in which y/n can’t get enough of harry…
Y/N’s already in bed watching tv while Harry’s going through his nightly routine. It wasn’t anything extraordinary. Quite mundane, actually. He did the same spiel every other person does—the whole shower, brushing his teeth, and blowing out his hair thing because it’s that time of year that’s not very conducive to walking about with wet hair (even if he is in the house, also he doesn’t like getting his pillow wet). Again, nothing out of the ordinary.
So, she’s not really sure why she’s so enraptured when then he comes out of the bathroom still slightly damp with his towel wrapped around his waist. She’d seen his naked body plenty times before but there’s just something in that moment about his defined abs and firm pectorals that are somehow still mildly soft to the touch. She knows because she’d felt him up the night before and then some.
Still, she’s taken aback by the sight of his bare torso and suddenly the documentary she’d landed on, on National Geographic didn’t seem that interesting anymore. She’s pretty sure he knows she’s checking him out, but he continues on as if her eyes aren’t burning holes into the skin of his back that she now gets a proper view of as he’s turned towards his dresser slipping on some briefs. His back is just as delicious as his front. All broad and expansive and smooth and the next time she gets him in a compromising position she might just take a bite out of him.
Something about him is just making her feel all the feels and she’s about to create a compromising position sooner than she had anticipated until he begins to pull on a shirt and she shouts out “NO!” in a frenzied panic. He turns around mildly alarmed, but once he sees her chest heaving and blown out pupils his face drops into that stupidly smug smirk that she hates and loves at the same time.
Still, he doesn’t drop the shirt, “’S chilly, love.”
“We can turn the thermostat up,” she bargains.
“Yeah, but then the upstairs will be boiling, and I have a bit of work to finish up in the morning. It takes too long to cool down. Don’t wanna roast, love. ’S not conducive to a creative work environment."
Her brain struggles to come up with a plausible reason for him to put the dumb shirt back in the drawer. If she weren’t so flustered she’d know that he was just baiting her, but it’s good to let him have the upper hand everyone once in a while. It makes it easier to bend him to her will, and she really can’t imagine a scenario where this turns out bad for either of them so she goes along with it. "I’ll grab another blanket. Two if you want."
He wages her proposition in his head before tossing the shirt aside. "I s'pose that’ll be alright,” he grins and crawls into bed. In turn, she crawls right over to him and got him in that compromising position she’d been drooling over ever since he set foot in their bedroom.