Seraphina Amor
I think there's a thin line between dreams and reality.
Dreams, in a sense, are warped versions of your everyday life. They have places you've seen or thought about. People you saw passing the street that day, even if it was only for a split second, and some who you see everyday.
It's hard to sometimes separate dreams from reality, distinguishing what was all in your head and what was truly real. It's a difficult thing to do, and it's something I struggle with myself.
Sometimes, in dreams, you remember things that happened a long time ago, things that were long forgotten but come back when something in current time triggers it. Though, memories-oftentimes the unpleasant ones-are so far repressed that I don't think you will ever get them back; not even in your dreams.
Then, there are the instances where something seems so real, like it really did happen, and your brain can't determine if it was just playing tricks on you or if you said those things, did those things.
Perhaps that's the good thing about dreams, you can have a false sense of reality and you would never know.
The one thing that I was sure of at the moment was I had a massive hangover and I wasn't even sure if I could stand up. My face was muffled into my pillow, blocking out any light that managed to sneak through the curtains of my room.
I hadn't been up for too long, but I already wanted to go back to sleep and never get back up. It was too early, at least in my mind, and there was no motivation for me to leave the comfort of my bed.
I don't even remember a single thing that happened last night. The last thing I can seem to make out in my foggy memories was going up to the roof, but that's all. Everything else was a blur mixed with muffled words and images I can't quite figure out.
However, although there is this haze that sits over last night, there's a feeling in me that something happened and it's been nagging at my brain ever since I've woken up. I can't quite tell if it's a good or bad nagging, but I'm not sure I want to know at this moment just as my brain is starting to finally clear itself.
Letting out a prolonged, muffled groan into the softness of my pillow, I flip my head over to the other side to attempt to read the time displayed on the clock. My vision is blurry, causing the numbers to wash together in one blob of red. The hand that was tucked underneath the cool underside of the pillow is pulled out, raising up towards my eyes to try and rub away the sleep that still lingered in them.
It was certain that last night was probably the longest I've slept in the past two weeks, possibly even the last month. It's been rare and my body appreciated finally resting, even if it was under forced reasons. I wasn't stupid, I know that I probably passed out from the large amounts of alcohol I probably consumed last night.
That or my body finally just gave out, but the first option is more likely based on all the signs I've been experiencing this morning.
Once I've rubbed my eyes hard enough that I'm sure there's no tiredness in them, I refocus my sight back onto the clock, reading over the time a few times to make sure I'm seeing it correctly.
2:35 pm
I blink a few times, shocked that I had managed to sleep this late. The whole day was basically gone at this point and I'm not too sure how I felt about that. It was clear that sleep was needed but there was the side of me that was mentally beating myself up at the fact I had slept in.
A soft sigh crept its way out of my lips as I let my head sink into my pillow again, my entire body relaxing and melting into the sheets. As my eyes begin to droop shut again, vision beginning to blur again, I notice the small glass resting on the bedside counter.
I don't remember putting that there last night.
Pushing up onto my elbow, I crane my next to look behind the glass to see a small bottle of Advil placed off to the side.
I definitely didn't put that there.
Confusion fogs my brain as I reach over to grab the glass and bottle, all while I shift myself to sit upright against the headboard. The wood is cold against the bare skin that is exposed from the tanktop, causing goosebumps to pop up all over my arms. My brows furrow as I stare at the still water, trying to get anything to resurface on how this could have got here.
There was only one logical explanation, and that was Harry put it here some time during the night.
The thought made me laugh because there was no way in hell Harry would do anything remotely nice like this for me. Sure we had been getting somewhat along but I wasn't sure he would do something like this for me.
I didn't let myself dwell on the thought for too long, shrugging my shoulder with a small hum as I put the glass on the table side. I pop off the cap of the bottle, shaking out a pill into my open palm. Dropping it onto my tongue, I grab the water and swallow the pill down quickly.
My head is still pounding intensely, and I grimace to myself as I rub at my temples with my pointer and middle finger. I squinted slightly as I turned my head towards the closed curtains, and if I strained my ears enough, I could hear the distant singing of birds outside.
Then the nagging returned, louder this time, and I shook my head as I pushed the sheets off my legs, moving to stand up. The air was cool against my exposed legs, a striking contrast to how warm I was beneath the sheets.
I walk slowly towards my bathroom, another silent yawn stretching its way across my face. I don't know how I was still exhausted. I seemingly got a number of hours worth of sleep. Maybe it was because I wasn't used to being so well rested and my body didn't know how to handle it.
A lazy hand juts out to flip on the bathroom light, leaving it on the dimmest setting possible to avoid the harsh overhead brightness. I scratched at the back of my neck as I stopped in front of the sink, one hand going to rest on the edge of the counter.
My eyes flickered upward at my reflection and I frowned at what I saw. My hair was a complete mess, strands sticking upwards in different directions, knotted together in intricate tangles. There were soft bags under my eyes, lighter than they usually were and the sight shocked me a little, not being used to not seeing pure exhaustion painted across my face.
I sighed gently as I leaned forward, turning the knob of the sink to start running the water. I pulled out my face wash, placing it off to the side as I grabbed one of the fluffy white towels for the shelf to my right. I brushed away at the strands of hair that dangled in front of my face, obstructing my view as I tried to get my things ready for the morning.
As I was setting up everything for after I washed my face, I paused, a memory from last night resurfacing in a flash of colors in my brain.
"You know, you're horrible at sneaking up on people."
"I, um, didn't want to startle you."
"Your steps aren't as quiet as you think."
"Guess that's something I'll have to work on."
My eyes widen as I stand still, staring at my reflection in total shock.
I wasn't alone last night. Harry was with me, on the roof, in the middle of the night.
I breathed out shakily, mumbling mindless thoughts and I fiddled with the towel, unfolding it as I brought it under the faucet to get it wet. There was a slight shake in my hands as I did so, panic now replacing any form of relaxation that may have been coursing through my veins.
How did he even know where I was? Why did he even go looking for me? That wasn't something he would do, he didn't care about me at all; he's certainly made that clear on more than one occasion.
I tried to ignore the worry that was beginning to settle in my stomach, focusing on going through my morning routine smoothly. Maybe I could dismiss last night, pretending it never happened and move on.
I was never one to enjoy confrontation, was I?
Quickly, I went through everything I needed to do, forgetting all about the memory that had resurfaced. Hopefully nothing else went on and he left me alone after he found me, leaving me to work out through my issues myself. Though, as much as I didn't want to admit it, I don't think drinking fixed anything. But it made me feel better, at least for a little while.
Once I finished my routine, skin feeling clean and refreshed and teeth brushed, I tossed the towel into the dirty bin, cleaning up the mess I had made during the morning.
"Are you scared of death?"
"What?"
"Are you scared of death? Dying?"
"No. Are you?"
"I think death is a reward, a prize for your life. I don't think I'm worthy of it."
My eyes close in a wince, nose scrunching upwards as another conversation from last night comes flooding back. My hands clench into a tight fist, nails digging into the skin of my palms as I shake my head.
"No, no, no, no, no," I mumble to myself, trying to convince myself that this was all some weird dream.
It wasn't not though, and I knew, but I don't want to acknowledge it.
The image is so clear, so vivid and real that there's no way it was a dream. Harry standing next to me, the gentle curls of his hair fluttering in the wind as he stood on the edge of the roof with me. His eyes drilling into the side of my skull, the intensity they held so strong that I couldn't look at them in that moment even if I wanted to, so sure that I would crumble under his stare.
"I don't get that satisfaction, that feeling of freedom, cause I'm not a good person. I don't think I've done any good in my life no matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise. Like you said, I'm a villain. But I think I finally know how to be a good person."
"I don't think you're a villain."
"I don't need your pity. I think I know what I need to do to finally be a good person, something that makes up for everything I've done. It will make up for it all."
The images of Harry standing next to me while I look over the city are appearing in quick flashes, disappearing as quickly as they had arrived. In my hands, on the tips of my fingers, I can feel the ghost shape of the gun I held last night.
At that feeling of remembrance, I glance down at my fingers, flexing them before closing them into a tight fist. I swallow thickly as a chill runs down my spine, anger rising at myself as I stand in the center of my room before moving to sit on the edge of my bed.
Did I really try to do what I'm thinking right now?
It had been so long since I had actively attempted anything. At least not since the accident and a little while after that, but that was a few years ago.
"Kill me. It's the only way I can repay for being the fuck up I am. For... for being a murderer and someone who can't seem to do anything right."
My heart dropped at the scene, and I can distinctly remember seeing the pure surprise that Harry had on his face when I shoved the gun into his chest, desperately trying to get him to take it from me and do what I was asking.
I was frantic, and certainly it wasn't anything he expected me to ask of him. But he was there, and I wanted to die. Clearly he hadn't done anything as I was still breathing and I couldn't decide if I was mad or not that he didn't do what I requested of him.
Placing my elbows onto my knees, I drop my palms into my face, rubbing the heels of them harshly against my eyes. I was screwed after all of that. Harry was never going to look at me the same now that I explicitly asked him to murder me and he saw me in the state he did. No one ever saw me like that, and it irked me that Harry did.
I didn't trust him and I was nauseous at the thought I had said such things to him. There was no context behind them but he's not stupid, he'll figure it out and then I'm done for. He knows pieces of my past and it's only a matter of time before he puts it all together to see the bigger picture.
A loud grumble interrupts my thoughts, the sound coming from my stomach as I realize that it is the middle of the afternoon and I haven't eaten since lunch yesterday. I place a hand on my stomach, rubbing the soft material of my shirt between my fingers as I contemplate if I want to leave the vicinity of my room and risk seeing Harry.
In all honesty, though it may not seem it, it was a difficult decision. I'm not sure how I would react to seeing him after remembering this and I'm sure there is still more that hasn't resurfaced that will just humiliate me even further. But, despite the risk of humiliation, I was hungry and I was sure to pass out if I didn't get anything in my system soon. So, I pushed myself to stand up onto the wobbly legs, nervousness twisting in my stomach.
What if he brought it up and asked about last night, trying to get more information out of me? I didn't want to tell him anything more, or indulge in his curiosity. It wasn't his business and I didn't need him prying his way into my personal life.
With hesitant steps, I walked over to the door, stalling my hand in mid-air as I reached forward towards the knob. It really was silly to be worrying about all this. I'm sure this was the worst of everything and Harry just left after that, seeing that I needed to be alone when I was like that.
Silently, I open the door and step out into the hallway. The moment I leave the safety of my room, the soft sounds of the TV travel through the penthouse and to where I'm standing stiffly in the hall. I can't quite make out what the words are, but the studio laughter that rings in my ears gives me a hint at what Harry may be watching.
A gentle smirk creeps onto my face as I slowly walk down the hall, trying my best to be as quiet as possible and not make a single sound. The sounds get louder as I get closer and closer to the living room, the voices coming from the speakers familiar and recognizable.
As I reach the end of the hall, I peak my head out to see Harry sitting on the couch lazily, his arms thrown over the top and the edges of his lips curled upwards in the remains of a smile. He doesn't notice me as I step out, his eyes too engrossed on the screen in front of him, captured in the TV show he's watching.
I creep forward, straining my neck to look at the TV, and I have to bite on my lip to stop a soft laugh from escaping from my mouth.
He's watching an episode of Friends.
"You know, I never took you as the kind of person to watch sitcoms."
My voice breaks through the peaceful environment Harry had himself in, and he jumps in his spot, head whipping to face where I'm standing with my arms crossed over chest. His mouth opens and closes as he searches for an answer and I watch him with entertainment as he tries to figure out what to say now that he's been caught.
"I'm not, it just came on," Harry tries to defend, going to grab the remote and shutting of the TV quickly.
"Right," I say, nodding my head as I drag on the word, stepping towards the kitchen. "So it wouldn't offend you if I said I've never watched an episode of Friends in my life?"
"You've never seen an episode of Friends before?!"
There's a twinge of surprise and offence laced in his voice and I glance over my shoulder with a grin as Harry catches himself, changing his shocked written expression to one that displays unbotheredness.
"Not that I care, it's just that a lot of people have seen at least one episode before," he says, walking towards me and shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly.
"Well, I never have. Not sure what to tell you," I respond calmly.
I walk over to the bowl in the center of the counter, grabbing one of the apples that were placed in the middle, taking a bite out of it.
"That just doesn't seem possible, darling. I mean, you've had to have seen it at least once," Harry tries to reason, leaning against the counter on his elbows.
"I just don't watch a lot of TV. Sorry, Styles. Guess I'm just not a superfan like you are," I joke, hiding my grin by taking another bite from the apple.
Harry rolls his eyes dramatically, pushing away from the table to stand up straight. "I'm not a superfan. I'm a casual watcher."
"I'm sure you are."
There's no tension in the room, maybe a little bit of awkwardness, but it goes unnoticed with our conversation. Harry's looking at me like he has every other day, and he doesn't make any hints to him having any questions about last night. It's relieving to see this, and I'm glad I now have the option to just ignore the situation at hand.
"We all aren't proud of our pasts. We've done things that we regret, things we look back onto and wish we had done differently. That doesn't always make you a bad person or a villain."
"Doesn't make you any less of a villain. Isn't that what all villains think? That this was what I needed to do, this was the only way. It doesn't make it any better,"
"I suppose, but sometimes it is the only way. And besides, why would you want to be a hero so bad? They're usually the boring ones in the movies and I can assure you, darling, you are the farthest from boring."
Another array of memories come flashing through my mind. Images of Harry and I sit next to one another on the edge of the roof, paired with the civil and meaningful conversation we held with one another.
"You should smile more, it's quite lovely compared to that frown you're always wearing."
Harry's compliment, or at least his version of one, echoes in my ear as I pause, freezing in my spot again and I feel my cheeks grow incredibly hot. It runs through every inch of my body and I nearly choke on my apple as I place it onto the counter, clearing my throat.
"You alright there, darling?" Harry asks from where he's pouring himself a cup of tea, head looking over his t-shirt clad shoulder.
I nod quickly, keeping my eyes away from him as I stare down at the table, the image of Harry looking at me on the roof replaying in my mind over and over again. The compliment sounded so genuine, and the small smile that was on his face let me know that it indeed was. I'm not sure how I feel about that.
The feeling of Harry complimenting me was strange and I didn't exactly hate it. If anything, I enjoyed it a little more than I should have. It made my stomach flutter like some teenager who talked to the person they liked for the first time, and it made me feel like I was younger again.
Compliments weren't a common thing that I received, not recently anyway. Most of the time I gave them to myself and people took that as being self conceited or something, but when there's no one to tell you good job, you do it yourself.
So, getting a compliment from Harry that I can remember vividly took me off guard a little bit, especially when I remembered it when he was standing not even a few feet away from me.
"Dolion still hasn't sent us anything yet," Harry speaks up from behind me, "keep checking the email but nothing."
"I'm sure it will come in soon. Time difference, remember?" I say softly, playing with my fingers as I keep my eyes cast downwards.
"Right, forget about that sometimes," Harry mumbles under his breath, moving to sit in one of the stools across from me.
I hum quietly, walking to toss the half eaten apple in the trash, my hunger from before suddenly disappearing. My appetite was completely lost now and I had no desire to eat anything. Being around Harry right now was making me extremely nervous and I hated to admit it, but it made me a little more self-conscious.
"You alright, Amor?"
My eyes snap up to Harry, taking in the way he's staring at me curiously with his head tilted slightly to the side. His brows are slightly furrowed, a gentle crease forming between them and I catch myself feeling a fondness at the confused look on his face.
However, it doesn't change the fact I feel pressure being under his gaze, and suddenly I never wanted to run out of a room more than right now.
My sight drops to his lips, observing the way they're puckered the tiniest bit and are a gentle pink color that makes them look so inviting.
"You really shouldn't say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not right. It's not how it's supposed to go."
I nod once again, switching my gaze to look at the green of Harry's eyes. "I'm fine. I'm actually going to go change."
My words are rushed as I quickly give Harry a gentle smile, excusing myself to hurry back to my room. As I walk back, I can practically feel Harry's stare on me, following my movements until I shut myself behind the door, almost slamming it closed.
My heart is pounding as my panic from earlier returns, stronger and more intense than before. There's past anger and confusion rising up in me as I remember more and more of last night, words reappearing, reactions being displayed. It's quick but I can see it perfectly, starting to remember every little detail.
"You're messing everything up! You're making everything so fucking confusing!"
"How am I messing everything up? Please inform me,"
"You're saying these things and you shouldn't! It's not right or how I thought it was going to happen! I hate you. I despise you and you despise me. That's how this is meant to go."
My head begins to whirl as suddenly every event from last night comes rushing forward, the temporary memory loss disappearing into nothing.
Moments are displayed in my mind, a haziness over them but I can see them clearly. Each detail and expression, every word, every syllable and pause in sentences. Every emotion comes flooding back and suddenly I feel just like I did last night.
Utterly overwhelmed and confused.
"I hate you because you're arrogant, You're... you're way too cocky for your own good and constantly try to belittle me and one up me. I hate how you're so overconfident and know that you're better than people. How you walk around like you own the whole damn world and everyone just kisses the floor you walk on like you're some god."
Oh no.
No, no, no, no, no.
I mentally cursed at my drunk self as what I fear might have happened last night is beginning to be a likely possibility of reality.
"I hate how you always push my goddamn buttons in the best way possible and how you know just the right thing to say to tick me off. But still, every damn time, I bask in the rush it gives me and I despise it more than anything."
"What?"
"I hate how you keep your top buttons undone, cause what's the point of wearing a fucking shirt if you're not even going to wear it properly, but yet, you still pull it off in some weird way."
Fuck.
All at once, my breathing hitches into one of panic as I rush over to the bathroom, feeling hot and clammy all over. I blindly flick the lights on and look at my frenzied reflection paired with frantic eyes.
The hammering of my heart is nearly heard as I turn on the sink to the coldest setting, splashing the water onto my face to get myself to relax. As I close my eyes, I can picture Harry standing in front of me last night, lips parted as I spew everything that I had been pushing down and finally saying them out loud in the open space of the rooftop.
"And I hate how you call me darling all the time in that stupid accent of yours and I live for it every single time you do. I hate it!"
"Darling?"
"See, I hate that. I hate how I just got all giddy inside. That's not supposed to happen!"
I can't believe that I admitted that to his face. That stupid name he's been calling me since the day we met and it makes my stomach flutter every time he calls me it.
I was never one for pet names, especially for people that I disliked, or thought I disliked looking at it now.
"I'm supposed to hate you! I'm supposed to loathe you. I'm not supposed to get nervous and that awful feeling of butterflies in my stomach when you ask me to dance at some stupid gala."
I thought about that night almost every second since it happened. The things I felt for Harry at the gala were new and different. I had never felt them before and it confused the hell out of me.
Until that night, I was so sure that I hated him more than I had anyone else, that there wasn't a single redeemable quality about him.
Then he asked me to dance.
Then he was my first dance.
Then I was only two seconds away from kissing him in front of everyone at that damn gala.
That night made me unsure about everything I was convinced I was feeling, everything that I was so set on following.
Things like this never worked out, I knew that, but I couldn't find myself to worry about that.
"I don't like this, I hate how I feel like this. It's not what I wanted or intended to happen at all but it did! It did and now I don't know what to do because every single time I look at you and your stupid little smirk, all I want to do is fucking kiss you!"
There it was. The thing I had dreaded happening, happened.
My cheeks flushed and I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply and sharply.
I can remember the silence that followed me saying that, the pure stillness that blanketed us as we stared at each other. Me with relief that I had finally figured out what was swimming in my brain and Harry completely dumbfounded.
I can remember the way my words rang through the nighttime air, holding themselves above the two of us as we both processed what I had said-more so yelled-at him.
I admitted to Harry that I had some sort of attraction to him, that I possibly didn't hate him as much as I did before.
This should make me worried but it doesn't. If anything, it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders and I'm not being crushed by one more thing. It's refreshing but at the same time it's concerning.
He didn't say anything this morning, didn't bring it up, didn't make any hints about anything. He played it off as if nothing happened.
That worried me the most.
What if I said something I shouldn't have and he still wanted me dead, hated my guts?
Then again, it's been two times that we've almost kissed and two times that we've been interrupted. Who knows what would have happened if someone hadn't barged in, ruining the moment in the blink of an eye.
"Kiss me, Harry, please."
"I can't,"
"Why not? Do you not want to?"
"Of course I do, but you're drunk and you're not thinking clearly."
My stomach drops to the floor, my face burning up as I stare at my wide eyed reflection.
This wasn't what I thought was going to happen, not in the slightest. I would have never guessed I said this all last night.
Though, I never guessed Harry would have also admitted that he wanted to kiss me.
Then I remember everything else.
Harry took me inside, made sure I got in safely.
Harry told me to not worry about cleaning up the mess I remember making, telling me to just get some rest.
Harry brought the Advil and water.
Harry cleaned up the shattered glasses and spilt alcohol bottles that were scattered across the counter.
I wasn't sure that I liked him, but something was there, and it wasn't as one-sided like I thought it was.
In a spontaneous decision, I step away from the bathroom counter, switching off the lights as I exit the room. I walk over to my door with determination, pulling it open and stepping out into the hall. There's sounds of glasses being put away into cabinets, the sound of their doors closing shut reaching where I'm walking.
Harry's back is turned to me, but the sound of my steps catch his attention as he turns around, looking confused at the fact I'm still wearing the same clothes even though I said I was going to change.
"I thought you were going-"
"I remember what happened last night," I cut him off quickly and Harry's mouth instantly snaps shut as he stands a little straighter.
I can see him visibly swallow as he looks at me hesitantly. "You do?"
"Yeah, I do," without a second thought I start walking towards him, heart beating faster than ever, "but I still don't like you, Styles."
And, the second I get close enough to him, I grab his face and I kiss him.
Harry's cheeks are warm beneath my hands, and his skin is so soft. He lets out a hum in surprise but then one of his hands is wrapping around my waist as the other cups my face.
All the air has been cut off and I don't think I even remember how to breathe as I focus on the way Harry's lips feel against mine. They're gentle but there's want behind his movement, mouth moving intently against mine.
One of my hands move up to his hair, feeling the soft strands tickle my fingers as I run my hand through the brown locks.
Harry groans in the back of his throat, the sound getting lost between the two of us as all the pent up feelings are finally getting pushed out into the open.
He tasted like mint and some kind of tea. It was addicting and I couldn't get enough of it.
He was addictive, more than anything else.
His kiss was like a drug and I knew that I would be hooked from this moment on.
Sooner that I would have liked, my body is screaming in need of air and I reluctantly pull back, still keeping my mouth close to Harry's. Heavy breaths are leaving our mouths, lips brushing against one another as I look right into Harry's eyes.
They're clouded with lust and want, more than I had ever seen before. His thumb brushes against my cheek bone as his chest heaves, the touch burning my skin like a flame of fire.
"Fuck, Sera-"
"Shh," I cut him off, slotting my lips with his again.
He doesn't protest, instead he deepens the kiss, hand gripping harder at my waist. My left hand falls from his face, dropping to his chest to grip the thin black material of his shirt, bunching it between my fingers.
In the blink of an eye, Harry whips us around, pushing me against the surrounding counter of the kitchen. The edges dig into my hips but I wouldn't dream of complaining right now, lost in the way his teeth nip at my bottom lip, pulling a soft moan from me.
"You have no fucking clue," Harry whispers as he pulls away, dropping his face to my jaw to press a hot kiss to the curve, "how long I wanted to do this for."
A series of desperate kisses are trailed along my jaw as Harry steps closer, closing the small amount of space that was between us. His chest is pressed against my own, and I can feel the muscles press against my stomach, trapping me between him and the counter.
"That makes two of us," I huff back, the words barely making it out before Harry's kissing me again.
His grips fall from my jaw and hip, dropping down to my thighs and tapping them gently.
"Jump."
I listen to him in a heartbeat, giving a small jump as Harry quickly catches me, placing me carefully onto the top of the counter. Harry slots himself into the open space between my legs, fingers digging harshly into the tops of my thighs which causes my stomach to flutter.
My head falls against the cabinet above me as Harry kisses me harder, putting every ounce of himself into the kiss.
"I didn't want to say anything cause I wasn't sure if you meant it," Harry says as he pulls away, eyes darting between my eyes.
I shake my head, thumb swiping across his red, and now swollen, bottom lip. "One thing you can know about me is that I'm a honest drunk."
A grin tugs at Harry's lips as he leans forward again, his nose brushing mine. "Noted, darling."
He connects his lips with mine again, pressing himself harder against me, and I gasp softly against his mouth as I feel the bulge in his hands brush the inside of my thigh.
"Fuck, darling, you don't know how long I wanted you. How bad."
His words, the desperate and needy tone in them, make me moan against his mouth and I pull his hair in my fist as a wordless response.
I move my lips from his lips and in a trail to the sharp curve of his jaw, biting at the taut skin. Harry's hands move to my hips, squeezing them harder than he had this whole time. My hand cups the opposite side of his jaw, thumb brushing the skin, the touch barely even there. Harry shudders beneath me as I lick the spot where I had bit before, blowing a soft puff of air onto it.
"You don't know how long I've been thinking about this either," I mumble against his neck, leaving sporadic kisses to the skin.
The faint smell of cologne filled my nostrils as I continued peppering gentle kisses down Harry's neck, enjoying the way he was slowly gripping tighter and tighter against me. Slowly, his hips grind into mine and my lips part against Harry's neck at the friction. Harry chuckles above me, the sound coming from his chest and I can hear the rumble of it from out close proximity.
As I move back upwards so I'm level with Harry, the soft notification from Harry's computer fills the kitchen, and I look over his shoulder to see the laptop open on the table.
Before I even get to say anything, Harry's lips are back on mine, distracting me from what I was going to say. I mumble against his lips, the words getting lost and muffled, going unnoticed by him. But, Harry trails his kisses back to my neck and the junction of my shoulder, biting hard at the skin.
"Harry, your computer," I whisper, scared to talk any louder in fear of ruining this.
Harry just shakes his head, the curls tickling the underside of my jaw. "Ignore it. We're busy."
I want to agree with him, to continue on with this, but the workaholic part of me is stronger and needs to see what Dolion sent over to us.
"Harry," I say a little harsher, grabbing onto his shoulders to push him away halfheartedly. "Stop, we need to see what got sent over."
He listens, leaving the space of my shoulder to look at me with wild eyes that are full with so many drowning emotions. There's a gentle frown on his lips and his hair is messy, a wonder disheveled appearance he is sporting.
"After all this time, you're more worried about an email?" he questions, raising a questioning brow.
There's a teasing flow in his words that lets me know he isn't being completely serious and I grin slyly as I push him back, hopping off the counter to stand in front of him.
"Have to make you wait a little longer," I say, giving him a wink as I slip past him.
He groans loudly, running a ring clad hand through his hair. "Fucking tease."
My finger reaches up to tap on my lips, feeling the swollenness of them beneath the pad of my finger and that makes my breathing hitch.
I don't think I've ever enjoyed a kiss that much before. Seems like Harry's surprising me with things a lot more than I had expected.
The computer is on, the email tab pulled up, as I stop in front of it, sliding into the stool. My index goes to the mousepad, moving the cursor to open up the email. Harry is behind me, leaning over my shoulder to look at the screen as well.
There's a few documents attached, no personalized message though but I recognize the email address. But, the first document we open makes Harry and I freeze, completely stunned at the image displayed for us.
Fourteen agents shot dead at a possible attack on Jensen.
A/N: ah ha ha they kissed :) -j