I Want It Bad - Narry

Chapter Nineteen

“Lets go Gemma, I don’t want to be here anymore,” Harry says with a scowl, jerking away from Niall.

“Yer not goin’ anywhere,” Niall says with a bitter laugh, grabbing Harry’s arm roughly. He spins Harry back around and is met with a hard slap to his face, head swinging to the left as he groans loudly.

“Don’t ever touch me like that,” Harry says quietly. Niall holds his cheek, a sharp stinging pain prickling the reddened skin. A deep laugh rumbles in Niall’s chest unexpectedly as he lifts his head and stares directly at Harry, his pupils dilated so large that his eyes look black, not blue.

“Gemma,” Harry says in almost a whisper, voice tremulous as he stares back at Niall, “go outside, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“What? Harry, m’not just going to leave you,” she starts incredulously.

“Gemma, love, please excuse me and your brother for a minute. He’ll be right out, I promise,” Niall says, his accent thicker than usual, almost making his words slurred together.

She stares at the two, still unmoving with wide-eyes, but finally nods and walks out of the building, glancing back at her brother in worry until the exit door closes shut.

“So I’m an asshole, huh?” Niall asks, pinning Harry by the shoulders to the opposing wall roughly, “An insensitive fuck, yeah?”

“Yeah, you are,” Harry replies breathily, eyes suddenly downcast. The corners of Niall’s lips tug into a smirk as he towers over Harry, ducking down so that he’s only inches away from Harry’s ear.

“Then do somethin’ about it,” he purrs, tongue flicking out to run along his skin.

Harry stares at him like he must be joking, but when Niall dips down and brushes his lips against Harry’s teasingly, its like the tiger caged up inside him breaks free. He crashes their lips together hungrily, one hand grasping the base of Niall’s neck and the other pressed firmly against his chest, shoving them forward, feet stumbling and nearly tripping over each other until Niall feels his back press up against the cold surface of a wall. Harry’s lips are such dirty little things, trailing over every inch of skin, teeth dragging along so it imprints marks in a way that makes it all feel so very sinful. When he pulls back, his mouth is slick with spit and tainted with an unholy red, his fingers twisting into the fabric of Niall’s shirt tightly.

“Gotta do better than that, baby,” Niall drawls, his top row of teeth flicking the piercing in his tongue at Harry, like he’s taunting him.

So Harry lurches forward and sinks his teeth into Niall’s shoulder, just hard enough to send a shock up Niall’s spine and to make his toes curl in his shoes. Niall’s head falls back and rests against the wall, letting out shuddery breaths as Harry moves back to his lips, licking into his mouth and toying with his tongue piercing.