Waves {h.s.}

six - awkwardness

I COULDN'T FEEL my legs as I woke up and stretched my body. It was bittersweet because I was sore, but it was for all the right reasons. Images of Harry panting above me, below me, next to me, kept playing in my head. I could still feel his hands roaming around my body, I could still feel his breath against my neck, I could still hear him say those three sweet words.

Simply thinking about it made my whole body shiver. It was hard to believe that so much had happened last night, it felt so unreal and I wondered if I had imagined it all. Was last night even real? Had Harry and I said that we loved each other? Had we spent the night awake proving just how much we meant it? The soreness I felt between my thighs sure proved the second question, but the first one? It was still hard to believe.

I opened my eyes with difficulty, having slept only a few hours. Soft light was coming through the curtains, indicating that it was still early in the morning. I could hear birds singing in the distance, but my ears were more interested in the snores that were coming from right next to me. So I turned to face this wonderful boy, that was now mine, and looked at him with a smile.

He looked peaceful and I was glad that he seemed to be getting good sleep since I knew he was in desperate need of it. He laid on his stomach with one hand beneath his head, and the other rested across my hips. I didn't dare to touch him, scared that it would wake him, but I had no problem with looking at him. His head was facing me, which gave me the chance to drink in just how handsome he was, but when my eyes travelled down his body, a sense of pride took over. There were red marks all across his back, a clear reminder of the night before. Then in the curve between his shoulder and his neck, a dark purple mark in the shape of my mouth. It wasn't in my intention to mark him that way, I had never done it before, but in the spur of the moment, I guess I couldn't control myself.

I looked at the marks I had left and could only think about one thing: this boy was mine. This beautiful broken boy was mine and I was his. The realisation that Harry and I loved each other struck me and nearly took my breath away. It made me wonder if I would always feel like this. Somehow I knew I would, that's how deeply I felt about Harry.

As I looked at him, it came to a point where I couldn't hold it anymore, I had to reach for him. I still didn't want to wake him, I just needed to touch him, feel him under my fingertips. So carefully, my hand reached for Harry's back and my fingers traced the scratches I had left the night before and wondered if I had hurt him. I couldn't remember him complaining about it, it was actually quite the opposite. The memory brought a sweet burning sensation in my stomach. I could still hear him grunt and moan in my ear, it was so vivid that it made me shiver.

Harry made me feel all sorts of way, but this was definitely one of my favourites.

I don't know how long I laid on my side and looked at him; minutes or hours, I couldn't tell. But eventually, Harry started to stir. He closed his mouth and scrunched his nose, then he turned his head and hid it against the pillow. A low grunt was emitted deep in his throat before he turned his head again to face me. Then, slowly his eyes opened. They landed directly on me and the small frown that had formed upon his brows completely disappeared, his expression quickly replaced with a soft, happy smile.

"Hi," he said, his voice husky.

"Hi," I echoed before shuffling closer to him.

Immediately he shifted his position so that he could hold me tightly with both arms. His spot of the bed was comfortably warm, and it smelled of him, making it my favourite place to be. It became even better once his lips landed on my forehead in a sweet kiss.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked against my skin.

I nodded. "For the short amount that I did, yeah. You?"