Pirouette [h.s.]

chapter 31*

// You brought me to the morning through my darkest nights,

Yeah, the world hurts less when I'm by your side. //

"Collide" -Ed Sheeran

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Harry's gentle lips stir me awake, the tips of his curls tickling the underside of my jaw. Subconsciously, I tilt my chin to give him more room and he grins against the skin of my neck.

"Good mornin', pretty Bee." His voice is raspy and warm, sending a path of goosebumps down my bicep.

We'd fallen asleep in the middle of Safe Haven last night, his head propped against my shoulder while two pillows were shoved less-than-gracefully underneath the boot around my ankle. Boxes of Chinese takeout littered the coffee table. Even though we both agreed that nothing would hold a candle to Meili's cooking, we couldn't resist once we saw the dilapidated welcome sign from the road. The moment that we finished eating, Harry proposed a chopstick joust that only resulted in the sticks of wood flying across the cabin as we threw them at each other, laughing so loud I was convinced people in the next cabin over could have heard us.

It felt light. I felt light.

I felt like me.

Harry tugs on the neck of his shirt around my body, pulling it down so that he can leave a trail of wet kisses across my collarbone.

"Mornin'." I murmur, stretching and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. "How'd you sleep?"

"Good." He doesn't stop, just speaks out against my skin as he draws back up my neck. I jump a little at the sudden feeling of his warm hand gripping against my side underneath his shirt before melting into his touch. "Did you?"

I hum in response, tangling my fingers into his curls. His hand snakes upward until his thumb brushes the side of my breast. I can't stop the gasp that leaves my lips as he sucks just below my ear, trapping the skin lightly between his teeth. He's taking advantage of the fact that I can't perform - leaving nearly hidden marks to silently assert his innocent claim on me.

"Can I tell you 'bout a dream I had?" Harry asks, finally emerging from my neck to meet my eyes. His hair's disheveled but somehow still perfect and he bends down to trap my lips in a kiss before I have a chance to respond.

It's a heated kiss, sending sparks of fire into my throat that bleed into licking flames when Harry pinches at my nipple. He ruts his hips against the side of my thigh in response to the gentle moan that breaks free from my chest and pours into his open mouth. His hardness spreads an expanse of butterflies tornadoing through my belly.

"What was your dream about, sweet boy?" I pull back, dancing my eyes across his glorious features. He's so raw in the mornings - sleepy eyes and soft, sloping paths that haven't yet hardened into sharp lines. Smooth, graceful fingers taking in any touches they can; tousled curls springing on top of his head, usually flattened on one side from his pillow. He's beautiful always, but I love the moments that I can really take him in - soak him up. Remind myself that he's mine.

I watch a smirk pass through his eyes before it spreads on his lips. Harry throws a leg over me, centering his weight against my hips. His other hand meets warm skin, tracing across my stomach and moving up so that he's cupping both of my breasts in his palms, thumbs flicking at my nipples. He lowers onto his elbows, eyes boring into my own.

"You." Kiss. "And me." Another kiss - slower - followed by a trail along my jaw. "In this fucking bed." A nibble on my earlobe; a whine deep in his throat. "You were so bein' so good for me. All soft in my hands - lettin' me take you any way I wanted."