Secret Love Story (narry) (boyxboy)

Chapter 53

[Verse 1]
Here to take my medicine, take my medicine
Treat you like a gentleman
Treat you like a gentleman
Give me that adrenaline, that adrenaline
Think I'm gonna stick with you
Here to take my medicine, take my medicine
Rest it on your fingertips
Up to your mouth, feeling it out
Feeling it out

This bitch.
This fucking dramatic little bitch.
He is singing about getting a bj from a bloke!!!! 😂😂😂😂😂🙌🏾
You know it must have been one hell of a bj that he wrote a song about it... Get it Niall😋. 
Guess we now know what Niall's mouf do 🙄

But on a serious note, do you guys really believe that  Niall and Harry had or have a thing going on in real life?

I ship them hard. And there are some things that they do, say, said or done that make go THEY FUCKING!!! THEY ARE FREAKING MAKING THE BEAST WITH TWO BACKS!

But I'm also a very realistic person. And at the back of my mind, I'm like ... ya my most wanted fantasy might not be real because Niall has adamantly denied being anything but straight. I don't know, maybe that's why they broke up, if they were together, because Niall was/is "straight".

Shipping is soooooo hard 😱.

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Niall found himself a week after the boys' hangout by the pool in silk sheets of a hotel bed wide awake. He could make out the patterns on the hotels ceiling in the dark.

He traced those well-made patterns. They were plastered on amazingly, not a flaw in sight. The plaster was pearly white and smooth. The rigid bumps of the ceiling in symmetrical size.

And it disgusted Niall.

The house in Jamaica had a better ceiling. He missed it. He missed staring up at it when Harry and he were talking in the dark about nonsensical stuff. It had been marred and charred; the signs of a well used home. There were water stains that browned the corner of the ceiling and every week when he did a thorough clean up, he always had to climb up a chair and scrub the area or else mould would start growing there.

He used to loathe the whole process, but he was slightly mysophobic so he couldn't let the area just grow mould liberally or it would bother him to no end.

But now.

Now he wished he was back there in that slightly stuffy room that reeked of men.

It would be warm in the room because Harry loves to cuddle. His feet were too long to be covered by the sheets and always dangled at off the edge of the bed. He couldn't turn on the A.C no matter how stifling it got because his feet would get cold.

He missed nuzzling into Harry's neck whenever he wanted.

Or just popping in the basement studio whenever he was done with his work.

He loved the coy game that he and Harry played. Harry would pretend not to notice him in the dark basement but once every few seconds his eyes would slyly flicker towards him to make sure that Niall was watching him.

And Niall was always watching him.

He would curl the side of his mouth into a smirk as be sunk into 80's style green velcro sofa and watch Harry with a glint in his eye.

Harry would pronounce his strut, arch his back more when he leaned or unbutton his buttons down to the last two and give him a view 0f that toned torso of his.

Harry had gotten a bit of a tan when they were in Jamaica. Unlike the poor Irish lad, Harry didn't burn when he got out into the sun. His skin would soak up that vitamin D and he would start glowing from the inside out.

Niall would look on in envy as his own personal sun would go around traipsing with that beautiful glow but he didn't dwell on it too much. His jaw would lock up whenever people looked at him and whisper about the tall handsome charming that was brighter than the sun.

But he didn't think about it too much.

Because at the end of the day he got to sleep with him, kiss him and do any naughty things he wanted to do him.

They could look.

They could drool.

They could dream.

But they could never ever touch.

That was Niall's one and only privilege.

And now he didn't even have access to that privilege. He had left the man he loved toiling away at his labour.

The mention of those groupies had had him at an edge. He really hoped that he was getting worried over nothing.

He had exchanged a few e-mails with Jace. They had switched up their routine, and Jace and big J hung out at Harry s rented place often now since Harry rarely any time to spare now. They were intensifying the album production process.

Besides the drinking thing, which Harry swore he nipped in the bud, Jace reported he was fine. He seemed tired and sullen but he reported it's most likely from just from heartache.

Julian said something along those lines too.

The problem though was Niall felt that there was something wrong. Harry was becoming a little distant.

Niall had been travelling all over but he has Harry's schedule pretty pinned from the time he was in Jamaica. They might have intensified it a little bit but not too much that there was a distinct difference in Harry's schedule. 

So Niall made sure to always make time during the times Harry was bound to be waking up, taking breaks or about to crash for the day yet most often than not he got replies late into the day or night. Missed calls became frequent and leaving a message became a requisite for their communication. Passed on messages through mediators were substitutes for actual talking.

Niall was becoming frustrated and scared. He didn't know what was going on.

He missed Harry's voice and their flirtatious texts.

He also missed their lengthy naughty calls that had become his only way to get off.

Thinking about how husky Harry's voice became whenever he started purring demands into the phone made Niall squeeze himself through his boxers.

It wouldn't do anything more than frustrate him more though.

He had gotten used to being with Harry so much that the only time he could have proper release was when Harry was whispering to him sexually through the phone or to physically have him in the room.

It was absolute torture.

Harry had taken to taking copious amount of selfies to him as a way to replace their texts and phone calls.

Majority of them were innocent enough. Him with his band that he had dubbed as CHASM. They were damn talented.

Some were pretty hilarious; him drunk off his bonkers, wearing someone's dress, him streaking nude in the rain, him with little Ruby and a multiple of him eating bananas with a peace with thrown into the mix. He would send the pictures at one go as a response to an unanswered text or call. It was like an apology of some sought as if that was sufficient enough to explain the cold draft that was coming from him.

Then there were the other ones. Ones were he was butt naked and in racy positions or doing racy things that made him blush furiously.

Those pictures didn't help him at all. When he tried to get himself off looking those pictures he just didn't have a satisfactory release.

It always felt like there was something missing.

And unfortunately, Niall knew exactly what it was.

Niall sighed at the realisation that his boxers had become uncomfortably tight from the images that his brain kept throwing at him.

Guess it was another cold lonely midnight shower for him again.