(DISCONTINUED)

○ 3.3 :: Why ○

Dedicated to stalkingfiveidiots bc woah calm down Sherlock Holmes.

It's nearly Halloween and idk if I can update before then bc my teachers have decided to drown me in homework for the week holiday so enjoy this picture of Harry holding a pumpkin.

*

"Jesus, at least give a guy some warning," Harry muttered as I tugged his sweatpants off of my legs as soon as he put me down.

"I'm pretty sure you've seen several naked ladies in your time," I pointed out. "And you literally saw me more naked than this the day you met me."

Harry hummed as he recalled the memory, then pondered this for a few moments. "I'm seriously starting to consider the possibility that you were trying to seduce me."

I placed my hands on my hips and fix him with an incredulous look. "And how did you come to that conclusion?"

"Why else would you strip in front of somebody the day you meet them?" He asked, as if I was stupid for even wondering why.

I simply shrugged and picked up the sweatpants, beginning to fold them up. "It's just never really seemed all that important to me."

Harry stopped and stared at me for a long while - long enough that I began to feel slightly uncomfortable - before turning away and muttering under his breath as he wandered over to the bed. "You had better never have that same opinion around any other guys," he warned, only half talking to me as he sat up against the headboard and pulling the blanket over his legs.

"Oh please, it's literally like a bikini," I scoffed, placing the folded up material on Harry's desk.

Harry tucked his hands behind his head and leant on them, letting out a short breath. The action made his muscles bulge even more, the tight long sleeve t-shirt he was wearing doing nothing to hide it from me. I marveled in the way he could make such a simple movement so attractive. "Don't ever even mention that when we're talking about you and other guys. I haven't even seen you in a bikini yet."

"Firstly, it's October," I reminded him, placing my hands on my hips. "And secondly: jeez, possessive much? You don't own me. Besides, do I really seem like the type to just dish it out?"

"You just said the words 'dish it out' in a normal conversation and you're not even thirty," Harry deadpanned. "Who knows what else you do?"

I huffed. "Harry, be serious."

"I am being serious," he insisted. I shot him a look. "I'm kidding, Pumpkin," he assured me. "But still, no bikinis - or stripping."

I raised an eyebrow. "At all?"

"I didn't say that," he rushed, as if he were genuinely worried that I'd take his statement literally. "Just... I'd rather be the only to ever see you like that."

I rolled my eyes and made my way over, sliding beneath the sheets so I was laying next to him. "You probably will be, to be honest," I admitted, and my words seemed to startle Harry, because he dropped his armsand stared down at me from where he was sitting with his lips parted slightly. "What?" I questioned, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

He shook his head and looked down at his lap. "Nothing," he said quietly, before plastering a familiar smirk on his face. "You're not as innocent as you let on, dickmuncher. You know what they say about the quiet ones."

I prodded his thigh, narrowing my eyes. "Your dìck is in munching distance right now, so watch out," I threatened.

Harry grimaced, looking straight ahead. "Let's not talk about the proximity of your mouth to my dìck," he suggested, then paused and let his eyes travel to me. "In fact, you should probably sit up."