Inclination

Bedroom Routine, Bickering, Bad Shoes

You're shuffling through your duffel bag early on Sunday morning, rubbing your sleepy eyes and yawning before pulling out a small black crop top to pull over your sports bra, your mid-thigh length shorts resting snugly against your legs. You smooth your hands down your stomach to flatten creases in your clothing and suddenly you feel two familiar arms wrapping around your waist and squeezing your tummy, your body being hitched against a warm, solid chest. A crackling voice softly breaks the surface tension of the air, "damn. What are you trying to do to me in this outfit, Ace?"

Harry moans when you melt against him, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth at his reaction before you spin in his grasp and circle your arms around his neck, "just getting ready to play some tennis in the sun, handsome."

His eyes are locked on your mouth and you take this opportunity to scan his body; a loose t-shirt and black shorts that cling to his toned thighs, a backwards cap holding back his untamed curls. His gaze finds yours and it's heavy with lust, his palms making their way down your back and hips to land on your ass with a firm embrace, "mmm, you're not trying to seduce me?"

You kiss him and scratch your nails into the back of his neck before wiggling out of his hold against his loud protest, "I should ask you the same thing." You tap his belly in appeasement before bending down to search through your athletic bag again, "now don't distract me, I need to exercise today and you derailed us last weekend with your magic hands."

He whines and rubs his palms down his face before perching them on his hips, watching you pull your shoes on as he grasps at straws, "okay well... maybe after tennis? We can take a shower together." He pulls you to your feet and sinks his fingers into your hair as he cups your jaw and kisses you, "mm, get really clean... dry off and roll around in my sheets." One of his hands leaves your hair to spread wide and travel down your chest and stomach, "put a record on and make out for hours. What do you say, pretty?"

Your stomach flips when his fingertips brush your center before falling away. You know what he's trying to do, to manipulate you into changing your mind about going to the park because you hardly had a chance to see each other this week. He doesn't want to be the one to suggest that you skip tennis but he wouldn't mind at all if you threw in the towel due to some light prodding on his part. You kiss him and step away, bending down to pick up your racket and bag, "sounds amazing. After tennis."

It takes everything within his power to not stomp his foot in defeat like a spoiled child, his smile compliant as he nods and gathers his things, "did I almost get ya?"

You steal his car keys from his hands and grin brightly before taking off towards his front door, "almost, handsome!" His footsteps are loaded behind you and you squeal when he grabs your body and hauls you backwards, gripping your arms as he tries to wrestle the keys from your grasp. You scream and laugh at the same time, "c'mon, let me drive your precious baby. I'll be so nice to it, I promise!"

He growls in your ear and tickles your ribs, finally prying the keys from your hands and kissing your temple, "no offense Ace, but fuck off." You whine when he smacks your ass and kisses your mouth before weaving your fingers together and walking you to his car, opening the passenger door for you to let you in first.

Harry plucks his toothpick from his mouth as you walk side by side up the path to the tennis courts, his sunglasses shielding his uncertain gaze as he looks down at your feet. He opens the door in the chain link fence to allow you to enter first, slipping your bag from your shoulder for you and dropping it on the edge of the court. He bends down to unzip the duffel and remove the tube of tennis balls, his bent index finger reaching out to knock his knuckle against the platform sole of your sandal, "where are your sneakers?"