Harry - peeling out when he’s asleep on the tour bus rumbling, hands hidden beneath the covers, Louis pinning his ears in the bunk above him every time a moan escapes dried lips, your name settling with each heavy breath, rising up with a groan and then lowering again, his back kind of arched as the dream fumbles with your lips, and your figure, “babe… (Y/N)… keep doin’ that, yep, oh… you know how I like it.”
Liam - flustering him when he’s slipped to one side of the bed and you’re on the other, and he somehow rolls closer, hands fidgeting near you to reach for bare skin you can’t see, but flits beneath his eyelids in hurried flashes. It wakes you up, and you spin over groggily, smiling because he’d never pull that face conscious, mouth agape and eyes shutting tighter and tighter, “(Y/N)… yes, God… what are you doing to me?”
Louis - making him groan louder and deeper each time, caught with you in his dream, hands fisting hair and sweat gasping for air too quick to swallow, the cushions on the couch slipping till they hit the floor and his skin is hot to the touch, “yes, yes… (Y/N)… keep going… keep looking like that, yes.”
Zayn - rocking him in the hotel bed, body lain out wide because he knows you’re not sleeping next to him, and he’s shivering a little, arms tossing madly and legs kicking, strapped to your eyes piercing in a dream, skin bare and on show, his own levelled gaze drinking you in inch by inch. He kicks the covers to the floor, “please… don’t tease… no, (Y/N), I need you here… so sexy.”
Niall - keeping him from waking up because you’re thousands of kilometres away when he slips into reality in the morning, but in his dream, you’re by his big arms, and he’s rocking your body gently and tasting whatever flavour you’re giving him. He rolls to one side then the other, hair a tangle atop his head, lips parting slightly, and eyes roaming beneath their lids, his skin raising hot sweat in spirals from whatever’s happening, “princess… (Y/N), yes… that feels good, babe… feels so damn good.”
