everything explodes inside of me. My eyes shut, my head rolls backwards and my mouth opens into a silent scream. My hands clench into fists, the pleasure overwhelming my every sense. “Harry,” I moan loudly. All too soon, I’m out of breath. And I’m too sensitive. “Too much,” I mumble, pushing the shower head away from between us.

Harry places it back in its place with the regular settings, still holding me tightly in his arms. 

“You? You didn’t―”

“I came too Soph, only you were too caught up in the pleasure to notice,” he chuckles, stroking my back softly. “How was it?” he enquires, pulling away slightly to look at me properly.

“Mind-blowing,” I say, still catching my breath. Water drips from his hair to his face, gliding down the length of his jaw. He’s absolutely breathtaking like this. My eyes drop down to my own form momentarily and my shoulders sag.

“Hey,” he murmurs, lifting my chin up. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Question yourself about your own body.”


“I saw you love,” he breathes, pressing our foreheads together, “and I don’t want you to feel self-conscious about yourself alright? You’re imperfectly perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing about you,” he continues, looking at me in wonder. The sound of water hitting the tiled floor echoes loudly throughout the bathroom as both of us remain silent. “I love you,” he says again, cupping my face into his hands.

I smile and join our lips once more.

“I could get used to this,” he murmurs, his body still pressed against mine. “Showering with you every single morning for the rest of our lives―”

There’s a loud knock at the door.

“You two almost done?! Birthday boy wants to shower too!” Zayn shouts from the other side of the door.

“Give us five minutes!” Harry shouts back to be heard over the running water.

“Two! You should’ve focused on washing,” he responds.

Harry chuckles and shakes his head.

“I guess fun time’s over,” he shrugs, grabbing the body wash gel provided by the hotel. He squirts a generous amount on his hands, before rubbing them on me.




“What do we do with the girls while at Ellen’s?” Liam questions once we’re all seated around a very generous breakfast. “I mean, we can’t leave them alone here, or let them overheat in the van either,” he points out, grabbing a piece of bacon.

“And taking them in the studio would also cause problems,” Zayn remarks.

“How about letting us roam freely in L.A? That’d be nice too,” my twin says innocently, playing with the eggs in her plate. The boys pay no attention to her comment.

“What if we go to Burbank with the tour bus instead? It’s less likely they’ll overheat in there,” Niall proposes.

“And how would you explain that to Paul? How are you going to explain to him why we’d prefer going with the bus than the van?” Harry denies.

“We could say Zayn wanted to catch a few Z’s? I mean, there is a bed in there and it could work,” Louis states. “We tell him Zayn didn’t get enough sleep last night. Simple as that.”

“The bus can’t possibly be here,” Zayn shakes his head. “It’s at least a 30 hour drive from Atlanta to L.A. It’s still on the road.”

“So what do we do?” Harry huffs. “Call Ellen and cancel?”

“Paul won’t let us do that,” Liam shakes his head.

“Her show isn’t live, right?” Niall begins. “What if we go there with the girls, and if something happens we just... Make something up and restart the interview?” Niall suggests, biting his toast.

“And the audience hmm? What will they think?” Harry counters.

“Anne and I can stay backstage―”

“So Anne can open her mouth about everything? I don’t think so,” Harry cuts me off.

“I won’t say a thing,” my sister shakes her head.

“Like we’re going to believe you.”

“If I really wanted to rat you out, I would’ve done it in the plane,” she states.

“Are you saying―?”

“I’m saying you can trust me not to say a thing okay? I wanna go to Ellen.”

“No. We’re not letting you go to Ellen,” Liam persists.

“Why can’t we stay in the hotel?” I ask.

“Last time we let you two alone in a room, Anne had a little slip up and nearly broke her leg,” Niall reminds, glancing at my twin.

“But this time, the only windows we have lead outside!” I continue.

“And I’m not really physically capable of jumping down balconies,” Anne mumbles. “I’m still sore.”

“Lads we don’t have much of a choice here,” Louis sighs, finishing up the contents of his plate. “They kinda have to stay, or they’re coming with us to Ellen’s.”

“There’s no way we’re leaving them here,” Harry declares.

“So we bring them to Ellen’s.”

“Can we be part of the audience?” my blonde twin enquires. “I mean, that way, we’d be there and you five would actually be able to look at us constantly and whatnot.”

“That, Anne, is the best idea you’ve had so far,” Harry nods eagerly, pointing her. “We need to call Ellen and ask if she has two spare seats.”

“I’ll do it,” Liam huffs, standing up from the table and pulling out his phone.

“What if she doesn’t have spare seats?” Zayn frowns. “What do we do then?”

“Let’s just cross our fingers alright?” the curly-haired boy responds, finishing up the last of his French toast.

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