The Only One {Harry Styles AU}

16. Now pt. 2

We lay in your bed Sunday evening, cuddling and kissing as the shadows shifted across the ceiling, signalling the setting of the sun. You ran your hand up my left arm so delicately that a haze of goosebumps bloomed on my skin in its wake. 

"What are you doing Friday?" you asked, gazing into my eyes and biting your lip.

I smiled down at you. "Whatever you're doing, I suspect."

You laughed, closing your eyes briefly, those long lashes of yours fluttering against your cheeks. You glanced back up at me and said,  "Well, some of the cast and crew are going to the celebration down in West Hollywood. Do you want to come?"

"Sure. What sort of celebration?"

You looked at me like I had just spoken Swahili. "It's Halloween..."

"Oh!" God, I'm such an idiot. I couldn't believe how stupid I looked. And then I sort of panicked. I had been trying to set money aside for my plane ticket, and I'd spent a fair chunk on our dates, and I just didn't think I could muster up a costume. "Um, but do I have to wear a costume?"

"No," you shrugged, "you don't have to, but everyone else will be." Shit.

"What are you going as?"

"It's a surprise," you stuck your tongue out. I dipped my head down, quick as a fox, and bit it gently before sliding my tongue into your mouth. You started to giggle into the kiss and pulled away, your cheeks turning a precious shade of pink. "I, um, I can have Becca, our costume designer for the show, make you something."

I raised my eyebrows. "Really? Would she do that for me?"

"Sure," you giggled again. "I'd just need to give her your measurements."

"Oh, I see," I wrapped my arms all the way around your back and pulled you tight against my chest, breathing my reply into your ear, "you want to take my measurements."

You wrestled away and swatted my shoulder, laughing. "Not like that you perv!"

I laughed along, reaching a cautious hand out to brush the hair out of your face. "All right, all right." I kissed you softly and murmured against your lips, "would we have matching costumes?"

"I don't think so," you were so sarcastic. Always so sarcastic. "My Turning Pages group are all matching. But I think I know just what to have her make for you."

"What?" I was dying to know. Somehow I thought whatever costume you picked would say so much about how you saw me.

"Uh-uh. No, sir. That will be a surprise too."

It was my turn to pull away. "What?! That's no fair."

You threw your head back and laughed again. "Tough." Humph. I'd show you tough. I took advantage of your exposed neck and nipped the pale skin, kissing and nibbling my way back to your ear. "Don't," you breathed out a heavy sigh, "don't leave any marks."

"Hmmm. No love bites for my love?" I sucked your earlobe in between my teeth. You grabbed a fistful of my hair, and we moaned in harmony, our bodies writhing together like layers of sound in a symphony. We kissed again, and my hands explored your body the way a musician caresses a new instrument--gently, affectionately, and always with underlying respect. When we finally paused for a breath, I tucked a few wild strands of hair behind your ear and asked, "so what sort of measurements did you need?"

Your eyes danced down between our bodies, measuring my doubled entendre with that glance. Perhaps it wasn't the right time to pursue this line of thought.

"Um," you found my eyes again, which I'm sure were lit with amusement and arousal. "Your, your waist, probably," you touched a spot of bare skin above my joggers, almost tickling, "and legs I would guess, like how long they are," your face had gone from precious pink to flustered fuchsia.