Dark Song (Mature HS)

11

For a man who claims to be horrible at relationships, Harry's perfect. He massages my sore shoulders, kisses over the hickeys and holds me tightly as we have our bath together.

I love the image in front of me. My smaller feet beside his own, the contrast between man and woman clear. Harry's busy kissing my neck to fully pay attention to that, but it's my favorite sight at the moment.

"You are perfection," he whispers, my eyes closing.

"No one's perfect," I claim, his arm tightening over my chest.

"You're my kind of perfection," he corrects, my cheeks flushing. His tattooed arm contrasts my skin, though the marks give off a vibe that's anything but innocent.

"I have an interview," he whispers, my body moving forward as his lips trace my spine.

"I'm going to tell them I'm seeing someone," he says, my eyes opening. I turn slightly but enough for his lips to touch mine.

"We should tell your dad first," he breathes, my stomach turning. "I'm not going to look forward to that shit, but I've never felt this good. I want people to know I'm with someone."

He brushes my hair back and kisses my cheek. "Are you sure?" I ask. "Because he might break us up."

"He's bound to find out sooner or later. I thought this would have been just some fun little fucks, but fuck...I never thought I'd start feeling something," he says, my body turning. My hands grab his cheeks, his eyes on mine and I kiss him lightly.

"Don't go all sappy on me. I want the bear that mauled me back," I whisper, his lips curving. He lifts me out of the tub and sets me down, wiping me off after draining the tub. He wipes himself off and I put my panties on, his boxers up his legs.

"I feel like when I look at you, I've marked up an angel," he says, my body turning around. His eyes wander my body, my mainly bare body not minding his eyes.

"Perhaps I've found that name for you," he says, my eyes meeting his.

"What do you mean?" I ask, his hands grabbing.

"You know that shitty name of endearment people in relationships give each other?" he asks, my head nodding. He leans his head down and kisses me gently before letting me go.

"I think I might just call you angel," he whispers, my heart racing. "How would you like that?"

My cheeks flush and he grabs them, looking up at me. He leans down and presses the slowest, unrushed kiss on my lips. I lean into him and I feel his lips curve against mine, my heart racing but I smile through it.

"Are you too sore to make love?" he asks, my lips releasing a laugh.

"I never could be too sore for that," I say, his hands easily lifting me onto him. As soon as I'm laid down on his bed, my body is his. Tangled in the sheets, his hands stay entwined with mine. His lips are soft tonight. There is nothing that compares to him.

After our time together, he lays on his side, softly touching me as I lie on my back. My head rests on his arm and his lips are touching my jaw.

"You're making me change," he says, my eyes opening to look at him. I turn to face him and his arms contain me, holding me close.

"In what way, Harry Styles?" I ask, his hand running against my back.

"I never cuddle and now that all I want to fucking do," he tells me, making me smile. "I like seeing you smile, to a point I'd do anything to see it. I-I don't know what to do anymore. I'm literally at your mercy," he whispers, my hand grabbing his.