Great Expectations [ A Niall Horan OU ]

four

Warning: This story contains content that revolves around pregnancy issues. Please read with caution!

15 weeks

If you were to ask Niall how he got into this position, he would not be able to tell you.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers rushing to his front door and opening it for Gia who just got home from work. Vaguely, he can recall waiting until she kicked her shoes off before taking her bag from her hands and putting it on the hook. There was a metallic thump when it hit the ground, not properly hung up because he was in such a hurry. His arms slipping around her waist, backing her towards the living room with his lips pushed urgently against hers — now that image is much clearer.

Now he's sitting on his couch with Gia straddling him, her knees encasing him and his big hands steady on her hips. They're insatiable, necking like teenagers on the verge of being caught. She leans over him, hands lost in his soft hair. His lips alter between being pressed against hers or against her neck. Every time he brushes a kiss under her jaw, she shivers in his hold, rising up off his lap with a moan until he brings her back down.

His hands drift, one of his palms rubbing up and down her back, the other pressed against her thigh. He squeezes it when her lips land against the corner of his mouth. Her pencil skirt is hiked up just enough for him to feel the soft skin of her thighs. He can't get enough of her, every inch of her skin waiting to be discovered, to be caressed by him.

"Easy, lover," he says, his voice hoarse from the lack of using it. He makes sure she's steady with her own weight before reaching his hands up, popping one — two — three buttons of her work shirt. The powder blue bra she's wearing peeks up at him like an old friend.

He doesn't hesitate to lean forward, a hand pressed against Gia's lower back to keep her steady. His lips brush against her collarbones, fluttering in kisses before he kisses lower — down in a straight line until he meets the tops of her breasts. Admittedly, he was slightly drunk last time he saw this much of her, but he knows it's not just his imagination that they've gotten bigger.

Gia's hands still in his hair when he brushes the first kiss against the top of her right breast, lips curious but firm. When he dips lower, letting his teeth sink into the soft skin ever so lightly, both her hands land against his shoulder hard and fast. Niall pulls away, tilting his head back at her with concern.

Her hair is wild from his fingers running through it, strands near the back slightly curved upwards. She's breathless, chest heaving and those endlessly dark eyes of hers are wild for him. But her lips are turned downwards in a pressed frown.

Niall reaches his hands up, brushing his fingers through the front of her hair and pushing it aside so he can get a clear look at her. He searches her face, "What's wrong, darlin?"

She peers down at him nervously, "My boobs are sore."

Niall's features soften, the tension fading away, "Oh, fuck, sorry love," he says, frowning at her breasts.