Matching Rings [h.s]

80

POV: BAYLIN GRIGGS

Waking up beside my boyfriend after a night like last night felt unreal. Who would have thought that a bet between two assholes would end with me and one of them in this position.

Harry's arm is draped over my waist, our near naked bodies are inseparable. His chest is pressed against my bare back while our legs are intertwined like pretzels. I can feel the curve of his muscles and the soft trail of hair that disappears into his boxers.

At some point last night he slipped on a pair of black underwear, though I was far too tired to even get out of the bed so I stayed bare skinned— which now I seemingly regret since I feel exposed from every direction.

"Good morning, baby." Harry croaks, his tired lips mumble the words into my neck.

"Good morning." I reply, rubbing my thumb over the cross tattoo on his thumb. "You knew I was awake?"

"Mhm." He answers, not even opening his eyes.

I know Harry isn't any more a morning person than I am, but I seem to be more awake than him. And I could fall back to sleep and sleep forever if I wanted, but Harry seems to be one step ahead of me— already falling.

"How?"

He takes a second to answer, either because he's fighting to stay awake, or because he's trying his hardest to word his answer correctly.

"Your breathing changes." He rumbles, squeezing his arms that much tighter. "It's a lot quieter when you're awake."

"Quieter? Like, as in I snore?"

"No, not really." He sniffles, still sounding like he's on the verge of consciousness.

"Not really?" I whip my head around to look at his face, feeling embarrassed that he'd ever have to hear such noise come out of me.

I focused my newly adjusted eyes on his face, his delicate glass looking skin glowed with the thin beam of light peeking through the curtain. His lashes were sitting pretty on his cheek, eyes closed and lids looking lazy. I watch as his perfectly soft and kissable lips quirk to a small smile.

I catch a glimpse of the ring sitting pretty on my finger, the ring of our devotion. I turn my head to find that his matching ring is sitting on the dresser, which is odd since last I remember it was on the floor scattered amongst his others and in the mess of a broken plant.

"You don't snore." He empathizes, knowing he had embarrassed me, "You just kind of breath loud... like heavier."

I spot a fallen eyelash on his cheek, so before giving my reply, I slowly bring my hand up and swipe it away with my thumb. Keeping my hand on his face and letting it linger for long after.

"I do not." I refuse.

"Mhm, you do." He smiles harder, waking up enough to enjoy the sounds of my embarrassment.

When I don't reply, I think he takes it as I've actually been mortified by the fact or some of the sort.

"I had fun last night." He changes the subject, finally starting to open his eyes to slowly let in the light.

I can't stop thinking about last night, his hands gripping my hips while he whispers and moans in my ear. The explosion of painful pleasure that erupted inside me, the evenly balanced feeling of lust and love.

I want to do it all over, I want it a million times over.

"Me too." I watch and smile as the green coat of love appears from beneath his lashes. "...towards the end."