Chapter Eighteen

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I never envisioned my Sunday mornings to be like this. Not while I'm in college at least.

Harry's head rests on my stomach and my hand is tangled in his hair. I comb through it and gently untangle the curls. His hair is so soft and long. I can't help but stare at him right now. His face is peaceful and the frown lines he has when he's awake have smoothened out and disappeared.

Right now he's being extremely cuddly with me. His body is wrapped around mine and right now the bad ass Harry he usually is has dissolved into thin air. Naturally I begin to braid through his hair out of a habit of it being able to keep my hands still. Down one side I begin to french braid it and he shuffles slightly and I pull my hands away from his hair, worried he might wake up and be annoyed.

"Mmm, don't stop." He hums.

His voice is full of sleep and I practically melt. I've never heard anything so wonderful. The fact he wants me to leave my hands tangled in his hair is even more perfect, he's not pushing me away.

I run my fingers back through his hair and finish off one of the braids. I tug lightly at the roots of his hair and his breathing picks up, awakening him and aroused by the gentle pulling I'm sure.

"Turn your head." I whisper.

He shifts his head so the other side of his face is pressed against my stomach and I begin to do the same thing I had done to the other side. The braids are pretty tight and I pull them out just a little, except for I have no elastic to hold them in place. I notice one on Harry's wrist and reach for it. He doesn't pull away when I slip it over his hand. Not wanting to move I take the elastic from my hair, letting it fall into a curly, knotted mess down my back and tie his other braid off.

A section of stray curls down the middle of his head is wild and I tell myself I'll braid it back once I use the bathroom.

"Harry, move over I have to pee." I whisper.

Harry shifts his body off of mine and rolls to the other side of the bed, pulling the blanket over his shoulders and nuzzling his head into the pillows. I get up and make my way to the bathroom and decide it would be a good idea to brush my teeth while I'm in here, so I do.

When I open the door to the bathroom and begin to head back to my room, I notice Harry isn't cuddled up on my bed anymore, he's standing in the kitchen. A glass of water in one hand and the other pressed against the top of the counter holding him up. His back muscle toned under his smooth skin, the black Calvin Klein boxers covering his ass but clinging to it nicely and I find myself wishing they weren't on him.

"Making yourself at home I see." I say to him, humor evident in my voice.

I take a cup from one of the cupboards and fill it with water and take a sip, just like him. He glances at me with a smile and rolls his eyes. He finishes off his water and the glass gently clanks inside the sink when he sets it down.

"Of course. We're friends, it's normal." He laughs.

"You're right." I hum.

"Come here." He summons.

The friendly demeanor has shifted, not to something uncomfortable but to tension. Sexual tension, more like. I set my cup down and he pulls me into him, our practically naked bodies pressed against each other. He cups my face with his hands and brings my lips to his. I feel him growing against my hip and I separate our lips, my hands tracing above the elastic band of his boxers. My fingers slowly dip into the elastic, the fabric confining and agitating for him I'm sure. I slowly pull his boxers down his body, a sigh of relief and freedom escaping his lips. The fabric pools to his ankles and he doesn't bother kicking them away.

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