Pegsters part 5 (Patreon)

Some nice, fluffy aftercare 

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v.

When Harry stood, his legs trembled and wobbled but Y/N was by his side with her holding onto him, with a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She had one palm placed against his shoulder and the other holding the hand of the same side, their fingers laced together and Harry squeezed so tightly to her hand he would be surprised if there were any circulation. He was leaning most of his weight up against her, slouching heavily and trudging his way to the bathroom, where the light gleamed into the room. 

The mats were no longer damp from his shower previous, so he didn’t have to avoid stepping on them when Y/N set him down on the toilet while she went over to the tub. Cranking the faucet to the left, simultaneously grabbing for the lavender bath milk, and hooking her pinky around the small handle attached to the nozzle of the bubbles. She works deftly; skilled in the craft of the perfect bathing experience, as she adds just the right amount of everything. The water turns a milky purple, the soft scent tickles his nose and almost immediately soothes the tension deep in his muscles from tensing and relaxing so rapidly. His thighs still shake as he moves them, his bum a pleasant sore ache as he flutters around nothing every so often. 

It takes little time for it to fill, but in the time that it does, Y/N brushed through his sweaty mop of hair promising to wash it while he’s in the tub. She continues to tell him how well he was doing, and how well he had done, a telling smile at her mouth when he would bristle at the compliments. After it finished filling to the brim, she led him into it, watching as the water sloshed beneath the bubbles, and when he sinks into the hot water, he feels almost immediately re-soothed from any tension or worry in his life. 

Almost. 

“Baby,” he tries not to sound like he’s whining, but he does a fairly poor job of it, looking up to her where she stood, having shrugged a towel around her body to keep from being completely bare, but Harry hated it, “Come in with me, please.” 

Y/N squints at him, eyeing the amount of space he’s taking up with his legs outstretched wide, and once he sees what she’s doing, he scoots himself forward to offer space behind him. She sighs but it is one laced with fondness, “I want you to be comfy, Sweetheart --”

“I will be!” Harry grumbles, brows furrowing as he reaches up with a slick hand and wraps it around the back of her knee, giving a tug, “C’mon then, get in.” 

Another sigh wracks her but Harry knows he’s getting his way when she lets the towel tied around her chest loosen and pool at her feet, not bothering to cover herself from his pointed gaze at her body as she dips her toe into the water. A gasp hisses through her teeth as she sinks her right leg in first, the rest of her coming shortly after, “Fuck sake, I forget how hot you like it when m’not filling up the tub.” 

He hums, barely waiting until she had fit her legs on either side of him before he leans into her, his back no doubt mashing her breasts up against her but Y/N only huffs and shuffles to get more comfortable. Harry liked doing this, he decided -- it made him feel loved, and safe, soaking in a warm tub with Y/N sort of wrapped around him like a backpack. He tucked his head up under her chin and let his eyes flutter shut; before Y/N, he had never been able to take a proper nap in the bath. He’d always felt uneasy about the thought of unwittingly sinking beneath the water and getting bubbles up his nose, and he’d never quite trusted anyone else to have bubble baths with hi, 

The first time he had, had a bubble bath with Y/N though -- well, he looks back on it fondly. 

It’d been after the sixth, maybe seventh time they had sex. Y/N had been slowly opening up far more to him in ways that he could only barely describe, but that trusty, floaty gaze in her eyes had let him know where their relationship was going. When his cum had splattered on her stomach and she had snuffled, wiping at her wet cheeks (which she had promised were that of pleasure, not pain, and he’d only been soothed by the fact that she was fluttering around him so intensely he knew her orgasm was rapidly approaching) and eyeing him like she wasn’t in the room, but almost like he had dug up a diamond and handed it right to her. She was soaked in his cum, her juices, both of their sweat, and lube from experimenting with her small, tight ring of muscle -- and looked very clearly, in no state to be showering on her own. Harry hadn’t realized it then, but it was the first time Y/N had entered a nice sort of subspace, and when he had reflected on it a few nights later, he remembers the warmth that had bubbled in his belly at the cognizance.

So he had filled up the tub for her and Y/N had always raved about how nice and big his tub was, so he figured she would like a nice bath. Filled it with bubbles, got her a flannel, some of his favorite body wash, and had offered to turn away from her in case she wasn’t comfortable with him practically ogling from the toilet. But she shook her head, “Get in with me.” She had told him, and how could he say no when she was looking at him like that? With her cheeks still damp beneath the light, eyes puffy, and looking so small. . .it had felt like he needed to in that moment. 

He’d not taken a bath with anyone at that point in his life, apart from maybe his sister or his cousin when they were younger. Harry had always felt like that was something very intimate, even if it didn’t seem like much, to just sit with each other in such a confined area, naked, literally bathing with one another. So anytime anyone had brought it up, he would excuse himself, get himself out of it in some way, whether saying he doesn’t want to get pruny, or he had an idea for a song, or. . .well, literally anything. 

For some reason though, the thought of getting in with Y/N felt so natural. And as she snuggled against his body, when he almost automatically reached for the flannel, wet it, and slid the cloth against her soft, warm skin, he knew that he and Y/N were different together. Harry was different with her than he had been with anyone he’s been close with in this way. . .a good different, and he was happy. 

So Harry allowed himself to relax, in the heat of the bath and against the warmth of her body, delighted goosebumps decorating his arms as she lightly traced her fingers around the skin. Y/N’s managed to unloosen no matter the position she is in, and the only moment that she does move, is when she leans them both forward to reach the honey scented shampoo and conditioner for him. Harry grumbles a disgruntled noise, but she shushes him softly, and Harry is confused but grateful for the cup on the rim of his tub. Y/N shifts so she sits a bit higher, dipping the lip of the cup into the water and letting it fill half way. 

She wets his hair, gets the shampoo and drizzles it all over his head before scratching and massaging it foamy into his scalp. Harry shudders and practically purrs, sighing as she works the foam throughout the curly, brown strands in that way that makes him wonder if she were a hairdresser in a past life. Y/N is diligent and sometimes she’ll murmur little compliments about how soft she thinks it is, and how cute he looks like this. Harry revels in her praise, tells her how well she’s doing at not getting any soap in his eye, which he’s bad at himself even with his head tilted back in the shower. The conditioner is just the same, Harry felt himself slipping into a nice halfway state of consciousness, his breathing evened out, and after she had washed his hair free of the conditioner, he laid his ear against her chest and listened to the comforting thump of her heart. 

Harry does fall asleep. He isn’t sure how long he’s out, but he does know that when he had fallen asleep the water had been hot enough that his skin was a bit steamy if it was raised above the bubbles, and by the time he is roused awake it had gone cool. Y/N had woken him with kisses to his temple that made his cock stir, even more so when he cranes his neck and tilts his chin up with his lips puckered, beckoning a kiss. Only she pats his shoulder and murmurs a soft, “C’mon Babe,” she speaks in that feathery soft voice that makes him want to snuggle closer to her, “We’re all pruny, Lovely, and m’exhausted.”

“Mm, me too,” he hums, and he feels much more grounded than he had before, pulled from his floaty space. Dragging himself up and the water sloshes as he bends his knees, he plants himself and shoving upward, squeaking when Y/N pats at his bum. He wonders if this is how she feels after she lifted out of her special space -- tired, yet invigorated. A burst of energy where he’s got a bit of a skip in his step, but he knows that as soon as his head hits the pillow, he’d be out like a light.

“Get this out of my face.” 

“Y’didn’t mind it before.” He murmurs, stepping out onto the rug and stretching out towards the ceiling with a long groan, not bothering to grab for a towel and instead dripping from the water on his way to the mirror. Squinting at himself beneath the bright light of the bathroom, he sees that his hair had partially dried in a fluffy mass. Y/N tugs at the plug, sloshed through the water, and followed him out, only she yanked her towel from the ground and wraps it around her chest. 

Harry starts to make a beeline towards the bed, but Y/N stops him with the same, “Eh, eh, eh!”  that you do to a dog yanking at the leash, “I need to change the sheets.” 

“But m’so tired!” He whines quereously, impatient, and Y/N gives him a false pout. 

“Oh, and you think I’m not? Being the top is enfeebling,” taking the end of the sheets and pulling to expose the cushioned, therapeutic mattress beneath it, “And I didn’t even cum -- which I don’t mind, because making you feel good was satiating enough -- however, it was very messy, the sheets are all lubey and cummy, and I’m not cuddling with you on lubey, cummy sheets, so either make yourself useful and help me or go lay on the couch, Mister Sleepyhead.” 

He gives her a real pout this time, but he slumps over to the bed anyway and takes the side that she hadn’t gotten to yet, “You’re the worst post-sex Daddy ever,” he grumbles, “I treat you like a little princess after I’ve spread you open.” 

“‘Cos you’re out of subspace and I’m better at milking it for longer.” She tells him and he gasps. 

“Noted for next time.” 

They stuff all of it in the washing machine before Y/N raided the closet for extra bedding, did it up all nice, tucking in the corners, smoothing out the ruffles and rumples.  Y/N crawls beneath the blankets and Harry follows suit quickly, snuggling against the pillows, and almost immediately scooting closer to him. Harry opens up his arms and accepts her immediately, pulling her in even nearer. Harry’s heart is swelling with an immensity of love that he’s having trouble placing into any words other than, “You’re a brat.” 

Y/N snuggles her nose into the bed of his throat. 

“You’re a worser one.”