Summer's barely started for the almost new couple, and they don't think it can get any better than being together. However, the reality of life is only around the corner and they never expected that keeping a relationship healthy would be this diffi...
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I fell in love with Niall through the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore, through the laughter we shared while chasing each other in his house, and through the music of four particular Australian voices.
And when I did, I loved him with all that I had. I loved him in darkness and light; I loved him in the warmth of summer and the chill of winter; in heartache and joy; from the beginning and until whenever the end comes. I loved him in a way that I've never loved anyone before or ever will. The amount of every little minuscule love I had for him was to the very point of suffocation.
Loved—love. I love him as much as the oceans and the sand beneath them.
He knows this, I know he does. He feels the same way too, if not more. I wish I could love him more than he did me, but the amount he holds is far, far, farther than the Earth and the planets beyond.
How can he do that? I already love him with everything I have. His heart must be bigger than mine.
That must be the abstract concept I'd described at the beginning of this. The very significant thing that I've tried so hard to figure out about him. I'm not sure if it's that—if it's the amount of love he can hold—but there's something extremely important about that significant thing, and I have to make sure that it's protected at all costs.
Therefore, I must love Niall Horan forever. Not that I mind doing that, because hell, it's a privilege and a pleasure. Plus, it keeps me happy, so. It's a win-win situation. I keep loving him and thus, at the same time, I protect the thing that must be protected.
"I'm gonna have you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner." Niall tells me in the wake of morning. "And for dessert, too. A four course meal."
I try on a sly grin, gazing at him and his whole—albeit obscene—aesthetic. I think, yup, definitely must be protected.
"You are one, unique man, Niall Horan." I say back. "What even are you? I swear you're sex on a pair of legs. And I don't mean just how hot you are, but literally sex."
"Because I always talk about it?" He contends.
I fold my lips together and nod.
"Dunno. Can you blame me? We haven't done anything in eight months. My dick hasn't fucked in eight months. I feel bad for the guy." He explains, but I still don't take it.
A hand slithers on the small of my back, slowly guiding himself down my waist and to the crook before my bottom.
It sends a tingle to my skin as his lips barely touch my ear. "Don't you?" He mutters inside it.
I turn my head and look at him for a moment, taking in the smirk on his face and the determination he carries with it.
"Yeah, I really fucking feel it." I reply in the midst of pulling him towards me, his hands already drawing the covers over us to hide our next dirty scene from plain sight.
