Everybody has a different perception of pleasure. For example, the pleasure you feel when you have sex or eat something very delicious and so out of this world that it overwhelms your taste buds and makes your eyes almost hit the back of your head. Or the pleasure you feel when you've finally finished crafting something for which you have shed your blood, sweat and tears.
Harry's pleasure, on the other hand, lies in spoiling the love of his life reckless. There is literally nothing in this world that compares to the pleasure he feels when he sees his wife relax, shove a pile of food into her mouth, which he's made, or simply emanate happiness for which he is responsible. A grateful smile and eyes full of affection is the biggest reward he can ever get in return. The singer doesn't want much from her, but likes to put his heart into every thing he does for Y/N.
It is not the materialistic things he takes the most pleasure from but rather the mundane things he does. Of course, buying a bouquet of flowers couple of times a week is definitely on his list, however, Y/N doesn't like it when he spends so much money on her -whether it be shopping branded clothes or a date at an expensive restaurant-, and Harry respects her wishes. It's more like giving her a proper massage, baking cookies with each other or having a karaoke night he's enjoying the most.
Or preparing a refreshing bath for his soulmate just as he is doing now.
He whistles a random tune while watching the warm water fill the bathtub a few centimeters under the rim. Additionally, he throws Y/N's favorite bath bomb in and after all of it has mixed with the transparent fluid, he decorates the surface with many rose petals. Lightening a few aroma candles here and there-he knows they calm her nerves-, the view that presents itself before his eyes is something he can be very proud of. He pats himself on the shoulder. It's actually the first time he tries this romantic gesture- it is usually his wife who'd prepare a self-care bath for the two of them.
"Thank you, Pinterest," he says, taking out his phone and clicking on the picture he has screenshotted hours ago. He takes a few steps back, holding the device into the air. His gaze switches between the Pinterest version and his own work. He smiles, "Yep, almost identical."
The next stop is at the kitchen where a bowl with fruits and a little plate of feel good foodies are already waiting for him. Balancing them on his hands, he returns to the bathroom, putting them on top a stool he has placed next to the bathtub. With a tray of alcohol-free cocktails, the evening of relaxation can finally begin.
Now all he has to do is to wake up the sleeping beauty on the couch.
"Oh my sleeping queen," he sighs upon entering the living room. Sounds cheesy, but come on, he's a songwriter with an advanced range of knowledge when it comes to poetry. Besides, he cannot say he doesn't like giving her pet names. Actually, he thrives off of it.
Drawing closer to her sleeping physique, he cautiously goes down on his knees. With one hand, he tenderly combs through her hair, untangling the knots that have formed within the long strands. Analysing her from top to bottom, he cannot hold back the nasty thoughts that he conjures up in his mind. The tight red dress she's currently wearing is tempting him, screaming 'rip me off' but no, he won't do it. Not yet, and certainly not tonight.
"Wakey wakey, little dove," Harry sings-songs into her ear. He kisses her temple ever so softly, then proceeds to nudge the tip of his nose against hers. He repeats this again until the young woman stirs and awakens.
Y/N blinks a couple of times, weary eyes written with exhaustion, however, she manages to grace him with a weak smile.
"Hello there," she murmurs, attempting not to fall back to sleep.
"You had a good nap, my love?" the young man inquires curiously, cupping her cheek with his palm.
His wife lifts up her thump, forming a vertical line. "So so."
