In This World (Harry Styles)

14

(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It's important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)

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See what you want

But I'm the rising tide

I'm a force of god

A thousand lives

Heaven Up There - Palace

The next morning, I got up early to make a bit of toast and coffee and listened to Bruce Springsteen's "Atlantic City" as I worked. I stood over the counter in nothing but a pair of running shorts, as they'd been the only thing handy when I hopped out of the shower, spreading a bit of butter and cream cheese on the bagel. Gray appeared behind me out of the blue. I hadn't even heard him approach, and that was owing to the fact that he was barefoot and practically nude too, apart from the bright red briefs. He hooked his head over my shoulder like a needy puppy, then planted his hands onto the counter on either side of my waist, effectively locking me in place. I might've gotten pissed or irritated, except for the fact that I always shivered at his mere nearness. It was stabilizing, but rattling. Secure, but dangerous. Tranquil, but plundering all the same. He now nuzzled my freshly shampooed hair and said I smell like a million bucks.

"Thanks..." I muttered, keeping my focus on the task before me. Trying to ignore the fleshy swell of his cock against my ass. He pressed it into me with such absent familiarity, it was gut-wrenching. The extremely thin material that separated us was precarious at best.

"You know you're doing that all wrong..."

"Whatever," I chuckled and kept working. He sighed and his breath washed down my bare arms and belly. Every muscle in my body was set on edge. I clenched, thinking up an excuse to push him away.

"What're we having?" he asked, inviting himself to share in my breakfast.

"Personal space, that's what."

He laughed and hopped atop the rear counter, long legs swinging back and forth. "I'm sooooo hungry..."

"Here..." I approached with half the bagel in my hand, meeting his sleep-swollen eyes and allowing him to take a big bite. I then moved over to the breakfast nook to finish the meal in peace. He grumbled and cooked himself an omelet.

That afternoon, I got fully dressed, ready to head out for a run on the newly extended trail, when I spotted him on the ground floor also dressed for a workout; headed into the gym. I followed, checking the room out for the first time since I'd moved in. It was a huge, airy space with loads of natural light from the floor-to-ceiling windows opposite of the door, and loads of space in the center lined with yoga studio mats. I didn't take him for a Zen guy, but it would certainly be cool to have someone to practice with again. Apart from that, the walls were lined with different forms gym-quality equipment, from bench presses to chest presses to ellipticals to recumbent bikes to treadmills and punching bags. It was an athlete's utopia.

"Woah...this place is amazing," I said, eyeing his salmon-colored athletic string tank and the way it accentuated his traps, biceps, and ribs. The fabric of the Y in the back slinked tantalizingly between his shoulder blades, playing them up to perfection as he flexed. I had to stop myself from staring when he turned to face me.