Sickening - Narry

3: Doctor Styles

"Hello...earth to Ni..." I hear Liam's voice trail off.

"S-sorry. Slow mornin'" I reply, "what I miss?"

"Mini-tour, clear your schedule Nialler." Harry interrupts with, saying it hushly near my ear.

"Yeah, right. Sorry all. Let's do it. Just need a few days to get over this." I reply to the entire room.

"Why don't you go see the doctor?" Louis says.

"Don't wa-" I begin, before Harry interrupts; "We're going later today." he says.

Why did he say that? We never talked about going to the doctor.

"Anyway, not to take away from your unfortunate illness Niall, we have 8 stops. London the first two nights, make our way to Scotland and finish in Ireland. Quick tour, no biggie, yeah? Make the fans quite happy." Simon says from the front of the wooden table.

I reach out and grab the glass in front of me, bring it to my lips and letting the water temporarily soothe my sore throat. I try and slide a 'ticked-off' look to Harry but when he looks in my direction, I can't manage anything but the widest smile. He's just...he's him. He's Harry.

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After we leave the high-rise, Harry ushers me towards a blacked-out BMW sitting off of the curb to our right. "Figured we'd just take one car, yeah?" he says to me.

"Yeah, sounds good." I reply, "Where to?"

"Figured you could come back with me, i'll make you dinner." the younger boy replies.

"What happened to the doctor's?" I ask, furrowing my brow.

"Doctor Styles..." Harry replies, a cheeky smile creeping across his face.

I let my head lay against the headrest and take in a deep breath. Though I can't quite breathe through my nose, my throat feels shredded, and my entire body aches; I couldn't feel any better just knowing that Harry is right beside me.

Harry talks to the driver as I step up on his stoop and let myself in with his key, waiting in the doorframe till the Englishman can join me.

"Thanks, leprechaun." Harry says as he passes me, giving my butt a quick tap and my cheek and light kiss. Dear god. Before Harry makes it to the kitchen, I dash towards his sofa and dive onto it, pulling up the small blanket resting on the arm 0nce I land.

"Don't really feel like soup again, you?" Harry hollers from the kitchen.

"Don't have to, but would be nice." I reply "It's up to you. Your flat."

"Right, soup for you, pizza for me. Sound good?" he says.

"Good." I say, knowing full and well that i'll be having both when he's not looking.

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This is twice now that I've woken up with my head resting in Harry's lap. After dinner we watched some football and talked about preparations for the mini-tour we were about to embark on. I couldn't help but slip into sleep once he started playing with my hair, the heat of his thighs radiating against my neck and skull, easing some of the pressure I felt. And I think, after this happening again now, Harry knew that.

"Right, better head to bed." Harry said, looking down at my now open eyes.

I just let a small smile form across my face and shake my head to signal my agreement with his suggestion.

Tonight is different, it felt right. Not foreign, not new, just right. I slid my jeans off and took off my shirt--which was new--and climbed into Harry's bed. Harry, too, stripped down to his briefs before looking towards me and saying; "Do you mind? I usually don't sleep with shorts on, just felt I should last night since you were out of it. Didn't want to freak you out or nothing."

I shake my head to show that I didn't mine, a lump developing in my throat from the anxiety and anticipation of what was to happen. With that, Harry slid what was left of his clothing from around his waist down to his ankles, kicking the underwear off to the side.

It takes everything in me not to just stare with my mouth open, observing every inch of the beautiful boy, standing stark naked, right in front of me. I quickly snap my head to the side when he glances up at me, letting out a slight giggle. "Sorry, just a bit odd." I say to Harry, a worried look forming across his face.

"I can put them back on if you'd like." Harry replies.

"No, no. It's nice...uhh, it's fine I mean." I reply, the lump in my throat growing (along with something else on my body.) I quickly slide under the covers and face the younger boy as he slides under the blankets, joining me.

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What was I doing? Was this wrong? Harry doesn't know I think of men in this way, and for him to be so open and free with his body around me, I feel as though i'm taking advantage of his friendliness.

While I feel as though im being too advantageous with Harry's comfortability around me, I can't help but want more. I want him, all of him--to myself. I want to feel every inch of his body, every bump and crevice. I want to know what every part of him tastes and feels like. I want to know what noises he makes when I kiss behind his ear, when I run my nails against his hip bones, and what his lips taste like in the morning. I want him.

Curiosity, and my worst parts, taking over, I slide my hand towards the younger boy's sleeping body. His chest rising and falling with every breath he makes. I can see his pecs swell at the climax of each breath, the ridges in his abdomen take form at each fall. Once my hand reaches his shoulder, knowing he's sound asleep, I slide my fingers to his chest.

I let my fingers glide between his pecs and rub over his nipples, receiving a slight shudder in return from the sleeping boy. I then slide my hand down to his abdomen, rubbing the ridges that form the small six pack and stopping at his belly button.

With my last bit of luck, I slide my fingers down to the top of his waist and start tracing the small V-line formed at the top of his pubic area. This causes a small shake from the younger boy and he starts to shift in his sleep. Afraid of what is next to come, I retract my hand and wait for the Englishman to settle.

Once i'm sure that he has drifted back to sleep, I make another brazen move. Sliding my hand, under the shared blankets, to Harry's thigh. I rub softly for a few moments, then move closer to the center of his body till I feel it, little Harry... well not TOO little Harry. Not gigantic, not too thick, not too thin. Not super long, but definitely not short. I wrap my hand around Harry's cock and, with a slight grip, pump his soft length, feeling every inch of him. Harry starts to shift again, and not knowing what to do, I remain a grip around the Englishman's penis, but stop moving my hand.

When I feel he is sufficiently asleep once more, I start to pump him again, feeling the once soft cock now become harder in my hand. I play with the tip and underside of Harry's length, and to my surprise, feel the slightest amount of precum start to form. Too afraid to continue, I take my hand back and rest it on my chest.

This is wrong...so so so wrong. This is my best mate, someone who trusts me. Someone I love, I can't do this. Not to Harry.

As I continue this thought in my head, I'm quickly interrupted by a soft and lazy voice... "Why'd you stop?"

I have never wanted to be so far away in my life... He knows. He's awake. Im dead.

To avoid the worst conversation of my life, I lay there motionless, making no noise--begging the universe to pick my body up and place it anywhere else. Just not here.