Lights, Camera, Action [N.H]

27

nothing much to say today! apologies for my absences, I'm dealing with some uni things so my updates are taking a bit longer to edit. tysm for your patience!

The sun rose, blanketing the sky in a gorgeous orange that streamed through the large open windows. I was in a hotel room, not unusual for me over the past few months. What was unusual; the hotel room wasn't mine. I'd slept in a recording studio - now countless times - and woken up in a moving car. I'd even slept in Niall's room before, his bed - but this was the most unusual case yet. I was in his bed, half-clothed, wearing nothing but his soft and baggy garments. His arm strapped around my body, I groaned quietly and tried to adjust to the environment.

The memories came flashing back like a bad hangover, when you get so ridiculously drunk you start remembering things that happened the night before one by one.

They came in a sequence, my thighs tightening at the thoughts of him.

Throwing off my shoes in a hurry on our way to the couch.

Him picking me up from the back of it, gripping my ass desperately.

Our tongues sliding against one another.

Then - the first real unsavoury thought.

His head, his perfect, dark golden curls. The memory of it buried between my legs. I looked down between my legs, finding tiny scattered marks along the skin. I remembered they didn't hurt, embarrassingly enough I remember moaning deafeningly when he did it, it felt so good. 

My eyes shot open, the condom. Him placing it on himself while I watched, the feeling when he first slid into me - I couldn't do anything except cry out in pleasure. The sound rang in my head, my feet fiddled and I began perspiring. If I kept thinking like this, I'd be begging him to go again. And I could not handle it yet.

What could I handle? That's an even better question. What was I supposed to do now? Would this be the end? I turned around to look at his gentle features, his arm still firmly attached to my body. The blonde hairs scattered across his arm, freckles woven throughout the skin that trickled up his sides. His hair swooped in the most god-like, perfect way, almost as if he'd called a stylist into his room to fix it before I woke up and witnessed him in his natural state. This couldn't possibly be it - he was too perfect for his own good, sometimes.

It made me wonder if this was natural for him, the whole sex situation. The intimacy of it all stuck out like a sore thumb, that couldn't have possibly been something he did with everyone, right?...

It was at least somewhat special. I had a feeling. I had to have a feeling. It would be pathetic if I was wrong, but we'd been through so much over the past couple of months that it ultimately didn't make sense for our sexual encounter to mean nothing.

My mind ran in circles, wondering how to bring this up. His contract would have probably prevented this, I thought. It had been so long since we spoke about it, I almost forgot. But with that big, fat, stack of papers, there would be no doubts. Everything would be laid out in plain, clear, wording. With no ambiguity or doubt, I'd know for sure without having to have the awkward conversation.

He shuffled behind me, I wondered if my thoughts were so loud he could hear them fighting one another for attention, bashing and brawling around in my head.

"I think if I say 'morning, sunshine' it'd be a bit too perfect." He groggily opened, turning over to face me. His body was propped up, hovering over mine with enough of a comfortable distance between.