Matching Rings [h.s]

82

POV: BAYLIN GRIGGS

Harry's lips are attached to mine. I can say that now without it shocking me, even though the weight of his body pushing me against the closed door will never not be a shocker. I'm so fucking happy this is all becoming normal again.

The second we were in my room I quietly locked the door, making sure it was silent from across the hall where I know Niall is doing homework. Though the sound of my body clashing with Harry's against that door was much louder than the lock click.

Our lips haven't separated since we were in the kitchen, it was quite the struggle getting up the stairs with his tongue down my throat. But we managed, and here we are.

"Shhh." I hush, separating our lips for the first time, "We can't be making noise like that if we're in here." I lay down a rule in regards to the slam.

Harry takes the chance and falters down to my throat, guiding my jaw to the ceiling with his thumb and planting a kiss high above my collarbone.

"You know just as well as I do that neither of us know anything about staying quiet." He taunts.

I feel the pad of his thumb push deeper under my jaw bone, his other four fingers keeping a tight grip to the side of my neck. His fingers indent my skin to the drooling point where I can feel my blood pumping around each print.

"We're going to have to learn." I nearly whisper, trying to keep my mind on my words when I feel his opposite hand slide down to my waist.

"Why's that?" He stops kissing me, releasing my jaw and allowing our eyes to meet.

"Niall's across the hall." I state, catching the breath that I wasn't even aware I was short of, "I'd hate for him to hear us."

A playful smirk forms across his lips, "Maybe get away from the door then."

Harry then puts both his hands on my waist and pulls my body from the wooden frame, my entire body feels like liquid as he guides us to the bed.

"That might help." I smile deviously while eyeing his lips like I'm dying and they're the only antidote.

He turns me around until my back is facing the open room, pushing us both back until we hit the edge of the bed. The backs of my thighs land flat on the cushion while Harry proceeds to lean toward me, towering over me with one hand to keep him up and the other gripping my waist like I might run away.

Harry swiftly moves back in and takes my lips in his, inhaling every ounce of independence I have left in me. His lips remind me that I'm his, he takes me in like a drug.

We maneuver our bodies until we're both lying on the bed, his legs tangling between mine while my hands roam his back. He kisses me like it's the last time he'll ever get to, though we both know it won't be.

This feels good, not just physically, but emotionally. I like knowing that the hard part between us is over, I like knowing I'll get to enjoy him for all the time we have left.

Our kiss deepens and somehow we're both shirtless in a matter of seconds.

My hands blindly move to his naked back, my fingertips glide and scratch at his soft skin while his thigh rubs subtly between the seam of my jeans.

His skin was only soft until it wasn't, my thumb glides over the small of his back and I feel a tough patch of skin that I know is one of the scars that I only just noticed this morning. I move my hand away from the spot and hope he didn't feel it, but judging by how he didn't even flinch, I'm going to assume he either doesn't mind me touching them, or he didn't notice.