I Want It Bad - Narry

Chapter Three

“N-Niall? Shouldn’t we be studying for that test coming up in Psychology?” Harry asks quietly beside Niall.

The blue-eyed lad sprawls out on the loveseat in his dorm room and grins. “Nah. Thought we’d do something . . . ya know, fun. ”

Harry’s eyebrows knit together and he chews nervously on his bottom lip. His stomach churns gruelingly in a manner that causes a deep unsettling feeling, and he silently curses at himself for that. This is what he wants, isn’t it? To take chances? He lets his muddled mind answer that on it’s own – his head slowly nodding and feet shuffling forward.

“Yeah, okay. What’d ya exactly have in mind?”

Niall laughs, the burst of air breathless and somewhat surprised. He brings up two fingers, and motions them towards himself with an impish glint in his eyes and a smirk to come with.

“C’mere, and I’ll show ya.”

The younger lad doesn’t really know what he’s getting himself into, honestly. But, regardless of that, he pads across the rather trashy floor of the room, and stops just centimeters before the smirking blonde.

Niall rolls his eyes and tips his head back. “C’mon, lil’ bit closer.”

Harry feels a whimper build up in his throat, but he swallows it back and inches forward until his knees bump against the edge of the couch. Niall’s arms slid around his hips loosely; hands wandering under the cotton sweater that covers the brunete’s frame. His fingers press into the soft, warm skin underneath, and Harry shudders.

“Why do you always wear this damn thing?” Niall murmurs with a raspy tone. His fingers continue to skim across the canvas of the Cheshire lad’s unblemished, pale back.

“I get cold easily,” he gasps with a low pant.

Niall tugs him down onto his lap, Harry’s legs automatically straddling his tattoo-littered torso. He chuckles and tangles his finger into Harry’s chocolate curls. “Lil’ minx, tryna’ top me, eh?”

Harry blushes, his cheeks turning a dappled pink. “No, I just . . . you just . . .”

Niall ignores him and kisses him roughly, right hand cupping his cheek. He pulls away and notices the previous lovebites on his skin still fresh and vibrant.

“Don’t want you wearing this, all right?” Niall says as he tugs the collar of Harry’s sweater. He sits up and pulls off his own white t-shirt, “Wear this.”

“Why?”

Niall’s darkened cerulean eyes narrow menacingly. “Does it matter?” he snaps bitterly.

Harry’s eyes widen, panic stricken in their emerald green color. “No, no! ‘m sorry, I’ll wear it!”

Niall’s facial expression softens and his thumb strokes Harry’s face gently. “‘s okay, baby. Jus’ remember to wear it, yeah?”

Harry nods with a small smile full of adoration. “ ‘Course. Always.”

***

Somewhere during the time of three make-out sessions and intense groping, Harry happened to drift off into slumber. He was curled up against Niall’s bare side clad in the white shirt, and — somehow with excessive coaxing — boxer briefs. Neither was complaining, though.

Neither noticed the door of the dorm room open, either. Well, until Louis barged in. That was inevitable.

“Well, isn’t that just the cutest thing,” Louis croons with a faux southern accent. He places his hand over his heart and flutters his eyelashes over-dramatically.