A/N: @tastelikestars this one's for you, just a little thank you for all your lovely support!

There is something intensely sensual about being nakedly wrapped around another person.  No barriers with skin against skin, limbs tangled together as two bodies mold into one.  These personal moments that two people share are the most precious there are.  When everything else pales into insignificance but the two of you, lost in each other.

The most beautiful man I have ever set my eyes upon is, at this moment, nakedly wrapped around me.  He has just made love to me for the first time and my whole body is still tingling from him and the high he so lovingly gifted me.   

For ten minutes he caressed me down from that high with tender kisses all over my body and gentle strokes over my skin.  Then we laid parallel facing one another and deep in our own thoughts.  Although not a word passed between us, his emeralds expressed everything he was feeling as their passionate gaze held mine and we basked together in the bliss of us.  Finally, he wrapped himself around me and we have laid that way ever since.  His fingers continually trace delicate patterns on my hip, up my arm, across my shoulder and down the contour of my back. 

Of course, I was cautious about giving myself to him.  Not that I didn't want to, far from it, but after what happened last night, I had to be sure it wasn't a knee jerk reaction on his part just because he had woken up next to me.  He had been through a tumultuous week but I wasn't just going to be something to satisfy his thirst. 

But when he said that he felt 'free' it was so heartfelt and sincere I knew he spoke the truth.  It was clearly evident from his whole body language and the telltale window through his eyes into his mind that a heavy weight had lifted off his shoulders.

The sheer relief that he was okay was all it took to finally break me and I simply couldn't hold back the tears that fell on his skin.  I am annoyed with myself that I lost it because he has enough going on at the moment in that fascinatingly fractured mind of his without me adding to the burden.

As I am beginning to learn, he is unselfishly giving in everything he does.  He made it all about me as he soothed me from my angst.  We didn't just have sex, it was simple stripped-back lovemaking at its pure finest.  Relishing each other's need to be together and satisfy each other.  Whilst we explored each other a little bit, I craved him inside of me and that's where he wanted and needed to be.  This is just the beginning of our relationship and I know we've got plenty of time to explore each other. 

First times are normally awkward, disjointed and clumsy as couples stumble their way through.  After everything he went through, I didn't want to lay back and let him have to take all the control.  I wanted to show him that I wanted him.  I was certainly not backwards in coming forwards and I surprised myself because I usually let my partner take the lead.

When I say 'usually', I have only slept with a total of three people in my life.  Jason was my 'boyfriend', in the loose sense of the word, for just over 18 months and subsequently I had two random hook-ups on the rebound from him.  I am not going to compare lovers but let's say the two rebounders were drunken, fumbling mistakes.  With Jason, sex (because after my wonderful experience with Harry there is no way I could ever now refer to it as lovemaking) was basic at its best.    

Harry is so sensitive and gentle but playful and sexy all at the same time.  I love how all of him fits to me, like we are two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle cut to fit precisely together.  His body is so strong and defined but the way every inch of him glided fluidly over me felt rhythmically soft, his skin velvety against mine.

He is certainly in a league of his own because although he is not my first, he has given me something that I can only describe as a monumentally special first.  He is the only person to have found the spot hidden amongst my walls that has, until now, lain undiscovered.  After he found it, he teased me and drove me crazy with desire for him as he pounded it over and over. The evidence of my euphoria is littered all over the surface of his skin in a series of small half-moon nail marks that I dug into him as every muscle, ridge and curve of him rolled against me. 

However, it was that deep, lustful raspy request of his to 'come with me' that tipped me over the edge.  As he entwined his fingers in mine and I gazed straight into his mesmerising greens, we both began freefalling to our climax.     

And here I lay; happily sated as the pleasurable ache from his delicious stretch and the exquisite ecstasy of my high still tingle inside me. Never before have I experienced such all-consuming closeness with someone.  He makes me feel alive and believe that anything is possible.   

The room grows steadily lighter as the day dawns outside.  A feint stream of light beams through a gap in the curtains.  I rest my palm flat against Harry's chest and place my chin on top to look at him.  He seems to have a fascination with my hair.  He's always running it through or twisting it around his fingers.  I am not complaining, I love the feeling of him playing with it.  It is normally Olive who indulges but Harry is the more desirable alternative.  

He rises up and off the sofa and despite being under the blanket, I immediately feel chilled at the loss of him near me.  He is so confident in his own skin that the fact he is starkers doesn't phase him at all.  He gathers our scattered clothing in his hands and neatly places the pile on the chair opposite. 

He is fascinating to watch, how he moves and flexes.  His agile body is toned to within an inch of its life compared to his hair, a wild, tangled mess of curly bed head.  He puts on his boxers then kneels on the floor in front of me with his arms folded and resting on the edge of the sofa.   

"I am going to make you breakfast in bed or should I say breakfast on the sofa."

I giggle stupidly at him, "Why don't we go out for breakfast?"

"Hmm," he screws up his nose in contemplation, "I'm not sure that's such a good idea." 

"Harry, it's 4am, who is going to be around at this time?"  I make a sarcastic face at him.   

"I know but if you apply the same logic, who is going to serve breakfast at this time?"  He lightly mocks my tone. 

"Well, I know a place and do you know what I think."  I say in all seriousness.  

"What's that?"  He looks at me expectantly.

"I think you need to get out of here, just for a little while."  I coax gently.   

"Oh I don't know, it's too risky. I'm not sure."  He is clearly not keen as he shakes his head.

"Harry, do you trust me?" 

He looks taken aback by my question and leans his face close to mine.  "Yes, I do, more than anything."

"Then please come with me, I want to take you somewhere." I rest my hand reassuringly on his cheek, "please just trust me, it's going to be fine." 

He smiles and leans into my touch, turning his head to press a light kiss in the centre of my palm, "okay."

"Good."  I get up, wrapping the blanket around me, and we both wade through the pile of clothes to gather what is ours.  I find my panties and hold then up on my index finger, raising my eyebrows at Harry and clearing my throat to get his attention. 

He lets out the most wicked chuckle.  "Whoops sorry!  You shouldn't be so dammed sexy then I wouldn't need to rip them off!"

"And you should be more refrained or I will need to go shopping for more!" I retort in jest.

"Ohhh yes please, black lace or red silk if you're asking."  He has the glint of the devil in his eye. 

"I wasn't!" I smirk at him, throwing the ripped panties at his head.  He ducks and they go flying past him but he's more interested in tackling me onto the sofa.  He pins me down and tickles me all over.  I let out high pitched squeals at his playfulness but manage to push him off of me. 

"We are never going to get out of here if we don't get a move on!"

"What's the rush?"  He asks, continuing to poke at my sides. 

"Need to know basis only, now hurry up!"

"Okay, you can borrow some of my boxers." He winks at me.

"They'd better be clean." I counter jovially.

"Of course!"  He looks indignant, "I'll grab you some." He disappears, I assume to upstairs, then returns fully dressed and with a pair of his boxer briefs in his hand.  I drop the blanket and quickly step into them but his eyes go wide and he saunters over to me.

"I like these on you, VERY much." His deep rasp sparks my senses as his hands skim my hips and he pulls me towards him, thrusting his core into mine. 

"Hands off or we'll never get that breakfast."  I push him away again and turn to look over my shoulder, winking in his direction and wiggling my behind in the process.

"Did you just wiggle at me?"  Harry is having extreme difficulty in keeping a straight face and bites the inside of his cheek. 

I hold my hand up exaggeratedly to my chest.  "Moi?  No Monsieur."  I respond in my poor excuse for a sexy French accent. 

"Right, you've had it." And with that he grabs me around my waist and with my legs flailing, he throws me back down on the sofa, lays on top of me and holds my legs still under his and my wrists in his hands above my head. 

I feel sheer lust for him and the same look is reflected back out to me through his eyes as we pause, only the sound of our heavy breaths collide between us. 

He lowers his lips to hover dangerously over mine.  "I'll ask you again, did you wiggle at me?"  There is no need for him to speak French; his rasp is sexy enough in English. 

"Et je le répète , je ne pas!" I can't help feeling smug at my response.  (and I will say it again, no I did not!)

"So you speak French do you?"  He looks surprised. 

"Un peu, très mal!"  I laugh. 

"Vous êtes un enfer d'une femme sexy et je suis l' homme le plus chanceux en vie en ce moment."

Oh god, there it is and I am wrong.  He does sound just as sexy speaking French as English but I try to act nonchalant and totally unimpressed.   

"Too complicated, translate please."

He rests his lips against mine and seductively translates his line.  "I said you are one hell of a sexy woman and I am the luckiest man alive right now."  Then he presses his lips on mine and I smile against his gentle kiss.   

"Much as I am hungry for more of your kisses, I am more starving for breakfast."

"Oh charming," he sighs, "let's go then."  He gets up and extends his hand to me pulling me up and into him.  His arms snake around my waist and he sways us both together. 

"Harry, honestly."  I protest. 

"Shhh, just kiss me once more then I promise we will go."

After another round of amorous kisses, I manage to dress and we finally make our way into the hallway.  I grab my shoes and Harry puts on his brown suede boots. 

"You need a hoodie, coat and I would take that fancy camera of yours."  I tick my head towards the professional piece of equipment sitting on the hall console table.   

"That suggests we are going somewhere interesting if I can take pictures."  He grabs a sweatshirt that is hanging on the end of the stair banister and pulls it over his head.  He looks excited as he grabs the camera. "What about your coat?"

"Oh it's in the car along with my boots."  I reply noticing for the first time the distinct top he has just put on.   "What does the 'G' on your sweatshirt stand for? Don't say it's geek!" I snigger.  

"Hey! No, it's a Packers sweatshirt."  His answer suggests I should understand his response but in truth I am none the wiser. 

"Packers, what's that?"

His face drops, "oh dear Lord, I have much to teach you.  I will explain in the car."

And with that he extends his hand to me and we walk out the front door hand in hand.