- Louis: On the sofa, his body lay under yours, your chest pressed against his heavily breathing torso. Sweat forming on his forehead as his hands roamed your nearly bare body, skimming your back gently, gracing down to your bum and down your thighs, lightly, painfully lightly. Your fingers tangled tightly in his hair, your hot breath radiating on his neck, his ear lobe, his temple as you trailed your lips across his upper half, pushing your hips down into his. His hands tighten around your body as he groans, tossing his head back on the arm of the couch and crying out desperately, “fuck, kiss me damnit” and so you do, and a growl escapes his lips and into yours as he rolls over above you.
- Harry: “Wh-what can I do?” he pleads, anything to stop the broken sobs from escaping your lips, to stop the heartbreaking cries emitting form your body. He kneels on the floor beside you, your body curled helplessly on the loveseat above him. “Please…” he breathes, “I want to fix this, I’m sorry, I’m stupid, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m so so sorry, I love you and I-” he raves on before you sit up and interrupt him. “Shut up” you murmur. He catches his words in his throat, “what?” he asks, eyes questioning yours. “Shut up and kiss me” you mumble, and then his lips are on yours, pulling your body closer to his as the kiss deepens, and then he pulls away, only to connect his lips with your cheeks, wiping tears away. “I hate you” you grumble, not truthfully, and he chuckles before covering your lips against his again.
- Niall: “No way…” he murmurs, dropping the controller to the carpeted floor, mouth agape and eyes wide. “Did you just-?” he begins, staring in awe as your just cross your legs, nodding with an amused smirk on your lips. “You just beat me. You just beat me at Fifa World Cup.” He states, shocked. “Oh don’t sound so surprised Horan” you scoff, tugging on the band of your sweatpants as you get up, before being tossed back onto the couch and ambushed by tickling fingers. You squeal and laugh begging him to stop before you pee yourself and then his fingers stop moving and he’s laughing too before you silence your giggles, “well… Kiss me you idiot” you exclaim, and he dives right in.
- Zayn: “why are you so nervous?” he asks, shivering slightly in the November air on your doorstep, his jacket having been placed around your shoulders. He pulls his body a step away from yours, taking in your trembling appearance before him, sighing as he was so close to kissing you. “I-I…” you stutter and he smiles warmly, “there’s nothing to be nervous about, I like you, and I mean…I’m a pretty decent kisser” he muses, twirling a strand of your hair around his fingers. “C’mon then, kiss me” he murmurs, his warm breath fanning over your face, and then your reaching up and he’s leaning in and his soft, warm lips are pressed against yours perfectly. And he pulls away, smiling at your flushed cheeks and upturned lips, your hand reaching around the hand him his jacket back, “Keep it, there’ll be a second date, I mean, I wasn’t that bad right?”
- Liam: “Ready?” you ask, taking the water bottle from his hands. He nods excitedly, bouncing on his toes as he readies himself for the concert. “Good, have fun okay? I’ll be right there in the front row” you grin, squeezing his hand in yours tightly, neither of you making any move to leave. His eyes lock on yours, a smile spreading across his lips, forgetting the other boys and the stage hands around the room. “Need anything else before I go?” you ask reluctantly. He hums thoughtfully, tipping his head from side to side, “one thing” he coos teasingly. “what’s that?” you ask, cocking your head to the left. “Kiss me, baby” he chuckles and you giggle, bouncing up on your toes and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, hugging his large frame tightly against yours, before letting him go, watching him saunter out onto the stage.