In Other Words (Niall Fanfic)

Chapter Seventy-Two

In Other Words…Chapter Seventy Two 

Niall’s POV

The summer heat was much more tolerable now that we were living outside the city; the shady trees on our lot allowing us to leave the windows open on most days. We’d gotten into the habit of taking our breakfast in the garden, but only if we were awake and out of bed in time to call it breakfast. Usually, it was just a cup of tea while we contemplated what to do for lunch.

It’s funny; the whole of our life is stretched out before us. We know that time will march on and eventually tomorrow will be yesterday. But, once you start to focus on some date, some square on the calendar that you’ve filled up with bold letters and underlines, time starts to fly.  If you’re not careful, you could find yourself dragging your heels as you’re propelled forward.  True, the days between now and the moment I slam my bag in the boot of the hired car and pull down our graveled drive as she leans against the railings of our porch, forcing a smile, were dwindling down, one by one. But, instead of dwelling on that fact, we were indulging in it.

We dined at all of our favorite restaurants. We stayed in our bed all day watching movies on the telly even though we owned them on disc, using the three minute advert breaks as an excuse to have a snog or a snack. We had friends over for drinks and to play games. We slept when we were tired; curled up on the couch, splayed out on the lounge chairs on the porch, tangled up at the very edge of our King-sized bed.  We took aimless walks.  

We had sex in the middle of the night; her small, warm hands sneaking beneath my boxers as she pressed up against me. I always let her think I was asleep for a few minutes longer than I actually was, so I could observe, fascinated by her approach. She would gently wrap her fingers around my soft length, squeezing just slightly until I’d begin to fatten up, retracting her hand as if I would suddenly spring from sleep, hard and wanting her but not knowing why.

She’d whine into the pillow when I reached beneath the sheets to stroke at her slit, easing a finger or two inside as she writhed against me, both of us fully awake but not speaking. I’d pull off her pathetic excuse for pyjama shorts and she’d climb across my hips, her hair shrouding our faces as she plunged slowly into me, her breath caught in her chest until I was at the hilt. Her back would arch as she ground against me, my hands steady at her hips, my own pace guided by the whimpers and whispers that escaped her lips and the steadily-increasing tightness on my cock. My desperate fingers moving through her hair, pulling her lips onto mine in that final moment when her thighs gripped my sides and I let go, filling her with everything I had. A few minutes later she’d be back into those shorts, curled back beside me in the same way as before, but  yet closer.

Our album would hit the shelves in just a few days, and the doors would open for the first show of the tour just a week later. The first month will be spent here in the UK, which really was the perfect situation. We’d be up on stage four nights a week, doing exactly what we loved, returning home after the post-show frenzy  to our own beds in most cases.  Even when the miles and timing forced us into hotel rooms, we’d still constantly be surrounded by our friends and family, good food and lots of laughs. I wish I could cram the entire world into a single time zone, sometimes. That way I’d never have to leave people and places behind for weeks and months on end. But like I said, we aren’t dwelling on that bullshit right now.

We’re savoring.

I hauled my grimy shirt over my head and used it to wipe my face, tossing it atop one of the shrubs alongside the garage before hoisting the ladder on top of my shoulder, the plastic-capped feet still scraping on the pavement a bit. The sun was hanging directly above me, the top of my head tingling with heat. I needed to be wearing a hat, and probably some sun lotion as well. The metal clanged against the edge of the roof and I adjusted the pitch a bit before climbing the first four rungs, the cold can of bee and wasp poison tucked into the waistband of my shorts ready to be drawn and fired.