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Kink Meme - Round 2
Round 2
IS CLOSED
ALL NEW PROMPTS MUST BE MADE IN
ROUND 3
delicious / flat view
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Liam was always beautiful, Harry thought.
But there was something about the way the soft curls of her hair fell around her shoulders in a messy ponytail, about the way her skin was flushed red with summertime, about the way the straps of her dress fell off her shoulders and about the way the small gray lace-ups she wore were scuffed with dirt from her gardening that made her shine.
There was something about the gentle curve of her stomach that made her positively glow and Harry had always thought she was never more beautiful than right now.
“Tea’s ready,” he calls from the doorway into the garden and the way she smiles at him reminds him again of why he’d never leave.
----
“I reckon if I get these things planted by the time baby comes along I should be getting some fruit back by next year. I think citrus take longer, though.”
There’s mud under her fingernails as she shuffles through packet after packet of seed she had bought last weekend when she had conned Harry into driving around with the windows rolled down and drinks her cooling tea only intermittently.
“And the flowers should come up in spring when baby will be moving around more and more, which is what I had planned.”
Her smile is sad.
“I always wanted a nice garden when I was a kid so we have to make sure it’s all perfect.”
“It’ll be perfect,” he answers and it sounds more like a prayer than a promise.
------
How Harry had come to know Liam is that Louis had gone to school with this guy named Jack. Jack had been an arts major at college who had laughed in all the right places and talked all the right words. He was charming and handsome and upper middle-class and borderline perfect.
And he had been dating Liam.
Harry met them at a party and the day after had blamed the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed as the reason he had been mesmerised by the gorgeous red of Liam’s smile.
They knew the same people and went to the same parties and became quick friends. Liam was clever. She was quick with her words the way Harry wasn’t but even quicker with a hug if she’d thought she’d upset him.
They had similar tastes in a lot of things and sometimes, when he’s feeling nasty, Harry likes to think that the smile she reserved for Jack was nothing compared to the smile she reserved for Harry.
It was Harry she called when she had a flat out on the M1 and needed a lift.
It was Harry she called when the news came through that her grandmother wasn’t going to make it through that second stroke.
It was Harry that she called when she thought Louis was in trouble and that maybe they should go over to his house right now with a bottle of wine because Eleanor had maybe been seen with another boy last night.
And it was Harry she called, from the last stall in a public bathroom, with her breath coming in choking gasps, when she whispered out in hushed murmurs like maybe the world was listening.
It was Harry she called when the strip turned blue.
It was Harry she called when she found out she was pregnant.
-----
It was Harry she called when Jack packed up his books and his clothes and his potted cactus into cardboard boxes and left.
-----
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The sun sets something dramatic as they make their way through another tub of ice-cream each and watch the cars drive by.
“Baby must have some sort of calcium deficiency,” Liam says as she dips her spoon into the corners of the tub in a vain search for more. “I swear I’ve put on fifty kilos. I’m going to be some fat, old mum.”
Harry hands over his own, half-finished, tub with a smile. “You’re beautiful.”
Liam snorts as she starts on his ice-cream. “You have to say that.”
Harry watches the shadows settle into darkness over her face. “Why do I have to say that?”
Liam glances up with her lips spread around the spoon.
“I don’t have to say that. I’m not your mother or your boyfriend or anything.”
“You’re Harry though.”
“And you’re beautiful.”
She laughs with one hand holding her tub of ice cream to the swell of her stomach and the world, Harry thinks, is just that more beautiful for having her in it in that moment.
-----
Liam hates the word waddle.
She hates that her ankles are swollen and that sometimes she just wants to look at her toes and check that they’re all there but can’t.
She hates that she finds herself walking down the street with one hand resting on top of her belly and the other at its side.
She hates that she’s bought clothes that very clearly state maternity.
“No-one wants to have sex with me anymore, Harry,” she whines one night in front of Friends re-run as Harry rubs feeling back into her feet. “This kicking little bugger is cockblocking me in a serious way.”
Harry laughs.
“Isn’t that a thing? Pregnant women getting horny?”
“I’m not horny.”
“What are you then?”
Liam leans her head back against the arm rest and moans softly at the pressure of Harry’s fingers against the tendons of her ankles. “I just want someone to look at me again like I’m sexy.”
Harry cuts his gaze to where she’s watching the fan twist circles above them. He traces his eyes down the point of her nose and over the curve of her neck. He’d heard her complaining the other day that her bras didn’t fit anymore and, with the loose singlet she has on, he follows the round of her chest that sits heavier than it did before.
He moves his eyes to the swell of her belly, the tiny bump of her belly button, the inch of skin where her singlet has ridden up, the soft roundness of her hips that make her seem more feminine in his eyes than she did with her straight up and down figure before.
He moves his eyes back up her body in a slow gaze to meet her smiling eyes.
“I think you’re sexy.”
-----
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He doesn’t really notice anything different but suddenly everything’s changed.
They’d always been close. They’d held hands and shared hugs and maybe once or twice spooned under a towel at someone or others party.
He’d seen her bare chest and she’d slapped his naked arse and they’d shared a kiss on a dare when Jack had been getting drink re-fills. They’d texted each other dirty messages for a laugh. And they’d told each other everything there was to tell about their early sex lives.
But there’s something different about the way they move around each other now.
It’s been three days since Harry had told Liam he found her sexy and the soft look in her eyes whenever she watched him hadn’t moved. Her smiles are the same smiles she had always reserved for him but now they’re accompanied by a something he can’t name in her eyes or in the way she holds his arm as she points out a bootie or a stroller or a onesie.
Something he thinks means something special.
“I was thinking Frankie if it were a boy,” Liam said, all of a sudden, over their chicken-and-veg dinner. “And maybe Darcy if it were a girl.”
She doesn’t meet his eyes but the blush is evident.
-----
Liam’s a little drunk on good food and company and Harry’s a little drunk on three quarters of a bottle of wine and she’s convinced him to dance to the slow whine of some blues number and it’s almost too pretentious for him to handle.
Except it’s Liam and so it’s not.
His hands feel huge against the small curves of her waist and the swell of her stomach presses against him in a way that makes it impossible to ignore. He holds a hand to the side of her stomach and smiles when she threads her own fingers through his.
“I bet you baby stops kicking now. Little pain never does it when I want them to.”
Harry’s smile widens. “I’ve never felt a baby kick.”
Liam nods moving Harry’s hand to the top of her belly with her head lowered as if she were listening for signs of life. “I know. That’s why I want you to feel it with me first.”
They’ve stopped dancing and the sudden intimacy of their pose hit Harry like a train to the teeth. He lets his hand drop from her waist. He’s about to pull his other hand away and makes an excuse to get started on the dishes when Liam lets out a soft oh.
He glances down at where their fingers are connected and through which he can feel the soft tap, tap of movement.
“Fuck me,” he murmurs in awe, as he presses his other hand close. “That’s- fuck.”
Liam laughs. “No swearing.”
Harry smiles as he meets her eyes.
-----
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She kisses him goodnight and it’s not like any kiss she’s every given him before. She’s pressed along his front and her eyes are open and Harry realises that maybe that something he can’t name was maybe love.
Liam tugs a curl away from Harry’s face with a smile. “Have sex with me?”
He touches her cheek, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear and leans down to press closer against her before pulling back to breath against her lips with something like fear.
“We shouldn’t, Liam.”
She strokes the soft of his shoulders. “Why not, Harry? We’ve been dancing around-”
“This isn’t some fling.”
Her smile softens. “You know I know that,” she says sadly. “You know I love you.”
Harry’s frown deepens with what feels like sadness. “I don’t think you love me the way that I think I love you.”
She touches her lips to his again. “I love you in every way there is. I love how you make me laugh and how you look at me like I’m special, that you think I’m special, I love how you touch me and cook me food and drive me places and paint my walls cause I can’t reach and I want you to be here always and always and I want you to hold my baby like she’s the most precious thing in the world.”
Harry is silent and the room is heavy with words.
“I want her to call you Daddy and I want it to be true.”
“Liam-“
“I want to be with you in every way you’ll let me. I want to touch you and kiss you the way you want to touch and kiss me.”
“I don’t-“
“I want you to tell me you love me every morning and every night and cuddle with me after every time we have sex.”
Harry shakes his head with what looks like a shadow of a smile. “What was I saying about pregnant women and being horny?”
She slaps him on the chest with a murmured hey and a wetness in her eyes that he hadn’t noticed before.
“I love you, Harry.”
“I love you too.”
-----
Liam giggles and Harry slaps a hand against her bum with a smile. “I’ve never had sex with a pregnant woman, alright. Stop laughing at me.”
She laughs again and with two hands pressing heavily against his shoulders she moves herself into a position that doesn’t put pressure on her belly, her legs stretched either side of Harry’s waist.
He traces his hand over her bare hips, down over the curve of her ass and stares down at where their bare bodies meet, down between the spread of her thighs.
It takes a slip and a shuffle and a giggle on both their parts before Liam slides her body tight down around Harry with a moan.
She can’t move quickly and it isn’t anywhere near as acrobatic as the sex Harry had imagined himself having with her but there’s something about the gentle rock of her hips that has her belly press heavy against his that turns him on quite like nothing else.
His grip tightens and he thrusts his hips up only to meet hers and loves the way her moans break softly.
She kisses him with her mouth closed and Harry doesn’t think a more perfect moment has ever existed.
-----
Harry gets the call at quarter to eleven and he only spares a moment or two to tell his boss that he has to go. He doesn’t wait to hear the answer.
They don’t let him in and he doesn’t expect them to but minutes pass like hours and he paces with increasing frustration before he realises what he must look like. A father. A husband. And he’s neither of those things but he thinks, in the things that matter, he entirely is.
He is.
Or he wants to be.
-----
They let him in some hours later and the first place he looks is Liam’s face. She’s sweaty and red the way she was that day planting seedlings in the sunshine, but the smile on her face says something more.
He glances down to the bundle in her arms and again to her face and takes a step towards her when she smiles at him with tears in her eyes.
He steps to her bedside, his eyes wide as he all but gapes at the baby nestled against the curve of her chest. He wants to swear, he wants to sing and dance and scream and cry, but mostly he wants to swear. But he doesn’t.
“Harry Styles,” Liam says with her voice hoarse. “Meet Darcy Payne and all her ten little fingers and ten little toes and baby blue eyes.”
Harry chokes and it’s alright in the way that Liam is already sobbing into the baby-soft skin of Darcy’s forehead.
-----
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thank you.
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