"Oh, they're perfect, Izzy."
Ally's eyes were fixed on my laptop, which I'd shakily placed on the desk in front of her. It was later in the evening, now, and we were all in her hotel room - her, Stella, Harry, and I, to look over the shots I'd taken. She'd been surprised that Harry had requested for us to show her and Stella an end result so soon, but Harry had been quick to tell her how I hadn't stopped working from the moment she'd requested my help.
The photos had turned out even better than I'd envisioned. We'd tested out photos with each of the fruits I'd bought, before finally settling on the pomegranate. Harry had asked if I'd wanted it broken up, and when I'd told him that I had, he'd grabbed a rather blunt butter knife from the tray that our breakfast had arrived on, and begun hacking at it.
I'd eventually taken the knife from him, following the line of the shallow cut he'd begun to make in the shell of the pomegranate for a few more strokes, before I'd drawn it back out. I pursed my lips. "Maybe we should just pull it apart - so it looks less uniform."
He didn't hesitate to draw his fingers into the gash we'd created, then, and yank as hard as he could. His face strained for a mere second before he'd torn the fruit into two halves. My eyes widened at how quickly he'd managed to separate it.
He'd taken one of the halves back over to his position in front of the wall, and had continued to mess around with it. And following my direction, he'd dug his fingers into it, whilst simultaneously sinking his teeth into it, causing the juice to run along his wrist and drip down his arm, coating his sleeve in translucent red. I'd snapped multiple photos, including one where he'd torn off the bite into his mouth, which I'd also chosen to give to Ally. But from the moment I'd taken the first, with his teeth sunken into the fruit, his eyes squinted but still fixed on my lens, I knew that was the one I was hoping they'd pick.
I wasn't quite sure how I'd done it, but I had - I was past thirty-six hours without sleep, now, and my body was just about begging to give up on me - but I'd done it. With Harry, I'd done it.
I exhaled, bringing my hands over my face as a deep sense of relief overtook me. I felt my shoulders drop, finally, as the weight lifted off them. I felt Harry's arms immediately wind around me, dismissing the fact that we were in a room with both Ally and Stella, pulling me into his chest without a moment of hesitation.
"I told you," he murmured against my hair, as a breathy, relieved laugh escaped my lips, against his chest. If I'd had any plans to make an attempt at keeping my cool, here, they were out of the window - this felt amazing. He repeated, then, kissing the top of my head, "I told you, Iz."
He had. He'd told me exactly that. He was a flawless model, to say the least - that had, somehow, made it even more difficult. The majority of the photos we'd taken would've been feasible; he just worked, at every angle, but when we'd finally narrowed it down to two, he'd promised me that Ally, and every other person she'd have to consult, would be obsessed.
"I mean," Ally leaned back in her chair, her eyes still fixed on my laptop. She continued, after shaking her head slightly in disbelief, "I can't imagine anything that would've been better. Everybody's going to love them - right, Stella?"
Harry's arm remained snaked around my waist as Ally peeled her eyes from the computer, only to look at Stella, in the seat beside her. But Stella's eyes didn't even appear to be on the computer - instead, they were fixed exactly where Harry's arm connected with my body, a stony expression on her face.
She blinked, then - harshly, suddenly - and drew her eyes back to the computer. Her tone didn't at all match the look I'd received only moments before; it was bright, and amicable, "Definitely."
We left the room after I'd sent the photos over to Ally. Harry stopped me in my tracks in the hallway the moment the door had closed behind us, murmuring, "Come here."
His lips pressed against my temple, his hand on the other side of my head to hold me to him. The sentence from his lips was enough to make my heart race, immediately pushing the odd demeanour of Stella from my mind as my arms wound around his torso. "I'm so proud of you," he said, then, in a way that made goosebumps rise on my skin.
I let him catch my chin between his fingers as I looked up at him, leaning up to press my lips to his own. He kissed me once, and then again, before I sensed the grin breaking out on his lips as he suddenly wound his arms completely around me. I laughed, elated as he tugged me into him, embracing me so tightly that I was almost lifted from the ground, and I squeezed back at him. It felt so good to share this with him; to have him feel so excited on my behalf. It was almost like he'd forgotten what we were doing this for - it was his song release; a huge week for him, but his focus was on me and my contribution.
"I feel so out of it," I admitted, as he leaned back to look at me. Half of me was surprised that I was even able to stand on my feet, still, having not gotten an ounce of sleep in far too long, and the other half was reeling from the fact the photoshoot had worked; that we'd pulled it off, and it had been what they'd wanted.
I met his eye, exhausted, but all I could really think about was how lucky I felt to be standing across from him; to be supported by him. It felt so foreign to have somebody's fixation be your happiness and success, rather than just their own. I'd never have known that it was this that I'd been wanting, until it had really come to a situation like this - without experiencing him, I could've never known how much it was him that I wanted, and everything that he brought; everything that came with him. He somehow exceeded every expectation without me ever having to set them.
"I bet you do," Harry returned, his arm still wrapped around my waist as we moved back toward the elevator. It couldn't have been past eight PM, but all I wanted to do was curl up and fall asleep.
We went back to the hotel room that had quickly become ours, rather than his, and I had to resist throwing myself down onto the bed, immediately. The moment it was in my sight, I was aching to rest my head against the pillow - but I needed to change, first, and sort the final things of mine to go into the suitcase before we were due to travel the following day.
I sighed, turning to Harry, who he was standing behind me. I pursed my lips, "I still need to pack all my things up, and shower, and-"
He cut me off, bringing his hands to the sides of my face. "Pack tomorrow. It can wait. Or I can do it, if that helps," he said, softly, holding my face and drawing a gentle line with his thumb. I softened my expression, leaning in to connect our lips, briefly, feeling my chest ache with emotion for him. His lips remained pressed against my own, as he murmured, lowly, "I can also help with the shower part."
My breath hitched in my throat, my arms looping around the back of his neck, unable to do anything else but hum in a gentle agreement against his lips.
Slowly, Harry guided me backwards to the door of the bathroom, his hands dropping lower on my body to rest upon my sides. I leaned into him, my fingers pushing into his hair as we passed through the doorway, his lips delicately moving against my own.
My back pressed to the edge of the bathroom sink, and I felt Harry's hand shift to rest upon the side of my neck, sending a chill along the length of my spine.
Suddenly, the last thing on my mind was how tired I'd been feeling; before, I'd felt so exhausted, but it didn't feel so negative, somehow; to feel like that. I wasn't sure when I'd last been so physically tired after being so overwhelmed, but feeling so emotionally good. I wasn't switched off from wanting to speak to everybody; I didn't want to confine myself to a dark room and refuse conversation. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I was a good kind of tired; from working on something I was passionate about, with somebody that I felt so passionately for. And he was so revitalising - I didn't want to lose a second with him. It felt like being tired, or overworked, didn't matter as long as I was with him.
My skin felt bare as he drew back from me for a moment, reaching into the shower and switching it on, only to move back over to me only a moment later. The moment I could touch him again, it felt like a breath of fresh air in the depths of my lungs; feeling his arms snake around my waist, or his hands cup at my face; feeling his body press to my own. It wasn't even like he was executing something inherently sexual - that was it, with Harry; he did things with me because he wanted to, rather than because he wanted something from me.
He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of my mouth, before he brought his fingers around the hem of my sweatshirt, letting his hand slip under it to press to my bare skin. My skin immediately felt like it had been lit on fire, burning in the best way possible; in that way that only he seemed to be able to provoke. Each movement that he made reminded me of how much I felt for him, just by how my body was reacting to him.
He gently lifted my sweatshirt over my head, before removing the rest of my clothes, his head occasionally dropping to allow him to press a kiss against my jaw, or the side of my mouth, each one causing my breath to hitch in my throat. I brought my hands to the shirt on his body, slowly drawing it upwards; if there'd been a single doubt about whether he'd be joining me, or not, this alleviated it.
The second that the hot water hit my body, I felt my tense muscles ease a little. I exhaled, almost as if the weight on my shoulders began to actually lift, and I felt Harry's hand press to my hip. I turned to face him, properly; a glazed-over look in his eyes as they'd been fixed on me, which caused my stomach to flip. The tan of his skin began to flush, the tiniest bit, at the hot water hitting it, and my eyes followed the droplets as they streamed along the curve of his shoulders, and arms, seeming to outline every intricate detail.
He almost didn't look real. His hair began to curl slightly at the steam, even though he hadn't fully submerged it in water. I couldn't even describe how I felt in that moment; this felt like the most intimate setting I'd ever shared with another person. A shower had always felt like solitude - it was that tiny chamber of privacy and isolation, that no matter where I was, or what I'd endured throughout the day, I could escape to it, always. I could think, there, I could clear my head, and be on my own. I'd never have thought I could want to share that brief time of silence and privacy with somebody else; but that seemed to be it, with him. Harry pushed every subconscious boundary I'd ever set without even meaning to - every private place; I suddenly wanted to share it with him - every burden, he seemed to want to bear, too. That, I couldn't imagine enabling; but with him, I found myself wishing that I could.
When I'd heard about his fears; his insecurities, and his struggles, all I wanted to do was help. I wanted, somehow, to protect him from any more difficulty. I wanted to be for him, the very thing that I'd been certain I would never need; I found myself wanting to look after him. And as he pushed his hands into my hair, delicately lathering shampoo into it for me - I wondered if he could look after me, too.
Perhaps it didn't have to be all-encompassing. I'd always thought mutual reliance was negative - that it was a sign of weakness, but perhaps it didn't need to be. Maybe it didn't mean throwing every little thing onto the other's shoulders; maybe it didn't have to erode from your own independence or capability - something I'd worked so hard to secure. It didn't have to make me completely useless in aiding myself. Maybe, instead, it could just be this. It could be this warmth, this silent affirmation that whatever the other person wanted, or needed, you'd do anything you could to lift the weight, just a little. Maybe he didn't have to know every single thing that had ever happened in my life, and nor did I, for him - but maybe he could still be there.
It didn't have to be so heavy. It never felt like it did, with him. But each time I felt like I was grasping it; that Harry was teaching me to grasp it, I drew myself backwards. I'd never wanted to be so badly for somebody, what he was becoming for me. But I wasn't sure that I was quite capable of being enough. I wasn't sure I was capable of giving enough of myself.
There was so much that he didn't know, that I wasn't sure I'd ever find the strength to say. Harry, somehow, already knew me like nobody else ever had - but there was a line that I couldn't will myself to cross, as happy as he made me, as safe as he made me feel.
I couldn't believe everything that I felt for him. Today had been an experience like nothing else - somehow, even with stress, and panic, and uncertainty weighing upon me; he made it feel okay. I thought back to the night we'd spent together, in Vegas; where we hadn't intended to, but we'd ended up sleeping beside one another. And I remembered how quiet my mind was; how at ease I felt, just with his presence there, beside me. It was something I'd never felt from anybody else.
"I don't know how you do it," he murmured, then, just as his fingertips massaged one final time at my scalp. I was relishing in the feel of his touch on me, as the water ran over my hair, aided by the movements of his hands in washing the remnants of shampoo from my hair. I turned to him, retrieving some of the shampoo in my own hands to bring it into his, now wet, curls. I stood on my tiptoes to reach him, and his hands instinctively moved to my hips to steady me.
"Do what?" I asked him, watching a smile twitch onto his lips as soon as my fingers drew along his scalp.
"Your mind, it's just always going," he said, and I pursed my lips, drawing my hands back from his hair to enable the water to hit it, again.
I bit back a gentle smile, one of my hands smoothing over his bare chest. "I can't help it. It's not always bad," I said, earnestly. "It's usually you," I admitted.
His arms wound around me, then, drawing me into his chest. It was insane how in such a vulnerable position before him, standing there, entirely exposed, I didn't feel as fragile as I might have expected to. My arms were thrown over his shoulders as he buried his face into the damp skin of my neck. I felt his lips press gently, there, and I let my eyes close for a brief moment.
"I think about you, too," he murmured, then, his unexpected response taking me by surprise. My fingers pushed into the wet curls on the back of his head. He kissed my neck again, once, and then another time. "All the time."
My heart was racing, feeling as if it was about to beat its way out of my chest. Harry let out the shortest, breathiest laugh, then, as if he too had sensed the way it has quickened; likely, with my chest pressed to his, he'd probably felt it.
He drew back from me, then, the water still running over us as he took my hand in his. He brought it to his chest, laying my palm against it and meeting my eye. I realised, then, that his heart was thumping just the same.
I caught the way a humorous smirk began to pull on his lips, and I couldn't help but laugh, elated, as my hands found his face again. The glint in his eye was more prominent than ever, as I smoothed my thumb across the height of his cheek, watching his gaze drop from my eyes to my mouth. This indescribable warmth; this unbelievable feeling just never relented in filling my chest, when he looked at me like that, or when he subsequently nudged his nose against my cheek and murmured a comment about how beautiful he thought I looked, causing my stomach to jolt.
Neither of us had bothered to properly redress upon leaving the bathroom, instead opting to envelop ourselves in the robes that were folded neatly on one of the shelving units. When I'd eyed my unpacked suitcase on the ground, Harry had ushered me away to lie on the bed, blocking my vision with his body and causing me to laugh. The moment my head sunk into the pillow, a deep exhale left my lips.
"Today was really good," I found myself saying, without really meaning to. Harry lay on his side, next to me, propping his head up with his elbow. One of my hands subconsciously reached forward, and I wrapped my fingers around the opening of his robe, by his chest, mindlessly smoothing over it.
"Mm?" Harry replied with a soft hum, as if gently beckoning me to continue. I fixed my eyes on where my fingers were for another moment, on him.
"It's like," I paused. Communication. Just say what you feel. I knew he wouldn't abuse it. "I never thought I'd do something like that; for something so important," I said, earnestly, bringing my lip between my teeth. "It means a lot that you trusted me enough to do it."
His hand reached forward to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, "I wish you trusted yourself the same way."
I knew he had a point. He'd believed I could do it without a moment of hesitation; he'd put me forward, knowing I'd have never done it for myself. I didn't give myself half of the grace that he gave me; I didn't give myself a break, nor did I trust my own ability. It never failed to astound me how quickly he'd picked up on those parts of me.
I didn't reply; I only leaned further into where his hand had moved to rest on the side of my face, feeling his thumb draw a gentle, repeated line on my cheek.
"Do you feel tired?" he asked me, and I contemplated for a moment.
"Somehow, not really," I said, shaking my head. The wave of exhaustion I'd felt had sort of lifted since returning to our hotel room - I was sure it would return, but my mind only seemed to focus on the man in front of me. It still wasn't late; it had only been just after eight when we'd left Ally's room. I lifted my head from the pillow, "I definitely have the energy to pack-" I began, only to be cut off by Harry's hand wrapping around my wrist, pulling me back to him with ease.
"We'll do it tomorrow," he returned, smoothly, sitting up against the headboard and pulling me forward to sit on top of him, my face level with his own. I loved this 'we' that he continued to reference. Equally, as I loved this position I found myself in, with a perfect, unobstructed view of his face, mere inches before me. He was everything; it was a task to stop myself from growing fixated on every intricate detail of his face, like I so often did.
His face was as innocent as ever, but I could feel his hand tracing along the outside of my thigh. His touch was so soft, but it was enough to draw my focus entirely to it as his eyes lingered on my own. His fingertips were tracing underneath the edge of my robe, on the height of my bare thigh, and it was making my head spin.
I wasn't sure when the air had shifted, but I wasn't in any mood or position to prevent it from shifting further. The moment I felt Harry's lips press to my neck, I was done for; any ounce of exhaustion that had remained in me had undoubtedly evaporated, as I felt his other hand move to draw my robe from my shoulder to expose my collarbone. His lips met the exposed skin immediately, each kiss so slow, and calculated, but carrying with it an intensity that made my entire body yearn for more from him.
"I love when you do that," his voice sounded lowly against my skin, causing a gentle vibration that caused me to lean even further into him. I'd been positioned so that I was straddling him, but his kisses had beckoned me to subconsciously shift from where I'd originally sat, further back on his thighs, further into his lap.
"Do what?" I returned, my voice breathy as he pressed his lips just below my ear. His teeth grazed over the skin, there, and it prompted me, again, to lean into his grip, pressing myself further into him.
A gentle, approving hiss left his lips as I moved, "The way that you just-" he paused, and I sensed his lips parting slightly against my neck as my hips drove further into his own, "that," he breathed, causing my own breath to hitch in my throat as I realised that he was referencing my uncontrollable movements against him.
The thin barrier of his robe between us hardly worked to mask the way I could feel his arousal growing beneath me, and it was causing my skin to heat. His lips met my own, again, and just by the way he was kissing me, I could tell everything had intensified. His tongue drew over my bottom lip, and I didn't hesitate to grant him what he wanted, our kiss deepening as my fingers pushed into his hair, my hips inadvertently moving against his own.
I brought my hand between us, shifting my hips slightly to enable it to brush over him, and I felt his chin tilt upward immediately as a result, breaking our kiss for a mere second before he connected our lips again, somehow harder; with even more urgency. His hand was on the side of my neck as mine slipped underneath the material of his robe, to wrap around his length, between us.
Another low hiss left his lips, causing my kiss to land on the side of his mouth, before he tilted his head back against the headboard, and our kiss broke, properly. As soon as my hand had wrapped around him, and I watched his eyes flutter shut - I got it. I completely, and entirely understood exactly what had shocked me so greatly about Harry, when we'd been in the car. When he'd touched me, and appeared to derive pleasure solely from giving it to me - the way he'd watched me as if he was receiving just as much from the experience as I was - suddenly, I understood it. The second my hand was on him, and I watched him tilt his head back - I felt it, all of it.
I rolled my thumb over the tip of him, relishing in how a quick, short, gasp of breath exhaled through his parted lips, his eyes opening again to meet my own as my hand slowly moved along the entirety of his length. I liked having this effect on him, equally, as I liked watching him like it, too.
I'd barely made the movement a few times, Harry's glassy eyes burning relentlessly into mine with the most achingly beautiful groans falling from his lips, before he halted my movements, gripping my chin in his hand. He drew me back to his mouth, and I suddenly felt his hand draw between my legs, beckoning the parting of my own lips.
I needed to feel him, and he could sense it. The touch he was exhibiting between my legs was enough to cause my head to tilt back, sending me into a frenzy, but it wasn't enough. I needed him; all of him, all of the intimacy he could provide. His hand didn't cease its movements on me, but I could sense him reaching over to the bedside table, and pulling a drawer open.
I watched as he retrieved a condom, and brought the packaging between his teeth to tear it open. I brought my lips to his neck as he withdrew his touch from me, momentarily, to roll the condom on, before his hand drew my chin back to him. Our eyes locked as I felt him line himself up with my entrance, a low hiss leaving both of our lips as he pushed himself into me.
My forehead immediately pressed to his shoulder, my body practically collapsing into his arms as he filled me. My lips parted, and as I felt a moan escape them, he leaned forward to kiss the side of my head. His hands drew over my hair, and then over my back, as my arms wound around his neck, embracing him as he rocked his hips, slowly, into me.
Each movement was driving me insane; amplified by his fingers stroking at my hair, and the kisses he was pressing to my skin. Each move he made was so gentle that it almost hurt; he was so diligent, and purposeful in how he touched me. It somehow felt so different from when we'd been together in the past - it had that same familiarity in the feel of him, in the pit of my stomach, but the aura around it was so different. It felt like so much more than it ever had; like it meant even more than it had before, even when we'd spent our previous encounters bottling up so much pent-up emotion.
Every interaction we'd had, as of late, especially today, told me that I meant something to him, as he did to me. It didn't feel like mere sex, though I wasn't sure, with us, if it ever had been 'just' sex. This didn't feel like anything I'd ever experienced in any other encounter - this was so, so much more.
It was like everything I felt for him was somehow being conveyed. Our kisses were so gentle, and meaningful, with our bodies intertwined with one another's. Every thought, every gesture, was entirely captivated by him - he was the only one; the only thing on my mind. He was everything I could ever want.
That was going to make things so much harder.
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just a little one for u. I don't love this, but I haven't loved much of my writing lately
love u and miss u guys :')) <3 ill be back properly soon, i hope xx