tee face

“Aren’t you coming in?”

Request: A concept of Harry in the shower?

Smut, my friends. Just smut.

He’s slow to get out of bed, long limbs stretching out causing him to moan quietly before bringing his hands to his face to rub the sleep away. The cold air pricks his skin, hissing as feet contact the cold floor because someone must have the air on in the middle of October. Goosebumps decorate his skin, he wants desperately to crawl back into the warmth you provide, to burrow under the sheets return to his dreams but, he also wants a nice hot shower.

Cold hands duck back under the covers encountering your sleepy warm cheeks. He grins as he folds the covers back, you’re not the most peaceful sleeper so your hair is fanned over your face, oversized tee-shirt bunched up under your chest but H thinks you look so sweet. Eyelashes kissing the soft skin of your cheekbones, lips parted and hands tangled into the warm white sheets. He just wants to kiss and touch each little part of you. Which he plans on doing, just not right now.

“M’takin’ a shower, my love.” He mumbles hoarsely, voice still weak as it struggles to wake up. “If you want to join me, you know where I’ll be.” He presses gentle kisses on your forehead before bending up at the waist and walking into the bathroom. There is no undressing to be done, you took care of that last night. So, he simply flicks on the facet and waits until the water is challenging hell itself. When fog has formed on the bathroom mirrors and the shower door is now opaque with steam, he hops in mewing at the hot droplets that dance down his skin.

Not to long after, he hears the door creek open. A smug grin splashes on his face, it’s a well-known fact in your relationship that taking a shower with each other is far nicer than taking a shower alone, which explains why you’re standing in the bathroom in H’s oversized tee, cold and verging on grumpy. His head has now poked out of the condensation covered glass door and he’s giving you this smile that makes your heart pound because he just looks so good. Droplets of water cling to each strand of curly brown hair, the warm water has added a red tinge to his skin and his dimples are so deep you swear you could practically live there. “Well, aren’t you coming in?”

When you’ve finally made it in the shower, his hands steady you at your hips. You’re still waking up so you’re wobbly but with his large fingers holding firmly to the fragile skin, you feel completely steady. He’s got you pulled into his warm chest rubbing your back as the water cascades down it. Your ear is pressed against his chest, a small hand pressed flush to the dash of curls lined under his bellybutton. This causes him to groan, his head rests atop yours, you’re both still sleepy, eyes heavy but as large hands begin to make their way down your body, you begin to fully awaken. His finger has captured your chin, pulling your face to meet his. With a wink and half a smile, he kisses you. It’s soft and enthusiastic but not overpowering, his hand snakes into your wet hair sighing softly into the kiss as he pulls you closer. God, he just loves having you so close. His lips press feverish kisses onto your bruised lips. He’s moaning into the kiss now, a knee pushing its way between your thighs, rolling his hips at the thought of you. He’s hot and with you pressed so closely against him so early in the morning he’s getting hotter and he wants you.

The shower wall is cold, colored tiles press into the soft skin of your back as H gently shoves you against them. His hands encase your face holding you so close, his eyes dance back and forth between yours asking permission to continue. With a quick nod from you, he smiles again, puffy lips press softly against your forehead, to your nose and lips and he’s back at it again. Tongue swiping your lower lip, biting down on it gently as your hands tangle in his wet hair giving a firm tug. Something he fucking loves. His hands are everywhere now, wanting to take his time and appreciate each part of you but wanting everything too desperately to slow down.

“Fuck, just come here.” His hands are pawing at your thighs, growling deliciously at the first form of contact. “God, just want you.” He expresses, hips rolling seeking pleasure in the most delicate of places. The water has now begun to chill, causing H to hiss when the first stream of cold water hits his back, but if anything, it makes him speed along his actions. He’s so vocal, so quick to tell you how good you feel or perfect you are. His face is buried in your neck, mouthing at your collarbone as he devours you. The water is frigid, each thrust causing him to fall back into the freezing stream but it feels so good. Everything feels so good and you’re wrapped so tightly around him. Nails rake down wet, tan skin. Eyes squeezing shut as everything becomes too much.

It’s easy to see why taking showers together is much better than taking showers separately, but boy, does it run up the water bill.

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