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illfoandillfie · 4 years

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Countdown To Christmas

Pairing: Lucy Boynton x Reader x Gwilym Lee

Summery: When Gwilym reveals he has no plans for Christmas Day, you and Lucy invite him to spend it with you.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), Christmas themed girlfriend fluff, orgasm denial/edging, threesome (obv.), dom/sub/dom dynamic, oral sex (m and f receiving), spanking, sex toys - vibrator and strap-on, a teeny tiny bit of cumplay

Words: 9020 (jesus)

A/N: This is my secret santa gift for @laedymoon for @dtfrogertaylor ‘s Thank God It’s Christmas event! El, I got very excited when I found out I was going to be writing for you! You are my tumblr daughter/wife and I love you so much. I had a lot of fun writing this (I really don’t write either Gwil or Lucy enough) and I really hope you enjoy it!!

Taglist: @laedymoon @dtfrogertaylor @ezmina98 @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @supersonicfreddie

THREE DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS

Normally you didn’t leave gift buying so late but this year things just seemed to have slipped away from you. To be fair, a lot of the big things you’d already bought. Your parents were taken care of, and Lucy. And besides, you didn’t really mind heading into the city so close to Christmas. It made you feel festive, especially as the sun faded and the strings of lights decorating each street and shopfront came to life. Aside from the crowds of people hurrying to finish their shopping, it was quite lovely. Light snowfall, a line of kids waiting to get their photo taken with Father Christmas, a choir huddled together singing carols. It just made you more excited for the actual day. You shook your head and squeezed Lucy’s hand as you tried to remind yourself that you weren’t there for the festive ambience, you had things to do.

Together you and Lucy entered Harrods, heading straight for their Christmas display. You were mostly looking for smaller items, fun and maybe a little gimmicky, for the friends you were likely to see over the holiday season and your neighbours, a thank you for collecting your mail while you and Lucy had been away earlier in the year. “D’you think Pam and Harry would like a cookbook?” you asked Lucy as you browsed one of the tables of “Gifts For Her” the store had laid out. “I don’t think they’re that big into cooking. What about this cocktail set? See it’s got a shaker and a couple of flavours,” “Isn’t Harry a teetotaller?” “Oh, shit you’re right, okay forget that. Maybe a puzzle?” Lucy laughed as she pulled the suggestion out of thin air, giving you a look that plainly said Lord I don’t know. You were about to suggest searching in a different part of the store, hoping something would leap out at you as the perfect gift, when a voice caught your attention. “Lucy? Y/N?” “Gwil!” Lucy smiled as the tall, bearded man came over, “Fancy running into you here.” “Finishing your shopping?” “Yeah” you said, “thankfully almost done. What about you?” “I’ve been given a slight reprieve this year. Not doing the whole big family thing we had planned.” “Oh no, what happened?” “Oh it’s not that bad Luce. My parents decided they wanted to spend the holidays somewhere warmer so they’re on a cruise in the pacific right now. And then my brother’s family have all come down with some sort of cold or flu or something, so we’ve all decided to save our festivities until new year's. It’s great though, means I haven’t had to rush buying presents or anything, only looking for something for my niece and nephew now.” “So you’ll be alone on Christmas? Why don’t you come over to ours instead?” “I couldn’t intrude like that,” “Don’t be daft, not intruding if we invited you,” Lucy laughed, “Seriously, it’s just going to be me and Y/N all day. We’re going to my parents for Boxing Day lunch but other than that it’s just the two of us and we’ve already bought more food than we could possibly get through on our own.” “You really don’t mind?” “Of course not Gwil! You’re practically family anyway. We’d have invited Ben too but Y/N spoke to him last week and he’s already got plans.” “Alright, you’ve twisted my arm, I’ll be there.”

You chatted to Gwilym for a little longer before he left you to wander around in search of suitable presents once more. Both you and Lucy agreed you should get him something too, although, distracted by other people’s gifts and a little worn out from having to navigate the crowds, it ended up slipping your mind. It wasn’t until you were at home, sitting on your living room floor wrapping your haul that you realised. “Hey what happened to that book about the Welsh rugby team? The one we were going to give Gwil?” you asked as you finished writing on the gift tag of the present you’d just wrapped. “I thought we decided he’d already read it and left it behind.” You looked over at the small Christmas shrine you’d created. With only the two of you, and your house being more cosy than spacious, you’d decided not to worry about the whole big tree thing. Instead you’d bought a kitschy fiber-optic tree that was small enough to sit on a little table and surrounded it with tinsel, a few cards you’d received and a candle that smelt like Christmas pudding. There was enough space under the table to stack the few presents you’d be opening come Christmas morning. Each of you had two to open, something naughty and something nice, a decision you’d made as soon as you realised you’d not be seeing anyone else all day. “We have to get him something.” “Okay but I’m not going back into the city two days out from Christmas. It’ll be mad and everything’ll be sold out.” “Well what do you suggest then Luce?” She furrowed her brow as she thought for a moment and then she looked at you. “I know that look Lucy, whatever your idea is it’s dangerous.” “Not dangerous. Risky maybe.” “Spit it out then,” “What if we gave him a threesome?” You laughed but stopped when you realised she wasn’t, “Bullshit, you’re not serious are you?” “Well I’m sure he’d like it. Isn’t it every guy’s dream to have a threesome with two girls?” “I wasn’t saying he wouldn’t like it. Just didn’t expect that to be your first idea. You really thought threesome before you thought of the weird little shop up the road?” “That shop wouldn’t have anything Gwil liked, it’s all incense and crystals and hippie stuff. And you have to admit it’s a hot idea. He’s hot. Can’t say I haven’t thought about it before and I know you have too.” “Okay true I have.” “Good, so we’re doing it?” You considered for a moment, “Fuck it why not. It would be the best type of present since it’ll be as fun for us as it is for him. So then how to we give it to him? Like just blurt it out when he arrives or, a piece of paper that says redeem for one free threesome or something?” you laughed and shook your head at the slightly ridiculous turn the conversation had taken. “What about a little coupon book? Then we can give him some other things too in case he doesn’t actually want a threesome. Wait here,” Lucy pushed herself to her feet and ran off down the hall. You listened, bemused, as she opened and closed cupboards, rifling through them and pulling various things free, only returning when her arms were full. She dropped back to the floor next to you and laid everything out. Scissors, a stapler, a stack of paper, coloured pens. “Love, your artsy farsty, you wanna design a cover for the coupons? And then maybe write some things out in nice lettering?” Lucy pushed the pens towards you with her toes as she began mocking up a template to use as a size reference. You plugged your phone into some speakers and shuffled your Christmas playlist, both of you singing along as you set to work creating Gwilym’s present. By the time you were done you had a very cute little book of coupons, suitably decorated with festive colours and a little bit of glitter you’d remembered you had. Inside were ten coupons ranging from One Free Hug to One Free Threesome. You stood up and stretched as Lucy wrapped it and added it to the pile under your little tree.

TWO DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS

Lucy had splodges of batter over her shirt, a mishap with the electric mixer, and flour smudged across her nose and cheek, entirely your doing. She’d got you back, a smear of brown sugar over your forehead though you rubbed it in and thanked her for the exfoliant. Her attempts to act unimpressed, making a big show of rolling her eyes and telling you to get back to work, were admirable but the giggle gave her away. The kitchen itself wasn’t faring much better, splatters of butter and flour and sugar littering the bench and a few spots of the batter that covered Lucy’s shirt also decorating the walls. It was a shame really since you’d spent most of the day cleaning, intending on having the place spotless for when Gwilym arrived. “Is it meant to be that sticky?” Lucy asked over the Christmas playlist you’d once again put on, trying to compare the recipe on her phone to the concoction currently sitting in a blob on the bench, “I thought it was supposed to be firmer?” “Maybe it’ll fix itself as you knead it,” you shrugged, “just put down some extra flour.” “Maybe Gwil will bring some store bought gingerbread with him and save us from ourselves,” “It’s not that bad, look,” you grabbed an extra handful of flour, scattering it over the dough and bench, coating your palms in the remnants. Lucy took a step back, “those come no where near me Y/N, I swear,” You held your white palms up to her innocently before taking to the dough, pushing and pulling it until it began to form a smooth ball which you placed on the beeswax wrap Lucy laid out, “see, nothing to worry about.” “S’pose we’ll find out for sure in half an hour when we roll it out.” She took the wrapped up dough from your hand and placed it in the fridge, “Siri, set a timer for thirty minutes.” While her back was turned you began tidying up the sack of dirty dishes, collecting a little of the mixture that still clung to the edge of the bowl on your thumb, “You don’t have to wait that long,” “Wasn't it half an hour? I’m sure that’s what the recipe said.” As Lucy turned eyes on her phone, trying to find the right part of the recipe, you caught her, sliding your thumb across her bottom lip and spreading the sticky batter there. She looked shocked for a minute before her tongue darted out to taste it, “okay, that’s really good,” a grin spread out across her face as she took a step towards you, and then another, and another, backing you up against the bench. One of her hands fell to your waist as the other cupped your cheek and she brought her lips to yours. You hummed, sucking some of the sweet spiced mixture off her lip. “What do you think?” “Yeah we nailed it,” “Mmhmm, good,” Lucy reached behind you, running her finger along the side of the bowl, collecting more of the leftovers. Slowly she slipped the finger between your lips, biting her own as she watched you suck it clean.

By the time the alarm went off Lucy was sitting on the clean part of the bench, your hands resting on her thighs as you made out. The rude beeping blasted through the jazzy rendition of White Christmas, and your moment, making you spring apart in surprise. Lucy, face flushed and demeanour flustered, giggled as she reached to turn off the alarm, “effective way of killing time,” “Could keep killing time, perhaps in the bedroom,” you trailed your finger over her thigh as you spoke. “But the dough’s ready, we can roll it out now.” “The dough will still be there in a couple of hours.” Lucy raised an eyebrow. “An hour? Half an hour? Fifteen minutes?” “C’mon,” she slipped off the bench, “grab the cutters, would you?” “Not even fifteen minutes?” you waited but Lucy didn’t say anything, “Fine, s’pose baking is almost as fun,” You turned to dig around in the draw for the cutters Lucy had bought. You managed to find them as Lucy lay out more flour and picked up the rolling pin, two cutters shaped like men, one like a Christmas tree and one like a heart. Together you pressed them out and lay them out on the baking trays, occasionally sneaking bits of the raw dough into your mouths. “They look really good,” Lucy said as she placed the last one on the tray. “They’ll look even better when they’re cooked,” “Ha ha ha. Just for that you can stick them in the oven and keep an eye on them while I go have a shower.” “Sure you wouldn’t rather I join you?” you traced your fingers lightly along her shoulder, hooking them under the strap of her bra. Without warning you pulled the strap away from her and let it go, making her squeal as it snapped back against her skin. “You’re a shocker, Y/N.” “You’re the one who put her fingers in my mouth so really I think this is on you.” “Just don’t let them burn.”

For a few minutes you stayed in the kitchen, scrolling through your Instagram feed, liking a few friends' posts about their own holiday activities, as you absentmindedly hummed along to the music. But that got old fast. Figuring you’d smell the biscuits burning if anything went wrong you left the timer ticking in the kitchen and headed out to the lounge room. The Christmas shrine caught your eye. Surely it wouldn’t matter if you had a little peek. Not even a peek, just a rattle. Just to see if you could guess what Lucy had got you. It wasn’t like you were going to unwrap it early, just play a little guessing game with yourself. You tiptoed a few steps closer to the bathroom door, listening to make sure the water was still running and then, having decided the coast was clear, you scurried back towards the tree. Carefully picking up the smaller of the two gifts baring your name, you examined the tag. A red dot. The naughty present. It was in a box, that much you could tell, but it didn’t help you narrow it down much. The size of the box didn’t really give anything away either. It was just an average sized box that could hold any number of naughty items. You gave it an experimental shake. And then, when you didn’t hear anything move, another shake, harder than the first. Still nothing. Perhaps that meant it was made from a soft material, or perhaps Lucy knew you’d try to figure out what she got you and intentionally packaged it so as to limit its movement. Either way, there were too many possibilities for you to work out what it was, so you put it back and reached for the nice present. “And what are you doing?” Lucy’s voice startled you. “Just rearranging, making sure the pile was steady.” “Sure, that’s believable.” “Oh come on Luce,” you turned around on your knees, “not like I was doing anything bad,” “Trying to work out what I got you for Christmas isn’t bad?” “No, it’s not. I’d say it’s perfectly reasonable.” “Well I’d say it’s impatient. Little bit bratty,” You bit your lip, your breath hitching with the word. You knew what bratty meant. “But you’ve been a little impatient all day haven’t you. Wanting to get me into bed before we finished baking. So maybe you need to learn how to wait. And you can start by waiting for me on the bed. No clothes and no touching.” You made to stand up but Lucy just tutted at you. “Didn’t say you could walk, you know how much I like looking at your bum.” With an eyeroll you dropped back to your knees and began crawling towards the bedroom door.

Lucy made you wait for fifteen whole minutes before she followed you into the bedroom. “Luce, what the hell took you so long?” you asked, leaning against the headboard. It had taken every ounce of self-control you had to not touch yourself and you were already feeling antsy, ready for more. “Had to pull the biscuits out since you decided to misbehave before they were done,” she crossed the room, heading towards your cupboard and dug around inside for a moment. When she turned around she held a vibrator in her hand, “And you’re learning a lesson about patience, lucky I didn’t make you wait even longer.” You groaned, suspecting where things were headed. Lucy just chuckled as she moved towards the bed, dropping the vibrator onto the sheets as she kneeled beside you and pushed your legs open. Slowly she ran a finger through your folds, “Already wet for me. Good girl. You ready?” “Yes,” your voice sounded airier than normal, even to your own ears. With one hand she tugged on your hair, making you tilt your head back so she could capture your lips, continuing the kisses from earlier. Her other hand remained between your legs, fingers dragging through the slick and spreading it over and around your clit. You whined at the contact, hoping that if you sounded enticing enough Lucy might forget her plans to punish you. It didn’t work. Her fingers pressed against you firmly, drawing you closer and closer to the edge, leaving you panting against her lips, and whining when she pulled her hand away. “Patience, my love.” “You’ve got that look again. I’m not going to get off tonight, am I?” “Clever girl. Don’t think you’ll be getting off before Christmas Day.” “Lucy,” you whined, but she just laughed, leaning back to remove her own shirt. “Weren’t you wearing a bra before? Distinctly remember snapping the shoulder strap.” “Couldn’t be bothered after the shower. Figured you were going to take it off anyway but then of course I found you being so naughty,” Once more her fingers found your clit, “and my plans changed.” You could feel the familiar tingle creeping up, your hips shifting automatically in an attempt to find more friction. Christmas Day suddenly seemed an age away and you weren’t sure you could wait that long. Perhaps if you distracted Lucy enough, she wouldn’t realise how close you were getting, and you’d be able to steal an orgasm. Licking your lips, you directed your attention to her chest, dragging your tongue along one of her breasts before sucking her nipple into your mouth. Her fingers faltered for a split second and her breath hitched but she didn’t stop. Christmas music floated from the kitchen where it was still playing, but neither of you were in any frame of mind to think about changing the playlist. The sound was punctured by your muffled moan as Lucy pulled you towards the edge, followed by a soft squeak from Lucy herself, as you reach up to tweak one nipple, and drew circles with your tongue round the other. For a moment you thought your plan had worked, that Lucy was distracted enough, but then she pulled her hand away, making you whine and release her breast. “Awww, baby thought she’d get what she wanted?” Lucy mocked, taking your chin in hand. “Maybe,” “Baby was wrong,” she let go of your chin, tapping your cheek twice, “Think we’ll do one more for now.” Before you could say anything in return Lucy had picked up the vibrator and pressed it to your clit. You hissed as she turned it on low, your clit on the verge of being sensitive. It took less time for you to reach the edge again, a combination of the vibrator’s stimulation and how much you’d already endured. She waited until the last possible moment before she pulled the vibrator away, leaving you panting the word please as you tried to grind against thin air. “You’re done, for the moment at least. Might give you a few more before I let you go to sleep,” as she spoke Lucy stood and kicked off her pants and underwear, “But now it’s my turn. Here, hold this.” You took the vibrator from her, tempted to quickly use it on yourself, consequences be damned. Instead you waited. “Oh, good girl. You’re learning,” “Does that get me a reward?” Lucy laughed, “Bold. But yes, alright. It’s not the reward you want though, just a kiss,” she tapped your leg, indicating you should close them, and straddled your waist. You let her pull your arm into position, so the vibrator pressed against her pussy, and turned it on. She hummed as it came to life and brought her lips to yours. Each moan and whine she made was swallowed by you, the kiss only getting deeper and sloppier as she rocked her hips against the buzzing machine. It was close enough to your own skin that you could feel it’s pulsing, but nowhere near close enough to give you any real pleasure. Instead you had to be content with Lucy’s fingernails digging into your shoulder, her teeth scraping over your lip, her legs beginning to tremble as she hovered over you. Her lips parted from yours as she repeated the word yes over and over, her breaths gasped in between, culminating in a long moan as she hit her climax, shuddering through it. “Oh god,” she whined, grabbing your wrist to push the vibrator away. You turned it off as her head fell to your shoulder, still panting as she came down from her high. “You sure you don’t want to watch me cum like that?” “Positive,” she giggled into your shoulder. “Damn.” “Come on, we should get up, gotta finish tidying the kitchen and then I think it’s cheesy Christmas movie time.”

ONE DAY UNTIL CHRISTMAS

You weren’t entirely sure if the morning started off good or bad. On one hand, you woke up with Lucy’s fingers sliding through your slick folds. On the other, she edged you twice, resolutely sticking to her plan to keep you denied until Christmas. You considered that morning to be when she broke you. Of course, you’d played with denial before but for the most part it only lasted however long it took for Lucy to cum two or three times and then she’d take pity on you. The most you’d done was one day and that wasn’t even by design, just an accident while you’d been staying with your parents for a weekend. So the previous evening it had all seemed like a game, a joke even. Surely she was stringing you along. You’d not worried if you came across as bratty, confident that by the time you were hoping into bed she’d give in. Now though, after she’d sent you to sleep with another edge and then woken you up with two more…perhaps she was serious. You were rapidly losing confidence that it would end on Christmas Day, half convinced she was having too much fun to actually let you cum ever again. The idea that she was going to keep you wet and desperate for days rather than hours was scary and overwhelmingly erotic. Knowing that no matter how many times you asked, no matter if you got down on your knees and begged for it, she wasn’t going to give in, only made the need grow. When she was satisfied with the way you whined please she lay down and spread her own legs, telling you it was time you repaid her generosity. “Could have edged you more, kept going until you were so sensitive you were begging me to stop. But I didn’t. So how about you show me some gratitude,” Perhaps it was because a part of you hoped good behaviour would earn you a shorter punishment, or perhaps you just wanted something to take your mind off the way your clit was throbbing, but either way you were laying between her legs within seconds, without so much as a muttered comment about unfairness.

Despite the uncertain beginnings, Christmas Eve went well. The morning was spent decorating the gingerbread you’d made the previous day, a process just as sticky as the actual biscuit dough had been, especially since there was a small mishap with the red food colouring that left a stain on the benchtop. But eventually you had a decent selection of coloured icings set out in piping bags as well as decorative sprinkles and the like. You and Lucy let your artistic sides take over as you gave the gingerbread men faces and buttons and sometimes hats or scarves. Silver and gold balls adorned the trees like little baubles and Lucy used the sprinkles on a few of the hearts to spell out yours, Gwilym’s and her own initials. When you were done you carefully packed most of them away into a Tupperware box to keep them safe, though you picked out a few of the funnier looking ones to snack on while you watched another cheesy movie.

Halfway through the movie the phone rang. “I’ll get it,” you said, pushing yourself off the couch. Lucy’s hand had been wandering higher and higher up your thigh for the last few minutes and you had already begun to feel the heat in your cheeks rising. The phone call was a good excuse to calm down a little before she could have you begging again. “Hello?” you said into the receiver. “Y/N? Hi, it’s Gwilym.” “Oh! Gwil, hi! You’re not calling to cancel tomorrow are you?” you turned to lean against the wall as you spoke, watching Lucy as she watched you. “No, no, the opposite actually. Wanted to make sure you’re still okay to have me,” You held back a giggle at the unintentional double entendre although you gave Lucy a look, pumping your eyebrows, “of course we’re okay to have you,” “Excellent, really looking forward to it,” “So are we. It’s going to be fun,” Lucy laughed, and you had to cover the receiver so Gwilym wouldn’t hear you struggling not to join her. “I should have asked this when I saw you the other day but do you want me to bring anything?” “Oh um, I think we’re all good for lunch. We’ve got turkey and a few different sides. Plus a Christmas Pudding and we’ve just finished decorating some gingerbread biscuits. If you want you could bring another bottle of wine or two, or maybe some mince pies, but if you can’t be bothered don’t worry about it.” “Wine and pies, think I can handle that.” “Seriously, only if it’s no trouble. We’ve probably got way too much food and drink as is and you will definitely be leaving with some leftovers.” “What’s Christmas without plenty of leftovers? I’ll be happy to take as much as you want to part with, anything if it means I don’t have to cook or go grocery shopping for a few more days.” You did laugh at that. “Anyway, I should let you get back to whatever you were doing,” “Watching Christmas movies,” “I caught Love Actually on TV Last night, still holds up.” “So did we! Absolute classic,” Gwilym’s laugh crackled through the receiver, “Definitely a classic. Oh! Almost forgot, what time do you want me there?” “How about elevenish? Should give us time for a pre-lunch drink.” “Sounds great. Thanks again for inviting me, I’ll see you tomorrow,” “It’s our pleasure! See you then,” you hung up the phone and turned back to the couch, “Gwil just wanted to know if he should bring anything.” “Yeah I gathered,” You dropped back into your seat and Lucy’s hand went straight back to where it had been before you answered the phone, as if there was a magnet pulling her towards your thigh.

By the time the credits were rolling you’d lost track of which movie you’d been watching, too preoccupied with how badly you wanted to cum. “Please Lucy, please.” “Stop asking, it’s not going to happen.” “Can you at least fuck me properly? Keep edging me, I’ll be good and I won’t complain, but I need you to do more than rub my clit, please.” “You want me to finger you hard and fast? Or maybe you want to be fucked with my stap? Wanna feel me deep in your pretty little pussy? “Yes, please,” “You’re really desperate, aren’t you?” she sounded almost surprised by the turn of events. All you could do was nod your agreement, “C’mon Luce, please? You’ll have so much fun and I promise I’ll behave,” Lucy giggled, “I’m already having fun just knowing what a whiny little slut you’ve turned into. And as much as I’d enjoy fucking you, I’m not going to. I want Gwil to see how pathetic you are right now. Besides, you’re way too close and I don’t want to risk you going over.” You whined and let your head hit the back of the couch as Lucy laughed.

CHRISTMAS DAY

You woke before Lucy did, grogginess gone the second you realised what day it was. A glance at the clock told you it was just after 9.00. Carefully you slipped out of bed, pausing when Lucy made a snuffling sound, holding your breath as she snuggled deeper into the warm covers. Careful to skip the squeaky floorboard outside your bedroom door, you tiptoed from the room, thankful you’d had the foresight to slip a pair of socks on as you changed into your pyjamas the night before. As quietly as you could you made your way to the kitchen where the speaker was still set up and grabbed it. Then, just as quietly, you made your way back to the bedroom. With one eye on Lucy’s peaceful figure you set the speaker down and turned the volume up high. You were ready to run the second you hit play on the Christmas playlist, an entirely too loud rendition of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer suddenly filling the room. Lucy damn near screamed in shock, yelling your name as she sprang out of bed and chased you from the room. “Y/N you bitch! I’m so going to get you for that!” You were cackling as she chased you through the house into the living room, stopping with your arms outstretched when you ran out of escape routes. “Wait wait wait,” you said hurridly, almost needing to yell to be heard over the music. “Better say something good or I’m going to have to end you,” “I love you?” Lucy lunged forward and you took a step back, hitting the arm of the couch. On most days you would have been able to duck under her arms and continue running through the house but not today. Today your knees gave way as they hit the arm sending you toppling backwards onto the cushions. Before you could even think to roll off the couch Lucy took the opportunity the universe presented her with and climbed onto your lap, effectively pinning you down. You squealed as she began tickling you. “Luce, god stop, I’m gonna pee my pants,” “You deserve it! That was so mean!” “Bu- ah! - But I’ll ruin the couch,” She stopped suddenly, “Fair point,” You were still panting as you grinned up at her, “Merry Christmas, by the way,” “Merry Christmas,” She said, leaning forward to peck you on the lips. “You gonna let me up?” “Okay but you have to make tea,” “Sure, as long as I can go pee first. I was not joking about that.”

You were just bringing the tea out of the kitchen when Lucy, having turned down the music and brought the speakers out to the living room, called out to you from where she sat on the floor, “Hey, we should open our naughty presents before Gwil gets here,” “Ooo yes, definitely. Here, take this,” you handed her mug down to her, followed by your own mug, “you want some gingerbread?” “A heart please,” “So picky,” you shook your head but collected the requested biscuit anyway. When you returned and took your own seat Lucy handed you the box you’d examined two days previously. You pulled out the gift you’d wrapped for Lucy from the small pile and handed it over. Together you unwrapped your presents, wrapping paper flying as you tore into yours though Lucy was a little more careful. Your gift was a set of silky-smooth lingerie in Egyptian Blue. “Do you like it? I thought the colour would match your eyes,” You ran your fingers over the floaty babydoll, “It’s gorgeous, I love it,” Lucy broke out smiling as she finished unwrapping her own gift, “Well this is interesting,” she began pulling items out of the hamper you’d created, “A candle. Didn’t know you were interested in wax play.” “Not what I had in mind. Mostly just a mood setting thing, but I s’pose your idea could be interesting.” “What else have we got, hot rocks, massage oil,” “Actually, it’s a massage oil slash lube that heats as you rub it in.” “So this is for a sexy massage then,” “Mmmhmm. That’s also why there’s a bullet vibrator is in there.” “Does this mean I can expect you to treat me to a massage sometime?” “Absolutely. I’d say let’s do it right now if Gwil wasn’t coming over.” “Definitely don’t want to be interrupted,” Lucy leaned over to kiss you, “Thank you, it’s lovely and I can’t wait to try some of this stuff out. Maybe I’ll keep you denied until you show me how it all works.”

When Gwilym arrived the presents were safely shut away in the cupboard in your bedroom, the turkey was cooking, and you were on your second lemon, lime and bitters. You opened the door to find him wearing a dorky Christmas sweater and carrying two bottles of wine, a box of Mr Kipling’s Mince Pies, and two packages wrapped up in paper decorated with snowflakes. “Hello hello. Merry Christmas” Gwilym kissed you on the cheek, a few flakes of snow clinging to his beard. “Merry Christmas to you too! Let me take those off you,” you took the wine and led Gwilym through the house to the kitchen, “Can I get you a drink? We’ve got all sorts, bitters, gin, whisky, a bit of champers, some mulled wine going on the stove,” “I’ll start with some of the wine if that’s alright,” “Work your way up to the strong stuff?” “Precisely. Lucy, Merry Christmas,” “And to you Gwil,” she said as he dropped a kiss to her cheek too. “Where can I stick these?” “Presents? Gwil you didn’t have to,” “Oh hush, it’s Christmas, as if I wasn’t going to.” “Fair enough, well, I’ll take the pies, add them to the rest of our goodies. If you take the presents out to the living room, you’ll see where a couple already are. Give me a second to grab a drink and I’ll be out.”

You handed Gwilym his drink and led him out to the small tree, both of you taking a seat as you chatted. Before long Lucy joined you, drink in one hand, box of gingerbread biscuits in the other. As soon as she was seated you got stuck into the presents, torn wrapping paper and excited exclamations flying. The larger present from Lucy that you’d been caught trying to peek at turned out to be a new record player, and the one of Gwilym was a fancy notebook and fountain pen. Lucy loved the vintage hand mirror and set of blush and highlighters you got her, almost spilling your drink as she tackled you with a grateful kiss when she realised it was the mirror she’d seen in an antique store and regretted not buying. She’d gone back for it a week later and found it had been sold. “God I am so glad you finally know!” you laughed as she sat back down and examined it, “You kept going on about it but I’d already bought it and hidden it and I had to stop myself from laughing or spilling the secret every time you brought it up.” Gwilym bought her a book about fashion and style in the 1960s which, while it didn’t elicit quite the same response, was enough to earn him a bright smile and a tight hug. Finally, there was one present left. “That’s yours Gwil, from both of us,” Gwilym wasted no time in unwrapping it, dropping the paper to the ground as he looked at the cover, “Coupons?” “Look inside,” Your stomach felt tight with nerves and you glanced over at Lucy who was subtly shredding a scrap of wrapping paper. With a curious glance at both you and Lucy he began flicking through the pages, “One free hug, nice, a free meal. Do I have to use that to get lunch today?” “No, we’ll give you today free anyway, but you can come back and cash that in any time you like.” “Cheers,” he laughed and kept flicking though. You knew he’d reached the last page by how wide his eyes went. “Does this mean what I think it means?” “If you think it means Lucy and I are inviting you to sleep with us both then yes it does. Do you like it?” “Yes, Christ yes. Do I have to spend it today or is it like the meal one where I’m guaranteed a threesome because it’s Christmas?” “No, that one has to be cashed in I’m sorry.” “Then I’d like to cash it in now, please.” “Right now? You only have one, you sure you want to use it so soon?” Lucy asked. “Positive.” “Don’t want to save it for later tonight,” “Surely we’ll be too full and tipsy to move later,” “Good point.” “So, um,” he seemed a little unsure of how to progress, “how is this going to work?” “Just like sex normally does but there’s an extra person?” “More meant what are your limits and that sort of stuff, Luce” “Yeah I know, was pulling your leg.” She looked over at you as she spoke, “I mean, I think we’re both fine with most things. Nothing too BDSM-y or whatever but Y/N does tend to run more submissive.” You nodded, “Yeah, uh, I guess I like being told what to do, called names, stuff like that. My safeword is red just so you know, not that I think we’ll need it but, better safe than sorry.” Gwil nodded, “And,” his cheeks seemed a little more flushed than before, “this feels kinda weird to talk about but, how….uh, how involved do you want me to be?” “It’s your present Gwil, so as involved as you like.” Lucy seemed a lot more comfortable with the discussion, “ If you’d prefer to watch us that’s cool or if you wanted to fuck us both we’re into that too.” “Okay then, sounds good to me,” “Y/N, love, why don’t you go change into the thing you unwrapped this morning and wait for us in the bedroom. Got some other stuff I want to talk to Gwil about.” With a grin and a racing heart you scurried off to do just that, able to hear Gwil quietly asking what thing?

When you heard the doorknob turn you stood up, the soft material of the baby doll floating around the top of your thigh as you moved. “That’s pretty,” Gwilym said softly, stepping closer to you as Lucy followed him into the room and shut the door behind her, “suits you. Lucy’s got good taste.” “She told you she bought it for me?” “She told me a few interesting things. Like how you’re an impatient little brat who had to be put on denial to be taught a lesson.” Gone was the slightly uncomfortable Gwil from your discussion, now he was all confidence and control. It was a marked difference that made you clench your thighs together. “Oh, that,” “Yes, Gwil knows all about how I’ve been edging you for days now and how pathetically wet it’s made you. I also told him he now gets to choose if and when you cum today.” “What?” you were aghast. With Lucy you’d been maybe eighty-five percent sure she would be true to her word but with Gwil you had no idea what to expect. “That’s right. So you’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?” “Yes,” you nodded emphatically to show how much you meant it making both Lucy and Gwilym laugh. “I told you she was desperate.” “Desperate enough to suck my cock?” Gwilym had spoken more to Lucy than you but you dropped to your knees all the same, beyond caring how eager you appeared or how much they’d mock you for it. “Christ,” Gwilym muttered under his breath and then, addressing you, “When was the last time you sucked dick?” “Umm, depends. I’ve sucked on Lucy’s strap a couple of times but the last time I did it with a real dick was before me and Luce got together, so over a year. But I got good feedback from him.” “You okay to do it now?” “Sure. Just like riding a bike….probably.” Gwilym laughed and waved his hand in a go on motion. From the corner of your eye you saw Lucy take a seat on the end of the bed, watching. You shuffled forwards on your knees until Gwilym was in easy reach, eyes trained on his belt as you undid it and then his zip. As you pushed his pants down his long legs, he pulled his sweater off over his head. “Thank god. Not sure I could have blown you properly while I was looking at Rudolf’s googly eyes.” “Sure you could have. Because if you don’t impress me you don’t cum. How’s that for incentive?” You almost whimpered as you pushed his underwear down, eyes going wide at what you were met with. He was bigger than you’d been expecting, certainly longer than you were used to. You started slow, grasping the base of his cock, and pumping your fist over him a few times before you began kitten licking around the head as you let instinct take over. You could feel your heart pounding against your chest, and took a deep breath, exhaling in a long stream, the air wafting over Gwilym’s cock. He hummed as you wrapped your lips around him, one hand dropping to rest on top of your head as you adjusted to the feeling. You began bobbing your head, slowly taking more of him in your mouth, stroking what you couldn’t reach. “Good girl,” he said, almost breathless, “look so good on your knees, eyes up.” You shifted your gaze to his face, and hollowed your cheeks, a soft groan his response. Being able to see and hear how much he was enjoying it made you feel bolder so you took him deeper still. You gagged. A string of saliva broke and dangled from your lip as you pulled back, gasping for air. “Sorry, you’re bigger than Lucy’s.” “Don’t apologise. I’m not expecting you to deepthroat me or anything like that.” “Am I doing good?” “Better than good, Y/N,” he groaned as you dragged your tongue down his length and then back up, sinking down onto him once more, “Feel incredible. And Lucy’s having fun too. She must like seeing you being a good little cock whore because she’s touching herself right now.” You whined around him and felt his hand tighten in your hair for a second. “She looks so hot like that. Pulled the top of her dress down so she can squeeze her tits, the skirt all bunched up around her waist. That’s it, just like that.” You tried to take him deeper again, squeezing your thumb in your fist and doing everything in your power to supress your gags. “Jesus, gonna make me cum so-“ he broke off with a gasp as you fondled his balls with your free hand, “oh fuck, soon, gonna cum soon.” Lucy moaned from where she was sat on the bed, as if to prove Gwilym had been speaking the truth about her. You squeezed your thighs together as best you could, needing any friction you could get as your own moan broke free. His fingers once again tightened in your hair, his hips bucking forward slightly with the stimulation, making you gag again. “Sorry, I’m-” he moaned as you picked up the pace, bobbing faster, “god, just like that. Y-you gonna be good and swal-low for me?” “You didn’t bother responding, just squeezed his balls a little as you sucked on his tip.” “Fuck, I’m cumming,” he groaned just before he released his load into your mouth. You kept sucking, making sure to get every drop before you let him go, sitting back on your heels as you caught your breath. “Show me,” You stuck out your tongue, earning his praise when he saw it was clean.

“What should we do with her next Luce?” Gwilym asked, towering over you. “Only seems fair that you get to watch her eat me out,” “That does sound fun. Alright, slut, up on the bed.” You hurried into place, kneeling before Lucy, waiting for her to lie back and get comfortable. She pulled you into a kiss for a moment, tongue sliding along your lip and then into your mouth. Gwilym quickly stepped out of his pants which had been pooled around his ankles and pulled off his shirt, settling himself at the end of the bed behind you. “Lie down,” Lucy said softly in your ear. It wasn’t what you expected but you were too far gone to argue. When you were settled Lucy quickly shimmied out of her dress and swung her leg over you, hovering over your mouth facing Gwilym. “Show us what a good slut you are, Y/N.” Your wrapped your hands around her thighs as she lowered herself onto your mouth, dragging your tongue along her pussy before latching onto her clit. For a moment they let you be, Lucy moaning as you slid your tongue into her entrance and she rocked her hips against you, but then you felt a light touch on your hips which made you squirm. Gwilym slowly dragged your underwear down your legs. “You weren’t joking about how wet she is, were you Luce,” he said, holding your underwear up so she could see the wet patch you’d left. The next thing you felt was his hands pushing your legs open and then his beard scratching against your skin as he lowered his lips to the inside of your thighs, sucking marks that made you whine. “Don’t cum,” he warned you before his mouth finally met your throbbing core. In that moment you were suddenly glad you had Lucy to focus on, sure you wouldn’t have lasted long without the distraction. Each time Gwilym made you moan Lucy was sure to moan too, grinding herself onto you with abandon. You let go of Lucy’s thigh, moving your fingers to her core, pumping them into her as best you could. “Wait Gwil, s-stop or she’ll go over,” Lucy said, tugging on his hair to pull him away from you. He retreated, once again giving his attention to your thighs as you whined in frustration. When you’d sufficiently calmed down Lucy gave the word, and he focused back in on your cunt, adding two of his long fingers to the mix. He avoided your clit for the most part, occasionally nudging it with his nose to keep you on your toes. You could feel Lucy’s legs beginning to tremble and tightened your grip, pulling your fingers free as you focused on her clit, her moans getting louder with each passing second. Gwilym left you again, shifting onto his knees as Lucy caught his attention. You could hear him talking to her softly, encouraging her to let go. She shuddered as she came, riding it out as Gwilym held her up. Finally she climbed off you, leaving you panting and squirming, trying to get Gwilym to finish you off.

“Don’t you look so pretty like this,” he said softly, stroking himself slowly, “you ready to be fucked, pretty girl?” “Please,” “Not yet. Don’t know if you’ve done enough to earn it yet.” “You could fuck me,” Lucy said, eyes glinting mischievously. “No, please, please, I need it. I need one of you to fuck me.” Both of them laughed as you sat up, still begging. “What if I fucked Lucy and made you watch and then we went and had lunch. What if we left you like this all day?” “That’s not fair,” you whined, “please, it’s Christmas, it’s a time for giving, please give me your cocks.” “Well,” Lucy said through a laugh, “can’t deny her logic. Alright, love, up on your hands and knees. Gwil’s gonna play with you while I get set up. The second you were in place Gwilym sunk three fingers into you, “There you go you needy slut, finally getting what you want.” He pushed his fingers into you a few time before he replaced them with his cock, making you mewl and fall forward on your arms. He held your hips tight as you adjusted to him but as soon as you indicated you were alright he began fucking into you, laying a few spanks to your arse just because he could. “You’re close already aren’t you?” “Yes, fuck, so close,” you whined, the days of denial catching up with you. “Cum for me then,” he dropped his fingers to your clit, which was all you needed to finally fall over the edge, crying out as you did. “God such a tight cunt,” he panted as you clenched around him. Yet he didn’t stop. Just held you tighter as he continued to pound you roughly. Barely recovered from your first, you could already feel the beginnings of a second orgasm starting to build in your gut. You gasped as another spank landed on you, surprised by it because Gwilym’s hands hadn’t moved. Lucy chuckled at your reaction and did it again. “Give me a go, Gwil,” His thrusts slowed and then he pulled out, shuffling to the side so Lucy could kneel behind you. “Turn over, love,” she said softly, tapping your thigh. You were happy to collapse on your back, sure your legs would have given out as soon as you came again. If you came again. God you hoped they’d let you cum again. Lucy leaned over to kiss you as she lined the dildo up and sank into you. “Good girl, taking both of us so well,” You whined at the change of position, Lucy leaning down to tug at your nipple with her teeth. Suddenly she let you go, gasping as Gwilym sank into her from behind. He paused for a moment, letting her adjust and then, when he was sure she was fine, he thrust harshly into her, pushing her deeper into you. There was nothing you could do but hold your legs up and moan, able to see Gwilym, holding Lucy’s hips and grunting as he ploughed into her. The sight only turned you on more, every one of his movements hitting you through Lucy, the feeling in your stomach only getting stronger. “Can I cum?” you panted, tugging on Lucy’s hair out of a need to do something with your hands. “Ho-hold it. Fuck Gwil just like that,” You whined, watching as Lucy’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. You used your grip on her hair to tilt her head, attaching your lips to her neck. “Yes, yes, yes, god don’t stop,” her eyes slipped shut. It didn’t take much more before she was moaning through her release, Gwilym grunting as he held back his own. As soon as he slipped out of her, he kneeled beside you. “Fuck her Luce.” His hand came down on her arse, jolting her into moving, “dirty slut wants to cum again.” “Please,” you whined as Lucy found her rhythm again. Gwilym snaked one hand between you and Lucy, rubbing your clit, “Cum for us Y/N,” You obeyed, thanking him through your moans. Lucy’s fingers were digging into your thighs as you rode out your orgasm, Gwil’s fingers still on your clit, until you became too sensitive and had to push him away. “Doesn’t she look so good right now Gwil?” Lucy asked as she carefully pulled out, “Leaking onto the sheets, face still covered in my cum. So fucking messy.” “Mmm, makes me wanna add to the mess.” Before you could register what he meant he was kneeling in front of your face, pulling your head up. Lucy moved behind you, holding you in place as he tapped his leaking tip onto your lips. You hummed as you were pushed down his length, Lucy controlling your pace, as you pressed your tongue to the underside of his cock, a few gags escaping, tears running down your cheeks. It didn’t take long, Gwilym’s groans getting longer as he got closer. He pushed you off him at the last moment, stroking himself until white ropes painted your tits. “Fuck you look like a such a mess,” “A hot mess though,” Lucy said, trailing her fingers through the splatters on your chest. She sucked them into her own mouth, swirling her tongue around her digits. When she was satisfied that they’d been thoroughly cleaned she leaned over you and kissed you again, a sticky white string connecting you when she pulled away. “Fuck,” Gwilym lay beside you, propping himself up on one elbow, eyes glued to your lips, the space Lucy had just inhabited, “Might be the best Christmas present I’ve ever got. Certainly the best I’m likely to get this year.” “Good,” Lucy said, standing and beginning to undo the strap around her waist, “I’m glad you liked it.” “Me too,” you smiled over at him, “It was fun.” “A lot of fun,” Lucy laughed, “Maybe we could be persuaded to give you another round later, after lunch. It is Christmas after all, and what’s Christmas if not a time to be generous?”

#my writing #lucy boynton x reader #gwilym lee x reader #lucy boynton x reader x gwilym lee #lucy boynton smut #gwilym lee smut #and my streak of writing threesomes for these events continues #this one was a lot of fun #although finding a photo of gwil and lucy together was so hard #tgic #tgic gift

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professordrarry · 5 years

Note

I'm sorry to just ask out of the blue, but I'd love if you wrote some drunk Draco. Might help me feel better.

You know, Anon, I feel that to my core. I’m sorry that this is…not great. I hope you feel better independently of my slightly tortured pre-Drarry. Draco is also not as funny as he normally is when I write him drunk and for that, I can only blame my own slightly weird mood. Sorry friend ❤️ ❤️

Harry jolted awake to a large crash, wand in hand and alert. It had been a decade and a half, yet noises in the night still freaked him out. He bolted upright and realised right away why he’d heard the sound; he was not in his highly-Warded and unplottable flat above the cauldron shop of Hogsmeade. Instead, he was haphazardly sprawled on the very nasty sofa in the staff lounge.

He took a few seconds to reorient himself, trying to work out why it was that he hadn’t made it home. The details shuffled through his mind slowly. Grading papers now so that if he finished on this random Thursday evening, if he caught up on the many hours of marking he’d put off, he could go to Ottery St. Catchpole at the weekend. Visit Molly. Play with the kids. Sneak in a few seeker games with Ginny.

Reoriented and no longer afraid in the safety of the castle, Harry was focused on the soft curse words from the small kitchenette around the corner that now made him chuckle. He casually wandered over, smoothing out his rumpled robes as best he could.

“Buggering fuckery fucking nitwit,” the quiet voice was whispering from the floor, surrounded by tins and boxes that had clearly just been wrenched from various cupboards.

“Need any help?” Harry asked.

The figure jumped slightly, then leaned back from a cross-legged position until it was lying with its back on the floor, revealing a very crumpled Draco Malfoy.

“Oh, of bloody fucking course it’s you,” he cursed, letting his legs fall to the floor too so that he was now completely prone and staring at Harry upside down. “Why in Salazar’s name are you in the lounge at…wait, is it still three?”

Harry glanced at his watch, then nodded, considering Malfoy’s slant and slur, his general dishevelled nature. “Um. Are you…no. Never mind.” “Drunk?” Draco sighed, closing his eyes. “Indeed.” “And you’re looking for…tea?”Draco giggled, the sound positively unnerving given who it was coming from. “Hid some biscuits in here last week. Ran out of snacks upstairs in my room.”

“Biscuits?” Harry repeated.

“Hungry.”

Draco didn’t explain further. Instead, his upside-down smile turned predatory, his eyes sweeping up and down Harry’s body; even from this unusual position, Harry flushed at the scrutiny. Draco’s face was always an open book, and the expression they’d landed on now seemed to be lust. Harry was flustered. It didn’t help that Draco looked like he’d been through a trial. His hair was a mess, the remains of black eye makeup smudged at the corners of his bright grey eyes, his clothes were wrinkled and stretched. He wore a tight, dark blue t-shirt with a deep vee that let his sharp collar bones escape. Black jeans and high boots added to the come hither outfit.

Harry cleared his throat.

Draco looked away. “You sleep here now?” Bit pathetic, even for you.” He reached his hands up into the air. “Help me up?”

Without a second thought, Harry walked around the boxes and gripped Draco’s hand, dragging him up. He faltered and stumbled a moment before regaining balance, laughing the whole time. The sound was carefree and out of place.

“Grab this,” he demanded with a violent poke of his wand that sent the box flying. Harry caught it deftly and sent the other boxes back into the cupboard with his own wand before following after Draco as he seemed to tumble and bounce from the room.

When they reached the second-floor staircase that led to the staff quarters, Draco stared at them a moment like they were the tallest of mountains and then giggled as he sat heavily on the bottom step and leaned his head against the rail.

“What’s the plan, Malfoy?” Harry teased. It earned him a glare that he appreciated more than was decent. It also forced Draco up again.

“Gonna ask me what happened?” he asked with a glimmer in his eye,

Harry smirked, offering an arm that Draco clung to instantly as they set off up the stairs. “No offence, clever clogs, but this isn’t really that hard to work out, even for a failed Auror like myself. It’s Thursday… Pub night. I’m guessing blue drinks, based on your…nevermind… I also have a feeling I can blame Professor Perkins, but that one will take more evidence.”

“Yeah, but you don’t know why I was in the lounge,” Draco tried to retort vehemently. He tripped instead, ending up against Harry and jabbing him with a finger in the chest that may or may not have been intentional. They carried on upwards in silence, Harry wrapping an arm around Draco’s back when he stumbled next.

“Thank you for walking me home, Mr Potter,” Draco sneered as they reached the top of the stairs. “Very chivalrous. You should be happy you aren’t…someone else.”

“Why?” Harry asked boldly.

“Might try to kiss you — Ooh!” Draco interrupted himself, looking more excited and alert than he had for the past five minutes. “Let’s go to the Potion’s classroom!”

Harry laughed and shook his head, extracting himself from Draco’s grasp and holding out the tea box, which Draco ignored. “I think you should probably avoid brewing for the next few hours, Professor Malfoy.”

“You’re no fun,” Draco pouted. “You used to be fun. I remember that. It’s why I hated you.”

Not waiting for a reply, Draco smiled broadly and whirled around in a flamboyant and extremely unsteady spin. “Do what you want, I am going to make some Felix Felicis.”

Harry started to protest but was disrupted by Draco halting in his path and turning around, smile still glued to his face.

“Did I look like Snape?” he giggled. “With the whirling and the dramatics?” He looked expectantly at Harry, who burst out laughing and grinned despite himself.

“You might have,” he agreed eventually. “But you aren’t wearing robes.”

“I know,” Draco scowled, looking down at himself and then planting his hands on his hips with an exaggerated pout. “I’m quite annoyed at this shirt, you know. I always pull in this shirt. This is my Pub Shirt. My Pirt! No, don’t say that. I never said that.”

“Right.”

“Right?!” Draco continued unhindered. “It’s very…purple-y, this shirt. And —”

“It’s blue,” Harry interjected.

“Ugh, no, don’t. It’s purple. Trust me. I’m not having this argument with you. It’s purple and it’s pretty and I look very fucking hot in it and I should, at this very minute, be making regrettable choices where I’m probably no longer wearing it.”

“I mean, that seems like a lot to expect of a shirt,” Harry teased.

“And instead,” Draco continued, “I’m in a school corridor with you at half three in the morning, arguing about purple. Because life is very unfair, even when you drink.”

Draco dropped his hands and waltzed back to where Harry stood, in front of the large portrait that presumably led to his quarters.

“Look,” he insisted, stepping very close and drawing up the hem of his shirt for Harry’s inspection.

Harry meant to look. He really did. He was ready and willing to look at the shirt, and then argue it’s blue-ness no matter what he colour he found there. He had a whole plan. But, when he lifted his eyes to examine the fabric before him, he instead found three things that simultaneously made him stop breathing. First, he discovered that Draco’s fingers were perfect and lithe, delicate and manicured where they gripped the fabric and held it aloft. Second, he realised that Draco’s eyelashes were incredibly long, but were so blonde that he’d never noticed (a part of Harry’s brain did realise that it might be weird that it was one of the few things he hadn’t noticed about Draco Malfoy).

And third, Harry noticed that Draco’s stomach, so pale it was almost blue, was soft. The rest of him was so defined, from chiselled jaw to sinewy forearms, that Harry had possibly been expecting abs. But instead, there was a softness to his stomach that existed nowhere else on Malfoy and Harry had to know what it felt like. He reached forward to trail his fingers down the skin before his brain caught up to him and he froze. They stared at each other in silent dare for a moment.

“I could be your regrettable choices,” Harry whispered finally.

Draco hesitated only a moment, Harry’s fingers still sitting on his stomach, before he leaned forward and made contact, mouth so full of whiskey that Harry felt like he’d taken a shot.

“You could be,” Draco muttered against his lips a moment later. “So regrettable. But no. Not like this. Not tonight. Please…regrettable choices should be things you won’t mind regretting.”

He pulled away and gently took the tea from Harry’s hand, turning on a still very uncoordinated heel.

“Serenade,” he whispered to the portrait behind him, causing it to swing open.

“Wait,” Harry protested, ignoring Draco’s slight flinch and wince when he turned back to face Harry. “One thing. Are there really biscuits in there?” he asked, gesturing to the box.

Draco snorted. “Guess you’ll never know. Goodnight…Harry."

#drarry #drarry drabble #drunk draco #predrarry #technically it's not really a fic since the lack of plot is deafening but #shrug

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stainyourhands · 6 years

Text

Next in this resistance series

Dan leaves the hotel with the sunset.

Tommy follows him, walking a block behind, as he crosses M and P on 16th. Tommy ducks behind a taxi as Dan turns onto U, then stops, looking both ways, before using the same strange series of knocks he had used the night before.

Tommy ducks into Busboys and Poets, orders a beer that he doesn't have to pay for when the barista recognizes his face. He slips her a $20, anyway, and hopes it's enough to buy her silence. Not that it'll matter. Tonight's the night.

He'll confront Dan, or he won't.

They'll save Lovett, or they won't.

The horrible price that Tommy never asked Jon to pay will prove worth it, or it won't.

Tommy clenches his fingers around the beer. He would give almost anything to be here, drinking an over-priced beer in a resistance-extension bookstore, rather than back in San Diego digging up dirt in an orange prison jumpsuit. He still hears the screams at night. He still remembers the stench of fear. He can still feel the hardened shell he'd built, callous upon callous around his heart, to protect the memory of everyone and everything he cares about from being burned alive while he was in there.

He would give almost anything. He would not give the haunted look that's settled in Jon's eyes over the past few months. Nor Lovett's freedom, traded in a devil's bargain, for Tommy's own. And certainly not whatever dangerous, hair-brained scheme Dan has been cooking up that will almost certainly end in trading both their lives for his.

Two for one is a deal I'm willing to take, Dan will almost certainly say.

Fuck that.

Tommy's been trading on his ill-earned freedom for months now. Flinching at shadows and hiding behind his fear of what might have been if he'd stayed in that prison cell and what might be if things got worse. But now the worst has happened and it's almost a relief to replace with fear with regret. Regret that he wasted so much time sleeping in the guest room, burying his nightmares in Lucca's fur. Regret that he returned to Jon and Lovett”s bed only to watch on the sidelines as Jon pushed Lovett to SF. Regret that safety was more important to him than savoring the last, bittersweet months they might have had.

As Tommy finishes his beer, the regret slides away. Regret is unproductive. Regret pales in light of the imperative to give himself one last chance.

He's standing in front of the dark, innocuous spot door to The Gibson before he realizes he's slid his glass down the bar or smoothed out his shoulders. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and picturing Dan the night before, the beauty of his fingers as they'd danced across the wood in a complicated knock.

Tommy is met by a harried waitress this time, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail and an American Flag pinned jauntily to her vest. She doesn't invite him in, but she doesn't push him away, either, so he steps around her and into the speakeasy. It's darker and less friendly that it was twenty-four hours ago, nearly empty except for the hushed voices filtering through from the courtyard.

Tommy's stealth lasts until he trips over the last step, his shoe thumping against the stone floor as he catches himself, fingernails scraping against the brick wall. He curses, inwardly. Ben curses, outwardly, as he spins around, his eyes wide and bright in the thick red lamp light.

"Tommy."

Dan doesn't turn around. He clenches his fists against the table in front of him, his shoulders slumping as he pushes forward, his elbows bowing inwards and the muscles of his back rippling under his thin blue button-down.

"Ben," Tommy nods. "Dan. I followed you."

Ben's eyes flick from Tommy to Dan, but Tommy ignores him. Dan leans further against the table, his voice hoarse as he chuckles darkly. "No shit."

"I knew you were up to something." Tommy crosses to the table, stands close enough that he can feels the waves of heat roiling off Dan's tense shoulders. "I want to be a part of it."

"I know," Dan whispers, closing his eyes tightly. "That's why I kept you out of it."

"Dan-"

"No." The table groans as Dan raps his knuckles against it. His eyes fly open, as clear and blue as Tommy's ever seen them. "You have a black mark, Tommy. You can't be a part of this."

Tommy pulls his mind away from the passport in his back pocket, the treason stamped across his photo. "I don't care."

Dan shakes his head. The red light gleams off the white and grey hairs that are outnumbering the brown these days.

"Would you like anything to drink, Mr. Vietor?" The waitress asks, appearing in the doorway. Her hair is now in a tight braid. The Flag pin is still askew.

Ben shakes his head, crossing the room to take her elbow and lead her away.

They're alone in the warm, DC fall air, and as Dan turns towards him, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, Tommy can see the beads of sweat at his hairline. "What do you think will happen, huh? If you're caught? They don't throw you in jail for a second treason charge."

"I know." Tommy holds up a hand to hold Dan back. "Come on, you know I know that. Don't treat me like an idiot."

"Then don't act like one," Dan snaps back. "Someone has to look after your fucking life, as you seem awfully hell bent on throwing it away."

Tommy flinches. He burned his enlistment papers months ago. He burned his handgun application with it. "Life isn't worth living," Tommy spits back, "without Lovett in it. Not that you'd understand that."

Dan's eyes widen and he takes a step back, jerking against the edge of the table, good as if Tommy had slapped him.

"We've been waiting," Tommy continues. "For fucking years, Dan. Loving and waiting and you've been- what?"

Dan's voice is so low that Tommy has to strain to hear it. "Making the world safe for you."

Tommy sighs in exasperation. They've been having this argument, in metaphors and similes, for long enough that Tommy's heart has started to close over the hole he's left, open and waiting, for Dan to fill. "Newsflash, the world isn't safe. It's not going to be. All we have is this moment, right here, right now. We have-" he swallows, realizing the words are true only as he says them, "forgiveness for Jon and an opportunity to save Lovett. And we have each other."

Dan swallows, his adam's apple thick in the open vee of his shirt. "Lovett would want you alive."

"You too, Dan," Tommy corrects. "What the fuck do you still not understand about that?"

"I can't- Tommy, fuck, I can't do this right now. Lovett needs me to be thinking straight. You- He needs you."

Tommy reaches out, tugging at Dan's crossed arms and pulling him a step closer. "He needs you, too. Just you. That's all any of us have ever asked for."

Dan's face twists. His eyes are shining, bright and wet. "I have to try."

"I know," Tommy whispers, closing the distance between them.

Dan's lips taste like salt. He smells like sweat and fear. He melts into Tommy's chest and Tommy's mouth, and the fourth chamber of Tommy's heart beats wildly against his rib cage, reaching out towards Dan, like it always has.

Tommy pulls back, just far enough to press his lips behind Dan's ear. "Let me help." Dan shakes under his hands and Tommy spreads his hand against the base of Dan's spine. "Let me help keep you alive. For Lovett." He presses his lips to Dan's clammy skin in a close-mouthed kiss. "For Jon." Again. "For me." And again.

Dan's entire body shudders, and Tommy loses track of time as they stand there. Under the DC night sky, the stars and the artificial tea lights, with Dan's beer warming as his elbow and Dan's walls thawing in his arms.

When Ben appears in the doorway, though, his shoulder pressed against the worn wood and a soft, concerned smile on his face, Tommy squeezes the back of Dan's neck. "Tell me the plan."

"Okay." Dan steps back, straightening his shirt and glancing away, hiding the flush of his cheeks and the warm blue of his eyes in the table. He smooths his hands over the table and the building plans crinkle under his fingers. "These are the plans for-"

Tommy leans closer, his shoulder tight against Dan's as Ben joins them. He squints in the dim light, until he can read the name in the corner.

Tommy gasps.

"-Devin Nunes' office."

#aaaaand we are at ot4 #ot4 #dommy #for this part #the resistance #my fic #podsa

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thirstygirlclub · 6 years

Text

Sweet Girl - 3

Chapter 3 – I'm going to f***** scream.

The relief I had felt when I saw that there was a small block of showers on the ferry was only mildly orgasmic. I used Clay's credit card to buy a bottle of 2 in 1 shampoo so I could wash my hair. When I dragged myself under the water I started to feel human again. I washed out all the bits of brain and skull out of the rats nest that I called my hair. I tried not to look at the drain where it was all being collected. I used every last drop of the shampoo to clean myself and as soon as the water ran clear, instead of being a murky brown colour, I stepped out to use the useless hair dryer.

"I thought you had washed down the drain," Jax said when I came out to meet him on the deck of the boat.

I laughed lightly as I threw away the t-shirt and bits of my friends' killer in a bin.

I was feeling slightly better by now. I tried to push the last 24 hours out of my memory but as hard as I did, I couldn't get her face out of my brain. Before I had found the showers, Jax and I had gone to the small clothing store looking for something for me to wear. I went for all black to blend in with my travelling companions, I had told him but I wore a lot of black anyway. He had convinced me to get a leather jacket too, an item that I had never owned in my life.

"No way," I argued with a laugh, "I'll look like such a try hard."

"Just buy the damn thing; you'll look badass. The rest of the girls wear them anyway. You're gonna fit right in."

I purposefully chose clothes that I never would have worn in England. I'm not going to be a business bitch in California, why try to dress like one? I'll have to admit, wearing flat shoes felt nice; I knew I could probably walk for hours in these boots. I was just in a plain black cropped tank top and high-waisted jeans. I was more comfortable in these clothes than in the pencil skirts and high heels but I don't think I looked as good.

"Best get back to Clay, he's tried ringing me about a million times."

Jax showed me his phone and saw that there were 3 missed calls.

When we approached the other men, Chibs let out a low whistle and pushed his sunglasses up onto his head. I twirled around and posed dramatically. Clay held out his hand for the credit card.

I shook my head and took the card out of my pocket to put in his hands but then snatched it away. It was childish, admittedly, but did I regret it? Not at all.

"Come on gents," I said, "Does anyone fancy lunch?"

"Vivania," Clay warned in a low, warning voice.

"Are you seriously trying to parent me right now?"

He was getting angry but I was beginning to think that perhaps stealing his credit card wasn't the best idea but the humour in my cousins eyes told me to carry on.

"I'm not a child," I said, even though I knew full well I was acting like a spoilt teenager, "I bet they're hungry. I know I am."

"It's the least you could do Clay," Jax laughed, "you kind of owe her. Besides, my stomach has been growling all morning."

Clay sighed then walked towards me with a mildly defeated expression.

The cheerful and good humoured atmosphere didn't last long though. Mid way through our lunch, paid for by Clay before he snatched the credit card back, a news report came on.

"Police are still looking for Emilia D'Arcy after yesterday's shooting at the St. Trents School; a private school on the southern English coast," a news reader states as a photograph of me at my college graduation is shown on the screen, "all that is known about the incident is that it involved the Warrens; a notorious and violent American street gang based in California USA. There has been no official ransom notice or photographs. None of Miss D'Arcy's family have come forward as of yet… The weather in the north-"

I shrunk down in my seat as some people turned to eye us suspiciously.

"I think we should get back to the van, Jacky Boy." Chibs said quietly.

Jax nodded and tapped my shoulder before we stood up. I took one last gulp of my tea and followed them out.

"Who are the Warrens?" I asked Jax once we got back to the vehicle.

"A family, rival club. We did them a dirty deal and they took it… personally."

"And I come into it how? How did they find out who I was?"

"They're a family. Your stepdad is called Michael Warren, right?"

Fuck, was my first thought, fucking shit, was my second.

"He's from England. It's a coincidence, surely?"

I started putting things together in my head. It was like some sort weird montage.

All of those men coming into the house when I was a child in their leather vests; the angry phone calls he would make and then throw the phone.

"He is the leader?" I asked Clay.

"No, a brother; sent to run the British charter; Christopher Warren is the pres. of the mother club."

I looked at him just baffled with the whole situation. How had it turned so crazy so fast? The other day I was working towards my degree, my friend was still alive and I was in no known danger.

"I just-" I shrugged in disbelief.

"I'll explain it all when we get home Vivania," Clay said carefully, "but right now we need to stay under the radar. No leaving this van unless you need to piss, got it? Chibs, you and Hap are going with Viv if she needs to leave."

"Babysitters? Really? Are you kidding? I can look after myself."

"Aye," Chibs said and showed me his forearms, "you're scrappy alright."

"Shit," I gasped and gently touched the scratches I had evidently made when they pulled me out of my dorm.

"Scrappy ain't gonna save your life though."

"I am so sorry."

I looked back up to him with wide eyes. I didn't even know I had done it, I didn't know who was pulling me out of that dorm. He had been so kind to me; I felt bad.

"Don't worry about it, I've had worse."

I looked over the scars on his cheeks and frowned. I guess they had been through a lot more than what I had seen. I wondered suddenly how many people they had killed, or had seen die. How much blood had they spilled in the name of the Sons of Anarchy? I shuddered at the thought. I realised I was still staring at him and looked away with a flush on my cheeks. I was sat in a van with, what are essentially, 4 mass murderers. I shrunk back in my seat and stayed mostly quiet for the rest of the journey.

After what felt like weeks, we were back on solid ground and driving through Charming. I couldn't help but smile when I saw the old sign that hadn't changed since I left. To be honest, nothing had changed much. It was more built up than I remembered it being but my memories were so fuzzy it was like it happened to someone else.

"Welcome home, Pumpkin." Clay said with a smile as he pulled into the TM Motors lot.

Stepping out of the van into the hot California sun and onto the forecourt of the garage felt like a dream. My shoes scuffed against the rough ground as I looked around. The only things that had changed were the men walking around in the uniforms and the sign above the work area. Bikes lined the road leading into it and I couldn't help but be mesmerised by how they all shone in the sun. There were girls sitting on them talking to men that did that manly nod to Jax and Clay as we passed them.

"Is that her?!" I heard a voice shout over and whipped my head around to see a tall man with a beard and beanie on, despite the weather.

"Harry?!" I shouted, a look of delight lit up his face and he started walking towards me.

I jogged to him; as soon as we met he laughed and grabbed me into a bear hug, lifting me off my feet with ease. I hugged him back tightly as he spun me around.

"You were just a skinny kid," I said when he put me back on the floor, "what the fuck happened?"

"Same to you," he said and looked me up and down, not like he was checking me out, just like he couldn't believe that I was grown up, "I missed you, kid."

I nodded and held back tears as the others had caught up. There were lots of 'bro hugs' going on and I watched the exchanges with interest. I felt like such an outsider; something I hadn't felt since I started school before I got a name for myself with my… antics. More people were starting to gather around I was introduced to them all, the entire time I was looking for my aunt Gemma. I met with Mr. Winston, although he said to please call him Piney, and hugged him tenderly.

"I swear to god," I said quietly to Chibs after being introduced to Bobby Elvis, "if I hear one more ridiculous name, I'm going to fucking scream."

He chuckled beside me as a man with a Mohawk approached my nervously. He was so sweet looking that I could barely see him as a killer. He smiled at me and scratched the back of his head.

"Hey," he said, "I'm Juice."

"Oh my god." I sighed and heard Chibs laugh beside me.

"What?"

"Nothing," I shook my head, "it's nice to meet you."

Later on that evening I still hadn't seen Aunt Gemma and I was getting tense. I had been promised that I would see her at the "family dinner" which wasn't just Gemma, Clay, Jax and I; it was the whole club. I had met most of them already except for a few that were out on a "run". I said bye and see you later to the guys and Clay drove me to his and Gemma's place. It was the first time we had been alone since the school. I was nervous and tired but mostly hungry.

The smell of cooking hit me as soon as I walked in and my stomach growled.

"Vee!?"

I recognised the voice as soon as I heard it. When she came to the hallway where I was stood with my arms folded nervously. I had missed her so much.

"C'mere Baby," she said and I ran into her open arms.

She hadn't changed at all, not really. I hugged her so tightly that she had to tell me to loosen my grip. I apologised but didn't let go.

Back when I was a child, Aunt Gemma was one of the only sources of stability in my young life. She always had me over to her house to sleep if my mother was going particularly crazy; there was always a bed for me there. That's where I had been when I was taken away.

"It's ok, darlin'," she whispered into my hair, "you're safe here."

I nodded and pulled away. She cupped my face with her hands and kissed my forehead gently before taking my hand and leading me into the kitchen where I saw a couple of other women chopping up vegetables and working over pots. She introduced me to Luanne and Lila.

"Do you need me to help?" I asked after I had greeted them.

"Can you make any desserts?" Luanne asked, "I don't think I'm gonna have time."

"Yeah sure. What have you got?"

I spent the latter part of the afternoon helping the other ladies in the kitchen talking about my school life and the mischief I had got up to with Anya. They laughed when I told them about the different guys I had slept with and why I had broken up with them.

"He legitimately thought he was a werewolf!" I told them as they laughed, "He used to howl when he came and it was the funniest thing! I could never keep a straight face."

"Private school isn't quite all it looks on the TV, huh?" Aunt Gemma said before tasting my cake batter, "that's delicious, by the way."

I grinned, happy that I had impressed her.

Once everything was finished the others had started to arrive and my stomach started turning in knots when I heard their voices.

"Go and get cleaned up, hon; we'll see you in a minute." Gemma said.

After I had washed my hands I followed the cacophony of noise coming from where I guessed the dining room was. There was a huge table, lined with people. It was amazing. Jax had come over immediately with his son in his arms and his girlfriend by his side.

"Hi," she said with a welcoming smile, "I'm Tara. Jax has told me all about you; what he didn't Gemma did."

I laughed but wasn't embarrassed; they were some funny stories.

Gemma was at one end of the table while Clay was at the other end. Jax and Tara sat up near Clay with Opie and Chibs. There was only a couple of people I hadn't met, one of them was a handsome guy with amazing blue eyes and dark hair. He walked over to me, picked up my hand and kissed it. I laughed but felt myself blushing slightly.

"Hello beautiful lady," he said, "I'm Alexander Trager, but you can call me Tig."

"I'm Emi- I'm Vivania." using my real name will take some getting used too, "It's nice to meet you Tig."

"Down boy!" Chibs shouted over and threw a bread roll at the back of Tig's head.

The latter whipped around and went to throw it back but Gemma had barked at them to grow up. Immediately, they stopped and behaved themselves. I looked at her with an amused expression; impressed that she could get the big, bad biker guys to shut up and sit down. Gemma winked at me and patted the space next to her so I could sit down.

Dinner went by quite well, I chatted and was charismatic although I felt so nervous I thought I was going to faint. It came back to the realisation I had in the van. I was sat at a table full of killers but watching them interact and listening to them talking to each other made it hard to believe. Soon though, conversation had turned to the Warrens. I was listening really intently.

"So," Chibs said as he took a third slice of my chocolate cake, "what are we gonna do about those fuc- um… pricks?"

"We can't just go in guns blazing," Clay said with a casual sip of beer, "there'll be all sorts of complications with their allies. We've got to be careful."

"So undercut their business," I said and looked between them and all the other people around the table looked at me, "they supply guns too right?"

They nodded.

I said ,"okay, then take away their business. If they bought the guns from SOA to then sell onto other people then they could offer to cut out the middle man, sell them the product for cheaper therefore making the Warrens part of the deal obsolete. They could get the contacts from the Warrens system, which wouldn't be hard to do, if my stepdad's lack of computer knowledge was anything to go by, and contact them directly."

"Ok…" Clay nodded slowly, mulling over my idea, "and how do we get them to bite? They are gonna go to the Warrens if they are close enough."

"No offence," I said with a smile, "they're all criminals, just like you. If you guys were offered a new price, which your enemies weren't going to get, would you tell people about it? Unlikely. Getting them to take the offer is the hard part, find out what they like. Drugs, guns, girls? Whatever it is, deliver it to them, for free as a thank you, with some of your best men as guard dogs. You need to make it seem like you care about them; make them think you value their business.

"Once you've got them and their other clientele, the Warrens go out of business; they leave to find someone else to sell your guns too. You take their business, you take their land and you can expand not only the SOA but Teller-Morrow motors. You can raise your prices slowly until they are paying the same amount that they were paying the Warrens and your guys are rolling in the dough."

They were looking impressed with my idea and a warm feeling of pride was spreading through me.

"Baking and criminally minded," Tig said with a sly smile, "how are you still single?"

"Just lucky I guess," I shrugged, winking at him.

A discussion ensued about the new plan. I felt a warm hand on my arm and looked over to Gemma who was looking at me with a proud smile and nodding. They were talking about the Warren's buyers, who they were and what they liked. Clay tapped his beer bottle on the table silencing everybody.

"Ok, I know we're all excited, but let's talk about this more tomorrow in Church. Before we do anything, I want to run it by my daughter," he pointed at me with his bottle, "she'll be the brains behind the operation."

By then it was far too late, everyone that had brought their children had gone home along with some others. The only people left around the table were myself, Clay, Chibs, Jax and Tig just drinking and talking. It felt nice, honestly, normal. I felt almost at home. I could hear Gemma clattering around in the kitchen as she cleaned up and conversation had turned back to my time at the school. I poured myself some more wine as I answered their questions.

"So," Jax asked, "how many languages do you actually speak?"

"Like 4 fluently, not including English. I speak, Spanish, Russian, French and Italian. Oh and Latin but nobody knows what that actually sounds like so I don't really count it."

"Clever girl," Chibs said with a slight slur in his voice.

I shrugged again and drained the rest of the bottle of wine into my glass although I was feeling extremely drowsy. I wasn't even sure if I would be able to find the room that had been set up for me. I stood up, with my wine in hand, and announced that I was going to bed. I leant down and kissed Jax on the cheek before going to leave but I heard Tig go, 'Um, what about us?' so I turned and kissed the others to, saying goodnight as I went round the table.

"Good to have you back, Kid." Clay said seriously after I stood up back up from him.

I nodded silently and moved over to Chibs, placing my arm around his shoulders to pull him closer before planting a gentle kiss on his scarred cheek.

"Goodnight Chibs, thanks for coming to get me," I said to him as I stood back up.

"Don't worry about it," he said quietly, looking almost shy.

When I got to Tig I laughed; he had stood up with his arms open wide. I stepped close to him and hugged him, careful not to spill my wine. He kissed me hard on the lips.

"Goodnight Tigger." I laughed and stepped away.

I had stumbled up the stairs with my head spinning and vision blurry. I did find the bedroom eventually, thanks to Gemma coming out of her bedroom and pointed me in the right direction. I collapsed fully clothed on the bed and fell asleep straight away.

Sorry!: that was a bit more cheerful, wasn't it? Sorry for the late update, I was meaning for this to be up yesterday but it turned out to be a bit hectic for me on a personal level but hopefully you'll forgive me? I made this one at least 1000 words longer than my previous chapters. I just couldn't stop writing! I probably rambled a lot but I have set up the subplot that I'm hoping to carry on with during this story.

Thanks for all the lovely comments guys! I have really needed something positive to look at these past couple of days and I just kept rereading them. I know it sounds sad but this is the first ever thing I have ever put of mine anywhere for people to see and all your nice words mean a lot to me.

Enough rambling!

Thanks again,

Love, Doe xx

#sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy #bobby elvis #chibs telford x oc #chibs telford #jax teller #clay morrow #gemma teller #juice ortiz #chibs x oc #chibs telford fan fiction #here you go kids.#sweet girl

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haroldsbee · 7 years

Text

untitled zarry fic

summary: anyone else remember when harry and zayn attended the same party in early 2016? cos i do. this is a little zarry something, very loosely based on canon. rating: explicit word count: 2,864 warnings: just some references to drug use and drinking, and a little bit of angry sex, but it’s Nothing Major. a/n: this is a birthday gift for my buddie Alison/@elaric, HAPPY BIRTHDAY I LOVE YOU AND I HOPE YOU’RE HAVING AN AMAZING TIME!!!!! also, this is based on this post by @wepush, who graciously allowed me to piggyback off their idea to create this :)

By the time Harry’s drinking catches up with him he’s nearly three sheets to the wind, leaning up against the open bar while some up-and-coming songwriter prattles on in his ear about working her way up and networking and it’s been interesting, but Harry’s not really listening.

He’s been focused on Zayn since the second he walked into the room.

Harry’s sure Zayn’s noticed his staring at least once or twice, but the most he’s gotten in return was a blank stare and a cold shoulder to match the one Harry’d been ready to give.

He’s annoying himself with how fixated he’s become on Zayn. He honestly hadn’t thought about him in weeks, months, and now, simply trying to share a room with him has become unbearable.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, giving a polite nod to Amy or Ashley, whatever her name is, and pulling out his cell. “I’ve got to give my mum a call. Promised I would.”

She makes a strange cooing sound and dismisses him with a wave of her hand, telling him something about getting in touch with him via email. He smiles and turns away, shoving his phone back into his pocket before heading to the restroom.

Changing his mind, he switches his course and heads for the open doors that let out onto the crowded patio outside. He leans up against the railing that fences the property, staring out at the twinkling nightlife of Los Angeles as the after party rages on behind him.

He picks up his phone again, thumbing through his voicemails and scrolling down to the last time Zayn called him. Three months ago. They haven’t actually spoken in so long, years, but that doesn’t stop Zayn from calling him when he’s partied too hard or gone too long without a decent night’s sleep. Harry pushes on Zayn’s latest voicemail, holding his breath as he brings the phone up to his ear.

“Miss you,” Zayn had slurred into the phone, clearly under the influence of something or other, laughing quietly into the phone as the voicemail stretched on in silence. “Still waitin’ for you to call me back.” More silence, then the sound of a lighter clicking on in the background. “But you never do.”

He brings the phone back down with a sigh, thumb hovering over the ‘delete’ button when he hears footsteps approaching.

“Wondered how long it was gonna take you to come out here.”

Harry lets out a sigh when he hears Zayn’s voice, shoulders sagging as Zayn gets closer.

“What?” Zayn asks, leaning against the railing next to Harry. “Didn’t think I was gonna say anything to you?”

“Why would you?” Harry asks, not looking at him.

“I miss you.”

“You only miss me when you’re high,” Harry says, finally turning to look at Zayn. And he’s not wrong, his eyes are red and he smells of smoke.

“Well you only miss me when you’re drunk,” Zayn counters, raising an eyebrow. “Phone works both ways, y'know.”

Harry rolls his eyes, not caring for the reminder of his weaker moments, dialling Zayn’s number into the phone and leaving the kind of voicemails one should never, ever admit to. He pushes off the railing and turns to go back inside. “Enjoy your night.”

“Yeah,” Zayn says, scoffs, pulling a pack of cigs and a lighter from his pocket. He turns his head to watch Harry’s retreating back as he passes, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “You, too.”

-/-

It’s not even ten minutes later before their paths cross again, this time on the way to the men’s washroom. Harry doesn’t know why he thought he’d be able to avoid Zayn for the rest of the night, but clearly the universe is intent on proving him wrong.

He takes a deep breath and continues walking, offers Zayn a polite smile of the benefit of any curious eyes or cameras that may be watching. He slips into the restroom, letting out a quiet sigh as he looks himself over in the mirror. He’s definitely drunk now and it’s starting to show a little. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing his fringe back and away from his forehead. He’s fixing the collar of his shirt when he hears the loo door open, barely surprised to find Zayn standing behind it.

He rolls his eyes, making for the exit, but Zayn stops him, a hand around his wrist.

“Doesn’t have to be like this, y'know.” He says, letting go when Harry wriggles his hand free. “You don’t have to run out of a room any time you see me.”

“I know I don’t have to,” is all Harry says, standing his ground as Zayn stares back at him.

“Then don’t,” Zayn takes a step closer, hesitant. “I know you miss me.”

And that’s how Harry knows he’s drunk now, those five words ringing in his head and tugging at his heart as he shakes his head at Zayn even as he lets Zayn take another step closer.

“Only cos I’m drunk,” he says, trying to sound ambivalent but he knows he can’t, he knows Zayn has always been able to read him like an open book.

“See?” Zayn laughs, dopey and inebriated, “Told you.”

It’s then Harry figures, ’why bother?’ and allows himself the one thing he’d been thinking about all night. He reaches out and tugs Zayn closer by his shirt, not stopping until they’re in each other’s space, breathing each other’s air.

Zayn looks back at him and Harry can’t tell what he’s seeing in Zayn’s eyes, aside from the effects of whatever he’s taken tonight.

Harry goes in for the kiss then, harsh and unforgiving, claiming Zayn’s lips as he pulls him even closer until they’re pressed together wherever they can be, standing in the middle of the ornate bathroom, white porcelain framed in gold trimming nearly everywhere Harry turns his eye. But he doesn’t have much time to peruse the décor, barely even enough time to make sure they’re alone before Zayn is pulling him back in, pressing a hard, biting kiss to his lips.

Harry almost sobs with the feeling he’s keeping inside, the want you’s, miss you’s, need you’s, getting caught in his throat as he bites at his lip, letting Zayn mark his way down Harry’s neck, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin the way he knows Harry likes it.

Harry gasps, fingers combing through the quiffed hair at the top Zayn’s head, mussing it with his hands as he tugs and holds it tight in his closed fist just to hear the way Zayn groans in response.

Neither has said anything yet, Harry’s been holding tight onto Zayn, eyes clenched shut as if this will all disappear if he opens them. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had a dream that felt so vivid.

Zayn backs him up to the counter in front of the mirror, getting his hands under Harry’s thighs to prompt him to hop up onto it, and Harry does, pulling Zayn into the vee of his legs and into another kiss.

It feels surreal, to him, how Zayn can still feel the same, look the same, taste the same, after all the time that’s passed, all the anger and resentment that lingers, the sour feelings shared between them, the bitter comments made in interviews, the –

“Turn your brain off,” Zayn says, speaking for the first time in what feels like ages. “Stop thinking so much, Harry, you’re gonna ruin it.”

There’s a joking lilt to his voice, but Harry can hear what’s underneath it. He can see the pleading in Zayn’s eyes so he nods his head, fumbling for the waist of Zayn’s jeans and popping the button open. Soon he’s got his hand on Zayn’s cock, fingers curling around the girth of him and Harry bites back a moan, pressing his face into Zayn’s neck as he strokes him slowly.

“Come on, Harry,” Zayn groans, fucking himself into Harry’s hand. “Let’s not waste time.”

“When did you get so bossy?” Harry mumbles, brows furrowing as he pulls back, holding up the hem of Zayn’s shirt so he can watch the head of Zayn’s cock peeking through his fist.

“Lot’s changed,” is all Zayn offers in reply, leaning forward to catch Harry’s lips in a rushed kiss. He reaches a hand behind himself and into the pocket of his jeans, coming back with a small sachet of lube. He sets it down on the counter and takes a step back from Harry, tucking his dick back into his jeans before tugging Harry down off the counter and flipping him around so he’s facing the mirror.

Harry catches sight of himself then, taking in the reflection of himself and Zayn, pressed close together against the counter, Zayn’s mouth working at Harry’s neck as he reaches round to undo Harry’s trousers. He makes eye contact with Harry in the mirror then, letting out a quiet laugh to himself as he asks, “Just like old times, innit?”

Harry shuts his eyes then, offering silence in response. He’s not interested in reliving old times. No matter how many times he’s remembered those nights on his own, watching himself wank in hotel mirrors, trying to imagine the touch of Zayn’s fingers on his hips, bruising and tight as he holds Harry down, he doesn’t want to think of it now. Not when he has the real thing here with him.

He leans over, bracing his elbows on the counter when Zayn prompts him to lean forward. He holds his breath when he feels the slickness of Zayn’s finger pressing against him, winding his hips back against the intrusion.

“Who brings lube to a fucking pre-GRAMMYs party, anyway?” Harry asks, huffing out a breath when Zayn jabs his fingers in harshly as a means of response.

“Someone who knows you,” Zayn says, snarky as he adds a third finger, fucking Harry with them until his hole is looser, wet with lube. Harry feels like he has no time to really reply before Zayn’s cock is right there, pressing against him before pushing forward.

Harry bites his lip against a groan, letting his eyes slide shut as he tips his head back, hips winding until Zayn’s all the way in, the head of his cock pressed snugly against Harry’s prostate.

“Fuck,” Zayn breathes through clenched teeth, “forgot how good we used to fit.”

‘I didn’t, I could never,’ Harry doesn’t say, instead rolls his hips back against Zayn as a way to tell him to get moving. He does, fingers finding their way to Harry’s waist and pressing, making Harry whimper quietly as Zayn fucks him like they’re back on the tour bus or sharing a bed on a hotel night.

He hates how much he misses it, hates Zayn for making him miss it at all.

He feels a stab of anger pierce his gut at that; none of this is his fault, he’s not the one that left, he shouldn’t have to be the one on his knees grovelling for forgiveness.

He reaches a hand back, gripping at Zayn’s hair and tugging it, distracting himself from his angry thoughts by focusing on the feeling of Zayn’s lips at his neck, Zayn’s fingers on his hips, the drag of Zayn’s cock inside him.

“Fuck,” he gasps, eyes flying open when one of Zayn’s hands comes around to grip the base of his cock, squeezing it tight before sliding up toward the head.

“Easy as ever,” Zayn taunts him, stroking Harry off as he fucks him deep. “’S like nothing’s changed.”

‘Everything’s changed,’ Harry’s mind argues, even as he feels his cock throb in Zayn’s hand, fresh precum pooling at the slit before getting caught by Zayn’s fingers.

Harry tunes out Zayn’s voice as he continues to talk, focusing on how close he is to coming instead of the words Zayn’s saying. He doesn’t care. Really, he doesn’t.

“Haven’t got all night,” Harry groans, impatient. “Fuck, make me come.”

“Why?” Zayn asks, slowing the roll of his hips until he’s barely moving in or out, grinding his cock deep. “So you can run out of here and act like this never happened? ’S that what you want?”

Harry gives a frustrated laugh in response, batting Zayn’s hand away from his cock and stroking it himself. “Don’t need you,” Harry says, pulling himself off with quick, tight strokes around the head of his cock. He bites his tongue before his more spiteful side can add, ‘never did.’

He’s painfully close to coming by the time the shocked expression leaves Zayn’s face, instead being replaced by one of annoyance. He’d laugh if he couldn’t feel his orgasm starting in the pit of his stomach, balls drawing up tight as he feels himself rolling closer to the edge.

Zayn seems to unfreeze then, getting a hand between Harry’s shoulder blades and pressing until he bends at the waist again, narrowly stopping himself from face planting on the counter with his free hand held out in front of himself.

“Fucking—” he stops himself short when Zayn cuts him off with a hard thrust, knocking the air out of him.

“Don’t need me, huh?” Zayn asks, voice low and quiet. “I don’t need you either,” he says, fucking Harry hard, the sound of their hips meeting echoing through the empty bathroom. “But here we are.”

Harry wants to reply, say something mean back, but he can’t find the words as his orgasm finally rolls through him, tensing his body as he comes into his own hand, shooting over his fist.

Zayn gasps when he feels it, giving a few harsh thrusts before he’s coming himself, hips moving until he’s spent.

He’s pulling out of Harry in a second, saying nothing as he quickly cleans himself up, giving one last glance to his own reflection in the mirror before slipping out of the bathroom and leaving Harry there, trousers down around his ankles and Zayn’s come running down his thigh.

-/-

Niall wakes up to the sound of his phone vibrating loudly against his nightstand, screen lit up and shining brightly in the darkness of his bedroom.

He reaches for it blindly, swiping across the screen and bringing the phone to his ear without even checking to see who it is.

“'Lo?” His voice is deep and tired, eyes clenching shut as he tries to wake himself up.

“What’s your stance on fate? Or like, destiny?”

He instantly recognizes Harry’s voice, letting out a quiet sigh as he rolls onto his back. “Did he call you again?”

“Not this time,” Harry answers, drumming his fingers against his thigh, feeling antsy in his own skin. It’s been hours since he left the party, since he shakily cleaned himself up and tried to pull himself together before ducking out through the rear entrance. He’s back at his house now, lying awake in bed. The clock on his nightstand says it’s just after midnight, which means the sun is barely risen in London where Niall is.

“I saw him.” Harry says, tactfully leaving out the part where he let Zayn fuck him in the washroom. He doesn’t quite feel like that’s something Niall needs to know.

“Where?”

“GRAMMY party.”

A quiet, “Hm,” is all Niall offers in answer, letting the call stretch on in silence for a few moments. Harry doesn’t mind, he really only called cos he didn’t want to be alone.

“Does it mean anything?” Harry asks, tugging at his bottom lip. “Do you think?”

“No, Harry,” Niall sighs, his voice quiet. “Nothing’s changed. He’s still who he is and you’ll always be you. I don’t know what you’re expecting.”

“Me either,” Harry agrees, even as he feels the knot in his stomach tighten. “I really don’t. I just—”

“I know, Haz,” Niall assures him. “I know.”

-/-

The rest of the year comes and goes without incident, Harry finishes his album and gets to work on promoting, lining up interviews and guest spots and appearances and performances.

It feels good to be busy again, to get out of his own head and throw himself into his work. He’s missed that.

He’s riding in a limo, on his way to Radio 1 for an album listening party with Nick, when he feels his mobile vibrate in his pocket. He pulls it out and looks down at the screen, recognising the sender’s number even though it isn’t saved in his phone.

The text he’s received is short, but it makes his stomach flip nonetheless:

from the dining table, huh ? sounds kinda familiar

He lets out a sigh as he reads and rereads Zayn’s text, unsure whether or not he should answer. He knows he’s not going to, knows Zayn knows that, too, but he still ponders it as he looks out the window of the car, watching as London flies past in varying shades of grey.

His phone vibrates again a few minutes later, this time with an incoming call from the same number. He stares down at it, taking a deep breath before swiping his thumb across the screen to answer.

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALISON I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS BC I LOVE YOU #Zarry #zarry smut #zarry fic #zarry angst #Harry Styles #Zayn Malik #elaric #hsmuffintop #i wrote these words

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