Self-Titled [Completed]

Only Angel

"Let's go out tonight."

Her words were a shock to Harry. He glanced at her with eyebrows raised slightly. She--the girl who was petrified to leave the motel and hotel rooms for fear of somehow being caught, even after being missing for nearly five months now--offered to, and he quote, "go out". She found his silence amusing, as shown by the mischevious smirk on her cherry lips. 

"What?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"You...want to go out?" Harry questioned, still in shock.

"Well, if you don't want to then--"

"No, no. I want to," he quickly answered. "Where do you want to go?"

"I know a place," she vaguely stated. The mystery and deviousness in her voice excited and intrigued him in the best ways. 

"That's all I get?" Harry chuckled. 

"Don't worry, it'll be worth your while."

As the day dragged on, Harry continuously tried to pry information from her. Where are we going? Why won't you tell me? Will it be expensive? How late are we staying out? How should I dress? She'd allow him some answers, and the some she allowed were vague. Harry tried to bribe her in as many ways as he felt humanly possible. Nothing seemed to break her and it aggravated him. Although, he found the unknowingness rather alluring.

"Harry, will you just chill the fuck out and come here, please?" she asked with a small giggle. He was pacing around their room after she told him to get ready and he changed--now that night had fallen. He wore his usual black skinny jeans with a pair of black leather boots, a patterned button-up--all the buttons done--adorning his top. Seeing her soft features seemed to calm him. He didn't even know why he was nervous. 

"Sorry," he mumbled with a shy smile as he approached his girl. 

"Don't be," she smiled back. "Just shush and let me fix this."

Her nimble fingers went to the collar of his shirt. The fabric of it was soft under her touch. Harry's eyes were focused so intently on her face, watching her carefully as she moved. She slowly unbuttoned the top button, her own eyes focused on her handiwork. Her tongue poked out of her slightly-parted lips as she worked down his shirt. As she undid another button, the swallows on his chest came into view. She loved those tattoos. She undid another, and another, and his butterfly was now on display. That one might be her favorite. She looked up at Harry through her lashes.

"Keep going," he rasped. 

"What's in it for me?" she asked in the same hushed tone.

"Keep going and find out."

She placed her hands on his chest, his skin warming hers. Harry let his hands migrate to her hips, holding her gently but roughly. She leaned up, slightly elevated on her toes.

"I have to get ready," she whispered before leaving a chaste kiss on Harry's lips; a kiss he couldn't reciprocate since he was caught so off guard.

Through the bathroom door, she could hear his frustrations and it amused her. She was playing him like a game of chess and she was damn good at it. She loved seeing a man weak at her fingertips all because of her.

"Whoa," Harry muttered as she emerged from the bathroom. She sauntered over to him with a shy smile--even though her choice of clothing was anything but shy. She gave a little spin, showing him all angles of her. "Baby."

"You like?" He took her hand, spinning her once again.

"Could never take you home to my mother in a skirt that short," he remarked, "but I think that's what I like about it."