"I said one kiss. One!"
Harry had his hands on my chest keeping me at arms length.
The scene, from the outside, had to look ridiculous. Harry was completely naked, his rigid cock, which just seconds ago was stabbing me ever so gently in the balls now pointed up at me at an inviting forty five degree angle. My hands clasped his shoulder, my arms straining to pull him back to me for another kiss.
"Seriously?" I struggled to pull him closer. Damn my weak upper body strength. "Have you seen you? You're like a wonderfully chiseled, perfectly ripped NAKED Lays Potato Chip. I can't just have one!" I don't know where the food analogy came from; I just know I wanted more.
"Look." He used a fancy wrestling move and rotated me around to where my backside was pressed against his front side and my arms crisscrossed my chest like I was wearing an invisible straight jacket. I'd like to say I struggled to get free, but to be honest, I liked how everything was feeling at the moment and any struggle on my part was for the friction. Two can play at this game. He tried to maneuver his groin in a less opportune location, but I thrust my ass back against him.
"Damn it, Horan. Stop!" He was breathing heavy against my neck. "You're such an ass."
I nudged backwards again. "How the fuck is it that I'm the ass?" I fought to free myself from his hold to no avail. "You all but seduced me with you... with your... with your nakedness!" I bellowed victorious as I freed an arm, but with the force, my arm flailed back and I elbowed Harry in the nose. Instantly I was free and stumbling forward, my legs tangled in the jeans puddled around my ankles.
"Son of a bitch. I'm bleeding." A line of blood trickled down Harry's forearm.
"Hold your head back. Lemme get you a towel. Come on." I grabbed his free hand and navigated the hallway, accidentally bouncing him off the door frame. "Oh shit. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"Mother fucker. Let go. Just let go!"
I let go him, holding my hands up, placating. I backed up and into the bathroom where I grabbed a washcloth and soaked it in cold water.
He leaned against the wall, knocking a framed photo of the Leaning Tower of Pisa further askew. He looked at me under the arch of his arm as I handed his the wash cloth and I was surprised to see him smiling.
"Passive aggressive much?"
"I didn't... I mean..." I was flustered. I was frustrated. I was horny as hell.
"Look, Horan. I'm not gay. You know I have a girlfriend. I really like her. I just wanted to know what all the fuss was about."
"All the fuss?"
"Yeah, guy on guy. You know, the gay stuff." He checked his nose to see if it was still bleeding. He seemed satisfied and dabbed under his nose with the washcloth.
"Oh yeah. The gay stuff." I nodded, rolling my eyes at the same time. "For the record, we didn't do any of the gay stuff." I did the whole parenthetical bunny ears with my fingers.
"We did!" He insisted. "I mean, I touched your junk." He seemed almost embarrassed to say it.
I leaned against the other wall, smiling. Yes he did. I remembered the sensation, the tremor as he seized my cock.
"Stop thinking about it!"
"Can't," I said it as a matter of fact. "It's stuck there. PESD."
"Post Erotic Sensation Disorder."
"You're making that up."
"I know." I closed my eyes and pretended to visualize the moment over again. I moaned lasciviously, banging a fisted hand against the wall, licking my lips, and gyrating my hips.
"Fucker." Harry grinned at me. His erection was gone, his dick hanging. He was bigger than I was and I felt a momentary envy. He caught me staring and covered himself with his hands. He looked down, the washcloth balled tightly in his grasp. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Had the world gone topsy-turvy? Harry Styles, arrogant prick, was apologizing to me. Not only that, but showing a modicum of modesty.
"I know you like me. And I'm flattered. I mean, I really like you..." He looked up quickly then amended. "Hanging out with you, I mean."
I nodded, trying my damnedest to smile. Shit, just stop talking. Just don't say...
"You're like a brother to me."
It was like he was reading my mind. Son of a bitch!
"Look, I know what I said. About you sucking me off. If you want..."
I was shaking my head before he even finished the thought. I don't know what was wrong with me. Niall Horan, get a hold of yourself, drop down on your knees and get some!
"Come on. You know you want to."
I squeezed my eyes closed. "I think... I think you need to leave." Holy shit, did I just say that?
Harry pushed himself off the wall and stood in front of me in all his glory. There was nothing intentionally provocative or suggestive in his movement and I struggled not to reach out and touch him, to trace a finger down his abs. Shafted of late afternoon sunlight painted us a golden bronze, but he was idyllic and beautiful and I was mesmerized. He leaned forward then, running the ball of his thumb across my bottom lip then closed in and kissed me again. It was a soft kiss, a sensuous, lovely; a kiss that made me cry. It was the longing, the desire, some deep down need for tenderness that overwhelmed me emotionally. I kissed him back hungrily, groping for him to hold me up. He broke the kiss, leaning back, smiling.
"Okay." I shook my head. "You really need to go. I don't think I could take another one."