I'm Not Gay

16

Harry generally hated mornings. He wasn’t a morning person at all.

But this morning was pretty nice, he decided sleepily, pushing his face against his nice, warm pillow that smelled ridiculously good.

Someone stroked his head, fingers raking pleasantly against his scalp. 

“It’s almost ten already, Haz. Wake up.”

“No,” Harry mumbled.

A soft chuckle. “Then at least let me go.”

Harry frowned and opened his eyes blearily. He found himself looking at a wide, muscular chest, which he’d apparently been using as a pillow.

Harry blinked, thought for a moment, and then closed his eyes again. There would be plenty of time to feel weirded out later. Now he felt too damn good and sleepy to feel much of anything else.

“Harry.”

“Go away, Zayn,” Harry muttered.

“It’s kind of hard when you’re sprawled all over me,” Zayn said, his voice extremely dry.

Harry sighed, and then lifted his head a little. He glared sleepily at Zayn, who was looking at him with faint amusement. 

“I didn’t know you were a cuddler,” Zayn said with a smirk. “I couldn’t breathe when I woke up.”

Harry wanted to flip him the bird, but it would be too much of an effort—
and Harry felt ridiculously distracted by all the warm, golden skin and bed-hair.

Harry groaned and dropped his head back on Zayn’s chest. Holy shit, this was horrible. Horrible. Part of him had been hoping that his stupid pseudo-infatuation would go away after he indulged it a bit, but apparently not. If anything, it seemed to be worse.

“What is it?” Zayn said, threading his fingers through Harry’s hair.

Harry almost moaned. Zayn’s touch felt so good, but it really wasn’t helping the situation.

“I feel like a schoolgirl with a crush,” Harry grumbled. 

Zayn’s fingers paused in his hair. 

“Harry…” he said, his voice a little off. Strained. Hesitant.

“Don’t say anything,” Harry said. “I know. I know I’m fucking everything up. I’m trying, okay? Like, I don’t want to feel this way about you. I’m sure I’ll get over this stupid shit soon. I don’t want to fuck everything up.” This shit is just stronger than me. 

There was silence for a while.
Finally, Zayn removed his hand from Harry’s hair and said, “Okay.”

He wasn’t rough, but he wasn’t particularly gentle either, as he extracted himself from Harry and got out of the bed.

Harry watched helplessly the way the muscles of Zayn’s back shifted under his skin and quickly averted his gaze before Zayn turned around. 

“Come on, get up,” Zayn said, reaching for his clothes and then throwing Harry’s at him. “It’s pretty late already.”

Harry eyed him carefully, but Zayn seemed completely at ease. He didn’t seem angry at him. Harry must have imagined the sudden tension in the air.

Relaxing, Harry reached for his clothes. He felt more than a little sore, but it was the good kind of sore that reminded him of the fantastic sex they’d had. His skin still felt kind of raw and oversensitive, but Harry didn’t mind it, either.

The only thing that bothered him was the fact that he kind of really, really wanted a good morning kiss. Or two. 
Or three.
 
 
* * *
 
 
“So are you together now?” was the first thing Tristan said as he appeared in the kitchen, looking fresh out of the shower.