You cover your mouth with your hand so he can't hear you laughing, and turn around to pretend you're asleep. It's a beautiful summer day outside and the light casts golden patterns on the walls of your bedroom. You hear him coming closer, opening the door. He stops and looks at you. You keep your eyes closed, trying to breathe as slow and calm as possible.
"Who are you trying to fool, little Miss?", he asks in a low voice. You can't hold it back anymore. You burst out laughing, turn around and open your arms as a sign for him to come into them.
He looks so beautiful in the morning light, his tired eyes seem to sparkle despite the red bags underneath, his mouth's curled up to a truly happy smile and as he steps back to take an actual run up before he jumps on the bed, he winks at you, knowing how weak you get at this sight.
"I'm full of caffeine!", he chuckles as he literally tackles you, pushing you down into the matress and quickly climbing on top of you, pinning you down with his hands around your wrists. "I'm so full of caffeine!"
"And high probably.", you giggle. "Did Zayn bring-"
"Yes he did.", Niall laughs. "But I'm totally fine, to-tally-totes fine. How are you? Did you even sleep? I don't think so."
He talks so fast, it's hilarious. He's already a bundle of pure joy apart from when he's high on coffee or weed, but whenever he comes back from a long night at the studio, whatever he chooses to keep him awake and energetic either doubles his natural vitality, in case of coffee, or turns him into a giggly, ticklish little child, if it's weed.
The combination of both is always dangerous. You never know what to expect next. Niall was like a larking little puppy, brimming over with life.
"I didn't sleep.", you give in and pout.
"Aw.", he sighs, bending down to kiss you on your half on your puckered lips. "Did my kitten miss her Daddy?"
"Hmhm.", you nod, still pouting like the little girl he loves to treat you like.
"Have you been... itchy?", he asks, taking his hands off your wrists with the last word only to initialize a sudden tickling attack.
"Ni-aaaall!", you laugh, trying to roll to the side, but he's got you jammed between his legs.
"What Niall?", he mocks you. "What, huh,? What, what?" With each what, he tickles you harder, first your sides, then under your chin.
You can't control your laughter anymore, you're already tearing up. "Please!", you grunt. "Please get off of m-me, Ni-all!"
His name sounds like you're moaning it and he stops. "Ugh, say that again, babe.", he groans in an overly husky voice, starting to roll his hips as if he's grinding on you. "Say my name again."
He's just fooling around, but if he knew how you felt the night before, he wouldn't pull this. He shouldn't do that anyway. There's your pyjama, blankets, and his lately very tight jeans between those parts of your bodies that really mattered, but you can still feel the bulge in his pants.
"Ni-allll!", you fake moan, arching your back and bucking your hips like when you really cum.
He chuckles and shakes his head. "Dirty girl. Diiiirty girl." His thick accent only adds to your re-arising arousal.
