Matching Rings [h.s]

34

POV: BAYLIN GRIGGS

I woke in Harry's bed with the feeling of nothing but an empty cold space next to me.

After what happened last night, Harry and I did nothing more than make out for a little while longer— I found it impossible to keep my hands off him after what he made me feel.

He eventually brought us up to his room and the two of us fell asleep almost immediately, I was exhausted and too tired to even hold a conversation with him.

For a fraction of a second I was saddened by the fact that Harry wasn't in bed with me this morning— only to have that emotion quickly fade when I heard the water running in his bathroom.

I lay in bed as flashbacks of last night replayed in my head, over and over, as if I was still laying on his couch with his mouth and fingers making me feel like I was on top of the world. That was the first time someone else has ever given me an orgasm— and it was fucking amazing.

I roll onto my side and dig my face into the soft pillows that were drowning in the sweet smell of Harry's scent, I don't think I'll ever get used to it. I could also smell the faint odor of clean soaps spilling through the slightly ajar bathroom door— while hazy steam poured out.

I flip and face the blinding bright window, blinking away the natural flourishing light coming in through the behind me and allowing my eyes to adjust to the beaming sun. I peer my head to his nightstand to take note of the time, but instead I find a pile of rings. Next to them was the clock I was hoping to find.

10:22 am

I shift into my back and stare at the ceiling, again going over the events of last night like watching a movie— smiling to myself as the scenes pass.

A soft yawn leaves my lips just as I hear the running shower water come to a stop.

I can't stop my stomach from spitting the feeling of fluttering butterflies as I knew Harry would come out soon and I would get to see him again.

I stay in my position on the bed and watch the bathroom door, trying to be patient as I wait for him to come walking out. I hear more shuffling and a couple minutes later Harry comes stolling out.

He has a dark maroon colored towel draped around his waist, the rim hanging just below his toned v-line dips. His exposed inked torso and arms that were covered with droplets of water and his hair dripping wet in a pushed back mess.

He doesn't look at me while he walks out— going straight across the room to a dresser and a large mirror beside it, facing his back to me.

I sit up straight on his bed as he begins to scavenge through the top drawer. His toned back muscles flexed as he pulled open it, only making the sight that much more pleasant.

How is it even possible for someone to look that good?

My smile only grows wider at the image of him.

"Good morning." I mumble sweetly.

Harry quickly flips around as if he didn't expect me to be there— almost dropping his towel in the act.

"Jesus fucking-" He says in startle as he fixed his towel back to cling at his hips. "Nearly gave me a heart attack."

I softly laugh, finding myself still very sleepy and unable to laugh properly.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you." He apologizes, turning back to the drawer and precedes to pull out a pair of sweats.

I shrug, despite him not facing me and mumble something along the lines of 'it's fine'. I stretch out my arms and notice how gross I feel, the sweat from last night still slightly clinging to my body and was making me extremely uncomfortable. "Can I use your shower?"