Flame // hs

four*

For people who were supposedly best friends with benefits, they were acting more like a couple than anything he had ever experienced.

He fucking loved it.

Dates. What used to be hang outs were dates, really. Harry was having a ball planning them. The movies, new dinner places, brunch, walks in the park, a water park, and recently the zoo. But today, it was simply cooking dinner together and watching a movie on Harry's projector.

She was wrapped up in his arms, in his sweatshirt again. The pasta sauce emergency had been a result of not securing the lid on the blender, meaning there was splatters of red sauce on the ceiling he may never get off, ruined clothing and a stomach sore from laughing. They had cleaned it together, still managed to have enough to use for their hand made pasta and ultimately had beautiful blackmail photos of one another covered in red sauce.

The lights were dim as they watched Pretty Woman. It was one of Ember's favorites, so she was relaxed perfectly in his arms. Sitting right between his split legs on the couch, she rested her head against his chest as her hands held his forearms. Boldly, his own hands were dipped under the borrowed sweatshirt, stroking the soft skin near her ribs. It was mindless, gentle, and driving her a bit crazy.

He pretended not to notice, but he did. Harry could read her like a book. Being friends for years and years on top of learning her intimately had a hand to hold in that. Ember wasn't the most warm and fuzzy person, and he felt fucking honored to be the one she chose to be soft with. When she turned the other night and nuzzled into his neck, he about died with giddiness. Harry had been the clingy one for ages, and now she was close to letting it be a battle.

"Why have you never asked me to be your sugar daddy?" His voice vibrated against her back, making her roll her eyes. Harry always interrupted moments with dumb comments like that but she catagorized it as part of his charm.

"Because you can't afford me." She deadpanned, not even turning around to catch his reaction. She didn't have to. The offended scoff and grunt spoke enoigh- but she hadn't accounted for how close his hands were to her breasts. The slight pinch to her nipple made her squeal, turning slightly in his arms to give him a wide eyed gape.
"Harry, what the fuck?"

"You just said I don't have enough sugar to be a daddy." He groused. "That's offensive and rude. You know, I could very well afford you. We are sitting on a beautiful couch! And you're wearing my Gucci jumper." The tone made her aware of his jokes, which didn't help the fact that the action she had tried to be pissed about had turned her on. She never had anyone pinch her nipple before but she could kind of see the appeal of nipple clamps.

"Shut up, moneybags. I meant what i said. I'd drive you crazy. Besides, you're literally getting the sexy stuff for free. Do you want to start paying my rent or something? Wouldn't be opposed to that."

Harry wanted her to move in. But even he recognized that was kind of a 'what the fuck' thought and way too soon. He just really enjoyed her staying here, being with him, not separating at night. Waking up to her in his bed. Finding her in his kitchen on her laptop when he got home. She had always kind of had a drawer here, but now her clothes- as much as it drove him a bit mad- mixed with his in the drawers. He didn't feel like splitting the laundry. It was comfortable and it filled his chest with warmth. The good kind.

"I was thinkin' more like going out to buy some pretty lingerie for you to wear for me. But I suppose I could pay your rent. Just out of spite. Can't believe you said that." He muttered, happy when she turned back to lay on top of him. Her open affection without her pushing him off if her anymore was a welcome change. He didn't feel any sort of hesitancy anymore, wrapping his arm around her waist while the other toyed with the ends of her hair.