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farleighlover · 13 days

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ITS AN AMAZING DAY TO BE ALIVE HOORAY

chapter 3 - the truce

a/n: omg i am so sorry for not uploading sooner!!! may was so chaotic with finals and everything. i sincerely apologize for taking so long to write this chapter! i dont know if anyone still cares about this series or wants to read it, but im still going to post this just in case some of you still enjoy it :)) love yall so much and again i apologize for the wait 🤍🤍

chapter warnings: slight language

wc: 4k

series masterlist

You make your way to English class hastily, the cold wind almost slicing through your skin and bones. November weather in London has always been cruel, but you can’t remember the last time it was this freezing. You look down at your shoes as you walk, trying to save your face from the harsh, burning gusts. If it’s going to be in the negative temperatures, some snow would be nice.

You eventually reach the classroom and swing open the door, shuffling inside. You sigh with dread, knowing today is the day you’re going to be assigned your partner for the essay. You’d much rather be cozied up in your dorm room with a mug of hot tea, listening to your favorite classical music pieces while reading a non-assigned book.

“Good morning,” Mrs. Chasteen greets you as you walk to your seat. “Are you quite alright?” You pause at her words and raise an eyebrow. “Yes, miss. Why do you ask?” You reply, confused. “Oh. No reason,” She waves a hand dismissively and you decide not to question it as you venture to your seat.

You sit next to Magdalena, a new accquaintance you’ve made in this class. “Is something off about me? Like, my face?” You ask her as you set your things down. “Your cheeks are just very rosy. And your nose,” She giggles and covers her mouth, her green eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh. It’s just the cold,” You sigh. This was a common occurrence for you.

“Didn’t know Rudolph was in our class,” Someone mutters as they pass by. You glance up and see Farleigh glancing back at you with a smirk. You roll your eyes and groan. “He’s funny,” Magdalena remarks.

You turn to her. “Excuse me?” It comes out harsher than you expected it to, and her eyes widen. “Sorry. I mean… he’s… annoying..?” She says it almost like a question while trying to bite back a grin, but you can see it clearly. “Just because you hate him doesn’t mean I have to,” She points a finger at you. You nod. “Fair point. Sorry, Lena.” You pat her shoulder and she smiles. “No worries.”

“Alright, is everyone settled?” Mrs. Chasteen’s voice drags your attention back to the front of the room. A few quiet agreements echo throughout the room, meaning it’s unfortunately time to start the lesson.

Towards the end of class, Mrs. Chasteen stands up to announce something.

“So, with our first term coming to an end soon, it’s time for you to begin your essays. I’m expecting university level quality, and some very thought-provoking writing. I know you all can do it, just put your minds to it, and trust yourselves. Now, just because I’m giving you a partner does not mean you can slack off. You must do your equal parts of work,” She warns, already knowing the work ethics of some of the people in this class.

“I chose each of your partners for a reason. I think I know you all well enough by now, and I believe you are going to work well with whoever I paired you with.” She explains. You glance over at Magdalena with a smile and raised eyebrows. Mrs. Chasteen likes you, you think, so perhaps she paired you with Lena, since it’s obvious you two have become close.

“Alright.” She walks to her desk and grabs a piece of paper with the pairs written down. “Fiona and Oscar,” She calls out. You hear some mutters and hums and shuffling of your classmates. “Mason and Henry,” She says.

She continues calling out names, and you think you’re going to die from the anticipation. It seems like she’s saving your name for last on purpose. She hasn’t called Lena yet, though, so perhaps there is still hope.

“Magdalena and…” She pauses and squints at the paper. You tightly cross your fingers under the desk. “Olivia.” You turn to Lena quickly. She looks at you with a confused expression and shrugs. Mrs. Chasteen hates you, probably.

Suddenly you hear your name and your attention peaks. You whip back around to face the front, watching your teacher closely. “...and Farleigh.”

You swear your heart drops to your stomach. Your eyes widen and you blink, desperately trying to wake yourself up as if this is only a bad dream. In fact, now that you think of it, you genuinely believe you’ve had a nightmare about this before. Having to work with Farleigh on a project. A project that is basically worth your entire grade this term. Magdalena gasps quietly and then giggles, nudging you. “Oh my God,” She whispers. Of course she finds this funny.

“And that’s all. The essay is due December 15th, I will give you the prompts tomorrow. You are dismissed.” You immediately shoot up from your seat, seemingly at the same time as Farleigh, speedily walking up to Mrs. Chasteen’s desk, trying to beat him there. But it’s no use, as you both arrive there at the same time.

“Miss, is there any way I could switch partners?” You quickly blurt out before he can get a chance to talk, while still trying to remain polite. She looks at you with a surprised expression.

“I can’t do this essay with him.” You glance over at Farleigh who looks offended. “I can’t do this essay with her!” He exclaims. “Alright, alright, you two. Calm down. Why don’t you both have a seat?” She nods towards the two chairs positioned in front of her desk.

You exchange glances before obeying and sitting down. She sits down in her own chair across from the two of you, adjusting her glasses and leaning forward.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I had paired you two together for a reason?” She quirks an eyebrow and you have to resist the temptation to roll your eyes.

“I have noticed that there seems to be some sort of… rivalry or.. tension between you. However, I believe you two can work together and write something beautiful, once you put your feelings aside. If you both desire to go to Oxford, this is a skill you must learn. You must be agreeable, and able to adapt to new situations and people. Even if you do not prefer their company.” Mrs. Chasteen explains matter-of-factly.

“I’m not doing this because I dislike you. I’m doing it because you are two of my favorite students.” She winks and stands up. You’ve won, but at what cost? You and Farleigh stand shortly after, following suit. “Now, I think you’d ought to get to your next classes.”

“This absolutely sucks,” He groans as you both trudge across the courtyard, as you have both done everyday since the first day of school when he offered you his umbrella. It’s like a tradition, although he’s not the preferred person you’d like to be walking with right now.

“Yeah, you think?!” You exclaim furiously, raising your voice over the wind. “Did she say we’re going to have to meet outside of class?” He asks, and you turn to glance up at him. “What? Oh my God, that’s even worse!” You slap a hand to your forehead and shake your head.

“I’m not meeting you anywhere,” You tell Farleigh. He stops in his tracks. “It’s not up to us. We have to if we want to get this done. It’s half of our-”

“Yes, I know. Half of our grade. At this point, I’d rather take the zero!” You throw your hands up as you both reach the door to the west wing. He rolls his eyes and holds the door open for you. You angrily bustle past him to escape the freezing cold air.

“Are you serious? It’s really not a big deal. We can get along for the sake of an essay.” The door closes behind you two, leaving both of you alone in the long hallway. You turn around to face him.

“Fine. But we both get equal input for the essay. I know how you are when it comes to group projects,” You narrow your eyes at him and fold your arms, remembering that chaotic astronomy project you had to work on with Farleigh and some other irrelevant people during your tenth year. He was a total control freak and didn’t let you do anything, because he feared you would ‘mess it up.’

“Okay, okay. Deal.” He nods and holds out his hand like it’s some kind of business agreement. Or maybe more like a truce. For now. You reluctantly take his hand and shake it gently. You can’t help but notice how small your hand is compared to his own.

“See you later.” You spin on your heel and head up the stairs quickly to get to biology. Hopefully this whole ordeal doesn’t cause you to be late.

The next day in class, Mrs. Chasteen assigns each group their prompt. Unfortunately, you now have to sit next to Farleigh. You’ll certainly miss Magdalena’s peaceful company and her ability to not make snarky comments every five seconds.

“Right, so our prompt is…” You drag the slip of paper closer to you to read the words printed. “Discuss revenge in the novel. In what ways is it connected to love? What is the nature of love in the novel, that it can be so closely connected to vengeance?” You read aloud.

“Easy.” Farleigh sighs and leans back in his chair nonchalantly. “Well, then perhaps you would like to enlighten me with some of your ideas?” You turn to him expectantly. “Are you doubting my knowledge?” He asks, clutching a hand to his chest as if to appear offended. “No. Just curious.” You shrug and smile mischeviously, but you know exactly what you’re doing.

“Heathcliff’s unrequited love for Catherine drives his desire for revenge. Their love is self-destructive and all-consuming which leads to Heathcliff’s strong emotions and actions.” He replies. You sit there in silence for a moment, realizing he actually knew what was going on in the novel. You had assumed he had just skimmed through it and Googled a summary.

“Exactly what I was thinking,” You mutter, nodding slowly in agreement. “Great. Sounds like we won’t have any trouble with this essay,” He smiles and pats you on the shoulder firmly. You almost instantly recoil, shifting in your chair and glaring at him. What is it with him and touching you?

“So, when should we meet up to work on it?” You ask. “How about tonight at seven? The library?” Farleigh suggests. “I won’t steal your spot this time,” He says teasingly. “Shut up.” You snap.

“Why did you care so much about that anyway?” He questions. “I’m just…” You trail off, your face reddening. “Superstitious?” He raises his eyebrows and you sigh. “I guess you could say that.” You shrug and look back down at the table.

“Should we get each other’s numbers?” He suddenly asks. Your eyes dart up to his. “What?” You can already feel your face getting hot again, and you don’t even know why. The idea of Farleigh having your number is… frightening. But why are you blushing at the thought of it? And why does he want your number? Could he possibly…

“For the project.” Your expression probably gave too much away, so he had to clarify. “Oh. Right. Yeah, definitely.” You nod a bit aggressively as he fishes his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and handing it to you. Your hands tremble as you take his phone and type in your number. You hand it back to him and pray he didn’t notice your strange behavior. “Thanks,” He mutters.

“You know that Clara girl?” He says. “Yeah, what about her?” Your curiosity peaks as you glance over at him. “She’s been talking to me a lot. Like, she’s barely spoken a sentence to me in the past five years we’ve been at this school. And now she won’t leave me alone,” He says it with that tinge of pride in his voice.

“Okay?” You gesture vaguely. “Well, your friends with her, right?” He lowers his voice and checks around him to make sure no one is eavesdropping. “Yeah…?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Does she ever… you know, talk about me?” He asks. You almost laugh but you stop yourself. “No, she doesn’t.” You bite back a feisty remark. “You are seriously no help whatsoever.” He shakes his head and pinches the space between his eyes.

“Just because a girl starts talking to you more than she usually does, does not mean she likes you.” You tell him, only realizing how untrue that sentence is after you’ve said it. “You just have a huge ego,” You recover quickly after your moment of silence.

“I do not. If anyone does it’s you.” He replies a little too quickly. It goes quiet all of a sudden and you awkwardly look away and out the window. He clears his throat. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” You quietly respond. Sooner or later class is over and you’re free from that awkward moment.

Later that night you arrive at the library, a few minutes after seven. You walk in and head over to where Farleigh is sitting, conveniently next to your usual spot. You smile at the thought of him remembering where it was and remembering not to take it.

But then you notice there’s someone standing at the side of the table, leaning against the table with their long legs crossed, twirling their lengthy blonde hair. Clara.

You awkwardly walk over and stand there next to Clara, waiting for her to turn and notice you.

“You’re funny,” She giggles right as Farleigh glances up and sees you. She turns, following his line of eyesight and eventually meeting your gaze. “Oh, hello!” She grins brightly. Why is she always so… sociable?

“Hi, Clara.” You step aside, going around her to your side of the table and sitting down. She seems confused. “Oh, are you two-”

“We’re just meeting up for a project,” Farleigh explains. “Oh. The essay for English, right?” To your surprise, she sits on the table, perfectly comfortable. Is Farleigh blushing?

“Yep,” You nod with a sigh, hoping that she’ll take the hint. “That book was honestly so boring. I couldn’t even tell you what it’s actually about.” She laughs like it’s funny. And the worst part is, Farleigh is chuckling along with her.

“We should probably get to work…” You mutter. You make eye contact with Clara and something in her gaze is threatening. But then, the switch flips and she nods, sliding off the table. “Alright. I’ll leave you to it! Have a good night, you two.” She smiles and walks away, and you swear she purposely walks with a swing in her hips.

Farleigh is just staring after her like an idiot. You nudge him harshly. “Farleigh,” You hiss. He startles out of his trance and turns to you. “Ow. What?!” He rubs his arm sarcastically and you roll your eyes.

“See, I think she likes me. You were lying to me.” He whispers. “I didn’t lie to you. I just–” You cut yourself off before you say something embarrassing.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get started on this,” He says, and you both reach down into your bags for your laptops and book copies.

“I’ve never written an essay with someone before.” You mutter. You’re curious as to how this will work; perhaps you both take turns writing paragraphs, or take turns revising and editing. “I can do the introduction. I’m pretty good at those,” Farleigh offers.

“I mean… you could, I guess.” You don’t sound so certain. Introduction paragraphs are your specialty, and if he writes it, you know it wouldn’t be as good as yours. He looks at you with confusion. “What do you mean ‘I guess’?” His thick eyebrows furrow.

“Nothing, it’s only that… well, I’d rather write the introduction.” You explain sheepishly. “What, you think I can’t do it?” He questions. He crosses his arms defensively.

“I never said that. I just think that you should let me do it.” You reply. You can already feel yourself becoming annoyed by him. “Why should I?” He shoots back. “Because– Because..” You can’t think of a good reason. Shit.

“Because?”

Silence.

“Let’s write it together, then.” Ah, yes. A compromise. Something you hate. Of course he would be the one to suggest that.

“Fine.” You huff and fall back into your chair. “We’ll just write it on mine, it will be easier that way.” He moves his laptop in front of him and begins to type. You sit up quickly and squint to see what he’s typing.

Seems good so far. Until–

“Wait. Maybe we should use a different word right there,” You suggest, but it’s not really a suggestion at all. More like an order.

“What’s wrong with intense?” He asks combatively, not bothering to look at you. “I think impassioned would be better. Or passionate, even.” You reply. He lets out a sigh full of exasperation. “You’re so stubborn,” He mutters while shaking his head.

“And you’re such a dick,” Your voice raises a bit too high, gaining a few turned heads and curious glances. “Jesus, okay. I’ll change it.” He whispers, replacing the word with your recommendation.

Your next hour spent in the library consists of hushed arguments and whisper-yelling over who should write what and who comes up with the better phrasing. You knew this couldn’t possibly work out. You’re both too stubborn and aggressive to work together.

You haul your backpack onto your shoulders and push in your chair a bit violently. Farleigh really pissed you off tonight.

“Goodnight…” He watches you with wide eyes. “Night,” You respond shortly as you hurriedly walk to the front doors.

Later that night, you’re sitting at your desk listening to music while doing some homework for your history class. Your phone dings with a notification.

You curiously flip over your phone, peering down at the screen. Unknown number.

“Hey, it’s Farleigh. Should we meet tomorrow evening, same time at my dorm?”

Oh. He hasn’t texted you since you gave him your number, so you haven’t had the chance to save his number. But why at his dorm?

You unlock your phone and begin typing out a response.

“Okay.”

No, too harsh. You hit the backspace button a few times and try again.

“Sure!”

Too energetic. You groan and delete the word once again. Why are you overthinking this so much? It’s just Farleigh.

“Sounds good.” You settle on that and press the send button. Maybe he doesn’t want to meet at the library anymore because of all the strange looks you both received last time.

You check the time on your phone lockscreen. Seven PM sharp. You take a deep breath and knock on Farleigh’s door, preparing yourself for some more bickering.

The door opens with a slight creaking sound. “Hey,” Farleigh says quietly. The awkwardness sets in and it takes you a moment to come up with a response.

“Hi.” You stand there, waiting for him to step aside to let you in. He stares down at you for a few seconds, but for some reason, it feels like a whole minute.

He opens the door further and makes room for you to enter. You take a few small steps inside and he closes the door behind you. You glance around, taking all the details in. All the dorms here have the same layout, but everyone is free to personalize and decorate however they would like to, within reason.

You would expect the asshole to be sporting a bunch of medals and trophies, but it’s quite the opposite. There’s a few movie posters and postcards (you’re assuming from America) hung neatly on the walls, a small bookshelf with various novels and notebooks, a work desk similar to your own with sheets of paper splayed out and pens scattered about in typical Farleigh fashion, a closet, and a nice potted plant on the windowsill.

“Not bad,” You comment with a teasing smile. “What did you expect?” He laughs softly and rests his hands in his pockets, watching you survey the room. “I thought it would be more messy,” You grin.

“It usually is,” He replies, and then his smile quickly fades as if he just registered what he said. “So you cleaned up just for me? Awww.” You press a hand to your chest and pout your lips in mock flattery. He stutters. “No, I..” Is he getting nervous right now?

You clear your throat. “Anyways. Let’s get to work.” You clap your hands twice for dramatic effect, sitting down on the floor with your legs criss-crossed. Farleigh grabs his laptop and joins you, placing it in between you.

“Sorry about yesterday.” He murmurs so softly you can barely hear it. “Hm?” You decide to be cheeky. If he’s going to apologize, you want to hear it louder than that. “I said sorry. About yesterday. I was being… annoying.” He says it a bit louder this time.

“Annoying is one word for it,” You bite your lip shortly afterwards. You shouldn’t have said that. If you want to get this essay done, you’re going to have to try to get along with him. “I forgive you.” For you, those three words are the hardest words to say. You let out a breath.

“You were being an asshole too, though.” He tilts his head and raises his eyebrows at you. “I- Yeah. I was. Sorry.” Your face reddens and you rub the back of your neck. Why is it suddenly so warm in this room?

“I really think we can do this.” Farleigh’s gaze burns into yours and it’s so hard not to look away. His usual cold and dark stare is replaced by something warmer, kinder. “Me too,” You agree, but your voice comes out sounding a bit odd. You cough slightly. “Sorry.”

“I’ve written down some ideas for the format. Like, what we should write about in each paragraph.” He explains, standing up to grab a notebook from his desk. Wow. Maybe he’s actually going to be useful.

This evening was far more productive than the one before. You two managed to get most of the second paragraph done. And against all odds, there was only one small argument. You were even able to laugh together. There’s still some tension floating around the room, and you’re not sure why it’s there. Not even the usual tension between you two, more like…

Farleigh stands up. “I’d say that was pretty productive.” He stretches and yawns before offering you his hand. You freeze and just stare at it until you realize he’s just trying to help you up. God, why do you keep assuming the wrong things? You reach up for his hand and he pulls you up with a little too much strength, causing you to kind of fall into him. He steadies you with his hands on your waist before quickly removing them as if he’s just touched a hot stove.

“Sorry,” You both blurt out. “It’s okay.” You say casually, although you’re trying to pretend your legs don’t feel like jelly right now.

“So… I guess I’ll see you Monday, then. Unless you want to work on this over the weekend.” He says. You shake your head. “I think since we started early, we’re already pretty far ahead. Let’s just plan for Monday.” He nods at your words and you smile.

“Goodnight, Farleigh,” You head for the door and you can see a slight hesitation in his eyes, like he wants to say something more. But he doesn’t. “Goodnight.”

And with that, you’re headed back to your own dorm, already feeling the effects of exhaustion setting in.

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farleighlover · 14 days

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LOOORDDD I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR THIS FIC

Haunted

“my wicked tongue, where will it be, i know if i’m onto you, you must be onto me.”

or the one where it’s halloween at saltburn and you and farleigh ditch the party downstairs to celebrate with a little weed in your bedroom.

what’s playing 🎧: haunted by beyoncé

pairing : farleigh start x fem!reader (afab bodied)

*UNEDITED*

word count : 6k

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, virgin!reader, bi coded! reader, heavy petting, grinding and dry humping, oral f!receiving, mentions of fingering, mentions of blowjobs, little bit of tip sucking oops, handjobs, light hair pulling, boob worship, sub coded farleigh for two seconds, smidge of overstimulation

TRIGGER WARNINGS : both reader and farleigh are high when they engage in the sexual activity but it’s all consensual they’re both equally high, ummmmmmmm hints of slut shaming in the beginning by farleigh but it’s not fr fr bc his ass is mother slut let’s be honest

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY FROM ME TO YOU :3!

a/n : comments rlly motivate me so if you enjoyed this plz lmk down in the comments <3

venetia and felix are nowhere to be found amidst the neon mess of bodies that inhabit every orifice of what was once an almost eerily quiet and empty corridor just this morning. leaving you to be doomed to a fate of enduring a poorly put together semblance of…you think frankenstein, having a one sided conversation with you. “can i get you another drink?” he asks over the booming music and for the first time in the entire interaction you smile a genuinely smile, and nod with urgency. “god yes—please,” you respond eagerly, handing him back your cup. he takes it with an undeserving great sense of pride, and you exhale with relief once he disappears from your line of vision, hoping he loses you in the crowd.

“interesting costume choice,” a familiar, annoying, voice comments behind you. without even turning around yet, you find yourself rolling your eyes. you give him a once over and scoff. his fangs protrude from his smile, and you wish it looked cartoonish and stupid, but alas, he unfortunately looks good. really good. but over your dead body you’d ever admit that.

fake blood is dribbled from the corners of his mouth and two neat dots rest near his pulse on the side of his neck. a brow rises and crinkles your forehead, aiding in the faux judgment you cast upon him. “rich coming from the guy who’s wearing the most generic costume known to man.” you retort back, subconsciously withholding a level of snideness. you like the build of veiled insults you two toss back and forth, it’s never fun if you start off too strong. you enjoy the way you both ease into it. it’s a flow you’ve both unknowingly created for each other.

his head shifts to the side when he rolls his eyes and exhales under his breath, and your heart falters just a little lower within your ribcage when you see a bright red kiss stain on his jaw.

“it’s in reference to bram stoker’s dracula, a classic piece of literature, but you?” his eyes flicker over you, a little upward curve growing in the corner of his mouth. “i thought you’d be better than defaulting to a sexy version of marie antoinette.” he folds his arms over his chest, peering down at you, unbeknownst to the excitement that bubbles in the depths of his chest as he awaits whatever response you’re brewing in your head to bite back with.

heat plants itself like a seed in the pit of your stomach and extends its branches through your chest and across your cheeks at his observation. but a hefty cloud of pride quickly replaces it when his words ring through your head again.

he thinks i look sexy?

“i’m not a sexy marie antoinette. i’m just. Her.” you reply with a sense of smugness, seemingly stealing his, when a look of oh fuck flashes across his face. he’s quick to rid himself of it but you caught it, and you’ll be damned if you let go of the one time farleigh let himself waver in front of you.

“i meant slutty.” he replies cooly, uncaring, and you nod, a stupid grin on your face that he wishes he could wipe off. “you called me sexy.” your grin only grows and he’s already rolling

his eyes once more. “i know no one compliments you like you wish they would, so anything that remotely sounds like one is enough for you to latch onto, but i promise,” he steps forward and leans his neck downward towards you, not bothering to bend down to meet your height. “i meant slutty.”

a rush of something you don’t want to distinguish floods the shoreline of your lower stomach and trickles heat between your inner thighs at the way he speaks to you, but you hide it, barely allowing yourself to even acknowledge it. “the biggest slut i know calling someone else slutty, that’s funny,” you internally groan, knowing your reply wasn’t as witty as you’d intended.

before farleigh can verbally retaliate, your name is called out and you recognize who it belongs to, your dreaded frankenstein. you panic for a moment, dreading being back in conversation with him and you glance up at farleigh, hurriedly switching your bodies around, successfully shielding yourself with his stature.

he’s confused for a moment before realizing what you’re using him for. he laughs and you smack his back, hushing him. while you hide behind him you take the fleeting moments you have to outline his broad shoulders with your eyes, and how they trail into a slim little waist. his perfectly tailored suit hugs him just right, and it makes your throat get a little tight. you never took the time to notice farleigh’s physique, rather opting to semi-playfully belittle him. you find hints of regret in that.

he turns back around to face you and you snap back into the present, not the paused moment in which saltburn was empty and all that occupied it was you and farleigh and his broad back and small waist. “coast is clear.” he says, switching his weight onto one foot. “frankenstein? really?” he seems unimpressed, almost… irritated? you’re unsure.

you grumble and smooth down the invisible

wrinkles in your corset. “don’t start.” but he does anyway.

“didn’t know that was your type.”

“what?”

“somewhat stupid looking, bumbling.”

“what’s it matter to you?” you ask, wondering how far he’ll go with his dissertation on why the guy he has zero knowledge on is an idiot. “it doesn’t. it’s just getting a bit sad seeing that the only people who are interested in you are so…lacking.”

you suck on your teeth and nod, shrugging before you reply. “least i’m not fucking my teachers.” he heartily laughs, sticking his tongue in the bottom corner of his lip. “and yet, they all still trump your sorry excuses of flings.”

you open your mouth to correct him but you shut yourself up before you embarrass yourself. instead you just shake your head dismissively. you perk up when you remember a little secret pick me up you’ve been hiding. you reach into your cleavage, unaware of the way the sight stirs something inside of farleigh. you pull out the joint you tucked away for safe keeping, waving it with an offering smile. “wanna share?” you ask and he chuckles in shock at the proposition. “weed? you’re a pothead now?” you sigh annoyedly and glare up at him. “you wanna share or not? quick before i change my mind.” he smirks and nods, eyeing the joint then you. “i’ll oblige.”

he follows you to your room, holding your waist to wade through the pool of people, with you flush against him. you ignore the way his hands mold around your waist, his long fingers curled across your dress, and you especially ignore how you feel his rings through the thin material of your dress.

you don’t care.

you lean against the open window of your bedroom with the joint, not wanting to taint the air with the stench, knowing elspeth’s keen nose would immediately clock it the moment she walks into your room.

farleigh coughs a lot more than you would’ve expected him to and it makes you beam with a feeling of superiority. “you smoke like half a pack of cigarettes every day, how on earth is this making you cough so hard?” you snicker, handing him a water bottle you keep by your bed.

he glares at you, taking a hefty swig from your bottle, setting it down before extending his hand back out for the joint, determined to prove a point. “forgive me for not being used to smoking weed, unlike you, you addict,” he mutters through an exhale of smoke. you actually guffaw at his snippy little reply, for once in shock of something he has to say. “me? an addict? weed is probably the most harmless drug like—ever, whereas you, keep a keychain of literal cocaine on you almost at all times.”

he hates that he happens to have exactly what you just said on his person in this very moment. he tucks it away into his pocket and huffs. “i just do it socially, you’re probably up here all the time smoking alone like a loser by the window,” he has an infuriating self satisfied smirk when he speaks to you and you laugh sardonically, nodding along.

“well,” you say, taking in a hit, and letting it gently fan over his face when you exhale. “no one’s forcing you to engage in something apparently so below you,” you motion towards the door with a lazy jab of your head. “doors that way if you’re not enjoying yourself.”

he remains unfaltered in your cloud of smoke, letting it envelope him. he breathes it in, leaning against the windowsill. “do you want me to leave?”

“i always do.” you don’t miss a beat, a look that tells him you don’t really mean it is thinly covered with a fake smile, eliciting a chuckle through pursed lips from him. “i don’t believe you.” he murmurs when he inches back toward you, plucking the joint from your fingers. he takes another hit, it’s smoother, he’s more in control of it, and something flutters inside you seeing the way he closes his eyes as he exhales the smoke out the window.

“you’re insufferable,” you say hushedly, gently, and he chuckles quietly, handing you the joint. “and yet you keep me around anyway.”

“not by choice.”

—

as the night rages on, the joint you both share dwindles down into a dull roach, and you crush the bud into your porcelain ashtray, tucking it away and beneath your nightstand.

your legs feel a little wobbly, your body has significantly loosened up and your center of gravity feels a bit off, but you feel good, and it seems farleigh feels the same. his eyes are low and hooded, they look a little red — it’s cute, kind of endearing too but you keep that to yourself like a bashful secret. his face and overall demeanor seems to be relaxed as well, a lot more loosened up than he was just an hour prior.

you smile at him, and there’s nothing hidden under the action, there’s no cover up for anything. you’re just happy to be with him in a moment like this. and he returns it to you, full sentiment and all, filling you with a sense of contentment. “feel nice?” you ask breathily, collapsing onto your bed. he joins you, plopping down beside you when he replies. “mmhm. i like it,” he says, and his voice sounds a bit rougher from the smoke, his words laying on the edge of a rasp.

you shuffle around to lay on your side, your palm supporting the weight of your head, settling into a comfortable position. he copies your actions, switching around on his side to properly face you. he looks beautiful with the way the moon creeps in through your parted window, the pale light complements the highlights in his curls and makes them look golden; he looks golden. but when your eyes fall on the red kiss on his jaw, everything turns back to copper.

“who gave you this?” you question him quietly, sadly. like it physically hurts you to ask him. your fingers hover just above the lipstick stain, unable to get yourself to touch it. in your induced state you’ve convinced yourself that if you were to ever touch farleigh’s face, it won’t be in the spot someone else tarnished with their own touch first.

“why?” he answers your question with another question and you huff under your breath, your filter too worn out from the weed to hide your frustration behind a poker face. “why can’t i ask?” you push a little further and he snickers lazily. “why do you wanna know?” he counters and you roll your heavy eyes, letting yourself fall onto your back once more.

he scoots closer to you, angling his neck to look downward at you, and he pouts with faux concern. “you jealous?” he asks, perking up and leaning towards you with a beaming smirk. you scoff, swallowing the lump in your throat as you turn to look away. the proximity of your faces is too much to bear, but not for him, his index and thumb guide you right back by your chin to face him. he keeps your gaze on him in place, his wide palm cupping your cheek. your skin tingles under the coldness from his rings.

“tell me which one it is,” he says through a hushed exhale, leaning on his elbow, his eyes still angled down at you, his lips in an unintentional pout. “are you jealous of me, because why wouldn’t you be,” he hums on an airy note, drawn out and easy. his gaze flickers down to your lips and back up to your eyes. “or of whoever left it?” your mouth goes even dryer than you thought it could, and you’re unsure of what to say, what to think, and between the lack of space between both of your lips and the questions he’s asking, you’re left frazzled. scrambling for something, anything to say.

you’re not sure how to reply, you’re shocked he even asked that to begin with, and now it’s your turn to visibly falter in front of him. he looks at you expectantly, and a little part of him feels he’s won some mini challenge in your ongoing battle to embarrass the other. but there’s a different type of smugness in his small victory, perhaps a confirmation on something he’d been wondering about for awhile.

“i’m not jealous of either of you,” your voice falls upon a faint breath and his brows push together, nodding patronizingly. “oh i’m sure.” he pushes a little harder on your buttons, waiting for when you finally do something about it.

“why would i be jealous of someone who gets with just anybody?” you add, sitting up on your elbows, unintentionally leaning in closer, engaging him in the push and pull. he follows your flow in motion, inching in closer, just a little, keeping the space between you both minimal. he laughs softly from the center of his belly, flicking a brow up. “versus what? someone who doesn’t get with anyone? sounds boring.” he adds, tilting his head, your noses brushing against each other’s. “boring is better than whatever you bring back home at night.” his chuckle falls across your lips at your response, and you find yourself parting your lips to breathe him in.

“are you admitting to having a non-existent sex life? i’d say i’m shocked but i’m not,” he replies, his voice at the end of a whisper, a hazy, knowing smile rising in the corner of his lips. you take in a deep breath, smoothing out the duvet beneath your palms as you reply without a second thought to what you’re confessing to. “i’d rather get none than contract every std ever by fucking everyone who roams the halls at oxford,”

farleigh laughs initially, taking your playful jab before he pauses and looks at you a bit more seriously. a little too serious for your liking. it makes you burn up and inwardly panic. did you say something wrong? go too far?

“but you’ve had sex before…right?” he asks to clarify, sitting up a little straighter now. the burning sensation in your cheeks only heightens now. “um,” you’re once again left wondering how to reply but your pause acts as his answer alone. he sits all the way up now and you groan when you begin to hear the gears in his head shifting.

he says your name like he’s awestruck and you grab a pillow, pretending to suffocate yourself with it. he tosses it off of you and pulls you up to look at him. “you’ve really never…done it?” he asks again, unbelieving to this revelation. normally he’d find this to be a pot of gold chock full of new material to use against you but right now he’s in too much disbelief to act on any of this.

“no,” you huff, avoiding his stare. “why not?” he asks, lowering his voice in a softer tone this time. “dunno,” you shrug. “no one really caught my eye enough for me to wanna do it, and then you know college rolled around and i was just too busy for it.”

he half scoffs half laughs but it all stems from shock. “it’s impossible to be too busy for sex,” he opposes and you laugh dryly. “yeah for you, but i actually care about my grades,” he shakes his head, shooing any topic of academics away. “yeah yeah whatever,” he waves you off, as if he’s clearing the air for his next round of questions. “you’ve at least kissed someone right—“ you’re shutting him up with a pillow thrown against his chest and he laughs, pushing it out of the way. ”of course i have farleigh, don’t be stupid,” you laugh, embarrassment still blooming in the depths of your chest.

“i had to check!” he says defensively and your embarrassment grows when you realize he really was genuinely asking, meaning it’s believable that no one’s ever kissed you.

god.

you bury your face in the pillow that acted as your weapon just seconds ago, unable to face him.

his laughter rings pleasantly in your ears, his hands prying you away from the pillow, wanting to see you. “have you done…anything at all?” he asks, like it’s sensitive information he’s pulling from you, he’s gentler when he questions you, easing you into the topic. you nod, biting on your thumbnail as you recollect your sparse experiences.

“tell me about them,” he says, leaning back on both elbows, still turned to face you. you rest on your stomach, your forearms supporting your weight, situating yourself to share your run ins with fleeting intimacy. “well, it was freshman year back at oxford, some guy i think his name was theo—“

“theo wright?”

“uh yeah i think so—“

“well there’s your first mistake.” he says matter of factly, his words dying down towards the end when he sees your irritated expression.

“can i finish please?” you glare and he laughs, nodding. “is what you probably asked him right?” you stifle the laugh that almost slips out, opting to narrow your eyes at him annoyedly instead. “shush.” you huff.

“anyways, i dunno i think it was at some dumb welcoming freshman’s party and we went upstairs and we kissed in some guy’s bed and he rubbed my inner thigh for like 5 minutes, completely under the impression he was touching my clit.” you can barely make it through the description of your time with theo without farleigh doubling over and laughing, nudging your arm with his head.

“oh my god that’s good,” he exhales at the end of his laughter, pretending to wipe a tear from the corners of his eyes. “you poor thing,” he sighs, patting your cheek. “and did you say anything? like…correct him maybe?” and you shake your head dejectedly. “no. i had to pretend to cum so he would stop.” you admit, the regret from that night pinging through you.

farleigh coos at you apologetically, “poor baby,” he hums, patting your cheek, his ringed pinky casting away an imaginary strand of hair, finding any excuse there is to be near you, to touch you. you melt under his touch, fighting the urge to lean into it. “that’s the closest thing you’ve had to a hook up?” he asks, fully focused on you, making you a bit nervous from all his attention being directed at you. there’s no audience to perform your shared act for, it’s just you and him, and you think you like this change of pace.

you shake your head, laying back against the headboard, resting your legs across farleigh’s, to which he welcomes without hesitation, throwing an arm over them casually.

“i had one more. it was with noa…” you trail off, a bit shyer expressing this particular experience. farleigh however is nowhere near shy, the word is nowhere near his vocabulary, instead his interest has been piqued and it’s visible in the way his ears just about perk. “wait, girl noa or boy noah—uh keaton or deacon?”

you’re silent for a moment, letting the muffled thrum of music fill the air before you speak again. “keaton.”

he laughs, shocked but impressed, his tongue poking the hollow curve of his cheek as he nods. “noa keaton, interesting...” he repeats back, mostly to himself, somewhat in awe.

“don’t be weird about it,” you groan and he shakes his head, rubbing your calf comfortingly. “no no i’m not i just wasn’t expecting that. good for you though,” he winks at you and you’re rolling your eyes.

“yeah. anyways she um…she fingered me in the library,” a fluttery feeling lines your stomach at the memory and farleigh catches onto your pauses, noticing a more positive physical reaction when you mention her. “yeah? was it good?” he asks lowly, his voice huskier than it was a moment ago and you nod, leaning your head against the cold wooden headboard. “it was—thankfully; she actually knew what to do, you know?” he nods, chuckling. “makes sense. did you get to finish that time?” he asks as if he’s actually concerned, and the way his hand keeps running up and down your legs makes you feel as if he just might be.

you’re not used to discussing such topics with farleigh, it’s unfamiliar and his bluntness and shamelessness in being open with how curious he is as to whether or not someone has made you cum is catching you off guard, but most concerningly, it’s making you ache. “no,” you finally answer, sighing sadly. “almost did. but we also almost got caught and then you know, she dropped out. haven’t heard from her since.”

you expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t. he takes a moment of silence and it acts as yet another surprise tonight; farleigh is capable of being quiet.

“so you haven’t had any experiences worth writing home about then, huh?” he verges on a whisper, his voice cradling the sides of your face, guiding your eyes back to his. you nod and he hums in tune to something similar of patronizing. “let alone any real ones,” he adds, his thumb swirling over your knee. you shrug lightly, anxiously fiddling with the ruffles at the skirt of your dress.

“do you want one?” he asks, his eyes keeping you still in place and you gasp silently, swallowing thickly. “want what?” you manage to reply, your nerves blanketing over you. “a good experience.”

you stare at him for a second, unsure if he’s really just said what he said, but in the case that he did, you nod like you’ve been entranced by a siren song. with the way that farleigh speaks to you while maintaining eye contact, the way his hand tempts you alone with a few gentle touches upon your leg, you might as well have been.

he smiles at your agreement, sliding his hand down to your ankle and tugging you towards him. you gasp, yelping with low volume as you slide down your bed. he pulls you in close, climbing further into your bed until he’s on top of you.

his hooded eyes peer down at you, drinking you all in, so beautiful and pliable beneath him. he brings his thumb to your bottom lip, running along it and smearing your lipstick across your chin. he dips between your lips, smirking to himself when you kiss the pad of it.

he pulls away leaning downward until his nose nudges yours. “tell me i can kiss you,” he tells you, his words fanning out against your lips, and you nearly moan from the proximity itself. “i want you to kiss me.” you whisper back and you sweat you see a smile on his lips before they’re on yours.

you moan with relief, embarrassingly desperate to have farleigh on you. you’re chest to chest, lips interlocked with his cock pressed up against your clothed crotch, grinding lightly. he groans in your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip as if it were secreting nectar. he’s starved from the weed consumption, and all those months of this incessant back and forth you two shared is all coming back full force, and you can feel it in how hard he kisses you and the hunger that lies underneath it all.

his hand travels from the back of your knee, gliding over your leg and up your thigh, squeezing your hip when his hand finds purchase there. he ruts into you in waves, breaking apart from your lips, much to your dismay, to kiss and nip at your neck, rinsing you of the disappointment from the momentary lack of closeness.

“farleigh,” you breath out, your knees locking him in on either side of his hips, pushing up to meet his grinding motions. “what baby?” he mumbles, raspy and heavy and it makes your clit throb. “feels s’good,” you sigh lazily, arching your back into his chest. he chuckles, his ego rising with every little moan you give him.

“better than what theo did?” he asks, pushing his bulge right up against your clit, and you whimper, nodding stupidly. his signet ring tickles you through your thin panty hose when he inches closer between your thighs. your breath stops in the middle of your throat as he nears your cunt. “can i touch?” he whispers, his lips brushing against yours. you moan under your breath, nodding. “please?” you beg, heavy eyes of yours gazing at him from beneath your eyelashes, lips pouted desperately.

he doesn’t make you ask again, he’ll save that for another endeavor he hopes you two will indulge in again. for now he’ll give you what you want without making you work for it. at least, too hard.

he rubs you through your panty hose, sucking in a sharp breath. “fuckin’ soaked through baby,” he groans, kissing you hard.

the wind in your lungs has abandoned you, the air in the room playing cat and mouse with you amid your struggle to keep up. farleigh’s touches making the feat all the more increasingly difficult. he sends you one last kiss on your lips, sponging one to your chin, then down your chest, nipping at the swell of your breasts.

“can i take this off?” he murmurs, his chin just beneath your sternum, fingers toying with the laces of your corset. you rest on your elbows, looking down at him, the way he peers up at you alone could convince you to commit the most heinous crimes. you nod, reaching down to untie them, but he’s quick to stop you. “let me do it,” he says, grasping your wrists. you swallow thickly, glancing at how his large hand easily holds both your wrists with ease.

he takes his time unlacing your corset, wanting to savor this juncture in time. he’s slower than you thought he’d be, treating you like a ribbon wrapped present, if he’s too rough it may all fall apart and honestly you just might if he doesn’t move any faster.

“farleigh,” you whine, sitting back up. “hurry up or it stays on,” you nearly growl and he laughs, tugging everything undone with a harsh tug, opening your corset and baring your breasts. you gasp, instinctively covering yourself. he shakes his head, tsking you when he pulls your arms away. “thought you wanted me to hurry up?” he bites back just a little, playfully, and you glare at him. he doesn’t care, he’s already lowering himself back between your thighs, holding you by your calves to spread you open.

he grips your calf, the other squeezing your thigh, using them to keep you wide open for him. his hands are warm and firm around your flesh, and his tongue is wet and hot against your clothed cunt.

the small act alone propels you into hedonism, reminding you of how good pleasure can be, how all consuming it is, and in this moment it feels as though farleigh is the only one who can provide any relief for the burning engine grinding in the pit of your stomach, aching to be satiated.

“farleigh,” you whine, throwing your head back when he mouths at your cunt, his tongue burns through your thin layers but it’s not enough, you want his tongue to brand itself right up against your clit.

your desires and needs are caught through your drawn out breaths, tugging at the air in jagged gasps. he reads through all your little sounds, and without any coherent words needed, he digs a nail into your pale pantyhose, ripping them in the crotch and pushing your panties to the side, burying his tongue right where you need it to be, searing your soaked flesh with every broad flick of the wet muscle.

you gasp almost like it hurts, but it’s quite the opposite. he laps you up and devours your cunt like he’s trying to reach your heart, grappling around your legs and gripping your hips to keep you in place, starved for something sweet. his eyes that have held you inside silent conversations amidst a gathering of people are now shut, tucked away behind his eyelids and long lashes, too focused on the way you taste and how he can’t seem to get enough of you.

he’s never been this hungry before, and maybe it’s the weed or maybe it’s the simple fact he’s fantasized about this more often than he’d like to admit. on more than just a singular off handed occasion, his hand has slipped beneath his boxers, jaw clenched, eyebrows drawn together and teeth gritted, almost begrudgingly to the act itself.

but he always gives in.

the fantasy is always the same, it’s prompted by whatever stupid argument you two found yourselves in, and he shuts you up with his mouth latched onto your cunt, erasing any quips or snarkiness left in you and replacing them with the sounds of you struggling to barely even moan his name. and now that it’s real, he can’t just stop now, he wants to prolong this moment for as long as he can.

his nose swipes across your clit, pulling a drawn out moan from the depths of your chest, and you shudder, trying to find something to hold onto for security, but farleigh’s a step ahead of you, eagerly offering his hands for you to take. you do so, desperately, lacing your fingers together and whimpering when he takes in a dull quick breath before pouring himself into your cunt, flicking his tongue right there, and moaning to himself at the way you just melt into him.

you roll your hips into his mouth sporadically, with no real rhythm, your body reacting with violent jerks as if his tongue were electric, and he takes it all in stride, squeezing your hands lovingly.

and when he sucks on your clit, it’s too much, you can’t take it, it pulls you into a state of thick molasses, gleaming and aureate, only to settle into the center of your stomach, pushing inward and arching you forward into pure ember, sizzling through you until it reaches your fingertips.

you can hardly hear or feel yourself breathe, everything’s buzzing and muffled, honey coats your skin and encases you in its sweetness.

you can’t help the twitching in your hips and lower stomach, whimpering in pleasured agony when you come back to earth and feel farleigh’s mouth still on you, moaning to himself and toying with your clit between his lips.

you’re untangling your fingers, and he grunts when you try to squirm away from his mouth, but he’s not having it, gently smacking your hipbone, silently chastising you.

you whine, taking in hefty gasps, it’s starting to hurt but in a way you can’t say is bad. it’s just so overwhelming, it makes you burn from the inside out and you can’t stop the thin stream of tears that escape from your heavy eyes. your bare breasts heave in the thick air, your mouth is parted with a choppy flow of pleadings with farleigh.

he slowly relents, planting one last firm kiss against your clit, peppering smaller ones across your hips and lower tummy, making his way back up to you. “hi,” he smiles as if he wasn’t just tongue deep inside your cunt. he swipes away the streaks of mascara tinted tears from your eyes, laughing breathily at the sight of your lack of coherence. “hi,” you exhale, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. his eyes shut when he leans into you, taking your lips in his. the taste of you is heavy on his tongue, heat fanning across your cheeks when you realize that bittersweet taste in his mouth is you.

your hand rests on his chest, slowly slipping lower and lower until you reach his bulge, palming him with fervor but maintaining some form of sensuality, albeit fueled with a sense of rushed desperation. you break apart from his lips and his head tilts forward, chasing after your kiss. you sponge a kiss against the corner of his lips, angling a downcast tilt towards his cock, mouth agape and eager to take him in. but he’s holding your jaw, stopping you and bringing you back to meet his gaze.

your eyebrows knit together with almost a betrayed curiosity. “why not?” you ask, almost naively, and he shakes his head, his thumb gently swiping across your bottom lip. “you don’t have to do that baby,” he promises, and it only increases your desire to take him in your mouth when you can practically hear all the inhales and exhales of smoke he took prior, how it leaves a rich rasp in his voice.

“i know i don’t have to, i want to,” you just about cross your heart for him to emphasize the genuine ache to suck him off, already feeling that familiar throng of tingles set off again between your thighs.

“another time, it’ll be too much for you right now,” he unintentionally sounds patronizing and it rubs you the wrong way. you let out something that’s a more annoyed version of a scoff, folding your arms. “i can handle it farleigh, if you think i’ll be bad just be honest and don’t hide behind fake reasons.” a cloud of insecurity beginning to muddle your mind.

he rolls his eyes, a faint smile on his lips betrays his act of annoyance. “you and your pride,” he mutters under his breath, a veil of adoration lacing through it.

“don’t be a brat,” he murmurs with a luster of playfulness, “i just don’t want to overwhelm you with too much too soon,”

you frown, moving away strands of hair from his face, sighing. “is this okay then? too much?” you whisper hotly in his ear, leaning up into him. you reach beneath his dress pants and boxers, wrapping your hand around the thickness of him and hiding your surprise at how big he feels in your palm, and how you can barely wrap around him with your fingers.

he falters above you, groaning in the crook of your neck with whimpers of please. you take this opportunity to guide him a little further on his side, lightly pushing him onto his back. you tuck yourself into his side, his arm pulling you in and holding you close. you shove his pants down just enough to fully free his cock. arousal thrums all along your cunt once he’s freed from his pants. a twinge of gratefulness is in your gaze when you look back at farleigh’s low eyes. taking him down your throat admittedly would’ve been a difficult feat and you’re relieved he stopped you from doing so.

however you won’t admit to that, instead you wrap your hand around him, dragging your thumb around his tip, giggling when he winces with pleasure, curling into you.

you rest your chin on the top of his head, whimpering above him when he takes one of your nipples between his lips, swirling his tongue around them as you jerk him off.

“fuck,” he bucks his hips into the warm curl of your palm, running his fingers across your ribs, tugging you in closer towards him. he moans your name like its a saving grace into the valley of your breasts, inhaling your sweet perfume deeply. “does that feel good?” you ask softly, genuinely, and he groans, nodding.

“j-just, squeeze me right there,” he swallows hard, wrapping his large hand around yours when you travel a little further up his cock. you nod attentively, taking note of everything he likes. “tell me what else makes you feel good,” you murmur through kisses, planting them across his cheekbone. he fucking whimpers into your dampening flesh and your clit throbs at the sound.

“i like when you touch me right here,” he admits breathlessly, guiding your thumb to his tip. you nod, taking longer strokes, tightening your slickened grip and glazing over his sensitive tip.

“just like that, fuck,” he groans, panting heavily at the rhythm you’ve developed together. “you’re so cute like this,” you giggle lightly in his ear, teeth grazing his ear teasingly. you pump your wrist a little faster, feeling cocky at the way he falls apart in your hold, completely and utterly at your mercy.

he can’t help the way he tries to fuck your hand, grinding his hips desperately, neck bared for you when he throws his head back. you slide your arm a little further underneath his neck, cradling him close to your side, using your free hand to scratch at his scalp. his hips jerk and he moans, leaning into your gentle touches.

your eyes fall onto the wretched kiss stain on his skin once again, clenching your jaw. you smear it off of him, the flare up of jealousy sanctioning something in you to start dragging your wrist up and down a little faster, squeezing him a little tighter. pride rises within you when you see how receptive he is to it, trembling in the confines of beneath your wings.

you kiss the top of his head as he defaults right back into the sanctuary of your chest. his stubble tickles your skin, and you grow fond of the sensation. your poor hole clenches around nothing when your eyes peer down to see his cock weep in your hand, precum leaking and dribbling down your knuckles, agonizing over the same desire you possess.

the wet sound eliciting from your hand and his cock is stirs a familiar buzz in your clit and you wonder what the tip of his cock would feel like rubbing against your clit. skin to skin. with each drag of your hand over him, you start to feel the ache settle back inside you, wishing your hand was your cunt taking him in. feeling each vein you feel right now but inside you, feeling his fat tip prod and hit right where your fingers could never reach. your fantasizing shows through the way you continue to jerk him off, growing hungrier and hungrier with each stroke.

“baby,” he groans into the thick air, as he lays helplessly beside you. “i wanna see you cum,” you whisper in his ear, unintentionally cushioning his face with your breasts and the act alone almost has him cumming in your hand.

he grips your lower back, burying his face in your chest, his body going rigid and firm, his cock twitching in your hold. “shit i think i’m— fuck baby tell me i can cum,” he begs, pressing needy kisses across your chest. you nod, pulling at the back of his curls forcing him to look at you. “you can cum for me farleigh,” you pour your words out to him like a rich wine and it’s all he needs to let go.

he can’t stop his eyes from falling shut in a tight pinch. his body locks up, his mouth parts open to pant in the air, his neck still displayed for your teeth to sink into, hips sporadically fucking into your pumping wrist.

you quickly release him, ducking down to wrap your lips around his cock head. you hold back the smile that threatens to pluck the corner of your lips upward when he gasps loudly and whines your name with a pure churning ache.

you shut your eyes when he cums on your tongue, pleasantly surprised at the taste. he cums more than you would’ve expected but you take it all, eager to please him.

you gently lap at his tip, pushing your forearm on his stomach when he convulses from the sensitivity. “f-fuck, baby,” he breathes out, pulling you back up to him. he brings you down to his lips, guiding you onto your back when he kisses you.

it’s his turn to taste himself on your tongue and the thought of his cum gracing your mouth has his softening cock giving one last twitch. his hands run up and down your sides, savoring your skin and praying his hands and fingers memorize each curve and indent. “you’re so hot,” he whispers against your lips. you peck him, feeling warm. “i know.” he smiles, pecking you back.

he collapses beside you, straightening out the charm from your necklace back to the center of your collarbones and despite everything that transpired between you two, the small action still makes you feel flushed.

“would it be okay if i slept with you in your bed tonight?” he asks quietly, anxiously. you nod, turning to look at him with a delicate smile that tells him you’re more than happy to have him stay with you. “i’d be upset if you didn’t.”

relief floods him, in return allowing him to abide by his instincts to scoot closer towards you. he curls into your side completely, long limbs overtaking you and intertwining you two until you feel like you’re one.

“night.” he whispers, his lips ghosting over your shoulder, unsure if he’s still allowed to plant a kiss there. you’re too sleepy to notice, content enough with being in his arms. “goodnight,” you repeat back softly, pulling the blankets over your bodies.

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