three’s company, ii.
pairing: harry styles x florence pugh x reader
warnings: polyamory relationship, mature themes, oral (m/f receiving), minors dni
“Hey, I’m Harry Styles,” Harry smiles at the camera. He turns to you, sitting in the middle of him and Florence.
“I’m Y/N… Y/L/N.”
“And I’m Florence…” she looks at you, mimicking your pause. “Pugh.”
The crew member nods from next to the camera man, and Harry takes it over.
“And this is our autocomplete interview!” Jazz hands.
Florence rolls her eyes while you wink at the camera, and in a few minutes, Florence is being given a cardboard that has your name on it, the questions asked covered in white tape.
Does Y/N Y/L/N…
“Does Y/N Y/L/N…” Florence starts, pursing her plump lips which you have to stop staring at. “Drive?” She finishes, turning to you and Harry copies her, then lets out a laugh.
You turn to him, hitting his chest. “I do– can drive, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, very badly,” he adds, leaning his head on your shoulder. “Very– very badly.”
“I think she’s fine,” Florence shrugs, the air shifting in the room for some reason.
Harry is not having any of it. “Maybe it’s because you drive just as badly, Florence.”
They decide to stop filming whilst you all argue and bicker back and forth, making the crew members laugh and smile at the interaction.
When the camera is back on, the blonde takes off yet another strip of tape.
“Does Y/N Y/L/N have a boyfriend– ooh!”
“I don’t!” It comes easy to you.
Harry, feeling comfortable and lucky enough, brings his right foot next to yours as your shoes touch, away from all the eyes and the cameras, and you smile.
“Next one, then,” Florence removes another tape. “Does Y/N Y/L/N cry on set– ha! These are good.”
Harry laughs. “Take it away, Y/N.”
“Um,” you clear your throat. “I did– once! And for some reason, Harry Styles thought it would be funny to post it on his Twitter.”
Florence places her hand on your thigh, though due to the amount of people in the room, you shake your leg, and her hand falls.
She doesn’t say or do anything.
“You were trending,” Harry says, and that’s that.
Does Harry Styles…
“Harry Styles…” you read, removing the tape. “Fall.”
Harry slaps his forehead, and you both laugh. “Not the best moment of my career,” the crew laughs along with you girls on either side of him. “Which is why I have a song called Falling.”
“We get it,” Florence rolls. “You sing.”
“Okay,” removing another tape. “Harry Styles… girlfriends, or boyfriends?” You add to the question, turning to him with wiggled eyebrows. “How many have you got, mate?”
A beat of silence. “None, I’m afraid. No partners.”
“Hm,” Florence shrugs. “That wasn’t exciting, at all.”
“Yeah. You’re boring,” she turns to you. “Next.”
You nod, hands going up to remove yet-another-strip. “Harry Styles… movies– oh! I know this one!”
Florence laughs. “You sound excited.”
“Dunkirk,” you start, counting your fingers. Harry places his fingers over yours, and helps you count, nodding. “My Policeman, and Don’t Worry Darling.”
“You forgot Infinity War,” Florence chimes in.
“Well,” Harry shrugs. “It was a small part, anyway.”
You laugh. “An Avengers film nonetheless. I guess I’m the only one here who hasn’t worked with Marvel,” you shrug, making an act of wiping an imaginary tear as Harry lets out a cackle.
He places his hand on your thigh and squeezes a very brief moment before letting go. “It’s okay, maybe you’re meant for something bigger, Y/L/N.”
You shake your head, and place your head on his shoulder. “It’s Marvel.”
You guys move on, adjusting the cardboard in your hand.
Florence reaches to remove another strip. “What a satisfying noise, by the way.”
You nod. “Agreed.”
She clears her throat, and you’re sure the camera pans into Harry’s nervous face.
“What… Harry Styles… wait–” Florence furrows her brows, and you can’t help but look at her pouty lips that come with it. You shake it off, and smile at the camera as Harry chuckles beside you. “What are Harry Styles fans called?” Florence reads the question fully, and throws the strip over her head, making both of you watch the little paper disappear.
“Hmm,” Harry hums.
“Aren’t they called Directioners?” You say with a dead serious look in your face.
It takes everyone a moment before everyone bursts into laughter.
“Good one,” Florence extends her fist, and you both fistbump before Harry moves from next to you, and swats both your hands away.
“This is about me,” he says, looking at you pointedly, but the smile on his face says otherwise. “They’re– I guess they call themselves ‘Harries’.”
“So wait,” you say. “If your fans are called ‘Harries’, what are Niall Horan’s fans called?”
Harry rolls his eyes, knowing the on-going joke of you and having a platonic crush on Niall Horan.
“Let’s not,” Florence mutters, and Harry nods, completely ignoring you for the sake of the cameras.
She rips out another strip of paper.
“Is Harry Styles… American?” Florence reads, and everybody in the studio laughs.
Harry groans. “Who– why?”
“Just in case his weird accent hasn’t given him away,” you nod to the camera. “He’s from England.”
“To be fair,” Florence purses her lips, and crosses one leg over the other. You look up at her face. “You don’t have a strong English accent.”
“Neither do you!” Harry argues back.
They did do that a lot, bicker back and forth, and it always made you laugh.
In this case, you couldn’t do the thing you did whenever they argued because of the cameras. Instead, you place your hands on both their chests to stop their bickering.
“Guys– guys,” you laugh. “We have a job to do.”
“I can’t believe you made fun of my accent,” Harry mutters under his breath.
Florence looks up from the little board in your hands, and gives him a smirk before ripping yet-another one. “How was Harry Styles… discovered?”
“Hm,” Harry nods, flicking his hair back. “I was on the X Factor. I guess… that’s what happened.”
“That’s it?” You look to your side, giving him a puzzled look. “You sure do love talking.”
“So, I was on the X Factor. They made me change two songs because some other contestant was going to sing the ones I initially chose–”
Florence gasps. “–You weren’t singing ‘Isn’t She Lovely’ initially?”
“What were your first choices?”
“Well– they make you choose a couple. Mine was ‘Isn’t She Lovely’, of course, and I can’t remember the other two but I guess one was a Billy Joel song.”
Does Florence Pugh…
Harry lets out a whistle when they hand him Florence’s board. You turn more towards him so that you can peel the strips off.
Florence coughs into her fist. “I’m nervous– why am I nervous?”
You turn your face to where she’s seated next to you, and send her a smile, almost forgetting where you are when she looks you in the eye with the same look she gives you whenever you three are on your own.
“Why?” You say, still smiling.
“I don’t know. Just–” she nods. “–Let’s start.”
“Does Florence Pugh… have a twin?” You read, and Harry lets out a chuckle.
“I do not have a twin,” Florence says, looking at the camera. “But people on Instagram apparently created this meme of blonde me and ginger-haired me where they think the ginger one is my… more vibrant twin.”
“I remember seeing one!” You laugh.
“But yeah,” she nods. “I don’t have a twin. I have three siblings.”
“Okay,” you clear your throat, and remove another strip, looking at Harry for him to read the question.
He gets the memo.
“Does Florence Pugh and Zach Braff friend? Wow, that’s a sentence,” Harry clears his throat, clearly nervous and uncomfortable with the name being mentioned.
You turn to him, and move your foot closer to him, and he gives you a small nod before you start talking, not waiting for Florence to respond to the question.
“First of all,” you say, flipping your hair back. “Grammar.”
Florence looks at you. “What’s second?”
“I didn’t think that far ahead– take it away, Flo.”
“Okay, well,” she gives you a look, and you know she’s as uncomfortable as both of you. “Zach and I are friends, yes.”
“O-kay!” Harry chirps. “Let’s keep going. Does Florence Pugh… cook?”
She smiles, clearly happy that the attention has shifted onto something else. “I do!”
“She’s the best cook I know,” you nod, smiling down at her.
“What about me?”
You turn to Harry, and look him up and down. “You never cooked for me, Harry.”
“When did Florence cook for you?” Harry presses, knowing full-well when and how she cooked for the both of you.
You shrug. “Sorry,” you say. “I’m not allowed to disclose any more information at this time.”
He moves onto another question as you rip the strip. “Does Florence Pugh… like Y/N Y/L/N? Hah!” Harry lets out a cackle, and you both turn to him with puzzled expressions as the people around you laugh.
“Uh,” Florence laughs, though you know it’s a nervous one. “I do like Y/N Y/L/N, she’s awesome.”
You turn to her, and smile. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she whispers, and it feels as though the time has stopped, and it’s just the two of you gazing at one another.
“I like Y/N Y/L/N, too,” Harry interrupts the moment, and you turn to him with a smile.
“Thanks, I like you, too. Sometimes.”
You leave the studio with Florence and Harry following behind, your stylists and managers walking close behind as the driver opens the door to the SUV and you all get in, and you watch as the others get into a different SUV parked behind yours.
You sniff, suddenly feeling too cold and tired, and your hand goes up to your hair, itching the product away before Harry reaches for your hand, and places a water bottle between your fingers.
You smile, and take a sip before extending the bottle so that Florence can take a sip, too, like she normally would. But, instead, she shakes her head, and takes her headphones from her tote, and puts them on, clearly not in the mood to deal with the two of you. You raise your eyebrows, and turn to Harry, seeing the same look on his face.
He shrugs, and takes a bottle for himself. “That was fun,” he says, closing the lid before turning to his manager who sits on his right.
You sigh, and lean back in your seat, but can’t help but steal glances at Florence, seeing her close her eyes as soon as you turn to her.
It hurts, and you can’t help but take it personally.
So, knowing you can trust Harry’s manager and your stylist, you place your hand on her bare knee, stroking the cold skin with your thumb, but she does something that makes you frown even harder.
She moves her knee, crosses one leg over the other, and your hand falls.
You take out your phone, and find her contact, knowing she won’t talk to you at the moment.
What’s going on?
??? You’re ignoring me.
Sorry not everything is about you. Just tired.
You don’t respond to that. Instead, you look through Instagram, like a few photos, then move onto Twitter. You smile at a few tweets mentioning you and Florence’s ‘friendship’, though can’t help the heavy feeling in your chest when you remember how cold she has been. You try to think back to the day, trying to come up with something you have said, or done to cause the change in her attitude towards you. You wonder if she felt the same anger towards Harry, or if you could even call it ‘anger’, seeing how she insisted on calling it exhaustion.
You arrive back at the hotel, where everyone’s supposed to pack their bags and go home for the night before tomorrow’s busy schedule. You walk beside Harry, despite waiting a few seconds after getting out of the car for Florence to catch up to you, but she never does. She takes her time, and with her headphones still on head, she waits for you to walk ahead before following. You shrug, and catch up to Harry before bidding ‘see you’s to your and his manager, and you walk into the lift, pressing the button so that it waits for Florence as well.
It’s just the three of you now, and the silence, you’re sure, is killing both yourself, and Harry.
Harry's the first one to break.
He reaches, and takes Florence’s headphones off of her, and Florence startles before frowning, an angry look following close behind.
“What the fuck?” She fixes her hair, and places a strand behind her ear. “Give it back.”
“Harry,” she mutters, though it’s enough for you to reach for the headphones in Harry’s hand.
You try to take it, and give it to her, but Harry’s not having it. Instead of letting you have it, he moves his hand, and you look up.
“Harry,” you mimic Florence.
“No, Y/N, Florence needs to stop being a dickhead and communicate what the fuck is wrong with her,” Harry sends a nod your way, and you gulp, stealing glances at a very bored-looking Florence.
Bored, and annoyed.
“I am not being a dickhead just because I don’t want to talk,” she bites back, once again reaching for her headphones.
Harry refuses to let it go.
“What’s your problem?”
She watches them both stare at each other, and just when Harry opens his mouth, the doors to the lift opens and Florence is the first one to get out, leaving them behind– but not before she snatches the headphones from Harry’s hands.
“Just, leave her,” you mutter, following behind Florence.
“I’m not– you can’t let her treat us like that because she wrote and played a villain story of us in her head,” Harry shakes his head, and slows down so you can walk side by side.
You stop in front of your own hotel room, and watch Florence already taking out her card before she shows it to the door, and goes inside without a glance or a word.
“I’m just–” you sigh, trying to find your own card in your backpack. “–I think she’s just overwhelmed and tired,” the door reads the card, and it opens with a click before you walk in, Harry following without a word. “Especially after that Zach question.”
Harry sighs, watching you walk into the bathroom to take off your makeup. “Y/N,” he mumbles. “That doesn’t give her the right to treat us like shit.”
“Everyone has a bad day, H.”
“I’m just– I wish she could communicate more– tell us what’s on her mind. I don’t like her silent treatments.”
You place the cotton pad down, and turn to him. “I don’t like this– it’s like we’re talking behind her back.”
“I’m just saying.”
“We’ll talk to her later. Again,” you sigh, fingers working the cotton pad as you wipe the remnants of your makeup.
The knock on the door startles the both of you, and Harry rolls his eyes before reaching a hand and opening the door since he was already close to it. You walk outside the bathroom to see the mystery person, though the glare Florence is giving at the both of you makes you stop in your tracks, cotton pad still between your fingers.
She turns to you, clearly not wanting to look at Harry any longer. Harry looks like he feels the same.
“You know what?” Florence places her hand on her hip. “Fuck both of you.”
“Hey, hey!” Harry closes the door before she can leave, and you can only stay put and watch the both of them give each other dirty looks before Harry starts talking. “Will you stop being a child and tell us what’s wrong?”
“A child? Because I’m the one going behind your backs, right?” She says, leaning back against the door, hands clasped in front of her like she always does when bored.
You raise your eyebrows, thinking she’s heard Harry talk about her just earlier. “You’re– you’ve been acting weird, Flo,” you murmur, and look down at the dirty cotton pads.
Harry leans back against the vanity. “You’re avoiding us, not talking to us and basically being mean for no reason when all we wanted was to talk. What’s going on?” He murmurs the last bit, voice suddenly velvety compared to how he was a moment ago: rushed and stern.
Florence sighs, though you can tell she’s still got her guard up. “I feel– I felt like an idiot. Still do.”
“Why?” You ask, walking closer, but still keeping your distance just in case.
“Because, I wish you two would’ve come clean about it– told me what’s going on instead of me putting two and two together. I’m not a child, okay? I can handle it.”
“Handle what?” Harry asks, brows furrowed. “What are you on about?”
“Handle you two fucking behind my back,” she glares at him, voice feeling like thorns against your skin.
You startle at that. “What?”
Harry, though, lets out a laugh, making you both send a glare his way.
“Harry–” You ask him to stop.
“Flo, love,” Harry walks over to her, and strokes the side of her face despite the glaring contest Florence has got going on. “Where did you get that from?”
Florence gulps, tries to move away from Harry’s touch, but Harry doesn’t let her. Instead, he places his forehead against hers and you smile, bite your bottom lip at the tenderness of the whole thing.
“It was obvious,” Florence turns to you, a defeated look on her face.
“Yeah but Flo,” you decide to join in. “We’re not doing anything behind your back.”
“Come on,” she laughs, though it’s a bitter one. “I saw the way you were looking at her,” she turns to Harry. “You want to fuck her.”
“I want to fuck both of you!” Harry shouts.
“You pushed my hand away,” she says, pointedly, looking at you.
“I did? I didn’t even realise I was doing such a thing, Flo.”
“I just–” she looks down, and Harry walks back, giving her some space. “I’m sorry.”
“You should talk to us,” Harry whispers, reaching for her hand. “Instead of ignoring us like that.”
“I’m sorry for being rude,” she sighs. She looks up from her shoes, and immediately reaches for you, and you let her interlock your fingers. “I was jealous.”
You smile, and stroke the back of her hand with your thumb. “You do not have to be. No one would go behind your back like that– none of us would.”
“I know– deep down, I do know that. I was just jealous and– no offence Harry, but Y/N’s been like the it girl right now. It felt like I had to fight you for her attention.”
“Oh, Flo,” Harry shakes his head, and leans in, and presses a kiss on her nose. She smiles, and you do, too, seeing their sweet interaction. “You both are so important to me. This relationship is not just me and Y/N, or you and her. It’s the three of us. We’re in this together.”
Florence nods. “I know, I’m sorry, guys.”
You shake your head, and reach for her face to kiss her forehead. She smiles, leaning into the touch. “It’s okay. I’m glad we talked about this.”
“Yeah,” she nods once more. “I am, too. I’m glad Harry hasn’t stolen you.”
“Hey!” Harry butts in. “Why is it me the one stealing– why can’t it be the other way around?”
Both girls turn to him, eyebrows raised, and he can’t do anything but shrug before you burst into laughter.
Harry smiles, looking down at the both of you before he leans in, and presses his lips against Florence’s. You watch them with a smile on your face, and reach to stroke Florence’s arm, feeling her respond to your touch as much as she’s responding to Harry’s. She lets you squeeze her hand a few times, and when Harry stops, Florence surges forward, and puts her lips on yours, captivating your mouth in a mouth-bruising kiss. You know the kiss echoes ‘sorry’s and ‘I’m glad we’re here, together’, so you let her place her hands on your waist, and walk you backwards towards the bed.
You open your eyes for a short moment to see where Harry is, and it makes you smile how she’s got her hand in his, and is guiding him to the bed as well.
Harry grabs her by the waist, and pushes her down, making her sit on the bed as you stand awkwardly for a second before Harry’s hand finds your back, and he strokes for a moment before turning his attention to you.
“Why don’t we show her how much we care about her, Y/N?” Harry says, smiling down at Florence.
You nod at no one in particular, even though you don’t know what he wants from you. Florence looks up to you, eyes nearly shut, and you smile down at her before you swoop in, and help her lay down on the bed, before she looks up at Harry, as if to get permission. He bites his bottom lip, and smiles, while nodding.
“Go on, love,” Harry whispers. “Kiss her.”
Both girls know what he’s planning on doing.
When Florence whines at the loss of your lips on hers, you turn your attention back to her, and get on the bed, legs on each side of her body, and move closer to her face. You start kissing her plump lips, teeth grazing her bottom lip before she opens wider, a whine escaping her mouth before you dart your tongue out, and slip it in her mouth. She copies the movement, your tongues sliding against each other as you start sucking hers, then without thinking too much, you travel your hand up to her breasts, and massage her left boob over her tank top.
“Yeah?” You look down at her, both your lips bitten and glistening with the remnants of your kiss.
She nods, a sheepish smile appearing on her face before you sit on her lower body, your aching pussy over hers. She lets out a moan when you rub yourself against her.
You turn to your back for a second, and Harry’s already seated on the armchair by the window, legs wide open as he palms himself over his trousers.
When you make eye contact, he grins. “Make her feel good, Y/N,” he says, voice full of confidence. “Make her believe she’s the one for us.”
Florence lets out a meek sound, like she’s in pain underneath you, and you turn back to her, hands already working the top so you’ve more access to her chest. She helps you take the top off, and you let out a grin when you notice she hasn’t been wearing a bra. She watches your every move, every movement of your eyes wandering from place to place on her chest, and you can’t help but lean in and pepper kisses across her chest, stopping once you reach her already hardened nipple. Without breaking eye contact, you put it in your mouth, swirl the nub with your tongue before applying pressure with your teeth, grazing her nipple ever-so-gently as she lets out the prettiest moan.
From the corner of your eye, you feel Harry get up from his seat, and he walks over to you on the bed, and sits against the perfectly-placed, plump pillows so that he can watch you work your tongue on Florence easier.
He gives you a smile, keep going.
And, you do.
“I love your boobs,” you mutter, blowing hot air against his pebbled nipple.
When you look up for a moment, Harry’s already got his cock out, and he’s working his hardening length, thumb stroking the underside of his cock as he keeps watching you play with Florence.
“Please–” Florence sputters out, “–Y/N, do something.”
“What do you want me to do?” You whisper, tongue already darting to lick the underside of her boob before you move on to the other one.
You kiss as your other hand massages her left one, lips attached to the darker nub as you swirl your tongue around it, sucking it more into your mouth as she tries to buck her hips, just to get some friction.
Harry snickers when you look up from her, and you make eye contact, him knowing where this is all going.
“Are you gonna give her what she wants?”
Florence groans. “Hell yeah she is– aren’t you,” she finds your eyes. “You’ll make me feel good, won’t you?”
And, how can you say no to her?
Your relationship with both of them so far, have always put you in a position where you adore making them feel content and pleased, satisfied– in every possible way. You would go to the ends just to make Harry or Florence feel good; and you liked it. You loved being praised by the pair, such a good girl, they would say, always making Daddy and Flo feel good– so good…
“I will,” you nod, and it’s more to yourself rather than them. “I’ll make you feel good.”
You pop the buttons to her jeans, probably something she has put on after the interview and before coming to your hotel room. She’s helpful, helps you get rid of them as quickly as possible as the denim finds its place on the floor, by the bed before you move your body down, just so you can give her thighs attention.
You kiss her left one first, moving your lips to the insides of her plush thighs, her little moans encouraging you like a moth into a flame. She’s soft, and warm, so you open your mouth, and graze your teeth over the area where you know she loves to be touched. She agrees, and lets out a hiss when you bite into the flesh– hard.
You can’t help but look up at her, watching you watch her, as Harry watches from his place on the bed. He watches you both like a hawk, and it spurs you on, and you go in with yet-another bite before kissing and licking her thigh, then move up, up and up, until you reach her cotton panties. You smell her, and smile, because it’s your favourite scent– coconut.
You look up at her when your mouth finds her sensitive area, her pussy, and you kiss her folds over the thin material of her panties, making her gulp and moan softly. You mouth at the lace bits of her panties, feeling her breathing get more frantic with every kiss– every swipe of your tongue, and she finally places her hand on your head, pressing you harder into her pussy, and Harry chuckles. He’s enjoying the cat-mouse way too much, you know for sure. So, you look up at him, then at Florence, and you watch her lick her plump bottom lip before she moves her hand once more, pressing your head into her harder.
You kiss, you lick, and once you decide it’s enough torture for her, you place your fingers on either side of her panties, and slide them down her legs. The piece of fabric joins her jeans on the floor.
You loved pleasuring her– you loved pleasuring women in particular. Sure, you loved and cherished your time with Harry, getting to know his body, his little quirks, what he loves the most and where he loves to be touched… but it was different with women. It was sacred, tender, like you were getting acquainted with a melody before turning it into a whole song.
“Come on,” Florence mumbles, voice hoarse. “Come on, baby.”
You start off with pressing butterfly kisses on the upper side of her pussy, the tiny hairs there feeling like pins and needles, and you smile, eyes closing immediately when she pulls your hair, only a little, and you know it’s her way of saying keep going. You do. You open your mouth, and suck a mark onto her warm flesh, lips dangerously close to the lips, and you bring your hand up there, and swipe a finger across her wet cunt, humming when you feel her buck her hips.
“Yeah?” You say, looking up from her pussy.
“Please– come on.”
You rub her pussy with gentle strokes, and steal a glance at Harry, seeing him lazily stroke his cock, ring-clad fingers looking like a framed artefact. Your attention is brought back to Florence when she hums at the feeling of your fingers on her pussy, and you begin to rub only a little faster, feeling her spongy clit at the tip of your thumb.
“You’re so wet,” you mumble into the stillness of the room, and she chuckles, fingers tightening on your scalp. You keep going.
With one last look at Harry, earning a nod from him, you turn your attention back to her, and move closer to her pussy. You kiss the lips, thumb still on there, and you dart out your tongue to lick the wetness of her. It’s warm, slick, a little salty, and you love it– you love feeling her against your tongue. You move closer to her wetness, nose touching the top of her pussy, making her groan in anticipation, though she doesn’t need to wait any longer as you press your face harder into her, and slide your tongue up and down against her wetness– her slick covering your nose and chin.
“God–” she groans, one hand over her eyes. “You’re so good to me.”
You look up through your lashes. “Yeah– I am?” You want to be praised.
She nods, a lazy grin on her face. “So good, baby– isn’t she, H?”
You lick and lick, not even looking up at him as you suck her clit into your mouth, tongue sliding up and down recklessly against her.
You hear him, loud and clear. A good slut– the best one.
And, you are– you are.
You hum against her, her fingers tightening their hold on you, and you graze your teeth over her sensitive clit once more, her hips bucking up to keep up with the torture of your tongue on her clit.
It’s warm and wet all over: all over your body, your face, her pussy. Everything– everywhere is warm.
Her one hand slides down to you, strokes your back as you work her pussy and keep licking her slickness, humming in between licks, wanting her to know how much you’re enjoying your job.
You bring one of your hands to her pussy, rub her clit a few times with your thumb before you slide it down to her hole, collecting some of her wetness before you push it inside, tongue still swiping across her wet cunt. You pump your fingers in harsh movements, because you know she loves it fast and sloppy– but so good.
“Oh my God–” you look up when she curses, chin all wet, and she gulps at the dirty sight. “You’re so good, so fucking good.”
You smile, fingers still deep inside her warm cunt, and turn to Harry.
He’s playing with his balls, cock laid against his groin– all slick, the tip an angry shade of pink as it leaks drops of precum. He smiles at you, bottom lip going between his teeth as he moves to his cock, slender fingers pumping himself up and down as he lets out the lowest whines, head pushed back against the plush pillows but eyes still on you two.
You look down at her, and bite the side of her pussy as you insert another finger, now two in her snug walls as she hisses and moans, your fingers fucking in and out of her with ease. Your thumb works her clit as well as your tongue all over her, and when your thumb isn’t at work, you lick her swollen clit, sucking the little nub into your mouth as Florence encourages you with her hand on your head. You move one hand up to her boob, and squeeze her nipple, thumbing at her hard, sensitive nub as you move to the other one, tweaking and twisting her dark nipple between your thumb and index finger.
You look up at her, mouth still feasting on her cunt, and she bites her lip, eyes closing shut as she arches her back, head leaning back as much as she can as she mutters out the words, I’m gonna come.
“Good girl, Y/N,” Harry mutters from his place, and you move your eyes so you can see the pleased expression on his face. “Make her come.”
When she comes, she presses your face harder into her cunt, your face becoming one with her slickness, and you hum and moan against her as her pussy clenches around your fingers, her breathing trying to keep up with your movements.
She’s gorgeous– but when she comes, she’s a different type of beautiful. You want to bottle up the sounds she makes, frame the face she makes and hang it on your wall, and you want to scream, tell her how much you love her. But, instead, you pepper open-mouth kisses all over her, her pussy still spent, wet, and swollen, and she strokes the side of your face, hand travelling down to wipe the wetness off.
“So good,” she whispers, smiling down. “You did so good.”
You bite your bottom lip, and turn to Harry, finding him leaning his back against the pillows, stroking his cock lazily.
“Is it my turn?” He says, voice velvety.
Turning back to Florence, you see her nod. “Go,” she says, thumbing at your bottom lip. “Go make him come.”
You move onto the bed, hands and knees as you crawl to him, and he opens his legs wider so you can situate yourself between them, hands finding their place on his thighs. You look to the side, and notice his trousers on the floor, and he doesn’t miss a beat when he places his hand on your chin, and guides you into him, lips closing around yours in a mouth-bruising kiss. You kiss for a few seconds, all teeth and mouth as Harry sucks your tongue into his own mouth, then bites harshly into your bottom lip, making you moan and hiss at the feeling.
You look up at him, and he presses you down until your mouth is on his cock. You let out a choked sound when he presses you harder into him, and the tip touches the back of your throat, making you hum and gargle against him.
He’s enjoying it way too much, you know for sure, and with his big, warm cock still in your mouth, you look up at him, and watch him watch Florence from the corner of his eye. Feeling jealous all of a sudden, you try to back up, his hand still on the back of your head, and you feel hands on your clothed arse. She squeezes the flesh over your clothes, and you moan around Harry’s cock, making him let out a groan.
“My girls,” Harry manages to mutter out, voice spent, but feels like silk nonetheless. “She just can’t stay away from you,” he says to you, hand stroking the back of your head.
“Mhm,” Florence murmurs, face suddenly too close to your back. She presses a few kisses under your top, then helps you remove your trousers, along with your lace panties.
Harry presses you harder into him, not liking the lack of attention on his cock, and you swipe your tongue around his wet tip, sucking it into your mouth as he moans over you. You pull away from his cock for a moment, and he pulls you into a mouth-bruising, fiery kiss as your tongues dance in slow licks. Sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, you feel Florence rubbing your pussy with slow, lazy strokes of her thumb, making you moan into Harry’s mouth.
Harry pulls away first. “Suck,” he says, hand guiding you onto him, his cock in your mouth once again.
And, you do. You suck him into your mouth, tongue swirling around his sensitive head as you taste his precum, salty and sour, but you still hum around him when you feel Florence attach her plump lips to your cunt, licking first before she spits. You feel her saliva drip from your asshole to your sensitive cunt, and as Harry fucks into your mouth in slow bucks of his hips, she starts rubbing your clit with her tongue.
The feeling is exhilarating, feeling both Harry and Florence all over you, and for a moment, you let go of him– take him out of your mouth as you bring your mouth down to his balls, and you suck them into your mouth, licking and swirling your tongue around the soft, but tight flesh. You don’t mind the subtle hair there as he presses you harder and in harsh movements into him, and you take more and more of him before letting out a pained squeal when you feel Florence get her teeth on your pussy, biting down the most sensitive parts of you. You feel her smile and chuckle against your wet folds, and Harry does, too, stroking the side of your face with his big hands before pulling you away from his balls with long, ring-clad fingers under your chin.
“Can’t get enough of you,” Harry sighs, watching you for a moment before his eyes move to Florence as she sucks your folds into your mouth.
You respond with a moan, head tilting back in pleasure as it gets bigger and bigger, the fire in the pit of your stomach. You know you’re close, so you want him to feel the same as you close your lips around his hard cock once more. He groans, sends his head back as it rests against the white, crisp pillows of the hotel room.
“Gonna come?” Florence murmurs against your tight hole, fingers starting to pump in and out of you without a warning.
You nod against Harry, and you don’t care if she sees it or not: you just keep sucking him off. Grazing your teeth against the sensitive area of his tip, you earn a hiss, then his hold on your head becomes tighter as does the feeling in your stomach. It’s too much, her touch and mouth on your cunt, so you try to tell her to either stop, or keep going– everything is too much, you can’t comprehend what to say or do. You back up against her touch, and Harry keeps fucking your mouth, and you come with a long sigh and a moan against Harry’s cock, it’s no surprise when he spills into your mouth.
You can’t help the movement of your mouth as some of Harry’s cum spills and runs down your chin, dirtying the top you’re wearing, though neither of you seem to mind. Harry curses into the stillness of your hotel room as Florence keeps pressing soothing kisses on your back, then on your ass cheeks. You smile and shake your head at the situation you’re in, though neither Florence or Harry seem to care.
You look up at Harry first, chin still painted with his cum. “So?” You murmur, still on all fours as Florence rests her head on your bare ass. You turn your face. “We’re good?” You ask, hesitation clear in your voice.
She looks up, a lazy grin on her face. “Better than ever,” she nods, kissing the soft, warm flesh of your ass. She straightens up on the bed, and turns to Harry. “You owe both of us an orgasm.”
Harry clears his throat, wiping the sweat off of his forehead with his forearm. “Do I?” He says quietly, a smirk painted on his lips.
He looks down at you, hand coming to wipe his remnants off of your chin. You lean into the touch.
“I’m sorry,” you feel Florence get up from her position, and walk towards Harry as she plonks herself next to him, her hand already in the air for you to take it.
You take it, and walk to the other side of him, and you cuddle into them with eyes closed and a content smile on your face.
Harry kisses both your heads, and turns to Florence. “Apology accepted,” he turns to you.
You chuckle against his neck, hand finding Florence’s. “Ditto. Just– we would never go behind your back.”
“Never,” Harry nods, and presses another kiss on her forehead. “When you feel like that– when you feel like you’ve got worries and questions, just talk to us.”
“Mmh,” she nods, yawning. “Okay, yeah.”
“So,” Harry yawns, much like Florence, and squeezes you both. “Is this a good time to say my mum wants to meet you guys?”