Part 2 - I Just Wanna Taste It

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The next morning when Harry wakes, you're not in bed. He was still passed out when your alarm went off, and he didn't hear a peep from you when you dressed to go for your morning run. He didn't hear the door close, either.

He's slept the whole night bare to the room, on top of the covers like he had been when he'd fallen asleep. He sits up, legs wide but bent at the knee, and he rubs his hands over his face as he yawns tightly. Shaking his head at the tail end of his yawn, he looks to where you should be. The bed is unmade, duvet folded over at the corner where you'd tossed it back on your way out of bed.

Harry plants his feet on the ground, looking around the floor for his clothes to find they're not there. You've tidied them up, and left them in a neatly folded pile on top of the dresser. It irritates him a little, because he thinks you shouldn't be tidying up after him. He knows full well he doesn't have any clothes kept here since he took them all last year when he moved out. That was the first time he'd done that.

"Fucking idiot." He mutters to himself as he inspects his small pile of clothes.

He hears the door open in the hallway, and he stills to listen closely. He notices the little clear of your throat, stressed by your still heavy breathing from your exercise. There's a clatter - probably throwing your keys into the dish on the kitchen side, followed by another softer crash that could be your headphones. There's a brief moment of silence, and then the extractor fan in the bathroom turns on, soon followed by the shower.

You'd needed that run, especially after last night. You're not necessarily hungover, but you're certainly feeling on the more delicate side of things. The coastal path is always a nice journey for a morning run. You don't meet many people out that way that early, only the other odd jogger or dog walker. You like the cool sea breeze on your hot skin as you move. It almost makes the panted breathing and the tight chest worth it.

You leave your running gear on the top of the closed toilet seat, tug your hair out of its bun, and then step under the steaming water.

You quickly wash your hair and condition it, completely unaware that there's a second person in the room observing you. Harry doesn't make himself known until he knows you're not really paying attention - facing away from the room to the wall as you cover your sponge in body wash. He steps inside carefully, pulling the cubicle door closed behind him as quietly as he can. He's lucky your walk-in shower is quite big because he'd never get away with it otherwise.

As you're reaching over your shoulder to try and scrub at your back, the sponge slips from your grip by subtle force, and a certain pair of lips are pressing an innocent kiss to your skin just above your shoulder blade. Your breathing grows heavy, but you dare not look over your shoulder at him, so you stay looking at the wall instead. He takes a gentle hold of your waist as he massages the sponge into your back. He moves from between your shoulder blades and down your spine, to your lower back and around your hips.

And then he stops.

The sponge drops with a wet and squelching thud against the shower floor, and your heart skips a single beat at the sound. What is he doing?

Harry holds both hips lightly, his hands gliding easily up and down your slick waist. He kisses your shoulder again, his left hand staying high to cup around your breast while his right falls lower to tease between your legs. His front presses flush to your back, his lips grazing your shoulder and his length growing hard against your arse cheek.

Your jaw shakes. You're not in control of this at all. He hasn't recited your rules like he normally would. He's got his lips on your skin when he normally shouldn't, and he's doing things he likes without instruction. You don't want him to stop, though. What if it means something? What if, maybe, he actually wants you this time? What if last night was his way of telling you he's done bothering with other girls and he's decided he wants to be with you? Because if that is the case he can bloody well carry on and do whatever he wants with you. It's been twenty years in the making, after all.

Three Rules // A Harry Styles Au Where stories live. Discover now