The One Where Harry Styles Sneezed On Me

Day Ten: The One With The Touching

Her arms felt stiff, and the surfaces beneath her were varieties of uncomfortable. There were lumps and bumps and her arms were extended in a way that made no sense for sleeping. Her hands clenched and the soft silk between her fingers opened her heavy eyelids.

Harry didn't make for a good bed.

Her jolt of realization had been too big a movement for her living mattress to sleep through.

"Hmmm!" His arms extended into the same spots hers had been in moments before. It seemed plenty fulfilling for him though, given the groan of pleasure and shiver of delight that crawled down his body as he kitten stretched. His top to toe movement rippled beneath her, and other morning inevitabilities waved hello.

"Oh!" Slipped out of her mouth in the weak morning light. Elise said it because of his erection against her lower belly. She could say it again to the hazy green eyes that opened at her word.

Instead he did. "Oh?" He brought an arm down and wrapped it to the base of her back, his large hand covering a portion delicious and wide. He pressed her down into him and flexed against her stomach. She suppressed her need to exclaim again, wow.

Her next exhalation sounded more like a whimper. Repression had consequences. He just grinned, like it was perfectly normal for him to be introducing her to his morning wood when they'd done naught but steal a couple of kisses. Strange thing was, it did seem, well, less intimate than the conversation of the night before.

"Morning." He tipped her nose with his, and then gave her an Eskimo kiss. God, he was lovely in the morning. Mussed and gravelly, thick voice like oatmeal and thick cock like steel. "Can I have a kiss hello?"

Elise had lost her voice somewhere in the last few minutes, maybe had talked herself out last night. She'd not told a soul for months about all of her family drama, and here she'd told this boy she'd been stuck with for a week and half, and stuck on as well, the truth. She assumed at great risk, maybe it was self-sabotage? To her shock, he wasn't shying away, he was asking for more of her it seemed. He'd seen her bare emotionally, the rest was a fait accompli, yet unrealized.

She nodded, because words were inadequate and scarce.

Unlike his lips, which were plentiful and generous. They buttoned to her like a shirt saved for and splurged on. He held the pressure and pressed slightly forward until she met his interest. His head lazed to the side and he switched up to attend to her lower lip. Harry nipped lightly and her mouth gaped open. "How do you feel about mornin' breath?" He whispered.

"I mean it's not my favorite, but it's good when both people have it." She assumed. She'd not been in a position to wake up with someone before.

"Good answer." His tongue glided over her bottom lip and she opened to him easily. The slip slide of his muscle against her own had her moaning, the wriggle he added was new to her. She wasn't the girl making out in movie theaters when she was younger. She was playing soccer and taking piano. Very scheduled.

From his moves, she assumed Harry had spent some time in darkened movie houses. Or backstage at any number of venues.

"Hmmmm. I like that sound." His mouth moved over her neck and she made an embarrassing hum of interest. "That one too. Now, next question, how do you feel about morning wood?" He pressed her tighter against their visitor.

"I can't say I have an opinion."

His brow quirked, "Hmm, we should circle back to that." He moved her hips in a circle around the subject of their talk. "I'll just share mine." He kissed her again and she forgot they were talking until he pulled away, a spider's web of saliva connecting them, "I think they shouldn't be wasted. Wanna use it?"