Breathe

The only noises that could be heard in the quiet of Harry’s bedroom were the sounds of our lips brushing together and our erratic breathing. The room was dark, save for the light of the small lamp on Harry’s desk where all of his textbooks and case studies were spread out from when he was doing revision earlier that day. The bay window lit up every few seconds as a car drove by, the headlights shining through and illuminating Harry’s face while he hovered over me on the edge of his bed where I was perched, leaning up to meet his lips.

“Move back,” he mumbled against my mouth, helping me scoot back on his bed until I was sprawled out in the center, leaning on my elbows.

Harry’s hand held my waist in a tight grip as he crawled closer while trying to get his shoes off in the process. I giggled, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, stroking the hairs at the end. “Serves you right for always wearing those boots.”

“Don’t make fun of my boots,” Harry pouted after he was finally able to get them off. He moved forward until I was lying down on my back with him pressing down on me, kissing me deeply again until I forgot what we were talking about, until I forgot anything and everything that didn’t have to do with him, really.

And it was just nice to keep kissing each other until our lips felt numb and we could hardly breathe because we didn’t want to stop -- not even for a second. It was always nice with Harry because he always tasted so right and sweet. It was nice how our bodies fit together without either of us realizing because when I opened my eyes again, I noticed my legs had shifted on their own to either side of Harry’s body, caging him in without even realizing it. I crossed my ankles behind his back to pull him closer, letting my head tilt to the side so that his lips could reach the crook of my neck. He kissed my skin softly, nibbling in a way that wouldn’t leave marks, but he knew I’d feel nonetheless. When Harry grinded down on me, I let out a soft moan, feeling how hard he was against me.

“Fuck,” I whimpered as Harry continued to move his hips downward. He kissed his way up my neck to my jaw before meeting my lips again. The kiss didn’t last long before Harry lifted his head up to smile at me.

“I love the way your breathing changes when I touch you and kiss you,” he whispered, kissing the corner of my mouth. “I want you so bad, B.”

“Want you, too,” I whispered back slowly. There was nothing urgent or rushed about tonight. We were so content with being wrapped in each other, limbs entangled and breaths mingled, that I felt like this moment was either paused or it could go on forever, but I wouldn’t feel bad about it being wasted time because being with Harry was good. It was good and so simple. Feeling this way could never be a waste.

It was simple the way my eyes met Harry’s across the dark, dimly lit room back at the frat house a few hours ago during their party. It only took one gesture of his head towards the door for me to get up and follow him out. We walked to his car, hand in hand, and our voices quiet as we giggled while joking light heartedly with one another. The drive over to the coffee shop was quiet, too, while a Vance Joy song played on the stereo. Once we got to the coffee shop, we made small talk and drank coffee at midnight before eventually going back to Harry’s place.

And it could be considered a routine for the two of us, but it wasn’t. Nothing between Harry and I felt like the same thing twice. Every moment that I was around him, or talked to him, or kissed him, or slept with him felt new and I wondered when the point would come that I wouldn’t crave this unfamiliarity, that I would actually get used to the way he made me feel.

At this rate, it didn’t feel like I ever would. Harry was unlike anyone I’d ever met before, unlike anyone I’d ever been with before. We could literally be having amazing sex one minute and then move on to having deep conversations whether it be two AM or two PM. He was bright and so lovely in every possible way that I couldn’t get over how he made me feel and the things he did to me. Especially with the way he was moving his hips with mine, making everything in my head draw a blank except for harryharryharry.

Harry lifted himself off of me slowly, untangling my feet from behind him and scooting over to his side table drawer to grab what I could only assume was a condom. I waited as patiently as I could, willing my heart rate to slow down and my breaths to come out smoother. When I realized he was taking quite longer than necessary, I turned to look at him, moving around to see what what he was doing.

“What is it?” I asked, watching as he rummaged through his drawer. “Come on already. Want you inside of me.”

I heard Harry intake a sharp breath at what I said before letting out a frustrated sigh and fumbling back over to me. “I want to be inside you, too, baby, but unfortunately we’ve run out of condoms.”

My eyes widened as I stared at him. Didn’t we go buy a pack, like, just the other day? Was someone stealing our condoms because I couldn’t remember if we’d had that much sex? There were a few days where it would happen more than once, but not that many times. Maybe I was underestimating us and our ability to have athletic rounds of sex. Harry didn’t look as confused as I felt. In fact, he looked rather upset sitting beside me with nothing in his hands and a raging boner in his pants.

“Are you sure you checked properly?”

He nodded. “The box is empty. Do you have any on you?”

I shook my head in response, trying not to look at the bulge in his pants. “Maybe one or two fell out?”

“I checked,” he said with a shake of his head. “We’re out and I think I’m going to cry.”

“Well fuck.”

“I know.”

“Now what?”

Harry was quiet for a bit, shrugging before letting out a guttural groan and moving back between my legs. “Wanna come so bad.”

One of his hands came up to the side of my head and he slightly tilted it to kiss me square on the mouth, dipping his tongue in right away, enthusiastically. I shifted up to wrap my legs around him again and met his hips right where it felt the best, right where it sent shocks of pleasure to the core of my stomach, making me wish so bad that there wasn’t any clothing between our bodies. That didn’t come as a shock, though. I was becoming increasingly biased towards how I preferred Harry because I always wanted him to just be naked. Not for sex, but because he was so fucking beautiful when he was all skin and nothing else. There wasn’t a part of him that I didn’t find attractive or aesthetically pleasing.

Our movements started to become more rushed, more desperate as time wore on. It was almost embarrassing how we were rutting against each other like horny teenagers because we were so turned on and knew we had no other option other than this. When I felt myself coming after a rather rough slide, I stilled below Harry, though he continued once, twice, thrice before coming in his pants as well.

We were both left panting, staring at each other with heavy lidded eyes before laughing quietly. Harry grinned, his dimples poking through, before kissing me quickly and rolling off of me. “That was fun,” he mumbled, tugging on the hem of his t-shirt and throwing it on the floor.

“Super,” I replied, feeling myself slowly coming down from the high and instead felt rather icky with come on my knickers. “Could go again, but feel kind of gross.”

“Me too,” Harry agreed softly, rolling on to his side so that he was looking at me with big doe, green eyes. I bit my lip, moving my hand up and letting a finger trace over the bow of his pink, wet lips. He smiled contently at the touch, letting his eyes drift shut until I spoke up again.

“I’ve been thinking that I want to go on the pill.”

Harry’s eyes flew open immediately, wide and surprised, as he looked at me for confirmation as to whether or not I’d really just said that. It almost made me laugh, but I realized it wasn’t the time or place because this was actually a serious conversation. It was also something I had been considering for a while. I’d never gone on the pill before, but I knew Zoe was on the pill, which she said had made it convenient for whenever her and Zayn had sex. She mentioned there were side effects to it, but nothing major, and it made the sex a lot more enjoyable. And it wasn’t until I did some research and thought about it for a few days that I started to entertain the idea of me going on the pill, too. If what I shared with Harry in bed was something that was already on some next level shit, then imagine what it could be when we didn’t have to worry about condoms and things like that.

“You -- you what?” he asked.

“I’ve been thinking about going on the pill,” I repeated. “Like, for the past few days.”

“Why?” he asked, moving closer and wrapping an arm around my waist to pull me flush against his body. “Why’ve you been thinking about this?”

“Well -- I don’t know. I mean, we wouldn’t have to worry about condoms and stuff. And everyone says it feels better without.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to do this for me, you know? Like, you’re perfect and I love what we do and how we do it.”

“I know that,” I told him. “It’s not just for you, though. It’s for me. For us. And it doesn’t sound that bad. Like, take tonight for example. If I was on the pill, we wouldn’t have to worry about things like condoms. We would have had sex already -- more than once.”

Harry’s eyes darkened at that, his smirk so transparently smug and gorgeous. “I get that,” he said. “But I want you to think about it. You know there are side effects, right?”

“I’m aware. I know about it because I’ve asked and researched.” He nodded, his eyes fixed on mine. “Wait...don’t you want me to go on the pill? Are you scared that I might --.”

“No,” he shook his head, interrupting me. “I’m not scared. We’ll be super careful about it and all. I just want what you want and what’s best for you.”

“I want it to be good for both of us,” I said. “Are you -- um -- are you clean?”

He nodded quickly. “I got checked two weeks ago at my doctor’s office when I went in for a check up. I also never had sex without a condom, so.”

I didn’t want to him to know how much of a relief that was for me because that was one of the only things that was bothering me about this whole thing. Harry had been extremely sexually active right before he got with me and I wasn’t sure if he was being safe about it. Knowing that he was fine was just another confirmation I needed that going on the pill was a good idea. It was about trusting the person you’re with and wanting to heighten what you share with each other. And if I was going to have that with anyone, I wanted it to be Harry.

I smiled, rolling over so that I was lying flat on top of him. Harry caught me by my waist quick and secure before smiling up at me.  My hair cascaded down my shoulders, covering us up in our own little bubble. Our warm breaths surrounded us, heating everything up,  as my legs slid on either of his body.

“I’ll think about it a bit more. Maybe go see a doctor,” I told him.

“Anything you want,” he repeated, leaning up to give me a kiss.



I giggled, snorting at his response before putting my phone down on the bed beside me. Despite what I’d said about being sleepy and despite what Harry asked of me, I got out of bed, slipping on a pair of Harry’s plaid boxers and his white t-shirt. While his bed was soft, warm and smelled just like him, my stomach was killing me to get something to eat. I slowly padded out of his room, making my way over to the kitchen where I found Niall standing over the hob making eggs.

“Morning,” I said to him.

He looked up and gave me a nod before looking back down at his eggs. “Morning,” he replied, voice hoarse. “Didn’t know you were in. Want anything?”

“A bit of eggs and toast,” I replied. “I’ll make the toast, though.” Niall grumbled in response, continuing with what he was doing while I maneuvered my way around the kitchen to grab bread and pop it in the toaster.

I eyed Niall as discreetly as I could. He hadn’t been well since his fight with Layla. She hadn’t been at the party last night and he’d gotten gloriously drunk again for the fourth night in a row. Harry was telling me that they were all concerned he was going to go into alcoholic shock or something worse at the rate he was going at. I also knew he wasn’t talking to me properly not just because he wasn’t in the mood, but also because his voice was just shot. Niall could hardly speak from all the drinking he’d been doing and his immune system was just going to let up eventually if he didn’t stop.

I leaned against the counter, facing him where he was stood, determined to try. “So, uh, Niall. How are things?” I asked.

He gave me a bored look. “How do you think?” he asked flatly.

“Not good then,” I concluded with a humorless laugh. “Listen, Ni -- I know you’ve been trying really hard with Layla, but just give her some more time. She’ll come around -- she always has. Prove yourself to her like you did before when she didn’t give you the chance.”

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” he snapped, turning to look at me. “You were there, Blair. I was standing outside your flat singing ‘Layla’ by fucking Eric Clapton at the top of my lungs while fucking Harry held up the instrumental playing on his phone next to me.”

I almost laughed out loud at the memory because it happened exactly like that. A few days ago while Layla had been staying over at our place, Niall had shown up (very drunk) with Harry in tow and tried to serenade her outside our balcony. The entire building had woken up and complained about calling the police because it was well past three in the morning, but Niall was relentless until Layla went down and told him to leave herself. It was a low blow and I felt genuinely bad for him because he was trying so fucking hard. He was trying to think of every grand gesture in the book to make her realize how sorry he was, but Layla was hellbent on being angry at him for what he’d said to her. It didn’t help that it was something she was strongly against -- which was the imbalance of power between a male and a female in a relationship.

“Look,” I said to Niall. “I know you’ve tried, but you have to keep trying if you feel for Layla the way we all know you do. Don’t give up is all I’m saying, however, don’t let it destroy you. You don’t want her to get angry at you about anything else, like endangering your health. You know she’d be furious if she found out about what’s been going on lately with you drinking so much.”

“I know,” he said glumly, looking down at the pan. “She cares, I know she does.” He looked up to meet my eyes. “And I won't give up, just so you know.”

“Happy about that,” I said to him with a smile. Niall managed to crack me one back and we went back to breakfast; making small talk about school, our families and the weather while preparing it. Niall’s eggs were looking great, but I had managed to burn every piece of toast I made by the time the front door opened and Harry strolled in.

I turned to greet him, only to drop the toast in my hand on the floor.

Harry was stood there in nothing but a pair of white running shorts, paired off with a green snapback worn backwards over his hair to push back his curls, and his neon yellow sneakers. And I had seen him naked before, countless times, but there was something so breathtaking about him standing there with perspiration running down his well defined abs and chest, which was crazy because sweat was meant to be gross. No one was supposed to find sweat and perspiration sexy. However, I wasn’t supposed to find the fact that he had four nipples hot either, yet here we were. And I wondered what it meant to love the flaws of a person; whether or not they were really flaws if you loved them.

“Jesus,” Niall muttered, breaking me out of my trance and picking up the burnt toast that I’d dropped. “You look parched, Blair. Should I get you a tall glass of water to quench the thirst?”

I visibly shook and tried to compose myself, leaning back against the counter again and licking my lips that had dropped open when Harry walked in. Niall wasn’t kidding when he said I looked parched because I felt it.

I was so embarrassing sometimes, but it helped with the way Harry was looking at me; so knowing, so smug and so into it, too. He walked over to me, closing the distance between us and wrapping an arm around my waist before kissing me soundly on the lips. I placed my hands on his defined jaw, lifting myself up on my tippy toes so that I could taste the saltiness on his lips and his tongue, enjoying it way more than I really should. I thought back to our text conversation a little while ago and wondered if he got the condoms or not, whether or not I could convince him to go for a round before taking a shower.

“That is so gross,” Niall said to us with a mouthful of eggs while sitting at the table. “Please stop. My heart is fragile.”

Harry smiled against my lips and pulled away reluctantly. “Sorry, Niall. Have a good sleep?”

“Subpar,” he replied.

Harry snorted. “What’s for breakfast then?” he asked, opening the fridge and pulling out some juice straight from the container. “I’m starving.”

“I made eggs,” Niall replied promptly. “Your girlfriend made burnt toast.”

I glared at Niall because he was eating that burnt toast like a hypocrite. Nonetheless, Harry picked up a piece of my toast and ate it happily, giving me an encouraging smile. That was seemingly Niall’s final straw as he grumbled about being nauseated and got up to eat the rest of his breakfast in the living room. Neither Harry or I tried to stop him, instead smiled at each other from opposite counters.

“Have a good run?” I asked him.

He nodded. “Was good. There’s a game coming up against Oxford -- another homecoming one -- and I wanted to stay on top of my workout regime so I can have a repeat of the last home game.”

My mind immediately thought back to the last time the boys had a home game. What a night that was. It was cold, loud and crowded. I almost laughed at the difference between how things were a mere two to three months ago as to how they were now because so much had changed. I remembered back then I could barely admit to myself how I felt about Harry. We’d never kissed, touched, or looked at each other longer than a friend should. I’d never felt how mad he could drive me by simply looking at me or touching me. I also remembered the girls who were there, cheering and pining for Harry to notice them, hoping to pull him for the night. I was so fucking jealous and I couldn’t even admit it.

And it was just strange how it wasn’t even that long ago that that had happened, but it felt like a lifetime had passed since.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Harry asked, snapping me out of my memories.

I smiled up at him, teasing and shy. “Just remembering that first home game.”

“Wasn’t it a good night?” he asked with a dimpled, excited grin. “I scored an actual goal, something I hadn’t done in any game in my prior three years. Incredible -- and remember your sign?”

I smiled at that because I did remember; remembered the way he’d smiled at me from across the field and blew a kiss right at me, making my heart beat a little faster. “Yeah,” I nodded. “That was a good one. I’m mostly thinking about the girls that were there for you, though.”

Harry frowned slightly, confused and inquiring as he looked at me. “Girls?”

“There was a crowd of girls at that game desperate to hook up with you that night.”

“Really?” he asked, cocking his head to the side as though he was trying to remember.

I laughed at him, nodding. “Yeah. Pretty sure I saw you kiss one of them, too.”

Harry’s eyebrows were puckered and he was pinching his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger, still trying to remember what it was that I was talking about before he looked up. “Is it horrible that I can’t remember? Like I’m pretty sure I was incredibly pissed after the game at the bar.”

I laughed out loud again, shrugging. “I mean for them it’s probably horrible. Not for me, though.”

He smiled, moving so that he was standing in front of me with his hands on either side of the counter, caging me in. “You know I don’t care about those girls. Only care about you, B.”

“You better,” I teased, running a finger down his now dry, smooth chest, tracing the sparrow tattoos.

“I do,” he replied, leaning into my touch. “I want everyone to know, too.”

I giggled at him. “What, like, make a sign that says I’m yours? That’s weird.”

“No,” he shook his head. “You could make a sign if you wanted, but I want you to wear my jersey to the game.”

My eyes widened a bit as I stared at him, only to realize he was being completely serious, which only made me feel more shy. “Wear your jersey?”

Harry grinned, nodding his head. “You’ll not only look sexy, but everyone will know I’m yours. Plus, it helps that I find you so hot when you wear my clothes. They look amazing on you.”

“Sounds fair,” I mumbled, feeling the blush rise to my cheeks at the thought of everyone knowing, of being so bold and open about what we meant to each other.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked.

“Anything.”

“I have this sort of fantasy of you riding me wearing nothing but your lingerie and my jersey.”

If I wasn’t blushing before, I was definitely blushing now, feeling the warmth spread all over my face. I ducked my head, hiding my face and letting out a breathy laugh, trying to avoid his eyes. He was relentless, though, ducking his head to catch my gaze.

“It’d be so fucking hot, B.”

I let out another shaky breath before looking back up at him again, a bit more confidently. “Score a goal at the next game and we’ll see if your fantasy can become a reality,” I teased.

Harry grinned, lips tugging at one end more than the other in that maddeningly, frustratingly attractive way he is. “You’re on, Gallagher,” he said. “Challenge accepted.”

With that he turned around, leaving me feeling breathless without even touching me. I watched as he walked slowly towards his bedroom, his back more muscular than I remembered. Harry always had an attractive back, his shoulders broad and sturdy with a narrow, perfectly framed waist.

“It’s gonna be legend -- wait for it,” he said, strolling into his room and disappearing behind it. I frowned, following him with a small smile on my lips. When I walked into his room, looking around for him, he jumped out from behind the door completely naked where he’d been hiding. I turned to face him, a laugh on my lips, before he pulled me in for a kiss and whispered, “-- dary.”

I couldn’t believe he just dropped not one, but two How I Met Your Mother lines on me and left me feeling so fucking turned on. It was sick and an abuse of power. Now all I could think about was his game night and whether or not he’d score a goal.

Regardless, some part of me told me that even if Harry didn’t score that goal during the game, I was still going to end up riding him wearing nothing but lingerie and a jersey with STYLES written on it.



Harry didn’t score a goal during the homecoming game.

Louis and another teammate did.

That didn’t mean he didn’t try, though. Harry put in a lot of effort, instead helping out on the field as much as he could, trying to block and steal the ball from the opposing team. I had walked into the stadium with all of my friends wearing Harry’s jersey, his name and number emblazoned on the back, with the same sign I had made all those months ago to encourage him. I definitely caught the eye of more than just Harry. People around us were noticing and whispering amongst themselves. I didn’t get a chance to really think about it; not with the way Harry was looking at me from across the field.

It was 90 minutes of heated gazes and sexual tension that could be felt from miles away, including during the 15 minute break in between.

When the buzzer went off, signaling the end of the game with a score of 2-1 in favor of our team, the stadium was ecstatic. Cheers rang from end to end, while the team hugged and congratulated each other. There were streamers and balloons and confetti everywhere, some people even brought water guns, spraying everyone until they were soaking wet. Winning this game was a huge deal, so it was with pride and enthusiasm that we celebrated.

Once it died down, people started to leave as the team walked towards the locker rooms to change. Harry turned to look at me once more before going inside, blowing me a kiss and walking inside, leaving me feeling flustered and giddy for tonight.



The celebration that followed the game made its way to the campus bar and two hours in, we were all pleasantly buzzed and relaxing around our booth with pints in front of each of us. All the other team players and a few other students were crowded inside, drinking and talking while some overplayed Big Sean song played on the speakers. I was sat between Liam and Harry, Harry’s arm slung around me while he thumbed away on his phone with the other.

Across from us, Liv and Aiden, who she invited, were sat laughing about whatever inside joke they shared between each other. I’d been watching them the entire night -- at the game and at the bar -- to possibly look for clues as to what could be their deal. For the most part, it just looked normal -- too normal, though. As though Aiden was just one of the guys and Liv wasn’t dating him at all, which I didn’t understand because they did go on dates. Liv talked to him about things, they laughed together all the time and seemed to be in good spirits all around, but what it lacked was intimacy. And what was a relationship without at least a bit of intimacy shared between the two people. Nonetheless, I knew Liv was brilliant and would figure out whatever it was that was going on sooner or later, even though it was becoming a bit more apparent to me day by day when I watched how she was with Dylan versus how she was with Aiden. I just hoped she wouldn’t do something she’d regret, ultimately leading her to to lose either one of them as a friend.

Further down from them, the booth was at a much more tense standpoint. Layla and Niall were sitting across from each other beside Zayn, Zoe, and Louis, and nobody had realized the seating arrangements had worked out that way. Once it was done, though, it was too weird to actually get up and switch around, so nobody did. Instead, there was a stilt in the conversation on their end and the air was awkward and strained.

I was in the middle of asking Liam to take a picture of me and Harry when Layla let out an audible gasp. We all froze, turning to her, following her gaze to the front of the bar where none other than Charles walked in. I was momentarily confused as to what he could be doing at our campus bar when he went to Oxford, which only then made sense because the game tonight was against them.

“Fuck,” Layla mumbled over and over again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Calm down,” Niall said to her hurriedly, albeit in a calm, soothing tone. “He’s not going to talk to you. Don’t worry.”

“Um -- yeah, he will,” she retorted, eyes wide and paranoid. “You don’t know him. He’s fucking terrible. He’ll talk to me even if it means going out of his way to do so just because he’s so fucking full of himself and can’t see past his ego.”

“Well, I won’t let him,” Niall replied right away, his jaw tensing and his brows furrowing, determined to make her believe and trust him. I wondered if either of them realized that they just went from fighting and not speaking to each other to having an actual conversation as though they were still together, which I guessed they technically were since a breakup was never confirmed. Either way it was so sweet to see Niall standing up for her without a single moment of thought. He was ready to defend her to the ends of the Earth.

It was then that Charles looked over, his eyes landing on our table and walking over. The rest of us watched on in silence, waiting with bated breath for whatever that was about to go down.

Liam snickered beside me, childishly. “It’s Harry’s blonde twin,” he singsonged.

Harry leaned over me to smack him on the back of the head, glaring at him. Liam winced and rubbed over the spot. He almost went to retaliate back, but then Charles stopped at our booth.

“Layla,” Charles smiled. “Lovely seeing you here.”

And it was so sad because Layla looked worn down already. Her hair was disheveled from the amount of times she ran a hand through it since Charles had walked into the bar and not to mention her eyes were sunken and tired from a few sleepless nights (which she wouldn’t admit were because she missed Niall). “You, too. Didn’t know you’d come,” she replied in a small voice.

“My mate’s on the footie team,” Charles told her, looking around at the rest of us in low key detest. Charles had that kind of face; the kind that made it seem like he thought everyone around him was beneath him and he was better. He was an arrogant, egotistical bastard and I was already ready for him to walk the fuck out of this bar and he had only just got there.

“Oh, alright,” Layla replied.

Across from her, Niall was gripping on to the table, holding himself down from reacting to the guy in front of him. Charles shot Niall a quick, knowing look before turning to Layla. “So, just wanted to come say hi. You look good, you know -- for the most part -- a bit messy, though. Have you put on weight or summat?”

An instant silence took over the table, even though none of us were really talking to begin with. Everyone froze in their seats, holding their breaths, wondering how the fuck someone could be such a fucking moron and be an Oxford student at the same time because surely they were meant to be smart, not this fucking idiotic? Layla looked just as taken aback as everyone, her cheeks coloring as she gaped up at the boy she once fully and completely gave herself to in every way. And it wasn’t slow or calculated the way Niall stood up and punched Charles square on the jaw, making the douchebag fall to the floor. It was quick and hard, like Niall had been waiting to do that for ages and he took the opportunity as fast as he could.

Just like that the silence was gone and the entire place was in an uproar because there was an actual fight happening. We all scrambled out of our seats and tried to see over the crowd of people as Niall lifted Charles up on his feet, only to give him another blow to knock him the fuck back down again. I spotted Layla right behind Niall, gaping at him with wide, scared eyes as she watched the boy she was currently dating beating the living shit out of her ex-boyfriend.

“Don’t you ever fucking dare talk to her again -- ever in your fucking life or I swear on me mam, I’ll fuckin’ wreck you,” Niall shouted at him, kicking at Charles’ crumpled body on the dirty bar floor.

“Holy shit,” Zayn mumbled, looking amused and entertained. It was so like him to enjoy this because he was never dramatic, but he enjoyed the drama around him. Meanwhile Liam and Harry were both shocked and concerned, trying to figure out whether they should stop Niall or let him deal with this on his own because it was a long time coming. Louis, on the other hand, was stood up on the table, cheering Niall on and actually giving him instructions on how to beat him up. Typical.

“Drag that fucking dick, Ni!” Louis yelled. “Drag his arse to hell and back!”

Charles managed to lift himself up, albeit with a bloody nose and a busted lip, with much difficulty before shoving at Niall. “You filthy beer-stained failure of a bastard. How dare you touch me?” he snarled at Niall. “Keep the fuck away from me because God knows I’ll catch whatever disease you have. Who knows what that slut, Layla, gave you?”

Niall looked almost scary as his face turned even redder from anger. “Ya sodding fucking arse,” he shouted, throwing another punch to knock Charles down again, this time aiming for his dick. It only seemed to get louder after that, people shouting and screaming around them. Liv shook Liam and Harry’s arms, turning them to face her.

“Get Niall to fucking stop otherwise he’ll be arrested or worse before he kills the fuck tard,” she told them with wide eyes. “Go, go!”

She shoved the two boys towards Niall, who was full on brawling with Charles, even though Charles was a wuss and couldn’t manage to throw even one punch. Harry and Liam grabbed Niall on either side, pulling him back and off of the boy on the floor. Niall let himself be pulled back with only some restraint, his hair wild and his face pink, breathing out heavily as he slumped against two of his best mates.  

“Have fun fucking my dirty leftovers, you Irish trash,” Charles told him as he lifted himself up off the floor for the upteenth time that night.  

His friends came around to help him, the group of them turning around to leave the bar, laughing as though he didn’t just get his arse beat. I almost thought it was over and everything would calm down again, but then Layla stepped forward, tapping Charles on the shoulder once and making him turn around.

Charles turned around, his expression turned sour when he saw who it was while everyone quieted down again for a moment. “Oh god, what do you want now?” he asked her.

Layla rolled her eyes once before rounding her fist and hitting him right on the jaw, causing him to stumble back and fall on top his friends. The bar erupted in cheers and screams again, which only got louder when Layla turned around and walked right up to Niall, jumped up into his arms and kissing him in the most theatrical way possible.

And just like that, everything was okay again with my otp. 



Harry was sprawled out on the bed in front of me, barenaked and just as beautiful as always. I was sat on his lap, placed neatly over his hips while my legs were on either side of his body. Just like I had promised, I was wearing his jersey with this red lingerie set he’d helped me choose one day when we were shopping. He scoured the racks, putting everything he liked into our basket unashamedly while I followed him around with an ever present blush on my cheeks.

Being on top of him, while kissing down the expanse of his body made me feel powerful. Everything about this night made me feel that way and I had no idea what to do with the fact that I had this sort of effect on Harry. We had walked to his flat after leaving the bar, passing by Niall’s bedroom where I could hear Layla moaning his name in a way I never thought I’d hear her, and going to Harry’s bedroom, which was thankfully isolated from the opposite end of the flat, far, far away from the other couple.

We had taken our clothes off slowly and it was only then that I realized how much Harry wanted this. His eyes were hooded, dark and transfixed as he watched me take off my pants and make my way over to his bed. He followed me soon after, kissing me until I put him down in the position he was in currently. He gave in so easily, pliant and soft, as I moved him whichever way I pleased. I knew Harry was restraining himself from rushing through this because he was so hard, erection curved red and angry, lying against his stomach and I had barely touched him yet.  

I took time in kissing him -- wherever I could reach. I kissed his lips, down his jaw, neck, collarbones, chest, nipples, stomach, navel, until I was sucking a bruise on the skin right beside his thin happy trail, eyeing his prick. It was a bit shameless how quick I’d be to admit that I really liked going down on Harry. Most people found the act of it disgusting or something that they were just required to do during sex. And I, too, once felt like that, but as of late, I couldn’t get over how good it was when it was Harry. He took care of himself, his diet and cleanliness included, making it good for anyone who had the opportunity, but especially for me. I think I like it more with Harry than anyone else because I truly want to please him, and find the sight of him in pure ecstasy because of me so hot.

And as far as I could tell, Harry enjoyed it when I did it, too. He’d told me before how good he thought I was and I was confident about it enough that I could openly admit that I liked it just as much as he did. It didn’t hurt matters that Harry looked so unbelievably gorgeous laid out underneath me, either. I moved my lips away from the small mark I left on Harry’s skin, watching the way he stayed still and looked at me while I kissed him, closer and closer to his dick.

As expected, Harry was responsive to every touch and every kiss, letting out choked moans and muttering things that I couldn’t make out. It was almost ruthless how slow I was being about it because he was flushed and tempting and I wanted him so bad, but couldn’t help but revel in the build up to it. One of my hands moved over and palmed him, circling my fingers around the base before brushing the head of his cock between my lips and pulling right back off. I held on, keeping him still against my bottom lip before darting out my tongue to get a taste. His eyes rolled back and drifted shut as I took him down again, far enough to make Harry choke out a breath and shift his hips up against my mouth.

I pulled back, breathless and stunned at him for doing that so quickly without any preamble before licking my lips and going down again, lips wrapping around him tightly. It was just as good as it always was. Harry tasted good, albeit a little salty, leaking against my tongue, and he felt so heavy and full in my mouth that I had to restrain myself from getting impatient as well. He had both of his hands in my hair, fisting it and trying so hard not to pull while he tried to watch me with blown eyes.

“Fuck -- you are so -- fuck, B,” Harry groaned out, but kept cutting himself off because he just couldn’t find the words while rocking his hips up. I sputtered and pulled off slightly, taking a deep, shallow breath. I continued to drag my mouth up and down his shaft, lips making a wet sound at the top, while pumping him from his base up to whatever I couldn’t reach.

At some point, I looked up through my wet lashes to meet Harry’s gaze, watching him look back at me. Soft whimpers and moans left his lips as he restrained himself from full on fucking into my mouth. His eyes, which were once green, were now so dark that I couldn’t see the color around his pupils. It was enough to get the warm heat between my legs start to feel like fire that I couldn’t avoid any longer. I pulled off momentarily, keeping my eyes on Harry as I swiped my tongue along the underside, dragging it up in a slow and tantalizing way over the vein.

“Shit -- fuck, Blair,” he said, voice hoarse and raspy while his own hand shot down to the base to pump himself because he couldn’t take it anymore. I quickly moved his hand away, hearing him groan in response when his head fell back on the pillow. The thing was, I wanted to make this good for him. So good that that if he ever had someone else’s lips on him, he’d only ever get off to the thought of blue-green eyes looking up at him with his hands fisted in long, blond hair.

“Let me,” I whispered to him before lowering my mouth over Harry again. After that, Harry’s restraint was completely gone and he rocked his hips up into my mouth, albeit slowly, trying not to moan as loud as he was. However, it only got louder when I started humming around him, the vibrations sending him closer to the edge.

I would have continued, gone on until Harry came into my mouth, but then he stilled. “Wait -- stop,” he rasped out. “Blair, no.”

I lifted my head up, looking up at him as he pulled me up to crawl over his body and kiss him on the lips, swiping my tongue against his. “Can we fuck?” he asked after a moment, pulling his lips off of mine, making me chase them because I wasn’t done. “I wanna fuck you.”

I nodded, kissing him for a few more seconds before sitting up on his stomach, restraining me from moving or gaining any friction where I needed it most. Harry’s hands stroked up my legs, hair disheveled and fucked out, as he smiled up at me. “Condoms are in the drawer. Want you to ride me, please. Please, B.”

“Want that, too,” I said softly. “Promised you, didn’t I?”

“I didn’t score a goal, though.” He looked dejected and actually upset about that even though his team won. I stroked over his face and ran my fingers through his curly hair, until he looked me in the eye.

“Doesn’t matter,” I shook my head. “You did so good, Harry. Want to do it for you...without a condom this time.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Have you -- you’ve gone to the doctors already?”

I nodded my head. “Yeah, this past week. Got the pills.”

“So, you want this?” he asked, a small smile on his lips. “Like, really want it? With me?”

“Yeah,” I replied confidently. “I do. I’m so sure.”

Harry pulled me down by the back of my neck, kissing me deeply, all the while managing to push aside the thin, soft fabric of my knickers and helping me slide down on him. We were both panting by the time I was fully seated on his lap, even though it was done slowly. I shifted experimentally before finding a rhythm and pace I was comfortable with, watching the way Harry’s lips parted every single time our hips met.

It was almost more real without a condom. I could really feel Harry completely and it took things up another level. The glide of him slipping in and out of me was pushing me closer and closer to the edge, no matter how slow I went. I tried to focus on the way he looked at me and how I felt like what we had between us was as big as the world. Only then, though, the closer I got, the more I felt like it was probably bigger than the whole universe. It was bigger than the universe in that it could not only be felt during the simplest of times, but also seen in the dark and heard in the silence.

I kept breathing out Harry’s name every so often, my hips swiveling down in slow circles to keep up the pace as much as I could. It was a lot more work than I was cut out for and I could feel myself getting more and more exhausted, so much so that at some point, I was slumped up against his chest, panting harshly.  

The two of us giggled at that, hips still moving rhythmically as Harry thrusted up into me. I tried to pull myself back up again to keep going, but then Harry pulled me off and rolled around so that I was on my back. He sat back on his haunches for a moment, pulling the jersey off of me and practically ripping my knickers completely off my legs. I only got a second to keep up before he was back inside me in a deep, rough thrust. I let out a strangled, quiet moan, moving against him to keep going. My hands came up to wrap around his back, nails leaving angry red marks like I always did when Harry got like this, desperate for some release.

“Wanna know what I thought about when I saw you walk into the stadium today?” he asked me, pushing in and out of me.

“What?” I breathed out.

“I saw you walk in -- wearing my jersey, looking so fucking beautiful and I knew I wanted to fuck you tonight till you screamed, but I also wanted to hold you in my arms and give you everything you wanted because you deserve that. You’re so fucking good in bed and so fucking special to me. You’re my best friend.”

My lips parted in response in an audible moan and my eyes drifted shut the more he pounded into me. When he picked up the pace even more, it did make me scream, quiet and raspy until I was on the edge, coming down. Harry came right after, not hurrying to pull out of me because we were so caught up in each other. His lips were everywhere, hands were everywhere; kissing and touching wherever he could reach.

And the only thought in my head was, yeah, bigger than the universe.