Travelling with Harry was no longer a point of unfamiliarity for me. I'd now travelled to countless cities by his side - I'd watched and photographed him as he pranced about the stage in all areas of the country. But this time, it was different.
There was an absence of everybody else, for a start. It was a little odd to not have Sarah or Elin by my side, laughing at something small, or Pauli bouncing around excitedly, or Ally pacing around on the phone. I even felt a strange ease at the absence of Stella and her glares in my direction, which I was sure would only be heightened in a situation like this.
I was going to miss the remainder of the band. I'd realised it, in particular, as I went to say my goodbyes to them all, earlier that day. I hadn't spent more than a couple of hours without seeing them all for two months, now, and they'd all become such a central part of my life. It was going to hurt to leave them behind, soon, just as it was going to hurt to leave Harry - it felt like I'd formed such a strong connection with each of them, and I'd come to value them all more than I'd have ever expected to. It was only a week until I'd see them again, but it still felt foreign to be travelling away from them all.
Everything was different, now, As I glanced to my side, there was only one person there, but I wasn't sure I could've asked for a company that was even able to compete with his.
Harry had rejected the assistance of his security team - politely, but firmly requesting that they didn't join us on this trip. I'd raised an eyebrow, surprised, when he'd told me such - I'd seen how persistent they could be in following him wherever he went, and I'd seen how much of a problem it became whenever Harry tried to dodge their companionship. He'd told me with a beautiful grin that he'd convinced them to hang back, promising them that he'd call and put them on the very next flight, if anything were to happen. I figured Ally might have played a role in convincing them on Harry's behalf, also, for I knew how stubborn they were - but Harry could be stubborn, too, and he'd won this round, it seemed - somehow.
Even in the airport, now, Harry was so much more at ease than I'd seen him recently. Throughout the tour, he barely ever let on that he was stressed, or perplexed - even with the recent, sudden adjustment of the stadium show, he'd kept his composure in the lead-up as best as possible - at least, when in the company of everybody else, but I knew the extent of the tour had been taking somewhat of a toll on him. It was an exhausting process, with constant travel and non-stop performance, interviews, rehearsals, amongst the writing I knew he was doing in the remainder of his free time, all whilst somehow juggling his time to make sure he and I could spend time together outside of the two hours he'd spend on stage in front of me every night.
I knew this week off was something he would desperately need to use to recover, and I couldn't help but feel so honoured that he wanted to spend that precious recovery time with me. I'd been flattered enough that he'd wanted to welcome me into his home, in California, but there was something about him wanting to share his favourite sanctuary with me that was hitting me so much harder.
As we stood in line to board the plane, his sunglasses on his eyes despite our indoor setting, a baseball cap drawn low over his face, and his hoodie hanging off him in an attempt to disguise himself as best as possible, I felt his arm snake around my waist, gently pulling me a little closer to him. I caught his covered eyes landing on me as he almost appeared to seek a reaction from me; a confirmation, of sorts, as to what I was feeling - if I was okay, or not.
His touch on me was far from foreign by this point, but I knew there'd been some underlying uncertainty between us, as of late, and Harry always remained apprehensive of pushing me too far. I felt so guilty for that; I hated that. There wasn't any time when I could comprehend wanting to reject his presence, but I knew he'd predicted my nerves about this trip. He knew it was a big deal for me, unlike anything I'd experienced with anybody else, before, and he'd urged me that it was no different for him. He'd never taken somebody he was with on a vacation - certainly, not to his favourite country.
I yearned to pull his sunglasses from his face so that I could see his eyes, properly, and be greeted with the warmth they provided even in piercing through me, but I didn't want to risk increasing his chances of being spotted - I'd told him in the car that his 'disguise' wasn't exactly the most deceptive thing I'd ever seen, but he'd insisted I'd be surprised at how well it could occasionally work. I remembered how he'd insisted we wore them on our first date in LA, and it caused a fond twist in my chest to see him utilising the very same pair, now.
I briefly brought my hand upwards to rest upon the side of his face, smoothing my thumb over his cheek, just once, in a silent gesture, hoping that I was giving him the confirmation he was seeking. I was okay - more than okay, with him here. I watched his lips twitch into a tiny grin, as he drew me closer to him, my back now pressed against his chest as his arm now entirely enveloped me. I leaned back against the steadiness of him behind me, the back of my head resting against him as I felt his other arm come to join his first one, wrapping around my body from behind me. I blew out a gentle, relaxed breath as we waited in our position in line, and I felt his lips press to my hair in a soft movement.
I'd never get used to how light everything felt when he was around. It didn't make sense to me; the way that everything seemed to evaporate, all worries lifted from my shoulders the moment I felt his presence, there. I wondered if he knew he could do that; if it was some, magical skill he had. Harry just felt so safe. I'd never known anything like it.
He kissed my temple, now, and I closed my eyes, relying on his weight behind me to support me. And he did - he always did. I didn't want to feel so unsure, or afraid - I wanted to just be here, with him, to have our week. Our week, without complications, and without my wretched overthinking - just him and I.
He placed the smallest of touches on me as we navigated our way onto the plane, as he always did. It was one of my favourite things; something I'd never have expected before him. I'd noticed his inclinations to touch me from the moment our relationship had began - at the time, I'd almost wondered if it was some sort of over-compensation, then; making up for lost time that we'd spent refusing to even sit within a foot of one another. But, now, having been with him for longer, I realised that was just how he was, with me, and I adored it - every part of it. I'd grown obsessed with how his hand would always graze over the small of my back whenever we'd walk alongside one another, or how his hand would nudge mine, or even dart out to gently move my hair from my face when we'd stop moving. It was something I'd never experienced before him, nor had I wanted to - but now, it felt like routine.
There was nothing better than knowing that he felt inclined to have his hands on me; that feeling of being wanted, especially when it was so deeply reciprocated - because I got it, too. I caught myself, too, placing my own hand onto his arm in a brief encounter, or reaching to intertwine his fingers with my own. I wanted his touch; I wanted him, all of the time. I hated the moments when I'd find myself scared of that realisation.
I liked this dynamic. I liked the only thing I had to focus on, being him. I liked feeling like we were the only two people in the world. His hand was laced through mine as we settled into our seats on the plane. I'd had a pang of realisation when we made our way through the plane, to the first class section, which he always flew in, that this wasn't for the sake of tour, now. This trip was funded by his pockets, rather than by a business. Though I knew it wouldn't have been much to him, I considered objecting to how much it would've cost to fly us like this, but I knew it wouldn't have been worthwhile to argue. He was set on doing this the way he wanted me to experience it.
The moment we stepped off the plane, I realised he'd meant it when he said we'd be normal, here. It was immediately different from every other time we'd travelled, in that we weren't escorted anywhere - nobody was there to meet us at the door of the plane and sneak us quickly through the airport. We were doing this properly.
I wound my two arms around one of his as we headed back through the airport. Harry had been cautious about us being seen together, back in the US, insisting that we needed to be more careful after our horrible run-in with paparazzi at dinner several nights previous. But here, he didn't seem so alarmed. This place allowed him to let his guard down, I could tell, in how his shoulders dropped virtually the second the air hit him.
We collected our bags, and Harry managed to get us a cab from outside the airport entrance. He looked so normal, standing outside and raising his arm in request, when usually that sort of thing would be done for him. I wondered if the independence came naturally, or if he had to consciously force it - either way, I could tell he liked it.
Even from the cab, I could sense the charm of Naples that Harry adored so much. There was something so authentic about it - even within the car, I could feel the uneven paving of the roads under us; the wonky cobblestone, covering both the floors and the walls of the city. There were stalls on every pavement - people selling beautiful paintings, and there were graffiti pieces everywhere as we travelled through the outskirts of the city, passing by a number of food stalls, and musicians in the street. The streets were busy, with cars driving in just about any spot they could fit into, and people gliding through any empty gaps in an attempt to cross from one side of the road to the other. I noticed how there were mopeds, occupied by either one or two people, navigating both the roads and the pavements as a means of getting around. The busyness wasn't unfamiliar - whether it had been London, or New York, I'd seen busy streets, but there was something different about these streets. They weren't so industrial, or polished - they were real, and they were beautiful.
"It's so pretty here," I remarked, turning to Harry to find his eyes already on me. His expression was soft, a thoughtful, half-smile on his lips as I spoke. Even with how incredibly long the flight had been, the air here was somehow making him look even more beautiful, with his sunglasses still pulled over his eyes, but his cap was now stuffed into his bag, revealing the effortlessly perfect chocolate brown waves that framed his face.
The hotel was equally beautiful - even more so, than I'd anticipated. It was only after we'd made it upstairs, after checking in, that I realised it wasn't so much a hotel room that he'd gotten for us - but, rather, it was an entire apartment. My jaw dropped the moment we stepped through the door, just with how this had not been what I was expecting. It was stunning, of course, with beautifully authentic paintings on the walls, and charming, dark wooden shelves and cabinets against the white of the walls.
"I always stay here," he said, from behind me, "whenever I come to Naples. I've been coming here for maybe five years, now."
I turned to him, "You stay here by yourself?" I asked, and he nodded. My heart felt warm to be able to stay in his own space with him.
"It's peaceful," he said, clicking the door shut, behind us. I glanced back at the room in front of us, and then, again, at him. He trusted that I wouldn't disrupt his peace.
Before he could even show me around, the first thing we did was shower. All throughout the tour, it had been my immediate priority every time we'd get off a flight - I didn't feel right if I hadn't showered after getting off a plane. It wasn't even a question of whether Harry would join me or not; my hand wrapping around his wrist to pull him into the bathroom behind me.
He was as achingly gentle with my body as he always was. He'd switched the water on, letting it run over us both, whilst his hands traced over my skin in a similar manner. The feeling of his hands on my body was forever indescribable, setting me on fire whilst simultaneously sending me into an eruption of goosebumps, as his lips found my neck. I pushed my own hands up his chest, before lacing my fingertips through the dampening curls on the back of his head, feeling butterflies arise in the pit of my stomach as my body reacted to him. Everything felt so heightened at this moment; all of my adoration for him, in being here. I felt unbelievably happy.
I pressed a light kiss to his chin, and then to his throat, as water coated the surface, before I dropped my head to kiss his chest, unable to prevent myself from kissing further, along his abdomen, ghosting over the butterfly inked onto his skin, there. There was something about the way I could watch his muscles contract as he sucked in a breath in reaction to my touch; it was so invigorating. He caught my chin between his fingers, drawing my face back to his to enable our lips to meet in a slow union, his tongue pushing into my mouth in a way that always made me shiver.
Every part of me felt awake as we finished showering, and we both redressed. We hadn't unpacked, or anything, yet, but it didn't feel like there was any rush. We had all the time in the world, here, with just us. There was nobody else; nothing else, that mattered. It was only us.
He showed me around the remainder of the place, before we finally returned to the bedroom. I'd seen it already, with it being attached to the bathroom we'd just occupied, but it was only now that I properly was able to take it in. It was huge, with a bed even larger than the ones in the other hotels we always had the privilege of staying in. Positioned on the furthest wall, were huge balcony doors, unveiled as he drew back a set of curtains, and pulled the handle to tug the doors open. A fresh, warm breeze pushed through the now-open space, as I stepped out onto the balcony, feeling Harry trail behind me.
The balcony had an edge high enough to provide privacy, if we were to stand on it - I had to advance the whole way out to even peer over the edge and gain a proper sight of what was below us. I could see more mopeds navigating the narrow roads, gliding through the crowds of people - a woman clinging onto the shoulders of the man who was driving. This street was slightly quieter than some of the others we'd seen on the journey in, but it was still almost fully occupied on this side of the small stone wall. On the other side of the wall was a vibrant canal, easily viewed from our position on the balcony, with a number of small boats gliding across the glittering surface of the water.
"I knew Italy would look good on you," Harry's voice sounded from the balcony entrance, then, and I spun around to meet his eye. My cheeks felt hot. "It already does," he added, a lazy smirk on his lips as he watched me, leaning against the door frame.
"This place is unbelievable," I breathed, closing the distance between us with a few excited steps, throwing my arms around his neck and hooking them to draw our chests against one another's. I grinned up at him, watching his expression mirror mine as I tangled my fingers into his damp curls. His hands drew over the small of my back, lighting me on fire as he leaned down to kiss me. He momentarily drew his head back in that teasing motion that he loved to do, his lips parting as he did so, as he entertained that he may not oblige and give me the kiss he knew I'd be aching for, but he always ended up giving in rather quickly. He dipped his head down, a satisfied hum leaving his lips as they pressed against mine.
I couldn't pinpoint another time in my life that I'd ever felt like this. Everything about our situation was so blissful, from the location to the company - I wouldn't change a thing. I was lost in our situation, completely, unbelievably captivated by how lucky I was to be here, with him. I felt like I was walking on air, as he guided me backwards, continuing to kiss me as he urged me back through the balcony door, and towards the bed. The backs of my knees pressed to the mattress, and I didn't hesitate to lay down, shuffling up against the pillows and allowing our kiss to break for a mere second, at most, before I cupped his jaw to bring it back to me.
Harry was on top of me, one of his hands beside my head to support his weight, whilst the other drew over the side of my neck. I could still feel the gentle breeze from outside as it rippled throughout the room, acting as a gentle relief on how my skin felt like it was burning under his touch. He was occupying all of my senses, breaking our kiss only to nudge his nose against my jaw and begin to kiss my neck.
I arched my back away from the mattress as his thumb drew over my throat, as I felt myself now aching with desire for him. Harry and I had sex more frequently than I had in any other past encounters or 'relationships', but the incessant desire I felt for him never even began to waver. I wasn't only emotionally so drawn to him, but physically, I'd never been so attracted to anybody in my life; I'd never been so receptive to the touch of anybody else. There was something so much more in his touch - there were layers behind it, that drew out so much feeling. It felt like he picked up on it, each time we were together like this; his eyes would glaze over in watching how easily and subconsciously my body responded to his every move, as fascinated by me as I was with him. It was an incredible feeling, that had yet to even remotely lessen.
His hand fell smoothly between my legs, only in a short, soft motion, but I knew that even through the barrier of my underwear, he'd have been able to feel just how much I was aching for him. I felt his lips part against my jaw as he touched me, sensing the smile pulling on them as he drew his hand once over me, causing a gentle hum to leave my lips. He drew his hand away instantly, bringing it back to the upper half of my body and causing me to grow even more desperate.
"Don't torture me," I murmured, hearing Harry blow a puff of air between his lips in a gentle laugh, as I remained breathless beneath him.
"But you're so pretty when you want me..." he paused, goading me with another lowering of his hand, only to draw it back upwards. A shiver travelled along the length of my spine, as he pressed a gentle kiss to my jaw, again, murmuring, "...when you need me."
He was so unbelievably captivating. Never in a million years did I think he wouldn't give me everything that I wanted; that he wouldn't go to any length to satisfy me - it was who he was. But I knew, equally, how he'd play his games, first. It wasn't like I didn't love them, either - it was only how badly I wanted more from him that made me pray for them to end.
His hand drew over my throat, now, as his lips met my own, and I felt him push his thigh between my legs, providing me a mere second of relief, before it wasn't enough. His eyes were on mine, watching me intently, that beautiful glint so prominent in them as he peered down at me. I'd seen it for the very first time on the first night we'd ever spent together, back in London, but there was so much more to it now. It felt like there was more behind it; more meaning, more feeling. If I'd thought I was worth it, I'd have believed he was admiring me, beneath him, trailing his eyes over me in some kind of daze. It was enough to set my body on fire, in combination with his movements.
His shorts had ridden up, meaning it was his bare thigh pressing against my clothed centre, and it was driving me insane. I rolled my hips against him, aching for more as I kissed him, hungrily, his fingers still grasping at my neck. Feeling me trying to initiate further contact seemed to prompt him further, as he finally dropped his lips to my collarbone, hooking his finger around the strap of the shirt I'd only put on a maximum of ten minutes prior. He kissed my shoulder, now, as he exposed the skin, before he finally curled his fingers around the hem of my shirt, grazing over my stomach as he pulled it over my head.
I hadn't put on a bra after showering, meaning his lips could immediately attach to the curve of my breast, causing me to tilt my head back. He continued to drag his lips over me, using his hands to shift his body downward as he coaxed his lips over my ribs, now. Each kiss that he placed on me was driving me insane, my body aching to lift from the mattress to meet his mouth, with every tilt of his head. My hand pushed into his hair as he trailed his kisses over my stomach and over my abdomen, tracing momentarily beneath my hip, before he repositioned himself over my navel, stopping there. It was then, finally, that he looked at me, again - my eyes had been following his every move, but it was only now that he let his eyes lock onto mine, his lips still pressing just above where my skirt began.
I felt like I was about to explode, and he knew it. He hooked his fingers around my skirt, pulling it down to leave me only in my underwear beneath him, practically writhing beneath his touch. He flattened his palms against my hips to hold me in place, his eyes goading me from where he was positioned. I almost whined at him, then, as he briefly hovered over exactly where I was yearning for him the most, only to bring his lips to my thighs, instead. It took just about all of my resolve to keep my body still, feeling my skin heat as he nudged his nose against my inner thigh, and began to trace open-mouthed kisses there.
If he wanted me to need him, then he'd completely accomplished it. His hands holding me in place were practically the only thing keeping my body still. His lips on one of my thighs meant the damp curls of his hair were brushing against the other, my lips parting to form a quiet gasp.
"I wish you could see how beautiful my view is right now," Harry said, meeting my eyes again in a way that had me absolutely reeling. He was hypnotic, regardless of what he was doing, but watching him, now, I'd never seen anything so captivating. He had me hanging onto his every move, aching to feel him as he finally pulled my underwear down my legs, and placed a hand on each of my inner thighs, drawing them apart.
I could feel his breath on me, tempting my hips to rise off the mattress. I was trying to steady my own breathing, increasingly desperate for him to give me what I wanted, finally, and touch me where I so badly needed him. I watched as his eyes drew over the sight between my legs, a mere inch in front of him, before they flickered back to my own eyes, showing me how his were glazed over with want.
"Please, Harry," I breathed, unsure how much more of his delaying I could take. I started, again, "Touch me, please-", before I felt his tongue draw a line along my slit, immediately cutting off my own sentence with a gasp. I felt his mouth against me, as he pressed a light kiss to my heat, before he flattened his tongue against me, now, beckoning a moan from my lips.
His tongue circled my clit, and I was done for. All traces of control I'd convinced myself I was holding onto had evaporated from my grip; I was putty in his hands, as I felt his lips wrap around my clit. Never, before Harry, had I known somebody so fixated on my pleasure; somebody who derived their own pleasure from watching mine - he liked doing this for me, it wasn't a mere component that would lead to something else. This was its own entity, for him, and for me.
"Oh my god," I breathed, as Harry continued to move his mouth against me, drawing repeated lines and circles over my centre with his tongue. Each time I'd think the feeling had peaked, it would outdo itself, as Harry's tongue flicked against my entrance, drawing me closer to the edge.
I threw my head back against the pillow, my back arching itself off the mattress as I tangled my fingers back into Harry's hair, his tongue never ceasing its movements on me. He was giving me more than I could've ever envisioned, a string of moans falling from my lips as he continued to touch me.
"'Think you can keep your eyes on me?" he asked me, then, his voice a torturous rasp as he drew his mouth back from me momentarily, replacing it with his thumb on my clit in an instant, causing me to gasp. "Mm? Can you do that for me, baby?"
My head was aching to fall back, and my eyes were aching to flutter shut, unable to do anything other than bask in the unbelievable pleasure that Harry was providing me with. With all of my strength, I lifted my head from the pillow, tilting my head to where it was before, to be met with the sight of my boyfriend, still between my legs, as he moved to replace his thumb with his mouth, again. I breathed out another moan, as his eyes locked onto mine, still aching to flutter closed in satisfaction, but equally relishing in how his were burning into them.
I kept my eyes on his, at his request, my entire body feeling like it was on fire as he continued his blissful assault on me with his tongue. My head was still yearning to tilt back, but the reward of Harry's eyes on mine as he pleased me was urging me to keep it in place.
He drew his mouth away, bringing his fingers back between my legs instead, causing my lips to part, again. His thumb drew quickly over my clit, and I still did my best to fight to keep my eyes on Harry's, only intensifying the feelings I was experiencing.
"Mm, that's my good girl," he praised then, in his low, tantalising drawl, as he appeared to notice how I was fighting to do as he'd told me. All I could do was gasp a moan in response, watching a satisfied grin pull on his lips as he pressed a kiss to my stomach, letting his hand take over between my legs, now.
I propped myself up, wanting to kiss him so badly, leaning forward to take his chin in my hands. I beckoned his lips to mine, and he obliged in kissing me with equal passion, his fingers still drawing quickly over me, pushing me closer and closer to my end. I could taste myself on his tongue as he hummed against my lips, his hand wrapping around my throat as our kiss broke for a moment, only so I could let another moan fall from my mouth. His forehead pressed to my own, continuing to work his fingers against me before he shifted his body back down to dip his head again, bringing his mouth back between my legs.
He continued to move his tongue against me - kissing me, tasting me - pushing me closer and closer to the edge. I could tell he was relishing in every element of this; he loved this as much as I did, seeing how unbelievably desperate I was for him, and it was making this feel even better. He hooked my legs easily with his hands, allowing him to somehow delve his tongue even deeper into me, providing me with the greatest sensation, yet. I was a mess, with his name falling repeatedly from my lips, my eyes bleary and my body unable to act of its own volition, as he continued his movements on me.
I pushed his hair from his face with my hands, my breath hitching in my throat as his tongue drew another circle over my clit, and I was sure I couldn't withstand much more. He buried his face into me, again, and I felt the pleasure growing in the pit of my stomach, threatening to spill over.
"Harry-" I began, but I didn't even need to tell him.
"Yeah?" he beckoned, his eyes piercing through mine. He pressed another kiss to my heat, before flicking his tongue against me again. "Show me," he encouraged, quickening the movement of his mouth against me, pushing me further, and further. My lips parted, and now, I was unable to stop my head from tilting back, as Harry's mouth pushed me over the edge, and I came undone. I was breathless, my fingers pulling on his hair as he finished me, unable to control the string of moans falling from my mouth at the sheer pleasure I was feeling as Harry pushed me through.
He caressed his hand over my hip as he finally drew his body back up to press against mine, his face buried in my neck as I still tried desperately to catch my breath. He kissed my face, then, multiple times, a smile on his lips as a breathy laugh left mine, in slight disbelief as to the scale of pleasure he'd so easily provided me with.
He kissed my hair before rolling off me to lay beside me on the bed. I exhaled as his arm looped around me, and I was drawn into his side. My entire body was tingling, set on fire by all of his movements and still not able to be extinguished. I leaned into him, pressing a tired, lazy kiss to his shoulder as I attempted to regain my composure.
"Fucking hell," I muttered, still reeling. I didn't even know where to begin. I rested my chin on his shoulder, watching his side profile as he drew his thumb briefly over the corner of his lip. I blinked, watching as I realised he was collecting the remainder of my arousal, only to bring his thumb back between his lips. It stirred something in me, even with how maxed out I felt.
He leaned back into the pillow, now, and I only watched him, entranced by how satisfied he was, purely by taking care of me. It was like he didn't need, or want anything else. I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to wrap my head around how I'd found somebody like that; how I'd found somebody so good, and so caring, in every aspect of our relationship. I was in awe of him, in every moment I spent with him. Even watching him, now, as he lay there - not sleeping, but his eyes drawn shut as he lay back against the pillow, his chest rising and falling with his breath. I could feel his fingertips drawing mindlessly over the bare skin on the small of my back, as I brought my own hand to smooth over his jaw.
I'd never felt this before. It wasn't just from having sex, or being with him that way - it was something more. It was something all-encompassing; it was something hypnotic, and captivating. Every little detail of him made my heart warm - there wasn't a part of him I didn't grow fascinated with; whether it was the way he moved, or conducted himself, or if it was just the way he talked. The way he slept, the way he ate - the way I could practically see the cogs turning in his brain every time he thought - that funny little twitch of his lips when he knew his next comment would be laced with wit.
This was everything I'd ever wanted, and everything I'd ever thought impossible, all at once. It was everything I'd feared, and everything I'd convinced myself I could go without, paired with everything I now knew that I couldn't imagine myself without.