* THIS STORY CONTAINS MATURE & EXPLICIT CONTENT*
Please refer to the list of possible triggers and kinks.
Harry Styles. Twenty-Five. Green eyes. One hundred and ninety-six pounds. Six foot even or one hundred and eighty-seven centimetres. Born to...
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The light breaks through the black curtains, lighting the room up which cast shadows upon the walls. For blackout curtains, they aren't doing their job very well.
However, soon more light is filtering into the room as the curtains are pushed open more, causing the sun to shine directly onto my face.
"What the-" I curse, pulling the covers up over my bare chest as I sit up, having to rub the sleep from my eyes with my free hand. A glance at the nightstand tells me that it's nearing seven in the morning. What is it with them and seven am?
"What's the point of waking me up at seven in the morning?" I grumble, trying to process what is happening as the stranger remains quiet. They bent down to pick up the scattered clothes that remain on the floor from last night.
Last night. The memories came flooding to the forefront of my brain all at once. I can feel arousal beginning to pool between my thighs at just the images that are flickering throughout my head.
"No need to cover yourself, little one. I do believe my mouth was attached to those perky tits last night, no?" The stranger, who I have now identified as Niall breaks the silence, yet leaves my question unanswered.
I give a shrug of my shoulders, letting the blanket fall down to reveal my bare chest to the lad. He isn't wrong. Essentially all of the boys, excluding Liam have seen all of me.
At this point, I've given up on trying to get Niall to call me anything else. Little one just seems to have stuck. It has dug its little feet into the soil and it's here to stay.
"Zayn is making some sort of traditional breakfast this morning. I hope you like spice," He grumbles, placing all of the dirty clothes from last night into the hamper that is sat by what I can only assume is the en suite.
Niall seems to stop in his tracks after he puts the clothes in the hamper, turning to look at me. His eyes remain on my chest rather than my eyes but I decide not to call him out for it. If I were in his shoes I would be doing the exact same thing.
"Actually, I'm pretty sure I know you like spice. You can't dislike spice given how spicy last night was." He points out, tilting his head to the side as if he was in deep thought. I decide not to mention that those two things have no correlation.
"Sure, titty boy," I grumble, the sides of my lips turning up whenever Niall starts to laugh at the nickname that I had just given him. His laugh is infectious. It's hard not to smile around him. He reminds me of the colour yellow, bright and enthusiastic. Optimistic about everything.
However, how filthy his mouth is contradicting that a lot.
"Alright, little one. You're free to use the shower if you want. I can imagine a wet rag can only do so much.." He clasps his hands together as he talks, making his way towards the door. "I've left some clothes on the bed that I think will fit you. Whenever you're ready to come downstairs, the kitchen is the first archway on the left. Can't miss it." He speaks before he gives me a nod of his head and leaves the room, making sure he closes the door behind him to give me some privacy.
