Drowning

Twelve;

Harry followed behind me, entering my bedroom. He stayed quiet as we did so, his eyes peeling around the entire space.

"It's so you," he murmurs, a small smile on his face.

"How?" I chuckle, walking myself over to my bed and slumping down onto it.

"It's so colourful, unpredictable." he says, smiling. "Like, hey, here's a bookshelf full of classics. But then, one slight turn of the head, and hey, three different sized dildos!" he laughs, shaking his head.

"Problem?" I shrug.

"Not at all," he says amusedly. "Not a single thing in this room matches and I love it."

"I'm offended," I fake-gasp.

"Red silk duvet, purple curtains, vintage rug... and countless plants. I feel like I'm in a hippies chamber," he laughs, his dimples prominent. I couldn't help but blush slightly.

"It's just more exciting than monochrome," I mumble, picking at the duvet.

"Yeah, you'd hate my apartment," he chuckles.

"Modern?"

"It's just most motivating to me," he says. "I like plain and organised."

"Are you saying that this isn't organised?" I say, feigning offence.

"It's tidy, don't get me wrong," he says. "It's just a lot." he laughs.

"Well, I like colours." I smile.

"I can see that," he smiles back.

Once Harry had finished eyeing up the entirety of my bedroom, he came and stood between my legs, his frame feeling so tall and powerful as he stood above me.

"Can I help you?" I chuckle, craning my neck up to look at him. Shit, he looked good from this angle. "You know, this position you're stood in kind of feels like I'm about to suck your dick."

"Zahara!" Harry laughs, his dimples showing, along with the sweet creases by his eyes.

"Sorry," I chuckle.

"Don't be sorry," he smiles. "I don't think I get what you mean, though. I'm a practical learner, by the way." he smirks cheekily. I laugh, swatting his thigh.

"Oh, I'm sure," I laugh.

"Zahara," he says, his smile faltering. "I meant what I said earlier,"

"When?" I ask, feeling a little nervous. I looked down, avoiding his intense eye contact.

"You know," he says softly, gently pushing my shoulders until I was laying on the bed. He climbed on top of me, and I felt my heart beat begin to increase, the way it often seemed to around this man. "When I said that I'm a whore," he winks, a cheeky grin spreading across his features as he held himself up above me.

"I hate you," I laugh, attempting to push at his chest. But it was so hard. "You're a brick."

"Yeah? Wanna feel something else that's hard?" he says.

"Are you horny or something?" I chuckle, shaking my head.

"I don't really know," he sighs, pushing himself away to lay down beside me. "I think, there's a part of me, that always wants to bone you when I see you." he says, his voice so casual and serious. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Harry," I laugh.

"Sorry," he chuckles, looking over at me.

"It's okay," I say. "The feelings mutual."