birds // hs

15. Glowing *

"Oh god yeah, just like that," I moaned softly. "Fuck, yes. Keep going, Har."

"Does that feel good, baby girl?"

I nodded and Harry stretched my legs a little more, pushing me into the correct yoga pose as my tense hips finally relaxed and I could let out a deep breath of relief.

"You look really fucking hot," he informed me with a cheeky grin. "I think this pose was specifically designed to make any man around you horny."

I moved my hands away from my thighs and slyly pressed one to his crotch, eliciting a low groan from his full lips as his concentration slipped and he lost focus on the instructional video currently playing on our TV.

"Oh fuck," he grit out as I giggled. "Don't-Don't do that, Rach. I swear to god I'll cum in my pants if you don't move your fucking hand in like one second."

Of course that just made me want to do it even more, so I leaned forward and kissed his lips softly while my hand continued to palm over his growing hard on. I also noted that he wasn't wearing boxers, which was odd for him to do on yoga day.

"Shit-" he let out tensely, his eyes squeezed shut as I pecked down his stubbly neck. "F-fucking hell, I-I can't-"

A slightly warm sensation bloomed under my hand as Harry let out a long string of curse words, followed by a very convincing declaration of his love for me.

"Okay, I'll be right back to finish this," he panted, running a hand over his sweaty cheeks while I sat back and admired my work. "Are you doing another load of laundry tonight? Because I'm going to need these pants for our annual kickball game tomorrow."

I perked up. "That's tomorrow? Can I come?"

"Uh." He bit his lip and really seemed to ponder the issue. "I guess so...I'll have to ask the boys but-"

"Yay!" I interrupted him with a gleeful smile. "I love kickball!"

"Um, yeah. Okay."

"What's wrong?"

He disappeared into the laundry room so I paused the video and finished my stretching.

"Nothing. I just," he poked his head out of the laundry room and grinned at me. "It's going to be a bunch of sixteen and seventeen-year-old boys pumped full of adrenaline and testosterone. I'm just worried about your feelings."

"My feelings?" I stared up at him with incredulousness as he slid on some boxers and tossed his shirt aside. "Are you implying that I'm going to lose?"

"Well I don't mean to brag, but we did win the all-school competition last year." He smiled smugly and placed his immense hands on his hips, like he was just as sure as he could possibly be.

"I kick ass at kickball!" I informed him, poking one of my index fingers into his hard chest as he stared at me. "And there is no chance in hell you're going to win against me."

"When exactly did we decide that you were on the opposite team?"

I stopped short and let my hands fall limply to my sides. "I- don't know. I guess we could be on the same team, couldn't we?"

"I suppose. The other team does already have more players..."

"Who are we playing against?"

"You're not supposed to end sentences with prepositions," Harry corrected me smartly.

God, sometimes I just wanted to punch him right in his dumb face.

"Fine," I grit out angrily. "Against whom are we playing?"