Love on Tour

Belmont Park, NY *

Belmont Park, New York The Final Show

Without a doubt, you knew it would be a good morning when you felt the weight of his hand on your waist, holding you close. His lips peppering kisses across your skin. The morning was bittersweet because it meant no more traveling or sleeping in a bus, but it also meant no more shows and no more seeing the crew you had befriended.

You know Harry would be feeling emotional, not that he would mention it. He liked to sulk in his feelings before expressing them, and you respected that. Harry loved being on stage, and his tour ending was something to celebrate. He was sad he wouldn't see his fans for a few months. Although he was excited because he had an album to work on and a girlfriend to take care of his words, not yours.

"It's cold," he mutters against your skin.

"I feel it."

He cuddles closer to you, bringing the blanket higher, hoping to keep the cold out. "Don't want to get up."

"Me either," you agree.

"I can warm you up."

You don't need to turn around to know he's smirking, having a one-track mind. "By all means," he lets your words linger in the air for a moment before slipping his hands under your (his) shirt, beginning to push it up as you move the blanket out of the way.

"Don't want to brush your teeth first," you tease, feeling him push against you, how hard he's become already, all for you.

He sits up, pulling you with him, his hands resting on your waist, toying with the band of your panties. "I can if you want me to," he smiles, brushing hair out of your face.

Harry fakes as if he is getting out of bed, but you hold tight to his arm on your waist. "No!" you shout. "Stay."

"I'll always stay," he promises, kissing your cheek.

Looking at Harry, you felt lucky that he chose to love you and also fortunate that he let you see these vulnerable parts of him. Your eyes linger on his tattoos, the peek of sunlight giving him an angelic glow. He seems to note your gaze but does nothing to stop you, only allows you to keep looking. You love the contrast of tattoos, and seeing him makes you want to finally get one. Sit there and let someone stick a needle into your skin, etching a drawing or words into your skin, creating memories on your skin that you get to carry and share for others to see. It might not be something you do now, but it will be something you'll want him to be at your side to hold your hand.

You lift your hands up, offering him a soft smile waiting for him to help you. He scoots forward on his knees, his hands toying with the hem of your shirt, not taking it off quickly like you had assumed he would. Instead, he leans forward, connecting your lips with his. You hum against his lips. The slow pace allows you to melt against him. Each kiss picks up, leading to his hands trailing up your waist, pushing the shirt up when you feel the chill air hit your breasts. You whimper against his lips as you feel him giggle, pulling away for a second to get the shirt over your head before throwing it behind him, not caring where it lands.

Harry moves his lips down to your next, pressing kiss after kiss until he arrives at your breast, caressing one as he kisses and nips at the other before switching. Your moans begin to fill the air, and he only sucks harder, wanting you to be louder, and you are never one to deny him.

"Can we try something, baby?" He breathes against your chest before kissing your lips, finally meeting your eyes glossed over with lust.

"What is it, amor?" You try to focus on your breathing, knowing your attention should be on him and not how your heart might be out of your chest for him