"I have some places I want to take you today." Harry speaks quietly as he looks into the openness before us again, his jaw muscles flexing as his husky morning voice echoes from his throat. "Wrap up warm, though. It's cold today, love" He suggests with such care as if I'm not sat in the cold with him too.

Harry and I finished our teas within the next couple of minutes, before departing back to the house again, walking in unison under the blanket until we reached the bedroom. Harry showered in the en-suite whilst I stood in the mirror next to him, brushing out my long curls so I could shower after him. The warmth of the steam filling the room burned against my freezing skin, bringing life back to the pale blanket covering me. As I brushed my teeth, I watched in amusement as a hand emerged from the shower curtain draped over the old-fashioned bath, the fingers searching for my body but too far away to reach.

Rolling my eyes, I stepped closer and Harry's hand found my shoulder, my jumper absorbing the moisture dripping off it. I sucked in a sharp breath as his warm hand drifted easily under the collar of my jumper, gliding leisurely up and down my skin in soothing motions. "You're cold, love." His voice echoed in the acoustics of the room, highlighting the flirty undertones of his voice.

"I'm alright, actually." I lie to humour myself, feeling Harry's hand stop on my skin. There was a silence between us, the only two noises being the shower water hammering the base of the bath, and me leisurely brushing my teeth.

"So... you aren't cold at all?" Harry asks, and I hum a 'yes' in response, spitting my toothpaste into the sink and swilling it down with the tap. I hear Harry growl in frustration, him clearly wanting me to join him in the shower - which I was, obviously - but it's fun to tease him. His hand was now flat, curved around the entirety of my shoulder as I flossed my teeth. "Don't you want to shower before we go out?" He questions further, the flirty tone in his voice returning yet sounding slightly frustrated as he had to dumb down what he was saying.

"Yeah, I do." I reply quickly, and Harry sighs in satisfaction to himself. "But I'll do it later." I continue my sentence, going to remove his hand as I spoke. Harry's fingers flexed to lock around my neck, catching me off guard as I breathed in sharply: there was no pressure, it was an extremely light hold, yet it was also in control and assertive, one that wasn't going to budge until it got what it wanted.

Harry's head peeked out the shower curtains, his other hand grasping it shut at his neck so he looks as if he were floating. With a childish pout of sadness on his lips, and water dripping everywhere from his curls draped over his face, his hand slid down to my collar again, the pointer finger hooking around the fabric and tugging it lightly. "Primroseeee!" He wined, repeatedly pulling my jumper like a little boy, making me step closer to the shower again. "Come and shower with me." Harry said desperately, his finger now stroking delicate lines up and down the side of my neck, the warmth of his skin radiating onto mine.

"Harry, your mums asleep next door." I shake my head laughing whilst speaking to him through our reflections in the mirror covering the wall.

"I just wanted to spend time with you, not have sex with you." Harry mumbles, his head facing away from the mirror as it gazed at the damp floor, the mood falling sad. His hand snaked away from mine, vanishing round the curtain with his head, leaving me alone in the silence. I felt bad, really bad. So, I did the only logical thing in the situation, and joined Harry in the shower.

Undressing silently so that he wouldn't hear me coming, I stepped into the shower and closed the curtain behind me. Harry had his back to me, the water elegantly trickling down his muscular back, hugging the defined shape as it slid over his glossy skin. His head was hanging down, not flinching at my presence entering the confined space between us. "Harry... I didn't mean it like that." I take a step forward, placing my hand on his shoulder so he would know how close I was. As soon as I made contact with the skin, Harry's head darts around to look at me, squirting a harsh line of water directly into my face from his mouth. On reflex, I shield my face with my hands, squealing in a mix of shock and disgust as the water clung to my skin slightly more, clearly mixed with his saliva from how long it had been in his mouth.

From The Dining Table [H.S]Where stories live. Discover now