I Want It Bad - Narry

Chapter Five

Harry and Niall end up in the back seat of Niall’s car, lazily moving their lips together in sync. The sun was gone, now replaced by the glooming glow of a crescent moon and twinkling stars.

His glasses slip down the bridge of his nose each time he hovers over Niall; one hand reaching up to shove them back and the other curling over the plane of Niall’s bare shoulder. Harry inwardly groans at how horrid he must look right now; skin all sweaty and flushed, chest heaving with each breath, and those damn glasses sliding off with every movement he makes.

But it’s the exact opposite in Niall’s eyes. He thinks Harry is the most gorgeous thing he’s laid eyes on. It’s a pity Harry can’t see that.

Niall’s hand skids down the brunette’s back slowly, teasingly. He stops just above the hem of Harry’s jeans, fingers dipping down underneath the denim. Harry takes in a surprised shuddery breath, his plump lips parting. Niall painfully refrains from letting out a moan himself.

It’s really frustrating, you see. Harry is sprawled across him and practically panting like a dog in heat, his eyes blown-out and clouded with lust. But somehow, despite all of that, he still looks so . . . innocent, and pure. It makes Niall want to ruin him.

Well, maybe not to that extreme. (Yes, the voice in the back of his head argues, to that extreme.) But he wants to at least taint his chaste soul. So, that’s what he decides to do.

Niall reluctantly pulls away from their kiss, trying not to focus on Harry’s pouting lips.

“Babe, I got an idea,” he says with a grin. Harry nods and looks expectantly at him to go on.

“How ‘bout we go out? Get a beer or two. Relax, ya know?”

Harry frowns, gaze dropping down to his lap. His finger tug at loose strands of string on his pants, doing anything to avoid the stare Niall has on him.

“What’s wrong?” He asks as he scoots closer. “We don’t have to go if—”

“No,” Harry quickly interrupts, “I want to go! I just . . . never drank alcohol before.”

He looks up sheepishly before burying his face against Niall’s chest. He whimpers something inaudible against his skin, and knocks his forehead there a couple times in what seems to be annoyance.

“Baby,” Niall gently coos. His fingers card through Harry’s soft curls leisurely. “There’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about.”