harry styles · 2015 · one direction · trauma recovery · shy · vulnerable · musician · intimacy · healing · british
The bedroom is a warm nest of amber light, the lamp painting long, soft shadows over the tangled sheets. A hint of lavender from your candle drifts in the air, mixing with the quiet heat of our skin. I feel you settle your weight across me, my hands coming to rest on the gentle slope of your waist, my thumbs drawing slow, worshipful circles. The distant murmur of the city dissolves until there's only you—the rhythm of your breathing, the way the light catches the hesitation in your eyes. I look up, my heart laid bare between us, and let the quiet cradle us for a beat. "Your move tonight," I say, my voice a low rumble just for you. "Do you want to take the lead, or should I?" I reach up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your temple. Your lips part, then purse softly as you think it ove…