camp cherry two | hs

twenty seven

...

✩︎

HANA

"Harry?" I mumble, my voice thick and groggy from sleep.

"Cherry? You awake?" he comments softly, brushing his thumb over my forehead to sweep a few loose strands of hair away.

I only hum in response, stretching widely with a groan of satisfaction. Sitting up straight and still a little confused about my surroundings, my head feeling fuzzy still, I rub my eyes, apparently forgetting I have mascara on. I groan tiredly, flopping back down into Harry's bare chest and yawning loudly.

I glance around the dark room, seeing the dress I had been wearing hung a little haphazardly in the open closet, every surface now clean instead of the mess that had drowned it before.

"You cleaned up?" I question, my eyes barely open and voice still quiet.

"A bit, are you okay?"

"Yeah," I nod, still half asleep.

"You passed out, pretty much. I got you changed, that's okay, right?"

"Harry, I really don't care if you undress me at this point," I chuckle lightly, burying my face into his neck and nudging my nose against his soft curls. "You're warm," I mutter into his tanned skin, reaching around to lace my fingers through his hair and enjoy how fluffy it is, giving me the presumption he must've had a shower.

"Just shush, Cherry, hold me," he whispers, falling from his elbow and looping his arm around me, hand resting on my waist as he pulls me closer. Sneakily pressing a kiss to my neck, he inhales gently to smell the scent of cherries, which had now become permanently infused with vanilla, Harry's distinctive aroma. "Can I kiss you?" he murmurs, tracing the curve of my bottom lip with his thumb. Carefully, he slides the tip of his finger inside my mouth and leans forward to rest his forehead and nose against mine.

He easily connects our lips in a kiss, sweet and hot, and I feel like I'm melting in every way possible.

"Time?"

"Half twelve," he answers with a small yawn, drawing lines and random shapes against my skin, my - well, his - shirt pulled up on one side.

"Are you still drunk?" I tease, noticing the slight slur of his voice (and mine as I speak, though I'm not sure if it's caused by tiredness or the haziness of alcohol still coursing through my veins). I drank way too much, and I'm not sure how either of us got away with it considering we're both underage.

"Don't think so, but you definitely are," he chuckles softly, pinching the skin covering my ribs softly as my fingertips land on his cherry tattoo. "Figured being fucked until you passed out would've sobered you up a bit, but clearly not," he smirks arrogantly from beside me, thinking I wouldn't notice his smugness. Judging by the sharp inhale he steals when I pinch his skin harshly, I'm guessing he realises I heard perfectly well.

"Fucked until I passed out?" I question teasingly, flipping to sit comfortably on his strong thighs, slightly off to the side so my already-soaking core is right above his tiger tattoo that I love so much; I'm aware he could easily shove me off and have me pinned against the mattress in seconds, but he clearly enjoys the way my hand slides along his defined chest, wrapping around his throat loosely. My fingernails dig into his shoulder deeply way too much to even breathe out a small complaint, "I don't recall."

"That's because you were belligerently drunk, Cherry. Your memory tends to suffer in moments like that," he mocks, clearly unafraid by my hand tightening around his neck, choking him increasingly harder until his jaw clenches in pleasure and his eyes are actively fighting the urge to roll back into his head.