Cannes | H.S

Fallen

Layla

The very thought of slumber calls out to me rather blissfully as I finally get the chance to rest my head against the soft pillowcase. I shut my eyes, stretching out the mild soreness residing in my bones after a long day filled with exciting adventure. Humming to myself in satisfaction, I don't even realize that the sound of the shower running has ceased, revealing a certain Englishman standing before me. Residing in nothing but a towel carved around his waist, he bends down near the corner of the bed, placing a delicate kiss onto my hand after reaching for it. I smile happily, opening both eyes, silently asking him to join me. Drops of water roll down from his dark curls and onto his chest, a rather beautiful sight as my heart skips a beat. He wears a content and soft smile, coming closer to me, leaning down to peck my lips swiftly.

"Don't go," I comment, keeping him place by lacing our hands together.

"Yeah?" he questions cheekily, rather satisfied with himself as I toy with the charm resting around his neck.

Not exactly sure what's come over me, I can't help but think about how desperately I desire to feel him in close proximity. As a wave of coldness washes over me, I yearn for the warmth that he provides. Maybe it's because he's felt like a lifetime away these past few weeks. Maybe it's because I can see the longing desire within his eyes as it's the very same I feel in this moment. He understands this without more words spoken because in a matter of moments, he's found his way to press himself against me, whispering his sweet intentions into my ear. His lips, those lips that I've missed are absolutely everywhere. From my mouth, the sensitive spot on my neck, to the ticklish area on my chest. My hands ravage around his curls, hoping for a sort of release that's ever so close as he wraps his plump lips around my nipple. Through my quiet pleas, I feel his excitement as well, pressing against my thigh in the heat of the moment.

And I'm alright as he continues to look into my eyes, reassuring that I'm the only one the entire time, wishing he can take away all the pain that's been created in a short amount of time. Eventually, his hands find a new area to touch, bringing me closer to a euphoric state. "That's it baby, you're almost there," he whispers, smiling down at me, witnessing my reaction on his fingertips. I'm there, so, so close as a familiar state begins to wash over me. But just as it's within reach, it's gone as pleasure is replaced with sudden pain. I cry out in pure agony, causing a quick change in emotion in the man residing on top of me. "Hey, hey, hey. What's wrong? What did I do? Did I hurt you?"

I shake my head, aware of the cold sweat beginning to form upon my forehead. I reside my hand over my stomach, far too embarrassed to look the man I adore in the eyes as I try to pinpoint the exact cause of such pain. "It's fine, I'll be okay," I pleadingly whisper, attempting to sit up on the bed. Yet the very act is nearly impossible as another round of excruciating pain overwhelms me instantly. 

"Layla, my darling, what is it? Tell me what I can do," Harry quickly says, green eyes trailing all over me with concern. The warmth I felt from his presence is gone as he moves to sit on the bed by my side, reaching for me in a matter of sheer seconds. "Can I hold you? You're shaking baby, come here," he whispers, wrapping his kind protective arms around me as if I were a porcelain doll, prepared to break into a million pieces with a single touch. With a blanket wrapped around me, he cradles me like an infant until the pain subsides and sleep begins to take its rightful place.

"I'm sorry," I manage to say, looking up at his eyes, seeing the evident sadness within.

"Now why on earth would you say that? Hmm?"

"Because I...I ruined the night."

"Don't talk like that baby. Not when you scared the hell out of me."