"No? You stay like this.", he says, puckering his lips. "I need you to wear as little as possible today."
"But Ni-"
"No complaining!" He puts his hand over your mouth and looks you straight into the eyes before he continues, with a thicker accent than usual, and definetely amused by his own words, "You're my slut today and I decide what you wear and when to pull down these tiny pants to let me take advantage of you, okay?"
"But-" you mumble under his hand.
"But, but, but what?", he mocks you. "I don't understand."
Then, something on TV catches his eye. It's, in fact, a sex scene. "There!", he laughs, pointing at the naked actors with his free hand. "Like I said! They're fucking all the time. What a good life they've had."
He takes his other hand off your lips and you say "Niall you know that this is a made up story, it didn't really happen."
"Who even cares, (Y/N), stop ruining it for me."
He's making fun of you now and you shake your head and pinch him. "Idiot." He doesn't give a fuck about Game Of Thrones, he just wants to upset you.
He's trying to focus on it though, but doesn't last ten minutes. "Alright.", he then says. "What do you think? On the couch or the kitchen counter?"
Further ten minutes later, he made you cum a fifth and sixth time. And this is how it goes for the rest of the day. He gives you some time off and it's a miracle he somehow manages to bring up the power and arousal to do it all over again between such short time spans, but he's making it a game and you're shocked, in a good way, about what your body is capable of.
He fucks you on the couch and the counter, fingers you as you prepare dinner and after that, he eats you out again. You're exhausted, even if it's supposed to be a gift to you, like he said before, something like a make up for him never being there, but as it gets dark outside, you're indeed sore, like he said, and just not in the mood anymore.
He plays a video game, smoking in the living room even though you told him not to, but he just said "It's a saturday, there's no paps around, no annoying little fangirls crying over me being a bad role model and if a man wants a smoke, who are you to refuse to let me have one?"
He loves to play the boss and you just give in and sit down to make him share it with you. It's not like you haven't already smelled it, but tasting the weed is quite an experience, too.
"Good, huh?", Niall asks, chuckling at how hard you try not to cough. "That stuff just goes straight to your brain, like vroooom. I feel like my head's gonna explode."
He leans over, sucking on the joint as if his life depended on it, then grabs you by your chin and opens your mouth with his thick thumb to blow the smoke right from his mouth into yours. Your lips touch and you shiver. The smoke sets your windpipe on fire, but it's fun.
"Oh Niall", you sigh as you lean back and exhale into the room. "If only your fans knew."
