Work Text:
Rolled 2 - Prompt B
"How do you take your tea?" - Minimum: 122 words - Maximum: 622
It was warm. Overly so. It was also ridiculously bright. And why was there a warm body behind me; where the fuck was that light coming from? Who did that belong to? I didn’t roll over, not because I was scared.
Okay, well yes. I was scared, but I was also overly confused. Who the fuck was behind me? And why the fuck did we not have any clothes on? My head was too thick to think.
Fuck it. I’m going back to sleep.
****
When I woke up again, the bed was empty but the room was still unfamiliar to me. What the actual fuck.
I lay in bed hoping to get at least some idea about where I was. I thought back to last night, what a fucking mess. I vaguely remember going to that stupid new club with Blaise. I look around, nope. Not Blaises. Fuck.
Fucking Blaise. Somehow I’m sure this is all his fucking fault. I remember drinking that fucking new firewhisky, made specifically for this fucking club.
The new up and coming gay club just off Diagon Alley. Fucking hell. Why did Thomas fucking open it?
I look around, There’s not even any pictures around so I can work out who’s fucking room I’m in. I find some jeans on the floor, I think they’re mine. Fuck it, even if they’re not I’m putting them on. I walk into the bathroom, do my business and wander the house looking for the occupant.
Entering the kitchen, I stop suddenly. Standing there, with the most beautiful, naked back I’ve ever seen staring back at me, is Harry fucking Potter. He’s wearing absolutely nothing but jeans slung extremely low on his hips.
Fuck me.
He turns around and smiles brightly when he sees me.
“Morning,” he says with a small smile.
“Uhm,” I stumble. “Morning?” I know it comes out as a question but it really was. What the fuck was the time.
“How do you take your tea?” It’s a question that Harry asks so innocently, like we’re not both standing in his kitchen, half naked, sex hair like never before. Fuck me. There’s that twinge in my arse reminding me of last night.
I can’t help the smile on my face as I think it over.
“Milk and one.”
“Coming right up.”
Little did I know, it was the first of many, many mornings that would start like this.