Dear Daisy| WW2!Harry Styles

Chapter 8

*Sexual Content Warning*

Blankets pulled up to her chin, Daisy stirs in the early morning air, sliding her legs across the sheets in an attempt to curl in on her naked self. Her toes are met with warm skin and tickling hair, brushing over Harry's calves. It's not until he softly grunts in her ear, jolting her body back until the curve of her bottom is nestled against his hips, does she realize that Harry's got a strong arm around her torso. His bent elbow cages her ribs and the palm of his hand is caressing her cheek. She doesn't know how he wiggled his fingers between her skin and the pillow, but his hands are so warm she doesn't care enough to put much thought into it.

"Harry?" She murmurs tentatively, eyes fluttering open for the first time that morning when Harry hums low in his chest. The sound rumbles against her spine, prompting her to flip over, which she manages to accomplish despite Harry's insistent hands. His eyebrows pinch together in annoyance at her movement, the only sign of consciousness being his frown.

"Why ya moving so much?" Harry mutters, the hand that once held Daisy's face now finding a home on her ribcage, fingers trailing over her warm skin and melting his features back into one of bliss.

"S'cold," she replies, tentatively smoothing a hand over the prominent bulge of his left pec, feeling that warmth that bubbles under his skin. Shyly, she drops her gaze from his eyes to the cross necklace laying on his shoulder. "and I'm naked."

Harry chuckles smugly and teasingly, fingers tracing the outline of her torso. "M'well aware you're naked." His fingers are soft and tentative as they follow the curve of her hip and then the swell of her bum. Daisy can feel his eyes, now open for the first time that day, burning into her face as he gauges her reaction to his wondering hands. Her cheeks burn with heat but she does nothing to stop him.

"You're naked too." She says because her heart is picking up it's pace and her core pools with warmth and she wants Harry to make her come again but she's not exactly sure how to ask him. How'd she ask him last night? What bold spirit took over for her and where is it now?

Chuckling, Harry agrees with an amused murmur of "well aware that I'm naked too Daise." Butterflies swarm her chest at the nickname, eyes finally lifting to meet his. He stares down at her, lips pressed together in a sleepy pout and eyes unrelenting, showing no sign of recognition for calling her Daise instead of Daisy. Perhaps he misspoke, mumbled because he's a grouch in the morning and she's just getting too excited for no reason.

They stay silent, Daisy subconsciously wiggling back to press further into the palm of his hand that's now holding her bum just as tenderly as he'd held her face in his sleep. Deciding that if he could feel her up, she can feel him up too, her hand drops back to his throat, tracing the tendons of his neck. He lifts his chin, exposing more skin for her to trace and the tendons under his skin flex teasingly. She shivers, remembering how they'd tightened last night every time he clenched his jaw or grunted dirty words to her. Unable to help herself, she trails her fingers down his chest, massaging the thick muscles of his pectorals and brushing over his pert nipples.

The first sound between them is his gasp, abdomen clenching when she takes the peak between two fingers. She hadn't been expecting him to react, simply just wanting to explore him, so the sound makes her freeze, lifting her chin to look at him. Harry's jaw is clenched but his gaze is still unwavering. The pupils of his eyes have grown, bleeding black over the usual sharp green. For a second she thinks he's angry or upset, that she perhaps hurt him when she'd made that V around his nipple, but then his nose flares just once and his tongue darts out of his mouth to lick over his lips.

He likes it.

Enthralled, Daisy squeezes her fingers together, gently at first until Harry's whole body is twitching and he's grunting through clenched teeth. His eyelids flutter but never break their gaze, begging her to continue. "Does that feel good?" She asks, feeling stupid as soon as it's left her mouth because it's obvious he's enjoying it. "Sorry."