favorite crime [h.s]

sixty five

Longer chapter? Yay?

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Waking up alone in a bed made for two is the loneliest I might feel in a world where Harry's is the first face I see every day. I'd curse him for the number of times that he has already made me wake up alone while he's somewhere in the apartment. I thought he wasn't a morning person.

My face is buried into the pillow, and my entire body is twisted in bedsheets. I wish those bedsheets were his arms, although the fabric is comfortably warm and soft.

"Harry!"

I hear a "Fuck!" followed by a faint thud. I pull the bedsheets up to my face to cover my smile when his footsteps approach the bedroom. "I didn't know you're awake," he comments, holding the doorknob with one hand.

"Told you. Sixth sense." I tap my forefinger against my temple, eyeing him with a warning look.

He fights the smile but doesn't win. A gentle rosiness creeps onto his cheeks. "Why'd you call me?"

"This side of the bed is empty." I stretch my arm out across the cold space. "And it needs you in it."

"Fuck's sake," he mutters under his breath while he's approaching the bed. I chuckle, contently watching him climb into bed beside me. His hair is damped because he's already taken a shower.

I turn around, turning my back towards him to show him how I want to be cuddled. His warm body makes an intense appearance, being an evident source of warmth against my back. One arm snakes across my waist, the other one under my head.

"Good morning." His lips leave a gentle kiss on my shoulder over the fabric of my shirt⎯ his shirt that I'm wearing now.

"Morning," I whisper, smiling with my bottom lip pulled between my teeth. "What are you doing up so early?"

"It's eight. That's kinda reasonable for a workday," he chuckles lowly.

"Let's cuddle for another half an hour." I close my eyes, relaxing every single part of my body and leaning into Harry's chest.

"You're not a morning person, I see." His lips press against my neck beneath my ear, letting the heat linger there for a long moment.

"You should know that by now."

His hand sneaks beneath my shirt and falls flat against my skin. The tip of his fingers rests slightly beneath the waistband of the boxers that I'm wearing.

I had a hard time believing that those actions were a coincidence.

"I once heard you're not a morning person either," I continue, ignoring the fire between my legs.

"I'm not," he whispers, "but someone has to make you coffee in the morning."

"You made me a coffee?" I nearly shriek, forgetting the feeling of his touch as I turn my head to meet his eyes.

He smiles instead of answering and trails his fingertips down the length of my arm. A knee pushes between my thighs, spreading them apart beneath the sheets. That was enough of a response to confirm my excitement.

"Thank you." I peck his lips.

My cheek presses into the pillow with a content smile, happier than ever about this amazing morning. Harry's body is pressed against my backside, leaving no space to breathe between our touch.

He holds my body more tightly to him, tensing an arm around me as I push my ass into his front. His hand roams my torso beneath the material, tracing his touch in all the right spots. His fingertips brush past my breasts before wandering south.