With a quick movement she positions herself on top of me, to finally sit down on my torso, not facing me. I glance up. Have I ever seen a more delicate vision? My stomach stretches and I find myself melting in anxious expectation.

She slowly pushes her hips towards me, while she leans in. I grab her by her thighs and sense the warmth of her mouth approaching me. I do the same with her and she can’t contain an intense moan.

She begins to oscillate her body above me, pushing her hips backwards, as I keep bucking my hips upwards, and her mound of Venus tapping repeatedly my chest, making my mind go wild.

“Are you reading Fan Fiction again?” Louis snaps entering the bedroom behind my back. I flinch and close my MacBook instinctively.

“What are you doing here? You were supposed to be out…” I mumble, frowning my eyebrows and slightly turning towards him.

“You were reading Fan Fiction! It was a lucky guess!” I flick my hand at him and turn away, reopening my MacBook. “And what is it this time? Alternate universe?” He says, approaching and looking at the screen from above my shoulder. He begins to scroll the website up, brushing the touchpad from beneath my arm. “Hmm, let’s see: ‘A Season In Paris; a Harry Styles/One Direction’s Fan Fiction…’” He reads and chuckles. I slap his hand, preventing him from meddling anymore. “The same particular girl?” He inquires.

“Yes.”

DreamingOfYou.

–.–.–

I lie down on my bed with my MacBook over my lap, resting my back on the pillows against the headboard, my hand pulling from my head, slightly rubbing my curls and my scalp. I need a massage so badly to release the stress from the tour. The others finally left to explore the city and I managed to stay at the hotel. I finish to reread that smut scene and laugh. I need a 69 so badly, too. It’s been a while since I don’t get into anybody’s knickers.

I remove my laptop from myself and cuddle beneath the duvet, hugging the big, white pillow I always carry around tightly between my arms. I plunge my face at it, wishing to discover a scent different from my own.

I cling to her with an increasing force, in accordance with the tension of my body and the imminence of climax, closing my eyes. She rhythmically arches and bends her back, whilst she hold me between her lips, working up and down, and drawing forms with her tongue on my tip. I feel irretrievably close to her.

I’ve never been very fond of reading. It’s not I brag about it, because doing it would be sort of ignorant on my part, but I don’t think I’ve ever finished an entire book in my whole life. But, this is different in so many levels, and most of all, it’s about me. I became addicted to Fan Fiction after that interview where we were asked about it and confronted with the strange fact of having fiction written about you. It feels like living a thousand lives. Sometimes I think about it and it is so unreal it overwhelms me.

Her taste and smell overtake my senses, and send me over the edge. I clench between her lips and by the pulsating quiver of her pubis against me I realise she is as near as me. I allow myself to go and soon reach the peak of my orgasm with her abruptly convulsing over me.

As the words keeps returning to my mind I feel my lower belly ache. I move my legs, causing an almost painful sensation when I roll over. I dully laugh in irony. I need a cold shower now, or take care of myself somehow. I quickly jump off from bed, ease my boxers down carefully and let them fall down my legs. I cheekily smile and walk towards the bathroom.

–.–.–

“So, Louis told us you already had your daily dose of fic,” Liam remarks jokingly, having a sip from his bottle of beer. We are all sitting together by the pool of the hotel, chilling, as we don’t have a show to do until tomorrow night. They’ve known about my little avocation for a while now, ever since they stole my laptop early last year.

“That means you already tossed off…” Niall states, bursting into laughs. I glared at him, perplexed.

“Oh, come on, mate–––I blurt. It’s not about that!” This type of remarks has become more frequent with time. As if they were sisters of mercy.

“Yeah, surely not,” Louis joins him. They all laugh furiously, clenching over their stomachs and throwing their heads back. I stare at them, annoyed.

“So, have you then?” Zayn asks, grinning with his eyes half-shut, drying a tear from one corner.

“What do you care, mate?” I exclaim.

“I want to put it on Twitter!” He mocks me, tapping my chest.

“Back off!” I pat his shoulder and stand up from the sunlonguer.

“Come on, Harry; don’t get angry at us–––he carries on in an affected tone. This is a harmless conversation between mates. Why do you feel so attacked?” I glance at Louis, who continues to giggle.

“Because you are always questioning me! I never judge you but you are always on my back!” I complain.

“Admit to yourself your little habit is quite eccentric and we back off for good,” Louis says, straightening up on the chair, seemingly serious.

“Fine. I admit it–––I surrender. To read Fan Fiction about myself is rather self-centred. Now, back off!” I claim gesturing a barrier in front of me.

“Never. This is so much fun!” Louis retorts and they all burst into laughs again.

“You, twats!” I shout pointing at them. I glare for the thousandth time. They are trying my patience far too much, lately. If they weren’t as brothers to me…

“Harry, have you ever seriously thought about it? Fan Fiction, really?” Liam asks, rubbing his eyes.

“I have!–––I exclaim in frustration. It’s just another form of fangirling. Fangirling is already sort of surreal, and we have quite assumed it,” I try to explain them.

“That’s true,” Zayn observes.

“You, Niall, for instance–––I directly speak to the blond one, my hand pointing at him and the other one on my waist. You are into One Direction’s memes…”

“My favourite is that one where you go: ‘You still have your ovaries? You must be new!’” He cackles after finishing his impersonation.

“That’s old news!” Louis snaps.

“Yeah, and you flip favourites every day!” Zayn asserts.

“But all that Fan Fiction is anonymous. Doesn’t the fact scare you?” Liam asks in a concerned tone. Oh, his daddy’s complex.

“It’s sort of spooky…” Louis says.

“It’s not–––I retort. They’re just girls.”

“Girls or pervs trying to catch girls…” Niall states.

“That mind of yours, Niall. Arghh,” I say and quickly approach him, acting as if I’m going to squeeze his head.

“What about that one you like?” Zayn asks, all of a sudden. I glimpse at him.

“The one he fancies, you better say…” Louis specifies and I roll my eyes at him.

“I don’t fancy anyone!” I shout in annoyance.

“Sure; if you say so…”

–.–.–

I came back to my bedroom and laid down in my bed again. He knows. Louis actually knows there’s a special one for me. How does he manage to know everything around here? Am I so easy to read? I try not to speak too much about her, but I like the way she writes and the ‘me’ she imagines. I’ve read so much Fan Fiction until this day. I’ve been everything in their minds. I dislike most of them, but I have to admit to myself some are quite good and even plausible. Some of these girls really seem to get me; they get us, and that is the oddest feeling of all.

I’ve been portrayed as a stalker, a rapist, a bully, a gang member, an informer, an illegal fighter, an abusive towards women, a cheater, and some other despicable characters in order to build up a plot. But I’ve also been a protective boyfriend, a husband, and a loving father. I like this sort of Fan Fiction. They fill up something that is, somehow, missing, both for them, the fans, and for me. It helps me believe they’ll truly understand the day I get there. But am I missing those things? I tend to think I’m fine the way I am, but when I see the boys with their girls I feel some sort of void inside my heart. Maybe I’m just missing my mum and sister, as it always happens when on tour.

I glimpse at my MacBook over the desk. I know I already had my ‘daily dose’ of Fan Fiction as Liam graciously pointed out to me, but it’s hard to restrain myself when I don’t have a better thing to do. I bury my face under my pillow and roll away from it. As I stay quiet, facing down for a second, I hurry to roll back to the edge of the bed and sit down, ambivalent about what to do. I hold my arms out but jump as I hear some knock on my door.

“Who is it?” I exclaim, my heart pounding on my chest.

“It’s me, Boo bear…” I hear Louis’ wilful voice and laugh. It’s difficult to remain mad at him for too long.

“Come on in, you, little savage,” I laugh. He appears behind the door, pouting his lower lip to me. I move to rest my back at the headboard as Louis sits on the end of the bed.

“So, have you?” He asks raising his eyebrows, resuming Zayn’s question from before. I glance at him in disbelief.

“Oh, come on!” I answer throwing him a pillow.

“It was a joke! It was a joke!–––he defends himself from my attack. Sorry. You know I tend to get a bit carried away…” I know that for a fact, actually. “Well. What do we do?”

“What do we do about what, to be precise?” I ask, puzzled.

“About that girl…” He claims acting casual. I frown my eyebrows at him.

“Nothing…” I say.

“Harry, come on. I’m curious about her and I’m not even the one involved. There’s some serious shit she wrote down,” he explains.

“About me being a sensitive artsy guy…” I remark with sarcasm. He giggles.

“You love it, admit it–––he says peaking my foot. You find it different… Because it is. I’ve been in my room reading her Fan Fiction you were looking at today, ‘A Season In Paris,’ and I literally fangirled. It’s so ridiculously good. I wish our lives were like that, actually.” I glance at him disconcerted as he speaks.

“What have you been doing?” I shout mad at him when I realise what he had just said.

“Don’t be like that, mate. It’s on the net; it’s public stuff…” He says, placing his hands in front of him in a defensive attitude. I inhale loudly, crossing my arms. He’s always meddling when El is not around. “So, calm down,” he whispers.

“I am calmed down,” I mumble under my breath.

“Yeah, sure–––he ironises. You have those angry eyes. Come on, mate, you can talk to me with honesty. How long have you been reading her?” He snickers.

“About a year now…” I say, and my body starts to relax.

“And what do you know about her?” He insists, but in a serene tone.

“Very little–––I state, meditating. Something from her profile and some other stuff from her notes and comments…”

“You are slow with immaterial women,” he mocks me, reaching out for my MacBook. I instinctively straighten up. He opens Firefox and searches for the website on the browser. “She deserves to know you…” He murmurs towards the screen, not properly looking at me.

“But she is a fan who writes Fan Fiction about me!–––I blurt, feeling anxious as he types. She must be obsessed with me!”

“Well, she won’t know it’s you, and you’ll have a better perspective on that subject…” He says, very confident of his words. I tilt my head as he makes plenty of sense. “I’m creating a profile for you. From now on, you are ‘ILoveTommoBear,’” he says, laughing hard, his nose frowned. I playfully pat his shoulder. “Stan is coming the day after tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll have a lot of ideas to get to know her better–––he remarks. Now, write to her…” He commands, handing me my laptop as he stands up from the bed. He turns away to leave my bedroom and I speak.

“Please, don’t tell the others…” I quietly mutter.

“Don’t worry about a thing... Good luck, Romeo…” He winks at me and finally exits the room.

I turn my attention to the screen and gasp as I see the tiny cursor twinkling.

–.–.–

Notes

Let's do this.