Harry sits on the bed, grabbing my hands in his, and pulls me to sit on his leg.
"Were you yelling at someone?" I ask quietly.
"If you have something you want to ask me, just ask,"
Do I really want to cause a fight with him or accuse him of something when I really don't have a reason to? He could have just been angry at Steph for inviting Molly along to lunch earlier.
The microscopic section of my mind that holds a place for common sense is attempting to send warning signals to the rest of my brain, the space held by Harry and all things Harry.
The larger section wins.
"Never mind," I tell him and he relaxes.
"Good, I'm bored with all these serious topics. Can't we find another way to occupy ourselves?" his grin is ridiculous yet contagious.
"Is sex all you think about?"
He lays back on the bed, one hand across the small of my back and one behind my thigh, pulling me on top of him. I sit up, both of my thighs on either side of him, and he pulls me down so our faces are nearly touching.
"No, I think of other things too. For example, I think of those lips open around me.." he brushes his lips against mine. I can taste the hint of mint on his breath, when he kisses me, hard enough to send a wave of electricity through me but gentle enough to leave me wanting more.
"I think of my face buried between your legs while you," I reach up and cover his mouth with my hand. The way his tongue playfully darts out to lick my palm causes me to pull away quickly.
"Eww," I crinkle my nose and wipe my wet palm against his black shirt.
"I'll be quiet," he softly says, lifting his hips from the mattress to press himself against me. "That's more than you can say of course," he continues.
"My father.." I remind him with much less conviction this time.
"Who gives a fuck? This is our place and if he doesn't like it, he can leave,"
"Don't be rude,"
"I'm not, but I want you and I should be able to have you whenever I want to," he says and I roll my eyes.
"I have a say in this too, it's my body you're talking about," I pretend like my heart isn't pounding and I don't have that familiar ache for him.
"Obviously, but I know if I do this," he reaches his hand down between our bodies and under the waistband of my pants and panties. "See, I knew you'd be ready when I started talking about eating.."
I press my lips against his to silence him and he swallows my gasp as his fingers graze over me. He's barely touching me, deliberately trying to torture me.
"Please," I hiss and he applies more pressure, pushing a slick finger inside of me.
"Thought so," he taunts and pumps his finger slowly.
All too soon, he stops his movements and moves me off of his body to lay beside him. Before I can complain, he sits up and grips the top of my pants, the pair he seems to be so infatuated with, and tugs them down my thighs. I lift myself up to assist him when he moves to remove my panties.
Without speaking, he gestures for me to move up towards the top of the bed. I push myself back using my elbows and rest my back against the headboard. He lays on his stomach in front of me, hooking both arms around my thighs, opening them.
"Try to be quiet," he smirks and I begin to roll my eyes until his warm breath hits me, soft as first, but increases in pressure when he gets closer. Without warning his tongue slides across me and I reach over and grab ahold of a decorative pillow, the yellow one that Harry calls hideous on a regular basis.