You love me, right?
A/N: Maybe not exactly what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy.
“Don’t touch me!” you giggled. But Harry didn’t listen as he continued to reach for you, narrowly avoiding the bicycle kicks you were sending his way.
“Oh, come off it, m’hands aren’t that cold,” he said with an eye roll as he finally got you to settle beneath him. His hands rested on your sides, and while your flesh was protected from his chilly fingers by the thick fabric of your sweater, you could feel the coldness hovering above.
“They are freezing, Harry.” You looked around best you could with Harry keeping you still, trying to find some way to escape. But you were trapped in the middle of the bed like a raft out to sea with no sight of shore.
“Fine, fine. Won’t touch you.” His shoulders slumped in dejection, bottom lip protruding pathetically. You looked for signs of movement; you’d been in this relationship long enough to know Harry never gave up without a fight. “But yeh know, love, cold hands mean ‘ve got a warm heart.”
Your eyebrows raised, mouth in a hard line. “That is the biggest load—”
The words hardly left your mouth before Harry’s hands infiltrated your warm sweater. He roamed the expanse of your warm body, squeezing and tickling all the spots that made you squeal. Maybe it wasn’t his cold hands, but the sound of your laugh echoing throughout his bedroom did make Harry swell with warmth.
“Harry…Harry, please,” you pleaded through heavy breaths, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. “My tummy hurts…think you’ve given me a cramp.”