Harry and Niall's limbs were tangled under the polyester hotel sheets, the artificial heat huffing out of the vents and peppering their pale skin with beads of sweat. Harry's hair stuck to his forehead, and the skin behind Niall's ears was damp. Their bare chests rose and fell with each inhale and exhale, seconds apart from being in unison. A foggy New England sun leaked through the giant bay windows and sliced across the crisp white blankets and over their pillows, annoying Harry's tired eyes. He yawned and nuzzled his head into Niall's shoulder, kitten like. "Stop," he whispered without thinking, as if he could order morning away.
Niall's eyes flickered open like the dying alarm clock on the fake wood table might if they ever bothered to use it. His lazy lips twisted into a half smile, but somehow it lit up his whole face. "Harry," He said, Irish accent glittering under the hoarseness of waking up. "Harry, we have to get up," He repeated, lips brushing Harry's ear with every word.
Harry shook his head, face rubbing against Niall in a way that made both of them want to stay tucked in each other forever. They fit so well; Harry's legs locked in Niall's, Niall's hands up Harry's shirt as he drew shapes on the skin, and when they kissed it was never long enough. "No," He argued simply, lacing his fingers behind Niall's side. "Never in a million years, no."
The other half of Niall's face finally curled, and he pulled his hands out of Harry's shirt. He didn't care their moisture was mixing. It didn't care Harry's deodorant was wafting around like a candle, he didn't care that neither of them were wearing anything but boxers and their skin was sticking together like glue on the arts and crafts projects he remembered from primary school. He really didn't care about anything; he just wanted to be there, to be in bed, and he didn't want to face the real world. He didn't want to see Harry go away from him for even a second. It took all the strength he had to untangle himself from Harry. He rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows, blonde hair sticking out in soft tufts. "It's a brand new day," He hummed, kicking Harry gently.
Harry laughed under his breath, swung his legs over the bed, and stretched. His arm muscles were deliciously visible. His back was glittering mess of scratches Niall's fingernails drew, and his neck was a map of hickies; vampire footprints danced from his neck to his collar bones, like a little rave was held on his body.
Niall stood up and took Harry's hand in his own, and for a minute they just stared at the marks they left on each other, admiring their work and the master piece that was the other's body. The shadows, the curves, the bones and the meat of each other captured them, and they both knew this was the best way to wake up.
It was best to wake up with someone you loved.