Peligro (A Harry Styles Fanfiction) INTENSE EDITING IN PROGRESS

Chapter 85

"That was nice." I sigh into my boyfriends ink less chest. I don't understand why he's never tattoed this area of his body, but I like it. It's a clean area. The only area that hasn't been drawn on. It's like it's virgin skin. Clean, tan, and perfect.

We're lying in my bed after an extremely nice hour of make-up sex. I think I understand why people fight now. Make-up sex might just be the most amazing thing that I've had the pleasure of experiencing.

He nods his head, his curls flopping around as a single bead of sweat trickles down forehead.

Look! More virgin skin. I wipe the spot clean and kiss the area underneath his chin. He groans, a smile creeping up his lips.

"You scared me before. I thought I was going to lose you." Harry mumbles as he takes my finger that wiped his sweat off and kisses the tip.

"Ew!" I squeal out.

"Mhm." He hums and kisses the area again. I pull my hand away and rested it on one of the birds on his collar bone.

"Why did you get these?" I inquire.

He shrugs.

"I liked the design." His answer is simple and shocks me. I expected some significant meaning considering his terrible past.

"Do any of your tattoos have significance or are they all just because you like the design?"

"Hmm. Most of them I got because I like the design. Some are jokes." He explains.

"Jokes?" I repeat. What can be so funny about ink on skin?

"Well, not really jokes. More like little puns. Like the one on my foot."

He kicks off the comforter off of us and I shiver at the cold air. My body is bare and the cold air is forming goosebumps all over. Harry wraps his arm around me and his hands briskly rub my upper arm. I sigh in relief at the contact.

He raises his leg and circles his ankle.

"You see the one just under my big toe."

I squint my eyes and I see a small musical note like the one on the ring he gave me.

"So it's funny because you like music?" I guess, though I'm not understanding any of this in the slightest.

"No. It's a note. On my foot." He pauses and waits. Almost as if he's waiting for me to realize the significance.

"And?" I'm completely lost now.

"It's a note on my foot. A footnote. Get it?" His voice perks up in humor.

"Sure?" I pretend to go along with it.

"Footnote! It's a play on words!"

Footnote? What does that have to do with music? I reassess the meaning and suddenly it clicks. I burst out laughing in response.

"Wow. I didn't think it was the funny." He comments as I wipe a tear from under my eye.

"It's not. You're just such a weirdo!" I say and continue on my joyous fit.

"Oh? Am I? You're the one who has pictures of that dick on your ceiling? What do you do? Jerk of to him every night?"

I look up to my picture of Robbie and gasp. How dare he talk about Robbie in such a rude way!

"No! I do not! That's disgusting that you've even think I'd do that!"

He picks his head up and looks directly in my eyes.

"So you've never touched yourself then?"

I bury my face in the inside of his underarm. The hair tickles my nose and I feel the urge to sneeze.