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Niall was never a guy to dwell on things too long. He was never someone to sit down and think a plan through, weigh the pros and cons. He usually did what his gut told him to do.
Tonight isn’t different. He doesn’t regret turning up at this nightclub, doesn’t regret the pint he’s downed the first 10 minutes he’s been sat at the bar, doesn’t regret the rough hands touching him all over on the dance floor. His gut tells him he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be, so he’s going with the flow, letting the red lights and the smoke cloud his vision.
This part of the town is known to be visited by vampires frequently, but Niall is afraid of no vampire, his uncle was one for the longest time until he drank the wrong person, foolish as he was. He knows the in and outs, knows the weaknesses. No consent means no blood, as simple as that. You break the rule, you die, simple aswell.
The guy grinding his hips greedily into Niall’s behind strokes his way over his torso up to his neck, squeezing just lightly, taking Niall’s earlobe between his teeth. Vampires are prone to doing that apparently.
Niall loves the rush of being at someone’s mercy, showing how vulnerable he could be, but that’s not something he wants tonight. It’s not what he needs tonight. His gut tells him to ditch the guy, to get more drinks into his sweating body, to wait.
Waiting can be so much fun, especially in a club; to watch the crowd dance, all in a drug induced trance, hungry for sex and more is enticing. Seeing people lose themselves so easily makes something stir deep inside him, makes him crave for something he’s not even sure he can describe. A restless and aching feeling maybe. It’s what draws him to places like this nightclub, it’s what makes him seek out people, mostly people who have a sketchy past, a holey backstory, interesting people.
The guy who’s attached to him is easily convinced to dance with someone else and soon Niall finds himself at the bar again, ordering something sweet this time to gain a bit of energy, to make the restless feeling go away, just for a little bit longer.
As he waits for his drink, he’s lightly tapped on the shoulder. With an expression ready to stop any cheesy pickup line Niall turns around and – stops. The stranger who tapped him on the shoulder is definitely a vampire, definitely hungry for blood, seeing how pale he looks in the dancing lights. His eyes are sunken in and blacker than anything he’s ever seen. They’re nervously flicking over his face, as if to read him. Or eat him. Definitely a vampire. Definitely hungry.
Niall feels very calm for some reason, even though the situation he’s in, every person in this club is in, is actually dangerous. But there’s no twisting feeling in his stomach, his heart is beating steadily in his ribcage, he’s feeling at ease.
No need to run.
White teeth bite into a slightly cracked lip, nostrils are flaring for a moment, and Niall sits back, waits for the guy to say something.
The more calm he is though, the more nervous is the man in front of him, which is weird, considering. It’s one of those things that’s right up Niall’s alley, someone acting in unexpected ways and its so intriguing. Not only a person, but a vampire, a hungry one. The tugging in his chest tells him that he wants to find out more.
Dressed in typical all black like a fucking cliché, feet pointing inward a bit, hands in his coat pockets – Niall has a hard time containing his facial features. He is still very confused, the guy making no sense to him at all. If a vampire is this hungry, he’s usually taken care of by family members or friends. To let him out like this would be a danger to every human in his way, he’d be bloodthirsty and out of his mind by now. This guy just seems a bit twitchy and unsure of himself, nothing more. It could indicate that he’s very old and experienced which - Niall internally nods to himself - is a good thing to remember. But he’s being eerily silent?
Niall raises both eyebrows. The man notices.
“E-excuse me, how- oh, how terribly rude of me.”
Oh fucking hell, from England. Really?
“I don’t mean to disturb, but… uh…” He extracts one hand from his coat and scratches his nose. Niall sits and waits, patient as ever. If the guy’s done nothing by now, he won’t do anything in the next few minutes he supposes.
It seems to take a few seconds until the vampire finds the courage to continue his sentence.
“Uh, the toilets?”
He looks down at his feet for a beat and Niall has to blow the air stuck in his lungs out with round cheeks. He needs the damn loo and almost pisses himself asking a stranger, who the fuck is this guy? Hungry in a nightclub asking for the fucking way to the toilets, Niall shakes his head.
He signals the bartender to hold his drink back for a minute and hops down from his stool. He makes his way through the moving crowd without a word, feeling a tingle in his neck. He was following him.
Niall still feels calm and collected, his stomach feeling good, quite filled from the chips he’s had earlier, not unsettled at all. He’s going to ask some questions once they were in the toilets, a more quiet place than the bar right next to the dance floor. He was too intrigued not to.
Hot breath meets his neck and he stops abruptly, only to have the stranger crash into his back. They almost reached the toilets, he could turn around and the guy would find his own way just fine, but Niall wants to know more, feels an opportunity ready to run away from him like sand through his open palm, the feeling in his chest fluttery.
“Sorry, so sorry, oh god”, mumbles the man now taking off his black beanie, promptly revealing curly hair flopping over his eyes. It’s adorable, honestly. Niall grins and takes the last steps towards the door, holding it open for the man who is currently staring at his feet, again. His bottom lip should be bitten red by now, but Niall is reminded again by the dark circles under his eyes. This is a hungry vampire, no blood in him. He’d need some soon.
“Come on then”, is what he says instead of thinking more about blood and hunger, urging the man into the room. It’s a dimly lit but spacious place, fairly clean for a nightclub. There’s a blood red door on the other side, leading to some alcoves. Niall knows that they are used for the special exchange of… gifts if you will. He’s done it couple of times himself, always left satisfied. Nothing to complain about really, except for the light headed feeling and need for a nap afterwards. He’s not feeling queasy being close to the action.
The guy stumbles his way into the toilet, ducking his head and almost faceplanting then and there if it wasn’t for Niall’s quick hand on his arm. A breathy ‘oh’ leaves his mouth before he can catch himself and Niall grins.
He stops grinning when his arm is shrugged off though, the man shying away from his touch.
Niall stands up a bit straighter, clearing his throat. His eyes catch the pitch black ones and he can’t help being fascinated by them. How long has it been since he last fed? Does it hurt and if so where? What’s his natural eye colour?
“Thank you”, says the guy in a smooth voice, a little too quiet, but still audible. “And thank you, for…”
He scratches his nose again.
“For uh… showing me the toilets?”
Niall nods and smiles a little. The eye contact is broken yet again by him ducking his head, the curls hiding his eyes. Niall doesn’t want this, he needs to have a some sort of connection, a contact. The sand starts sliding through his hand and he doesn’t like it.
“What do you want in the toilets?”
Should be a dumb question. But the man actually lifts his head and looks around for the first time, taking in his surroundings. His eyes linger on the red door, before he turns to Niall again.
“Uh.”
Feet shuffling on the ground. Teeth biting into the bottom lip. Hand sliding into the coat pocket.
Niall leans against the wall right next to the door, folding his arms in front of him.
“Use them.”
Aha. Right, vampire boy figured out what he wants in the toilets, Niall thinks.
Two men come out of one cubicle, looking roughed up and sweaty. It was obvious what they’ve been doing mere seconds before they came into the toilets. The stranger’s nostrils flare, mouth twisting into a hard line.
They both step back a bit to let the men out and then it’s quiet. Niall stares at the man in front of him while he looks everywhere but Niall, even the fucking ceiling. He would laugh if that helped the conversation, but he has a feeling it wouldn’t work.
The feet shuffling starts up again, and Niall decides to make a move, going to the right to the urinals, hands coming up to his zipper. He can feel the eyes glued to his back now that he isn’t looking, practically burning holes into his vest. The feet shuffling stops. There is arguably some tension in the air, but he might as well releive himself while he’s here.
After Niall’s finished he’s washing his hands at the sinks to the left, seemingly ignoring the man frozen in his place. He’s still standing in the same spot, next to the first sink, close to the door but not too much in the way, hands in his coat pockets, dark eyes fixed on Niall’s every move. They’re considerably closer now that Niall’s at the sinks, and he notices the low humming sound coming from his left.
“How long?”
He figures that beating around the bush wouldn’t lead him to get to know more about this guy, to stop his chest from tugging constantly. Calm and collected, yet so… frustrated and craving. It’s very nerve wracking.
A confused face and the stranger biting his lips propel Niall to elaborate on his question.
“Since you last fed?”
The man’s eyes glow dangerously bright for a second before he gulps and hides behind his fringe.
“Few weeks.”
It’s uttered so quietly, Niall almost misses it. He doesn’t though, and he lets out a low whistle.
“That’s rough mate.”
A nod and a lip bite, that’s all he gets now. Not even a glance. But Niall’s nothing if not persistent when he’s set his mind to something.
“I’m Niall”, he offers, hand stretching out across the empty space between them. The guy looks up, first at the hand and then into his eyes, for a rather long time. Niall is about to let his arm fall back down when the soft, cold hand of the vampire fits itself into his. A firm grip, just on the right side of painful.
“Harry.”
Of fucking course, Mr English would have the name of the Prince, what else was Niall expecting, honestly. He holds back his eye roll and grins at Harry.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
Harry gives a tiny nod and then continues to stare a hole through Niall’s forehead. Well, if he’s into that sort of thing, Niall can do it right back, maybe that will get him somewhere.
Not mentioning the toilets. Not mentioning Harry not using the toilets. Not mentioning Harry’s hand still in his own after a good minute of staring.
He does mention Harry very obviously sniffing the air though.
“Do I smell good?” is what he asks, trying to be cheeky. He grips the hand tighter so that Harry won’t be able to let go. He tries, but Niall is prepared.
“It’s alright. You want some?” he offers, and to be honest, he should’ve seen this coming. Should know his own too spontaneous self by now. He always ends up with something or someone, his ‘feeling’ leading him from one party to the next, over a big hangover to strangers in his bed, leaving their numbers on his bedside table. Giving his blood to a vampire isn’t even that high on the list of crazy things he’s done in his life, and he’s still sober on top of that. Others wouldn’t call this spontaneous anymore, they would call him crazy, out of his mind. But his gut tells him he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.
Harry is eyeing his neck hungrily, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, and he actually wants to do that himself, wants to nibble on the pale lips. There is a certain aspect that makes him feel attracted to curly, adorable and shy. And the fact that this obviously experienced vampire is still holding back so much. Niall doesn’t want him to hold back, he wants to see how far he can go, how far he can push Harry. Yeah, he’s definitely supposed to be here.
“I take your silence as a yes”, Niall laughs. He pulls him forward on his hand and plants his mouth right on Harry’s.
Niall can’t help it, the rush of adrenaline when he catches a fucking vampire off guard, a vampire who hasn’t tasted blood in weeks, is really fucking good. The strings drawn tight in his chest slowly unwind, one by one, and it’s as if he’s flying. Like the few seconds after you jump from a cliff before you hit the water.
It takes Harry a second to catch up, to respond, but when he does it’s frantic and desperate, he lets go of Niall’s hand squashed between their bodies and draws him in by his neck, instantly licking his way into Niall’s mouth. Harry tastes delicious, so sweet. He’s very hot too, even though his hands were cold. As if there is an energy that’s tightly contained inside of Harry and only let out in little bursts, the wall of his skin secure and holding it back. Niall is so fascinated by all of him, he can’t get enough. Harry’s tongue is wicked, urging Niall on to kiss him harder, kiss him better. He wants to make it good for Harry, give him a proper show of all his talents.
When Niall backs them up against the sink roughly, Harry makes the hottest sound he’s ever heard, a mix between a growl and moan. It goes straight to his dick, he feels dizzy with it, so proud that it worked, but he needs to hear it again.
Harry breaks the kiss though, hands on Niall’s chest and looking down between their bodies. There is no space left from their waists down, their hips firmly pressed together. A shaky breath leaves his mouth and Niall thinks it’s so endearing, head always ducked, feet pointing inward, even now.
“I-I didn’t… I didn’t know how to ask…”, he stammers out. He looks sideways, to the door that’s opening, a man coming into the toilets, barely sparing them a glance.
Niall takes his hand and leads the way to the red door. Clearly Harry wasn’t an expert on the word front, and he doesn’t know why Harry wants to explain himself right now, but his mouth could do wicked things, and Niall wants it on him. Shy or not, he’s set in his ways, and Harry would have to follow.
He does, not without stumbling over his own feet once and almost tugging Niall down with him, but that’s alright. Niall won’t have to deal with clumsy once they’re sitting in one of the alcoves.
The hall is almost dark, the lights a typical red. Tonight is such a cliché, if Niall really thinks about it. He didn’t even need to be convinced, he offered it himself. To Harry, the possibly English vampire in all black. He knows Zayn is going to cringe hard when he’s telling him about this later, but Niall doesn’t care. Zayn’s judgement usually grounds him, makes him settle into doing less crazy things.
Well, it didn’t work tonight, that’s for sure, and when Niall looks back, he’s met by black eyes, hungrily staring him up and down. That’s crazy, that’s dangerous. It’s a heady feeling and Niall loves it.
All of the alcoves are empty except for the last one, but that’s of no interest to them. They head into the second one, with wine red curtains and cushions. It looks cozy and inviting.
Niall sits down on the lounge, tugging Harry to stand between his legs. He does so, even though his vision is obscured by the curls flopping over his forehead because his head is ducked down yet again. Niall presses his face into the stomach in front of him, smiling when he smells flowery laundry detergent. He feels good, so good, loves the feeling of the hard body covered in the soft material of a nice black sweater against his face.
The music is muffled, a pleasant background noise, and Harry is able to clearly hear what Niall mumbles against his stomach.
“Why so long, Harry?”
Niall can feel him take a deep breath, see the hand slowly, almost reluctantly, rise out of the corner of his eye. It lands on his cheek, stroking him lightly. It’s very pleasant.
“Does it matter?”
Niall looks up at him, Harry’s hand sliding off of his cheek. The look he sees there is half shy, half hungry, it’s like a punch to his stomach.
“Guess not”, he whispers and slides his hands around to the back of Harry’s thighs, guiding him into sitting on his lap. Harry has the nerve to look coy and intense at the same time, and it’s driving Niall properly crazy.
Harry slips his arms around Niall’s shoulders. With his face buried in Niall’s neck, he starts mumbling unintelligible things into the skin there, Niall involuntarily shivering when the hot breath hits his neck.
He scratches the back of Harry’s neck, Niall’s arm bringing him even closer to his body. He feels like he needs to give some of his warmth to Harry despite all the layers of black clothing he’s wearing.
“..no idea… suck you off or suck your blood… I couldn’t decide, couldn’t ask…” Harry rambles, his hips rolling down into Niall’s already.
He lifts Harry’s head off his shoulder. “Why not?”, he asks, genuinely curious and slightly amused. His face is framed by Niall’s big hands, cold to the touch.
His pitch black eyes dart back and forth between Niall’s and he seems to decide that his intentions are indeed good, that he’s not going to make fun of him.
“I wanted to ask you the moment I saw you”, he rasped with his deep voice, “you look amazing when you dance, and you smell even better.”
Niall’s dick jumps in the tight confines of his jeans and he closes his eyes. He never knew that he was into strangers telling him that he smells good, but he takes it.
When he opens his eyes again it’s to the sight of Harry biting his lip, eyeing Niall’s neck yet again. Now it’s his turn to bite Harry’s lips though, and he surges forward, almost knocking their noses together. He licks over Harry’s top lip, his hot breath fanning over Niall’s face. When Harry releases it, Niall is quick to suck the lower one into his mouth, groaning when he nibbles and licks. Breathy noises come out of Harry’s mouth and Niall revels in it, loves every second of it.
The grinding starts up again and he grabs Harry by his hips to direct his movements, to make it good for them both. His mouth wanders over the sharp cut of Harry’s jaw, enjoying the smooth, cold skin under his lips. Both their hands wander over shoulders, backs, arms bulging with the effort of holding the other close. Niall is really into it, not even thinking about the prospect of getting blood sucked out of him later on. That’s when you know someone is a good snog, and Harry is the best he's ever had.
For a vampire to bear his neck to someone else is very unusual. Niall doesn’t expect anything, just wants to kiss every inch of Harry’s skin that he can reach, but suddenly Harry’s head is thrown back with a quiet growl and Niall stops. Stops kissing, stops grinding up into Harry.
He stares at the neck offered to him, trying to process the fact that Harry must put a lot of trust in him. Hungry for weeks, desperate for blood, yet here he is, sitting in Niall’s lap and baring his neck.
If Niall was turned on before, it’s no comparison to how turned on he is in this moment. His hands tighten their hold on Harry’s waist as he slowly leans forward, placing his lips softly on the spot right beneath his chin.
Harry shivers visibly, one of his hands twisting into Niall’s shirt, the other finding it’s way into his hair.
Niall doesn’t stop here though. He plasters many fleeting kisses to Harry’s exposed throat, breathing against the damp spots to see the goose bumps spread all over his skin. His hands make their way to the front of Harry’s jeans, opening the button and pulling the zipper down.
The hand in his hair tugs particularly hard when he presses down on Harry’s bulge, a loud moan spilling out of his mouth. He leans his head on Niall’s, neck still reachable for the hungry lips that never leave the soft skin for longer than a second. The lounge makes little protesting noises as Harry basically rides Niall, strong thighs bracketting his hips when he glances down at what he’s doing. The way Harry’s dick disappears in Niall’s fist is so entrancing, he keeps still for a moment just to admire. It’s only a few seconds until Harry is tugging him back to his lips and then to his neck so Niall has no other choice but continue kissing him there.
He feels him everywhere, the flowery, clean smell in his nose, the weight on top of him, the hand urging him on to keep kissing Harry’s neck, his hips greedily moving into Niall’s palm. He’s dizzy with lust and the need to feel more, feel all of him, feel Harry’s teeth on his body, breaking the skin and taking what he needs, but Harry made clear that Niall is in control right now. He’s grinding into Niall’s hand faster and faster, as if that’s the only thing he needs right now, making these almost pathetic noises.
Niall feels a sudden burst of possessiveness and he sets his teeth into the vulnerable skin on Harry’s neck, hard enough to leave a visible mark.
Sure, he expected Harry to react to it, maybe moan, maybe shy away, maybe even stop him because he went too far – but what he got instead was Harry tensing up all over, a feral growl ripping from his throat, his hand almost tugging a hole into Niall’s shirt. He presses himself hard against Niall, his thighs closing around him and Niall can feel Harry’s dick pulsing in his hand as he rides his orgasm out.
Niall leans back, an unbelieving laugh bubbling out of him. He watches as Harry lowers his head, slowly opening his eyes. For a moment Niall forgets about his own hard on, bathes in the heavy lidded gaze directed at him, eyes so dark and glowing that he wants to drown in them, as cheesy as it sounds. He would soon find out what colour they actually were, if Harry could find the courage to bite him. He is currently too busy with staring Niall down though, breathing heavyily, curls a proper mess. And it’s a sight to behold. Niall's stomach kicks with a wave of new arousal.
Time to take things further, Niall thinks and does the first thing that comes to his mind, as usual.
Holding eye contact, he slowly raises his chin, making his neck long and inviting, exposing it to the hungry vampire on top of him.
Harry stares with wide eyes at the pulsing vein next to Niall’s Adam’s apple, gulping, twisting his hand even more into Niall’s shirt.
“Can I?” he quietly asks, wetting his lips with his tongue.
Finally.
“Yes, Harry, yes, come on”, Niall urges him on, his feet lifting off the ground, making Harry fall forward. He melts against Niall immediately, attaching his mouth to the vein right under his jaw, sucking hard from the get go.
Niall isn’t prepared for Harry teasing him instead of biting him right away, but he’s not about to complain when it feels this good. Harry finds his weak spot in mere seconds, Niall kind of hates him for it. Loves him for it. He helplessly bucks up into the heavy weight in his lap, craving the friction against his straining erection.
Harry seems to read his mind, because his jeans are open in no time, a cold hand fisting the head of his dick and rolling down the foreskin. Niall hisses, the temperature and roughness bringing him pleasure and pain all the same. His hand smears a bit of jizz on Harry’s jeans when Niall grabs them to ground himself, grabs them a little harder to hear Harry growling against his neck.
He’s waiting for the sharp pang of Harry’s fangs breaking through his skin, he’s holding off coming all over Harry’s fist after he’s barely started a faster rhythm, he’s trying to drink this new languid but purposeful Harry in with all his senses - it’s overwhelming him easily.
Not even aware of the praises hes mumbling into the small of the room, he’s surprised by Harry’s face coming up from his neck to grin at him.
“Stop, you’re making me blush.”
Niall has half the mind to frown at Harry while his hips are twitching helplessly, his control over them long lost.
“How? Ah, th-thought you were hungry?”
The smile he receives is almost blinding in it’s intensity and Niall is glad when Harry presses it right into his mouth, he’s sure he must be losing his mind with how affected he is by everything Harry is doing. He’s mumbling “very hungry,” against Niall’s lips and then goes back to kissing the living daylights out of him.
It almost feels like making out with a normal guy, but he knows he isn’t. The skin-on-skin contact reminds him that this is considered dangerous, kissing someone who has the potential to hurt you so easily like Harry could. But Niall doesn't care. The anticipation for the bite making his skin crawl in the best way.
Harry is nudging his jaw with his nose as Niall slowly but surely dies under him, lips catching on the light stubble when he places kisses on the moles there. He’s going to die soon, he’s sure of it, no one is able to survive this kind of torture.
As he reaches his ear, Niall can hear the fast little breaths coming out of Harry’s parted lips, matching his own frantic breathing. Niall closes his eyes and tries to not let it get him there too fast.
Harry’s one hand is working steadily over his dick while the other one is secure around his neck, when Harry heatedly whispers right into his ear: “Can I?”
It sounds so fucking hot, Niall’s on the edge of passing out, slurring out rushed words of permission, mind already flying somewhere high above the clouds. He’d do anything for Harry to get his teeth into his neck by now, he’s delirious with it, his hands blindly grabbing the black coat Harry’s wearing.
When he’s finally sinking his teeth into the tender skin of his neck, Niall’s ‘yes’ and ‘come on’ fade to throaty moans. They’re mirrored by helpless groans coming from Harry, who doesn’t let up with pumping Niall’s dick, now going even faster than before.
It’s too much. It’s perfect.
Instead of his mind going blank as usual when he’s about to come, Niall finds himself trapped inside his body, forced to feel every little thing.
Harry’s mouth working on his neck, creating a weird mix of pain and satisfaction.
His big hand stroking, twisting and squeezing everything out of him, just on the right side of painful.
The heavy weight of Harry pressing him down, grounding him, giving him no room to escape from the overstimulation of his senses.
He can’t help it, his orgasm is arriving fast, robbing him of what little air was left in his lungs.
He’s not really taking note of Harry almost falling off of him because of his whole body jerking up from the lounge, not taking note of Harry extracting his fangs from the wounds in Niall’s neck, licking over them to seal them off.
When he fully comes to his senses again, he takes note of his legs though.
“My legs”, he murmurs, trying to move them. He can’t feel a damn thing, can’t move them, and he almost laughs, it’s so ridiculous.
He fixes his eyes on Harry, on his scared expression, and now he actually does start laughing. Harry scrambles off his lap and flops down next to him.
“God, I’m so sorry, oh god”, he stammers, hands hovering over Niall’s legs as if he was trying to magically make the numbness go away. Vampires don’t have magic, that’s ridiculous and makes Niall only laugh harder.
“It’s alright. That was alright.” His laughter dissolves into breathy giggles, orgasms always making him feel giddy with joy.
“More than”, Harry admits quietly from his left. Niall rolls his head to the side on the backrest, looking at the blissed out expression on Harry’s face.
The eyes make Niall’s heart jump in his chest. Bright green and so full of fondness, he should’ve known that Harry has eyes that will make him weak in the knees. He closes his own, trying to reel it back in. His lips feel sore with the amount of kissing he’s been doing tonight, another round can wait.
His body feels weirdly detached from his mind, all floaty and tingly, the feeling slowly creeping back into his legs. He doesn’t regret turning the man on the dance floor down, doesn’t regret showing a stranger the way to the toilets. Niall doesn’t regret allowing said stranger to suck on his neck either and a smile spreads on his lips. His gut tells him he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.
He opens his eyes again and finds Harry still looking like a lovesick fool, gaze trained on his neck now.
“Don’t tell me you want more”, he drily remarks, his hand coming up to touch the wounds. They’re smooth, he can barely feel them. So, apparently Vampires have magic, amazing.
Harry turns his head and grins into the backrest of the lounge, trying to hide his face.
Oh, that’s how it is, Niall thinks to himself and holds his hand out.
“Give me your phone then, you idiot.”
He hears Harry laugh for the first time and it’s as endearing as he expected it to be, suits him perfectly.
While he’s typing in his number and saving it under The Niall with a few shamrock emojis, Harry quietly admits: “I tried out a new diet.”
Niall almost lets go of the phone with how surprised he is by his own bark of laughter. Beneath all that shy and adorable surface is actually a really silly and even more adorable man, Niall can’t believe it.
Harry lets out a snort and takes his phone back, eyes flitting over the new entry, and Niall chances another good look at his face.
“Ha, now you can blush!”
He presses one of his clean fingers into the dimple that appears and listens to the sound of Harry’s laughter. Right then and there Niall decides, that he wants to be the reason for that very laugh, again and again.