Life's a Beach
The sand between my toes was warm and a fine grit. I'd rubbed my heels into it happily when I had first laid myself upon the neon beach towel that I'd somehow been able to keep in my possession for the last several years. It was a record for sure. Though I didn't lose many things, beach towels were ephemeral items for me. I never seemed to be able to hang on to one for more than a season. The seasons lasted a good long time in Sydney, at least the season where you may need a beach towel. But losing them was an annual source of irritation for me.
Since the sand had been such a sweet sensation when I sat down, I'd extended my legs off my precious towel to dig my heels into the pleasurable friction. It reminded me of the feeling of high thread count sheets.
However, I was currently digging my heels into the sand for an entirely different reason. I needed to stay put, even though every single piece of me wanted to get up and go to my boyfriend.
My boyfriend, that was what Harry was to me. Secret boyfriend though he may be. Which is what had created my current dilemma.
My boyfriend was very close to me. And he was nearly naked. His yellow shorts were the size of a postage stamp and I reckoned they must have some kind of netted cage within them, otherwise there was no way what I knew to be lying between his gorgeous thighs was not falling out of the tiny inseam of those traitorous things. I knew his goods were in a cage. I could see them bound up together and it made me feel bad, like a rescue needed to be staged. But I'd already freed them repeatedly from the moment he was no longer a snot factory.
He had been the biggest and sweetest pain in the ass as a sick person. Once I had granted him his cuddles I had discovered that sick Harry was even more tactile than well Harry, and that when he was awake, but confined to a bed for not fun reasons he was chatty and needy. While we laid there, or he laid there and I fetched him room service, or tea, or the scrabble board, he had told me how he had gotten so sick.
"I could feel it coming on, but really, we were so busy that I was only sleeping like two hours a night. Did you know when you do a press junket they interview you all day? Like, they ask you the same thing over and over. It's so boring Mel! Like, Niall and I just started drinking games, took count of how many times they asked about if we were really friends and such." he looked contrite then. "Um, I'm sure the drinking didn't help either."
The second day, when he was feeling a little more spry and he was sulking because I had beat him at scrabble, finally, he made me spoon him.
"Harry, baby, I know I am tall, but you are still bigger than me!" I'd protested when he had trapped my hand after I had decided 20 minutes was enough time.
"Shhh.....Melly, It make me feel small and lovely. Which you already are, so just let me feel better, yeah?" That made me feel like my heart was two sizes to big, the opposite of the Grinch. So, I had stayed in that bed and cuddled him for another hour.
By day three, he was nearly well, but I still would not make out with him, or have sex, and he was whinging about it.
"But baby, please! I haven't seen you in weeks! And," he pouted those damn lips at me. "I missed you!" I was pulling myself from the bed where he had woken up, hard, from a nap, and immediately started humping my bum before asking if I wanted to "use it."
"Harry, you are still stuffy and I don't want your germs!" Though I was sure to get it with all the close contact. I'd drawn the line at kisses on day one.
"Melody," He'd given me a look that singed my clothes off, "Don't you want anything from me?"
Wanting him was not a problem. I may have been a novice, but I was eager. I wanted everything from him. But, lately, with his extra warm body pressed against me all night and half the day, I couldn't wait to have him take me. But I had waited, becuase he was ill and mucus is not an aphrodisiac. Harry was no longer sporting the runny nose, but he was giving me puppy eyes and that pout..So I gave in. And I kept giving it to him until I'd pulled my sweaty body off of his to get in the shower to come here with everybody
That had only been partly successful as well. We were late, noticeably so. We'd had to separate ourselves and arrive at slightly different times because he got in my shower. And we'd left an hour after everybody else. Looking at him now I was sorry we had left at all.
I wasn't a huge fan of beach volleyball in general. Most of the athletic things that I engaged in, few and far between as they were, only required one person. Yoga, running, cycling. Team sports sounded extra exhausting. It require small talk and team picking, and I always flashed back to primary school and not being picked for footie teams. It was all very traumatic. When I did come to the beach, it was usually one far less inhabited and at a less busy time of day. I liked to watch the tide roll in or out. I liked to watch what was revealed by the pull of the moon. If I was feeling particularly spirited I'd dance with the waves. These were all very much solo activities for me though. But, as I watched Harry jogging to grab the quilted white ball so he could serve up, I was sure that I could expand my next trip happily to a party of two.
I watched him toss the ball up in the air and stretch and contract his body to whack it over the net. Harry had just been taught that overhand serve by Luke and I was always surprised that he didn't fall over his own two feet in athletic situations. He fell over his own two feet trying to get out of his skinny jeans often enough. I shook my head, though he couldn't see me.
He must have been able to feel my gaze. After the ball went over he looked over to me and I found myself flirty and wanton. I bit my lip and looked him up and down obviously. His eyebrows flashed and he pursed his lips then grinned and ran a hand down his torso lightly 'adjusting' his poor imprisoned package on the way down. That fucker knew.
What I didn't know, was myself these days. After that first loud conversation in the hallway and Harry's insistence that there was and had been an us, that we were 'together' I stopped asking questions about his ghost act. I was so happy that he risked discomfort and ear drum to be with me, I stopped worrying about the way Harry seemed to be horrible at long-distance. Which if we were to go the distance, I should have been more interested in.
One morning, when he had woken up groggy, I'd called down for tea and some toast and a poached egg. It was what my mum always fetched me when she wanted to check if I was better. I set the plate up and brewed his tea to the color he liked it, leaving it plain as he liked it and making mine a tea one as I'd been brought up to like it.
"Melly, what are you doing? Room service left ages ago?" he called from bedroom and I wrung my hands and went to him. I walked in then and saw sleepy eyes and a whiny face. "I'm hungry!" he pouted.
"You are five!" I laughed at him. "Your mum let you get away with this?" Mine had put a stop to me being a pain in the arse when sick by the time I was twelve. Though she let Michael hang on a little longer, and she'd rubbed his back one morning when he was morning after heaving.
"My mum is lovely, and likes to baby me. Tells me I'm always gonna be her little one." He cheesed up at me while he dipped his toast into his egg and took a bite. "She misses me a lot. Always gone, before she was ready, and I don't call as much as I should."
That confused me. Harry seemed to talk to her alot. "So, it's not just me you ghost on then?" My voice quavered. He would be leaving soon, for months, and I needed more promises. I couldn't take the waiting and wondering I didn't think based on this time.
"Nah, my friend Nick bitches about it too. I just get distracted, is all. Plus, like, sometimes I don't even want to think about talking to anybody after seeing people all day." He looked at me for absolution.
"Not even your mum?" he shrugged in response. "Not even me?" I looked down to ask it, an insouciant shrug would hurt to much to see.
His hand caught under my chin, and he raised my face up and clutched my hand. "I'll get better Melly. I'm learning too." I nodded and gave him a watery smile while he caressed my face and then tweaked my nose. "Now, fetch the scrabble board! I have a reputation to uphold!"
"Fetch you, mate, fuck off with that!" I laughed as I fetched the board. I needed a distraction from how lovely the germ factory was sitting there amid the down comforter. The growing ink collection black against the white.
Every time I saw him again after we'd been separated, his hair was a little more wild and his shoulders looked a little wider and his v lines a little stronger. And, well, now I knew. I think that is what Harry had given me at that point that could never be taken back. I had eaten the fruit, and I knew. I knew him and he knew me and I wanted to be a lifelong student of what I'd gotten a preface of. We had made a good job at our study the first week of our new found physical freedom, discovered that Harry was a morning boy, and I liked to be seen to at night, so we met in the middle. Harry thought it was hilarious to sing me 'Afternoon Delight' when we were showering off.
The shower made me nervous, but he loved to trace the soap bubbles down the long lines of my body and proved to me that he was strong enough to hoist me up. His shower in L.A. had slippery tile. It made me nervous. He was strong though and he was careful with me. Harry made me feel precious and that he would handle me with care. He'd rinse me clean of any evidence but the more permanent marks he left with mouth or hands. I found out I liked those a lot too. Much to my chagrin. Maybe because they were of so dangerous to have, but I loved to find a reminder on me that took extra time to find suitable clothing to cover up.
This morning, I hadn't been able to wear the black bikini I loved the most because it fell just below my hip bones. Those points had been of attraction last night and had twin bruises on their tips, and little suction marks on the way down. Harry had teased me relentlessly when he got back on his feet yesterday, taking ages to get to where I wanted him. I was so mad, edging on livid at him. How could he go so slow when I wanted to be riding him like a cat?
That was the way it felt right now too. It had been two hours since Harry had pressed me against the glass shower door, the first time facing away from him, and it was all I could think about. Still. His yellow shorts were not helping. He'd gotten back into the game, but he'd blessed me with that knowing grin frequently. He had thrown back a lip bite and a smirk often as well, thus I had to get up and go for a walk. For a girl with little to no sexual experience up until now and who frankly was ok with that until recently, I felt like I was going mad. I was wanton and wild and wanted. I wanted to move into his bed, maybe his bones, and not leave.
Laying frustrated on a towel thinking about another power imbalance between us made me pathetic. Why couldn't I resist him? Why did I always have to want him just a little bit more than he wanted me? Or, why did I have to feel like it, anyway?
So I pulled myself up off from where I was pretending to sun myself, but was really just lusting after stupid Harry Styles and went for a walk. He'd laughed at me this morning when I'd wanted to sleep instead of be with him, but it had taken him five seconds, and basically just a few passes of his morning erection over my mound before I was telling Morpheus to fuck off and him to fuck on. When he'd laid me on my back with him on his side and hitched my knee up to my shoulder to enter me, it had seemed like a solid decision. Especially when I realized the access his hands had and I was coming minutes later, but right now I was pissed at myself for being this girl.
Could one be hypnotized by a dick? Dicknotized? Who the hell was I?
"Melody?" The wind carried to my ears and I turned around from my self flagellation, my hair had blown over my eyes. It deprived me of the sight of him jogging towards me for a moment. I pushed it away and looked at him coming after me.
I was his.
He rushed up and stopped just short of me. Our noses touched. Harry looked stuck for a moment, he looked around, and realized we were pretty far down the beach from everyone. So he put his hands on my hips and resumed his forward momentum. His lips hit mine and he hummed. I sighed and he took advantage and slipped his tongue into my mouth. We were just about to get carried away, when I pulled back.
"We are definitely exposed!" I giggled.
"Well you are!" He ran his hands over the high cuts on my ass and grasped a bit.
I gave him a shocked face! "I'm exposed! Your shorts can be seen from space! Those bitches are so bright they can still see you I'm sure. So," I leaned in and pecked him before biting his lip with a tiny pull. "Back off!"
His pupils looked blown at that.
I'm not sure who exactly I was, but seemed he was mine too.
"Let's go somewhere unexposed then," he swallowed. He'd backed up a bit, but the look he was giving me was close.
I quirked a brow. "You expecting a quick wank in the toilets, mate?"
"Not with the 'mate' bit, Melly." He went to grab me close but stopped his hands half way. "And I wouldn't say no to a wank." He winked and I eye rolled. "But where were you going?"
"Oh, there's a cove, like a mile down, that I like to go to. Usually less crowded." Harry grabbed my hand at that, and he took off down the beach, dragging me behind him.
"Harry, Harry! Slow down babes, I can't run, or everybody is gonna get a treat when I nip slip."
His tongue curled into the corner of his mouth and he kept running. "I know! I will get a treat! C'mon I want to see your place. And your nip!" He winked and ran. And I, with faux regret, let him pull me along. I was ready and willing to catch his playful mood. I was willing to catch whatever he was tossing out.
What with the running, we made it to the cove in 10 minutes with a light sheen of sweat all over our bodies. Harry looked like a Olympic athlete or Adonis or something, all tan and toned and lanky. I was happy there was no mirror nearby. It was strange that he could make me feel like Bathsheba in the bedroom or Medusa in the daylight.
He scanned the nearly empty beach, definitely empty of our friends, and he stepped to me and smoothed the wild hair that had come out of my ponytail behind me ear before anchoring itself to my jaw.
"You look really hot," he breathed.
"Well, I did just run a mile with you Harry!" Bathsheba right now with those green eyes on me.
"Not what I meant and you know it!" He chucked my chin and kissed me fast. "But we can cool off in the water!" And he took off with every confidence that I would follow.
It was a safe bet. I splashed in after him, purposely kicking the water high in a wall with the blade of my shin. I got him right in the face when he turned back to me. He sputtered and wiped it off his face while he laughed.
"Oh! You are gonna get it babes!" he promised.
"Ehh, I've already had it! I'll pass!" I put my hands on my hips and shrugged before dashing away from him. He took off after me. He chased me along the beach until we were farther from curious eyes then before. We rounded a outcropping of rock and I stopped when I realized I'd never been this far down the beach and that it was completely deserted.
I was biting my lip before I even looked up at Harry. The knowing look on his face told me he anticipated my hopeful reaction. I wasn't really sure what was going on with me. I still had no real idea what I was doing, but I wanted to be doing it, him really, all the time. As often as possible.
I had two choices, I could make it easy on him or hard. I was just about to take off running again, when Harry made the choice for me. I wouldn't exactly call what the move he carried out a tackle because he was gentle and braced his knees onto the sand and cradled my head before it touched down, but it was close enough that anyone watching would have guessed they wandered into a one-to-one rugby game.
Except, rugby players don't kiss like that. Harry's lips were a little bit chapped, a lingering effect of his sickness, and if they had been mine, I might have been self-conscious about it not feeling good against the thin skin of his fleshy pout. No worries necessary. It felt amazing against my mouth as we moved in time, him sucking gently on my top, then bottom lip before licking across my mouth so I'd gasp and open for him. He grinned.
I wanted to be annoyed that he could anticipate my reactions so well, but I was to caught up in the from here to eternity moment we were having. I kept waiting to be irritated by the sand getting into my bikini bottoms, but the sand was white and powdery and I was only aware of my bikini bottoms when Harry's hands found themselves at the ties on the side while he put the friction of his dry lips against my aching neck. It's funny that the muscles there always seemed to get tense, needing a stretch so he could reach all the best parts and that they would then get floppy and lank when he mouthed the cord of muscle that ran from behind my ear to the sternal head or bit at the rise of my trapezius. I was moaning his name when one of his hands, the one on the shielded side from the direction anybody was likely to come from, undid my bikini. He had clearly already undone me because I didn't even raise a fuss, but flopped my left leg down to the sand so he could get to the delicate skin he had uncovered. He was nosing aside my top and connecting his mouth to my nipple while his hands found my wet center.
"Shit, Melly, you're soaked!" he praised. I'm not sure who. If I had the wherewithal to take the piss, I'd tell him it was from frolicking in the ocean. But we both knew it was him. It was always him. Especially now that I knew what he could, what he would, do. He fitted his fingers inside me, angling up, and his thumb found my clit and my whole body rolled against him.
"Oh my god!" we said at the same time and laughed before he started kissing my mouth again.
I was still figuring out what to do with my hands in these moments. Harry had told me that as long as they were on him, that was perfect while we were in L.A., but the momentary giggle break had alerted me that I was just clutching his scapula with my nails dug in. I unclenched my hands.
"Sorry, H," I breathed.
He shook his head against my lips and a flake of skin caught, I bit him there on impulse. "No, I like the bite of your nails, angel."
I ran a hand around and tried to get it between our bodies. "But don't you want?" I awkwardly cupped his erection.
"Course, but we need..." He flexed his fingers and I moaned. "...to be a little stealthy. And it's your turn."
"But it's always my turn!" I really tried to protest.
He flashed his eyebrows. "Now your getting it!" And he worked me closer to my end. "How's that Melody?"
I couldn't talk, so I bit my lip and closed my eyes and nodded as I felt the waves coming up, both of emotion and ocean. When I came and opened up to find him watching me, I found his eyes wide and his mouth slack. He looked like he'd just found out that Australia was really Atlantis and it was a paradise we could stay in.
"I love watching you, Melody. I lo—" He bit his lip.
So close, and I wanted to drag it out of him, but instead I took pity and brought my hand back to him. We'd deal with his caught tongue after I had loosened it again.
I worked over him, going into his infinitesimal trunks to get at skin, bringing the jacket his penis wore to come up and cover his head repeatedly as I'd noticed he liked. "Your turn now?"
"They are all my turns," he put his head down on my neck and panted there. When he drown my hands in him, he whispered something into my neck. I thought he'd said it, but I'd wait until he could voice it, I decided.
We picked ourselves and dusted off the sand, finally deciding a dip was more than necessary, both for my sticky fingers and our dirty bums. We splashed and played and made love away from prying eyes the rest of the afternoon. And the rest of that month long touring leg.
And he promised me he would call during the long break we were facing. Everyday if he could, even if it was just for a minute.
He never voiced the heavy words, but he mouthed them against my neck and spelled them out, along with his name, with his fingers onto my back. He painted me with his love and affection while he was on my great big island. And I believed his feelings were as wide as that place.
They were, but maybe they hadn't developed enough depth.
They felt shallow when not long after, in love's time, four months or so , my phone started to miss him again, and all the things we never said got louder than I could bear.
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