Insatiable [h.s]

35

When I woke up today I noticed three things.

One, Harry was still completely passed out. I could tell by his slow and gentle breaths.

Two, for the second time in Harrys room I slept through the night without my eye mask.

Three, I couldn't move.  

I opened my eyes as I started to finally wake up, squinting against the light from outside that was coming in through the opened curtains. Instantly my eyes met with Harry, and shamelessly I started to wander my gaze over the small parts of skin that I could see of his tattooed collarbone.

Just below his shirt had gotten bunched up to reveal parts of his skin closer to his shoulder, still just as heavily tattooed. And again the sight of the tattoos led me to wonder what other ones he had hidden that I haven't seen before.

His tattoos really are beautiful. Each of them, no matter how large or darkly colored still looked delicately done against his skin. Every one of them seemed as if they belonged there, as if they had always been present. I trailed slowly over him, the morning light casting in on his skin and allowing my eyes to take in the faint marks of scaring under every tattoo I passed.

I continued looking over the tattoos that I could see until my eyes landed on a long scar just under where his shirt had bunched up. The scar was old, but still deep enough that even putting a tattoo over it couldn't hide the damage it had done to his skin.

I could tell that it was longer that what I could see, the rest of it still being under his shirt and away from sight. My chest felt tight as my eyes locked on it. A scar like that, something that damaging, had to have been painful. I know from personal experience that if a wound is bad enough to leave a scar like that then the pain inflicted must have been excruciating.

Suddenly I realized what I was doing and snapped my eyes shut to avoid looking any further. It wasn't my business. Any scars he has are personal and I shouldn't be analyzing him while he was asleep anyway.

I wouldn't want someone to notice my scar while I was asleep, so I'm not going to do the same to him.

I took in a deep breath, my body in a state of comfortable peace. My arms were snuggly pressed up against my chest with two much larger arms wrapped around me holding me in place against his chest. One of Harrys legs were hooked over mine rendering me completely immobile in his bed, his own body morphed into mine to hold me still against him.

I tried to tilt my head up to look at him, but I was stopped by the feeling of Harrys chin resting on the top of my head. The blanket was still covering us, but I could feel his cool skin against mine through his long sleeved shirt.

Everything about us being in this position seemed wrong. Everything in me was saying that I should push him away from me and leave. But knowing that, I can't deny how good it feels.

I hate to admit how comfortable it felt to lay like this. I also hate to admit that I'm not completely appalled by the fact that somehow in our sleep we ended up in this position. More so, I hate the fact that I actually do have to get up.

I shifted again, this time trying to wiggle my way out of Harrys hold. I scooted backwards hoping that I would be able to move away from his grip but he actually moved with me. In his sleep, his arms still clinging to to me, he scooted with me and didn't allow me to stray too far.

I sighed in a slight defeat, but nonetheless tried again. This time I was successful in getting my leg from underneath his to be able to push further away from him. Harry groaned in protest but finally his arm unwrapped from around the top of me. He rolled into his back, his head rolling to the side to face away from me as he let out a deep sigh, still sleeping.