Fifty Shades of Him (h.s. au)

XV

A car door shuts and I stir from my sleep, awaiting this day for the past forty-eight hours. I crawl out of my bed and remove the tie in my hair, walking to the door. I unlock it and see my favorite head of curls walking towards the stairs.

"Harry," I smile, his head looking up. I run down the stairs and he drops his bags, my arms wrapping around his neck. He lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. He squeezes me close and I laugh as he spins me around. I hear Maria laugh from the kitchen and Harry kisses my cheek, my forehead resting on his.

"I missed you," I tell him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

"I missed you too," he whispers, my lips pressing to his.

He carries me upstairs and he unlocks his bedroom door, my laugh ringing through the room as he lays me on the bed. His lips press to my neck and I grab his curls, feeling his soft hair. He smells of soap, as if he's just bathed. It's addicting.

"I haven't made love with you in a while," he says, my lips repeatedly pecking his.

"I know. I was wondering what was wrong with you," I smile, his laugh joining mine.

"I was trying to give you a break. We can't live off sex, baby. I want a relationship with you," he says, moving his index along my collarbones.

"And I, you. Because you are amazing," I smile, rolling him onto his back. I sit up and run my hands along his shoulders, removing his sport coat. My fingers undo the buttons on his shirt and I rip it open, falling onto him and kissing his lips.

"You smell so good," he tells me, my lips curving.

"So do you. Like men's soap," I grin, his lips releasing a laugh.

My hands hold onto his sides after I remove his shirt, feeling his warm, tan skin as we kiss. His hands press to my back, removing my tee and cupping my breasts in his hands.

"How long do you think...we could make love for?" I ask, gazing into those big green eyes. He's so handsome; utterly flawless.

"All day," he smiles, my lips curving as they press to his.

His hands remove my shorts and panties, laying my head on a pillow. He removes his pants and boxers, climbing into bed with me as we forget about the day.

Harry's eyes are softly closed even though I know he's not asleep. We're exhausted but we're not going to sleep, the time not even nine at night yet. My lips continue to kiss his face; his features illuminated by the lamp I switched on.

His skin is glimmering with sweat and our bodies are incinerating; hot to the touch. Harry's grip on my waist is tight as I trace over his tattoos ever so lightly. I feel the circular scars on his chest and abdomen, kissing his jaw as I do so.

"They're burns."

My actions stop and I open my eyes to view his chest better, running my thumb over his pectoral.

"It was when I was younger. My father...before he left. I don't remember exactly how old I was when he left, but I was at least seven when this happened. I was sleeping on the couch, waiting for my mum."

He turns his head and he looks at me, my hand holding his side. My eyes meet his and he kisses my forehead, holding me closer.

"He sat down and didn't have a place for his cigarette ash. So he used me," he says, my heart dropping through the floor. No! How could anyone do that to Harry? Or to anyone?

"It's the pain that I remember the most. It felt like my skin was being ripped open. My mum came home right as he placed the fourth one on my stomach and she screamed so loudly it woke my neighbors. She took me to the hospital and I stayed there overnight. I had second, almost third degree burns. I covered them up with tattoos when I was fifteen. The other scars are from something completely different," he says, his arms covered in other circular burns.