Over the course of three days, the crisp white sheets and comforter on the hotel bed had become your and Niall's second skin. Consummating your marriage, while having prior rehearsals with one another, released endorphins neither of you knew you held until the moment the two of you finally stripped to nothing—save for the bands occupying both of your left hands and the giddy smiles impossible of kissing away through the remainder of the night. There were more festivities you and Niall lined up other than rolling in between the sheets with one another on the sunny island, of course. But the first few days, the two of you agreed, were reserved for savoring skin and falling into a pit of blissful moans and climaxes.
Awaking on day four was bittersweet, knowing you would need to be adorned in more than a pair of underwear and a bathrobe, and that you would be greeted by more of the public than the waiter of the hotel's room service. Your eyelids peeked open and squinted at the bright, yellow glow who always managed to sneak by the curtains to spare you a good morning. But you would suffer each awakening for eternity, so long as the strong, tight arm belting your waist remained alongside it. You spun around in your husband's hold to witness his awakening. The light scrunching of his nose and twitch of his fingers against your side told it was approaching, and the familiar, undeniable excitement for what the day with your husband held began snowballing inside of you at an exponential rate.
"Morning, hubby." You whisper at the sight of his eyelids stirring, similar to the previous days. Finally, you are met with the entrancing blue, that nothing else—not even the clear aqua of Santorini's waters—could compete with. "Morning, wifey." He murmurs back, verbatim to your greetings the days before and tightens his grip around your middle with a delighted sigh. The tip of his nose immediately targets the open space of your neck a hickey was yet to cover and buries into it, eliciting chuckles from you. When your fingertips begin trailing up and down his tan, muscled arms your eyes did not hesitate to follow suit and admire. He rumbled in pleasure against your collarbone and sent vibrations from his chest on your torso. All at once, your eyes screeched to a stop, along with your fingers. It took only a few moments for the pads of your fingers to begin tracing over the brown, freshly dotted skin you were to thank the island's sun for later.
"Mm...what?" Niall hums as you continue your ministrations against the freckles slowly rising on his forearms.
"You're getting freckles," you whisper gleefully, tapping each small dot individually before taking the opportunity to draw imaginary constellations on his skin. He lifts his head from your shoulder and upon facing him, you take notice of even more dots lining his cheeks. You brush the flattened hair away from his forehead with a dopey smile overcoming your face before leaning in to kiss one less than an inch away from his swollen, pink lips.
"Like em'?" He ganders, the corner of his lips twitching up at your loving gaze.
"Love them. We should spend time in the sun more often."
"We haven't even left the room," Niall states through raspy laughter. You find yourself sinking further into the mattress and craving more of his touch just from the sound of it.
"Exactly, so we should probably start getting ready. Hm, Mr. Horan?" You clasp your hand with his and begin slipping from beneath the bedsheets with a teasing smile.
"I suppose you're right. Would you care to join me in the shower, Mrs. Horan?" He allows you to pull him from the tempting mattress and hold your naked form against his.
"I'd expect nothing less." You reply, looking up into his shimmering eyes. He tilts his head, pupils unabashedly flicking from your eyes to your lips.
"You've got some freckles too, love." Niall murmurs, taking your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger to inspect your glowing skin.
"Really?" The ask is left unanswered when Niall hums and brings his lips to yours in a sweet, chaste kiss with the lingering promise of more once the two of you are beneath the searing deluge of the showerhead.
"No. I just wanted to kiss you good morning." He admits with a stretching smile.
