Pam's POV
I wake to an empty bed, reaching over I still search for Harry, still drowsy, clinging to his pillow. It smells just like him, I snuggle it until a click is heard. When I look over I see Harry exiting with a towel hung lowly on his hips, his body glistening with droplets of water. Jesus, I need Jesus and holy water, maybe a bible or an exorcism.
My eyes meet his, they're a bright green, they're so beautiful, he looks like a sex god, he is dammit, whereas I look like a zombie, probably, messy hair, grey eyes, no makeup, pale as hell. Then again I've been going outside quite a bit lately... I probably look like hell.
"Good morning beautiful." He grins, walking over to kiss my lips. Even today my eyes flutter closed and electricity shocks my body. I don't respond, I hate mornings, what's so good about them? I mean, yeah, you woke up again, but you still have to face life. Life is a dick, not like a guys, but ya know...
"What? Nothing?" He hovers over me, placing a hand on either side of me. I love his body, I'm infatuated with it. I stay quiet, I hate my morning voice, it's raspy and ew. Just no. Give me half an hour maybe?
He leans down to kiss the spot right under my ear, on the jaw bone but also right next to the soft skin of my neck, where a burst of tingles and electricity explode and linger.
"Is someone going to be a bad girl for me this morning?" He asks in a seductive tone causing my heart to race and my stomach tingle. His lips brush my neck, I whimper, he hit that one spot.
"Harry.." I whine, giggling.
"Do you need to be punished?" He gently sucks at the skin. Does he mean morning sex? Oh god.. maybe if mornings were like this I might be excited to wake up...
"No.." I squeak, holding the duvet close to my chest. He nips the skin then looks at me again.
"Later then." He smirks, spinning around and walking over to our dresser to retrieve a pair of black boxers, he turns around as the towel drops to the floor. I pull the duvet over my head only to have his body straddle mine and gently tug the blanket down from my face. "Shy?" He teases, laughing a little. "Nothing you haven't seen before." He nudges my cheek with his nose so I look at him.
"Harry.." I whine, he gets up and rips the covers off me, the cold air hitting my skin, I glare at him, sitting up until he wraps his arms around me tightly, lying me back down and just... holding me. "Whatcha doin' there?" I mumble agaisnt his shoulder.
"Have I ever mentioned I love your voice?" He asks.
"No."
"Oh, well I do, it's a beautiful sound really." I confusedly thank him. I mean, I know I have an accent and all but I hate my voice on tape, it sounds weird, some days I sound British and I don't even know how that happens because I'm from Wisconsin, I have a little Irish and German in my blood.
"Are you hungry?" He stands up again, I nod, pulling the duvet back up my legs.
"Yeah." It's morning, of course I'm starving sweetie. But, like the good person I am, I leave that bit out. "Will you toss me my phone?" I ask him as he starts for the door.
He grabs it and tosses it to me, luckily the device lands on the empty space between my legs. I would've had a heart attack if it broke.
*****
That afternoon Harry and I are just not-so-silently watching a comedy movie. We're laughing our asses off, his laugh is the most wonderful sound, I love it. I briefly forget the hate I read this morning. I knew I shouldn't have, Harry's been warning me for ages not to go on twitter or anything because he doesn't want me to read the hate. Well, being the curious bitch I am I read it, and regretted it. It was so mean, I cried in the shower later that day, throwing my razor out so I wouldn't try anything, then throwing my comb out because I thought about running that across my skin until I bled.
