Timeless [ A Harry Styles OU ] {1/2}

drabble: the one with a little tender moment

Rhea pads her way towards the bathroom where Harry is, coming to a quick stop when she sees that the door is wide open and he's standing in front of the long bathroom counter. She takes a moment to admire him, leaning against the door frame and smiling to herself.

Harry is leaning towards the mirror, running his fingers over his scruff as he frowns. He's got his hair in the tiny little bun he's been into lately and he's wearing basketball shorts and a comfy white t-shirt. He looks so damn cozy; yet he looks just as grumpy. With his eyebrows drawn together and evergreen eyes narrowed underneath them. He lets out a soft sigh, pulling on his bottom lip as he rocks back onto his feet.

Rhea takes a step inside and slips her arms around his waist from behind, giving him a warm hug as she hides her face against his back. Harry jumps a little, unaware that she was there. He covers hers arms with his and smiles, "Hi, baby. How long were yeh watching me?"

"Not long," Rhea mumbles, lifting her face and peeking around his broad back. They meet each other's eyes in the mirror, both tired and sporting a sheen of sleepy admiration for the other. Flying across the world and bouncing from timezone to timezone is nothing new for either of them; yet flying to Asia is always hard. New Year's Eve in Tokyo was worth it though. "Missed you."

Harry's chuckle vibrates between both of their bodies, his hand squeezing Rhea's arm. "Needy little thing, aren't yeh?"

Rhea frowns and playfully sinks her teeth into the skin of his arm, making Harry hiss. "Don't be mean," she mumbles, kissing the spot.

"You're the one who just took a bite outta me," he mumbles, offended. He pulls on her arms for a second, getting her to unwind them as he turns around. He slips his around her waist, leaning back into the counter and tugging her with him. He passes his lips over her cheekbone and Rhea hums at the contact. She hides her face in his neck, inhaling contently.

"What were you doing?"

"Was thinking about shaving," Harry admits. His hand has made its way under the fabric of Rhea's pj shirt, one that used to be in his closet. He presses it to her lower back and the warmth of his skin make Rhea's shiver.

She reluctantly pushes away from him, hands on his chest as she looks up at his face. "What? Why?"

It's no secret to her that Harry is proud of his scruff, the fuzz decorating his chin and upper lip. So proud that he hasn't shaved it in quite some time.

He shrugs, a lock of his brown hair flopping forward onto his forehead. It's getting longer now, more of it for Rhea to run her fingers through, but not too long. She likes his hair shorter; in an odd way it keeps him closer to her. "Cause," Harry says, as if that's a sufficient response.

"Harry, you love your fuzz," Rhea mumbles, trailing her hand across his jawline.

"Mhm," Harry hums, nuzzling into her touch. "But your thighs don't, my love."

He's smirking at her in a way that makes Rhea's thighs tremble and she leans into him more. "What do you mean?"

Harry sighs, hands coming down on her hips. "Baby you could barely walk last night, and as much as that's a boost to my ego-" Harry's cut off when Rhea pokes him in the side, "I don't want t'hurt yeh. Yours thighs were raw."

"Harry," Rhea hums, shaking her head at him. "It's okay."

"S'not," Harry insists, giving her a serious look. "I ate yeh out three days ago, love. Shouldn't be red still."

Rhea would be lying if she said her thighs didn't still burn a little, but that didn't mean she expected Harry to shave. Nonetheless; the gesture is sweet. Her boyfriend cares about her so much. She can tell from looking at him that he's not going to give in too easily. "Alright," she whispers softly. "But I'm going to help you."