Little Bird [-hs]

012 - hush

NAOMI

My knees almost buckle right there, only held upright by the rage.

"Birdie," Niall warns from the stage. "Break it up."

The room is silent and heavy. That damn smirk, same as last night. I take a deep breath. "I'm going to my dressing room." I decide aloud.

"So am I." Harry says, his eyes still boring into mine.

I storm through the empty club. He's quick on my heels. Above my head, he holds the door open for me. The lights buzz. My stilettos click sharply against the concrete floor. I nick the turn in the hall and reach for my dressing room door.

But there's a firm hand on my waist. Harry spins me around and presses my back into the door. His body swallows the light, and his hand plants against the wood above my head. He looks down at me through his falling hair.

He breathes, lips blushing. "Can I kiss you?"

I nod fast, and he wastes no time dipping his head to mine. He grabs my waist and pulls me closer, hands sliding over the silky fabric of my dress. Our lips tuck together like books packed tight and perfect on a shelf. He holds the harmony for a brief moment, but then the ferocity of his appetite tears my mouth open. The back of my head knocks into the door. The fabric of his jeans sandpapers against the silk of my dress. I tug my hands through his hair. He lets my grip tip his nose to the ceiling, exposing his neck.

"What?" He breathes. I lift myself up onto my toes, and my teeth fumble to bite his earlobe. He hums and tilts to the left, easily dodging the attempt. A smile fights its way across his face. "Oh, so threatening," he rasps.

"Shut up."

"Do you need help?" He grins. His hands tighten around my waist in a cinch, and he pushes down, forcing my heels back to the ground with a click.

"Fuck you." I try for his ear again, ignoring the heat in my cheeks.

His hands graze across the backs of my thighs and he pulls at them, folding my legs and lifting me off the ground. My back slides up the door. I meet his earlobe and hold it harshly between my teeth. He sighs. His body falls deeper into mine. His fingers flex beneath me, scratching my bare legs in reflex. "You like being in charge," he reassures, a gravelled voice. I release his ear. My head falls with a soft thump to the door.

"Who doesn't?"

"A lot of people." He smiles.

"Stop trying to figure me out, kiss me."

His smile falls away, replaced with jaded eyes. His lips find mine, and the door swings open behind me. My back meets the cold air. He steps in and kicks the door shut, letting the darkness swallow us whole.

We stumble in the direction of the couch. He drops me onto the cushions. My body bounces, and he hovers over me, a shadow. I feel the air move, feel his presence draw in, and in the pitch black he finds my lips like a magnet.

He kisses so sweetly, as if he knows the exact curvature of my mouth and how to squeeze every last drop of pleasure from it. I lift my hips, and they graze along the rough fabric of his jeans. He hums and pulls away.

"What do you want, Naomi?" He wonders. He rubs the hem of my dress back and forth between his fingers.

"You." I pull on his zipper teeth. The word is reflexive, much like last night when I asked him to kiss my knees. But there's also an edge to it. I'm not letting last night happen again.

"Me?" He murmurs.

"Mhm."

"I thought you could take care of yourself."