are we starting off scorpio season with some filthy smut? yes. yes we are, because it's my season and we're celebrating RIGHT. as always, happy reading.
**
Y/N turns over to Harry who is peacefully sleeping, unaware of the turmoil of emotions that are coursing through her. He looks beautiful. Everything she'd ever dreamt about when thinking of him. It's splayed out in front of her, and for just a split second, her feelings are normal again.
She enticed him. She wanted him. She got him. This isn't the result of just chance or miscommunication. No, this is because she saw a hot demon and wanted him to take her to bed.
However as quick as the feeling comes, it departs. There isn't the slightest bit of residue of the feeling either, as a new emotion is revealed to her. Something she overlooked and buried for the longest time: guilt. It was at the tip of conscience and over to overflow at any moment, unaware of what would trigger it. Staring at him besides her wasn't helping at all, and if she were smart, she's tear her eyes from him. If she were smart, she would look around her surroundings for her clothing, and if she were surely smart, she's slip on her shoes and hurry out the apartment.
Torn between being polite and not leaving the man with lingering questions and loose threads, she stays.
He stirs before she can make a decision and before she can register what's happening, his limbs are outstretched, mouth open to release a yawn.
She manages to turn her head away before his vision can flicker to her. She debates closing her eyes to fake her slumber so he has time to decide on his first move, however the guilt remains in tact in the depths of her stomach, so it's impossible to convince her eyelids to shut.
She feels his eyes on her before his throat rasps out his voice.
She can't resist his stare. Her head turns back to look at him again, her heart stuttering at the sight of his sleepy eyes blinking at her. There's a brief pause in which nobody breathes or speaks she's worried about saying the wrong thing, assuming he's thinking the same, however he's just trying to wrap his mind around the "how" of how the hell did he get this celestial being his bed, wrapped up in his sheets, looking like a dream. Is she a dream? How could she trusts herself to be with him alone? How can he trust himself not to plant kisses all over her face and neck, traveling slowly down?
Finally, a lazy smile spreads across his face.
"Hi," he croaks. "Sleep well?"
Hi. Sleep well? How is this man a demon?
She nods. "Yeah. You?"
He reciprocates the nod, nuzzling his cheek into the pillow. "Really well." His eyes don't leave her face. "Are you hungry?"
Something clicks inside of her. No. No, she's not hungry. No, she's not staying.
"I actually think I'm going to head out now," she replies quietly. "Uh, yeah, I'm gonna go."
A frown settles on his face almost immediately and she hates it. It doesn't belong there! She wants his dimples back. She wants his cocky smirk back. She wants to explain that it's not her fault.
"You're leaving?" He uses his palms to push himself into an upright position. "Why?"
"I'm just tired," she tries. "I wanna take a shower, go back to my place..."
Harry points to the door near his closet. "You can shower here. I have clothes for you too, if you'd like. Might be a little big, but it's nothing to worry about, I think."
Her face heats up. "I just wanna go home I guess."
She sits up also, and the duvet falls to her thighs. Her breasts are exposed to the cold air and with haste, she pulls the sheets back up to her chest. Her wings tremble with embarrassment. He's silent after that reply, but she's aware of his eyes on her.
