Can be read as a companion piece to "Not So Bad." Enjoy!
Windswept.
Harry doesn't like it when people touch his messy hair. He's not vain about like some people, more embarrassed than anything. He doesn't like how messy it looks, though he lets me touch it. I like to think of it as windswept. As if he just came down after a few rounds around the Pitch. I love weaving my fingers through it, holding fistfuls of it in my hands in encouragement and to steady his head as I slowly fuck his mouth.
"There are many advantages to being known for having windswept hair." I told him.
"Yeah, like what?"
"Well, for starters, no one questions it if you come out of an empty classroom with messier hair than you usually would. They'll just think you're having a worse hair day than normal."
He blushed and ran a hand though his hair. I didn't tell him that another advantage was that I was almost always tempted to try and make it lay flat, and since it never does; I can weave my fingers through it for as long as I wanted.
Fin.