#bff: honestly his smile there is pretty unsettling

[anghraine]

The last time my best friend and I were hanging out (back in March), we watched my eternal SW favorite, The Empire Strikes Back, so this time we followed it up with Return of the Jedi, which we both love very much.

We just finished and as ever, I feel perfectly happy-sad.

[afatallovesong]

you!!! write!!! so!!! well!!!!! I've come back to your writing 3 times today just because it's SO GOOD. pretty please could you do another anything of luke? ngl I'm an absolute sucker for a friends/bffs to lovers trope so that would be fantastic if you could write another. sending big waves of love your way!!!!! x

Thank you so much for your kind words, I'm honestly so grateful to anyone who reads, likes, reblogs or even requests and whatever else you do on this site. I hope you continue to enjoy my posts, thank you for being here.

Okay now for the good stuff! Soooo, I decided this was going to be a 2-part piece because I also received another Luke request and there wasn't much of a prompt with it. I also just wrote way too much for this concept, so it needed a good chop in two. Oops.

ANYWAY... I will go back and edit in the link to part 2 here when it's done. I hope you enjoy your half first though :)

Not Yours

A Luke Hemmings one shot (except not really)

18+, Smut, NSFW

Part 1, Part 2

Word Count: 6871

“It’s not that big of a deal, you caught me in a compromising position, we can move on now.” He’s not even blinking an eye; he’s not doing much of anything actually. Maybe it’s his years of keeping his lip tight for the sake of the band, never letting a secret spill for the gossip that would entail. He’d been working on his poker face for over 10 years, and you were ashamed to say it was working on you. You couldn’t see a single glimmer of guilt cross his chiselled features and it’s not like he should be ashamed of his sexuality, he was entitled to it as much as anyone. That wasn’t what irked you. What was bothering you, however, was that you just noticed the small smile that crept onto his lips whenever you stared at them for too long.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I caught my best friend with his dick down some poor girl’s throat.” You stood up from the chair to emphasise your frustration, how very not okay you were with the events of the previous night. You hadn’t set up a schedule for the room share, you hadn’t enforced any rules at all to prevent things like this from happening. You honestly hadn’t felt like you’d needed to. You were sharing a room with him over a long weekend. Just 3 nights and 4 days. You were actually dumb enough to think that booking a room with one 1 bed would finally be what bought you closer together, smashing the boundaries between the two of you that normal circumstances never could. You’d never anticipated those same boundaries being broken quite like this.

The image of him sat right on the edge, rutting his hips up into her mouth. You couldn’t forget it. Nor the hand he had gripping her jaw whilst simultaneously gripping the sheets on your side of the bed too. Just rubbing the material back and forth between his thumbs like a comfort blanket. He didn’t even look at her while she took him, no. His head had fallen back, face positioned towards the ceiling. His eyes clasped shut, lips barely puffing out air. He looked lost in her touch but not enough to vocalise a damn word. He was silent. Just chasing that high without any means of an end. It was unsettling. His jugular was so bare too. His Adams apple gulping down the air you failed to see him take in. Maybe he’d stolen it from you since the sight was so frustratingly breath-taking.

“You make it sound like I forced her.” His confidence wavered but only for a second, his hands fiddling with the rings on his fingers, sliding them back and forth as he fought his case and you instantly felt regretful for the way you’d phrased it. “I didn’t mean it like that.” You held your hand out steady to reassure him. You really didn’t, he wasn’t like that. Even in his hardest partying days you don’t think he could have forced anyone. One look into the salted ocean of his eyes and you’d be willing to do just about anything to stay a while, take a swim, dive in, and surround yourself in the clearness. Only because you wanted to, no other reason.

“I’m sorry. I just-.” You go to sit down beside him on the bed but think better of it. You hadn’t slept in it at all. Another reminder as to how he couldn’t convince someone to do something they hadn’t wanted to. You’d actually wanted to drop your clothes and slot beside him as if nothing had ever happened. When he’d held your hand and almost begged you to stay you nearly broke to pieces and crumbled beside him like the remnants of a midnight snack before bed. You just didn’t want to share the same bed he’d used with her. Even if that meant opting for the sofa that night and then Ashton’s bed the night after. “They’ve been cleaned you know.” He refers to the hygiene of the bedsheets beneath him. He sighs before standing up to let you sink down into the sheets in replacement of him, you now felt less ill thinking about touching them with your own palms. Even if they hadn’t been cleaned daily, did you really think he was that much of animal that he’d followed through after you witnessed him? The sheets were as pristine and unused as they were when you arrived.

“It was just a shock.” It was a shock to you to slot your key card in the door, stumbling through, shedding your boots from your ankles as you trickled in from the hotel bar. You’d held them in your hands as you walked the short hallway past the reasonably sized bathroom, towards the bedroom. You dropped them with a double thud when your eyes fell to the girl on her knees. It was a shock for a lot of reasons. 1, it meant you couldn’t move for a while, feet cemented in place, creating your own personal hell as you watched the scene play out in front of you. 2, it meant you had to announce yourself somehow or make a heady escape, but you’d doubted you were quite sober enough to retreat without making a single sound anyhow. 3, because of the impending doom of your friendship with both Luke and the others because they came as a packaged deal, nothing more and nothing less. 4, as it was only fitting to have quadruple the trauma. It meant that it hurt like hell cause you wanted nothing more than to be that girl you were referring to. To be the one taking him instead of witnessing him giving himself to someone else. That was the biggest shock. You hated that you still desperately wished it had been you.

“Can we just please forget this?” He fucked up the moment he attempted to get his kicks from someone else and it didn’t take a genius to know why. His hand wasn’t enough, the hands of the girls he chased, who also chased him, weren’t enough. Hell, maybe he was asexual or something, maybe sexual gratification just wasn’t it for him, could never fix his little problem though he’d like to argue it was actually far from little but for the sake of punishing himself further, sure, a “little “problem. But then he let his mind wander to you. If he just pictured you, imagined you, like he did that night, that night when he closed his eyes and thought of you so hard, he thought he’d summoned you there himself when he opened his eyes to the sight of you stood in the doorway. The only thing that was wrong with the scenario was that it wasn’t just a fantasy of his, you wouldn’t push her out the way and finish the job for her. You were there and you were horrified at what you’d seen. He didn’t think he’d ever have it in him to get hard again. It was what he deserved after all.

“I can take the couch tonight.” He threw his phone down onto it to show he’d claimed it for the evening. “You’re too tall for it, even I had to curl up and I’m at least 4 inches shorter. Take the bed, I’ll see about getting my own room. Maybe reception have had a cancellation or something.” You felt too guilty to ask Ashton for the second night in a row. He needed a good night’s rest more than anyone after the shows he’d played. He insisted that he hadn’t minded, that he quite enjoyed not being alone, but you couldn’t impose, especially when you felt how much he tossed, turned, and had to hold himself back from rolling into your side accidentally. Even his subconscious knew he needed the space.

“Then I’ll sleep on the floor or something.” He’s already grabbing the couch cushions, throwing them down on the lush carpet, ignoring most of what you’d just said. “Luke you really don’t have to.” He’d mess up his back if he stayed down there, you weren’t going to let that happen. “Just take the bed.” You grab his wrist to prevent any further preparations he could make. For a moment you thought you felt a static shock from the contact, you block the memory and release him. “You’re cute when you’re bossy.” He attempts a smirk; however premature it may be. “That why you test me so much?” You take over, grabbing the pillows from your side of the mattress to assemble with the others at the foot of the bed. Luke bites his tongue when he wants to say more. He instead walks towards the wardrobe vaguely remembering the sight of spare pillows and a few top sheets in case of a colder night. “Thank you.” You smile as you take them from him.

“That’s not so bad.” You clap your hands together, proud of the little bed you’d made. The couch cushions forming a makeshift mattress, the one blanket draped over as a sheet. The pillows both spare and from the bed were lay around to catch your body if you tossed and turned in the night which you definitely would be doing, you always did when you felt stressed, today was no different. The last blanket was there to cover you as a makeshift duvet. It looked like the beginnings of an excellent fort, not so much a comfortable night’s sleep but it was the best you could do in your newly found confinement. “That’s the worst arrangement I’ve ever seen.” You scowl at him, and he ignores it. He’s kneeling down, shifting the pillows already before halting his movements, retreating from the carpet as quickly as he’d crouched there in the first place. “I’ll be back in like 5 minutes.”

You stand there knowing exactly where he’s gone. He ran to the next room; you hear his heavy fists on the door through the wall. You roll your eyes at the way he runs to his friends for help at every turn. I guess they were more like brothers at this stage, but it didn’t make it any less adorable, and moderately annoying if you were being brutal, and you were. He couldn’t just solve a problem by himself, never had to. He needed the nurturing, the second, third and fourth opinions. The council of his band. Maybe that’s why it was so hard to sweep this fallout under the mat. He was trying to fix it independently without turning to them. He wasn’t even asking you if there was anything he could do, even if you wouldn’t have helped him to figure it out, he never asked you anyway. That’s all you really wanted too, to be the one he could go to, for anything, not entirely without judgement but closely enough. Before you thought about it any longer, he was back with more sheets and more pillows, nearly tripping over the fabric and his own feet to transport them to you.

You took some of the load from him immediately and he smiled at you genuinely for the first time that day. He felt like he’d earned the right to show you some more kindness and he was taking the opportunity gladly. “Okay so what’s the plan then?” You let him lead you, shaking your shoulders out, ready to out yourself to work as if this was such a strenuous task. “Okay so-“ You spent a little while pacing back and forth over the space before moving ultimately decided to deconstruct and set up camp elsewhere. The extent of the collected materials proving too large for the designated area at the end of the bed. Instead, you’d incorporated the sofa into his design, altering the original structure completely. You’d taken the sheet he’d wrangled from Michael’s linen closet, placed it over the couch and tucked it behind where it met the wall to keep it in place. You’d then draped the opposite end over the two chairs that were once beneath the desk and dressing table the hotel provided creating a roof-like effect.

Luke then moved beneath the newly erected structure, layering the pillows with some blankets to create a cushiony base large enough to be considered a twin sized bed (the best Luke could manage with the space). All before adding the couch cushions now covered in fresh sheets as a headrest for more pillows to build on top. He’d even managed to enhance the practicality of the fort so that there were a couple of free plug sockets for you to access to charge your phone and other items while you lay inside. He’d clearly had too much experience working with hotel resources when he was living in them from week to week. You felt both sad at the thought of him having to entertain himself that way but also a little jealous of the idea that he might not have been as lonely as you pictured him. You may not be the only girl he’d built a fort for. You weren’t the only girl he’d chosen to do a lot of things with. You might have been the only girl he’d really cared for though; you just didn’t really know that yet and that was hard enough. All that your new home was missing was another blanket and it didn’t surprise you when he leapt up again to scrounge one from someone else, after already bleeding them dry. You had to be a little impressed with his efforts at an apology, he’d tried so hard for you.

When he came back, he sank to his knees at the base of your little palace, sweat gathering on his brow, breath exhaling and inhaling rapidly enough that you’d thought he might pass out. “Where did you steal that one from?” Judging by the flustered look of him, he’d ran home and back. “Nearly killed housekeeping when I just about wheezed my request.” Your hand flew to your mouth to cover the snort that released itself. He’d never been happier to hear such a dorky sound shoot out of your nose. It may have been embarrassing for you, but for him it was the sweetest sound. He didn’t have a weird fetish or anything, he just knew that you had to be comfortable or really, thoroughly enjoying yourself, to let a sound like that out without wincing in shame afterwards. It meant you were relaxed with him; your walls had rained down against the ground and you weren’t fighting with him or your urge to stay composed any longer. When your tearful eyes met his, tearful with happiness and rib-aching laughter over sadness by the way, he wanted to kiss you.

You wanted to kiss him too. You didn’t. You just thanked him instead. “You might have a future in decorating Mr Hemmings.” You shuffle back under the fortress, lying yourself back, testing the comfort of the bed he’d made. You beckon him in with your finger and he gladly complies, joining you with just enough space between you to settle your hands down without them touching. “Only kid’s rooms though.” You add. “I think this is the dream house for any age.” He argues and you disagree. “For about a week until you start to get claustrophobic.” He couldn’t deny you there. He was already starting to feel it, he could have sworn it was bigger than this.

He sits himself up, looking back down towards you before sending himself out. “Well, I hope you enjoy your new home.” He shuffles on his bottom to get himself to the singular exit. He doesn’t make it very far when your soft hand traps his wrist against the cushions they still lie on. “You don’t have to go yet.” He argues. “Technically I’m not going anywhere, same room and all.” You roll your eyes; you finally show him some normality and he chose to annoy you. “Lie back down.” He doesn’t dare to escape you now. “Yes ma’am.”

He lays himself down, heart suddenly hammering when he notices you’re hand still holding onto him. He smiles to himself uncontrollably the longer it stays there, your thumb starting to stroke over his skin anxiously, further confirming that you were touching him on purpose, that it wasn’t just the accidental impulse it started out to be. “You can hold my hand you know.” His mouth feels drier than the Sahara as he says it. Probably because he had no business suggesting anything for you to do. “I don’t know where it’s been.” You couldn’t resist the dig, even if it actually churned your stomach to let it slip. It still stirred anxiety within you, the thought of him actually being with someone else. “Hilarious.” He scolds before his breath catches, your hand gently prying his fingers open to let yours slip between them like flowing silk.

“I was working up to it.” You admit, turning your head to face the side of his. He felt your gaze, but he didn’t meet it. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hide his excitement if he did. He opted for the sheet above instead, soft, simple, and pure. Pure enough to absorb his expressions and not reflect them but conceal them instead. “Luke, I think I was jealous.” You drop the bomb on him, exploding the neutral scenario he’d created for you so painstakingly hard. He shoots to sit up, nearly deconstructing the damn thing he spent so long building in apology to you. “Well, you didn’t have to react quite like that.” You retract your hands, pulling them over your lower tummy prodding at the butterflies to quieten them down as you do damage control. “I know it's bad okay, you don’t have to say anything. I already know.” It’s a good thing you let him know because he didn’t think he had it in him to utter a single word right now. His body was short circuiting before your eyes. Jealous. Jealous of him, jealous of her, jealous of what exactly?

“I think- “You cut yourself off, to start again. “I guess I- “No, not quite right again. Maybe you should just throw caution to the wind, you’d done enough pussyfooting around.

Throw. Caution. To. The. Fucking. Wind.

“I booked a single bedded room Luke, what the fuck did you think that meant?” You didn’t think it would come out quite so aggressively, but you weren’t about to take anything back now. His wires were finally uncrossing, his head clearing, he was fully functional once more and recognising his colossal idiocy. “I’m a fucking idiot.” He doesn’t even move. He’s facing forward, palms flat against the blanket, shoulders slumped as the words sink in. “You think? I mean come on, did you think we were gonna top and tails it?” You laugh as you even mention it. “It used to be my favourite trope actually, only one bed, but I guess I see the flaws in it now.” He’s shaking his head to react to your words. “I’m so dumb.” You snort. Yeah, you said that already, you think. This time he doesn’t find your laughter so adorable, this time he hates the sound because it’s just you mocking him and although he thoroughly deserved it, he wanted, no, needed, you to shut the fuck up.

He turned himself around, sitting on his knees, facing you with all the confidence he had left. “Tell me I have another shot.” He’s looking at you and you’re looking away and he’d lift your chin to bring your attention in his direction, but he doesn’t dare overstep physically since his words were doing quite enough of that already. “Tell me I can have another chance.” You can hear his heart pounding in his chest. Good. “Or what?” He’s so close to just slamming your back down and shutting you up in every way he could. “Or I take the not-so-subtle hint,” he nearly winces as he nods towards the bed he’d stupidly ignored before finishing his sentence, “and I don’t ask again.” You know he’s not moved an inch, but it feels like his drifting from you. “I want you to ask again.” He’s about to scream with excitement. “Ask me Luke- “He’s leaning forward carefully, making no real effort to close any gap, just meeting you in the middle, the rest of the distance was yours to close. “Do I have another chance?” You’re not saying a damn thing back and the silence is deadly. “Or do I have to take it from you?” Your eyes meet his briefly before rolling back at the intensity of his words.

His hands float towards your hips, shuffling your body closer to him. You feel as though you weigh nothing at all when he lifts you with such ease. “Need your permission.” His forehead is almost leaning into yours but he’s too frightened to touch you more than he already had just in case you disappeared the moment he stepped it up a notch. Your permission is granted by a kiss to his neck. His eyes fly shut when your lips caress his skin. He never expected any of this, you both knew that he’d made it abundantly clear, but he certainly never would have thought you’d kiss his throat before you so much as pecked him on the lip. It felt like more of a punishment than anything else he’d gone through with you. Luke craved you. He’d sell his soul for a real kiss from you, in his mind he already had done because in what world did he deserve your lips trailing down his chest? The buttons of his shirt flying open without his realisation because he’s so lost in thought deciphering if he’d been imagining the whole ordeal. “Shit, Luke you’re solid.” He’s coming to his senses, his hips rocking up into your hand. The second he opened his eyes he nearly creamed his pants seeing your eyes go wide, lips wet with your salivating at the sight of his fat cock begging to be released from the confinement of his jeans.

You rub over the hardened lump with a morbid curiosity for how long it would take to get him begging you for more. You also can’t help but wonder how easy it was for his previous endeavour to get him like that. He’s pressing his crotch into your hand, his teeth nearly piercing his bottom lip as he melts under your lacklustre touch. He knows he could cum from it but that didn’t mean he couldn’t aspire for more; it wasn’t nearly enough when he knew what you could be offering him. He wants to beg you, but the hoarseness of his dry throat has him whimpering and whining gruffly instead. “I wanna see what the hype is about.” You breathe as you unbutton his jeans, the zipper falling down by itself, your brow arching in surprise. “Jeans too tight?” He curses as he’s nearly freed. Your fingers immediately prod at a peculiar wet patch in the fabric of his underwear and for a moment he wonders why the fuck you’d ever think to touch him like that until he opens his eyes to view for himself.

He’d leaked a substantial amount of precum into the grey cotton of his pants and you didn’t have to be a genius to spot it and know exactly why it was there. “Fucking kill me now.” He threw his head back, hands covering his face before you could spot the redness of his cheeks. “It’s flattering Lu, nothing to be ashamed of.” Your eyes are transfixed on the area, unfazed. “Need to get these off you.” You tug at the waistband of his jeans, wiggling it as much as you could by yourself. You pout when you can’t quite manage it. Luke peaks at you through the gaps he’d made between his fingers. His hips lifted before he even thought about it. Your pout fades, lips parting to gasp instead as not only the denim but the material beneath had slid down to his mid-thigh, leaving him completely exposed to you for the first time.

This time you have to catch your jaw, closing your mouth before you really do dribble at the size of him. His tip is blushing red, leaking with arousal so vastly, its pooling onto his stomach. He’s thicker than you thought he’d be. You knew he felt fat in your hand, but you assumed the fabric assisted the image but no, it was all him. His cock was so thick you’d never be able to take it all at once, not without training anyway. He wonders what’s going on in your beautiful little mind as you stare down at him, not moving a muscle. “Baby please.” Before he could whine much more, you outstretched your tongue to lick the liquid silver he’d left against the soft flesh of his tummy. You vibrate a moan against him at the sweet taste of him and his cock doesn’t just twitch, it practically leaps at vision of you. You’ve shocked him speechless. He starts to wonder if you intentionally avoided the places he needs you the most or if it’s all your own sick little game of revenge.

His hips lift from the floor once more and you use both hands to force him back down before you assault his pretty tip with kisses and kitten licks. You knew they did nothing but frustrate him, barely stimulating him enough to please him, but you were just getting started on this little love letter of yours. You wanted to show him all you had, let him forget anyone else who ever dared to try and compete. You licked over the sensitive little slit at the centre of his tip and he gripped the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white and cracked from the pressure. He needed to remember how helpless you’d made him feel just then, like he could have finished instantly into your mouth.

You hummed an unidentifiable tune as you sucked the first inch of him into your mouth, moaning as an unexpected squirt of liquid shot onto your tongue, more of his early arousal. You never thought you’d ever get him this good. Not before you even took him whole. His body was practically coming alive under your touch, he’d have nothing left to give and you hadn’t even gotten halfway down his length yet. “Oh fuck.” He’s groaning desperately as you retreat from him. You remove all touch, letting his cock slap back against his stomach. He’s never felt so exposed in his life, and it was exhilarating for him. He was completely at your disposal. But you don’t leave him like that for long, even if you’d wanted to. You were about ready to hump the pillow strategically placed beneath you, you were that turned on by the idea of tasting him.

You spat in your hand and gripped the base of his cock before dragging the wetness over him, slowly mixing it with the lubricant he’d already provided. “You’re so hot.” He’s putty in your hands. You smile, not towards him, just down at his cock as you drag your hand firmly over him. You hope to create a torturous pace, nowhere near fast enough to get a release but just enough to keep his hips stuttering, tip leaking and him close to begging for your lips. You were concerned to take him whole and thankfully with your hand wrapped around him, you may not have to. Even if that were difficult for you to accept when you’d needed him so bad. You’d never felt a hunger like this before. You’d never wanted anything in your mouth as much as his cock and there was no point denying either of your urges, this was your chance.

You were so greedy as you took him in your mouth this time. Your hands fisting tightly around him, tongue slurping up his juices as you inched your way down him. “So, fucking greedy for me, fuck baby.” You dare to glance up through your lashes to see him leaning against his elbows, watching you with his jaw slack, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. The moment your eyes meet, he swears he can’t take it anymore and he pushes your head down over him. You let out a strangled moan and he panics at the sound vibrating against him, now terrified he’d hurt you, gearing himself up to pull you back where you were. You fight his hands, surprising him yet another time that evening. You force your lips down until they reach the hand you coated his base with, and he hits the back of your throat with a grunt.

The noise Luke made could be compared with one he’d release if he were punched in the chest, sounding both winded and in pain. You suck hard on as much of him as you can before pulling back and throwing yourself down again. “Shit, just like that, oh fuck, use that tongue.” He’s gripping your hair tightly in one hand and fighting himself strongly to avoid pushing you down again with the other. Instead, he tugged on your locks as a form of encouragement, and it had your stomach doing somersaults.

The noise of you slurping, choking, and gagging around him was a symphony of pleasure and he’d half the mind to record it and keep it forever if he could but he couldn’t fucking move from you if he tried. If he left you for even a millisecond, he’d never forgive himself. He was finally, exactly where he needed to be, tightly packed into your hot little mouth, his new place to call home and what a glorious home it was turning out to be. He belonged there.

Scratch everything, he previously thought about never being satisfied in bed. He’d never felt more wrong in his entire life. He would eat his words as you ate him, gulping down whatever he could give you. His cock had never been harder, never been so happy. There wasn’t a better way for him to describe it when you sucked on him like that. He had to fight himself to keep his eyes open, to remain here with you, knowing that you were everything he’d been waiting for.

You looked so gorgeous taking him too. He wanted this image tattooed on his eyelids. He felt like his cock might burst when you started rocking your own hips while you inched back and forth over him. You’d loved his cock so much you couldn’t prevent yourself from getting off over it. Right in front of him, you humped your hot little cunt into the sheets as a desperate attempt to release the growing tension between your legs. “If you don’t keep your hips still, I’m gonna cum down your throat, do you hear me?” You furrow your brows, turning your attention to his face. He’s sweating, its dripping down his cheeks so nicely you almost mistook them for tears. You can’t help but be shy about his accusations. You didn’t intend to do anything. You instinctively chased a feeling against your will and if it was anyone’s fault it was his. You were aching for him to fill something more than your mouth. No matter how good he felt pressing against the walls of your throat, no room left to breathe or utter a sound, you wanted his size elsewhere.

You continued to take him, this time consciously stilling your hips but huffing every now and then when you felt the urge to move. You may have swivelled a little, but you’d hoped he’d be kind enough to let it go amiss. You weren’t that lucky. Luke’s hands leave your hair, and you were whining without the feeling of him coaxing you on until you simply couldn’t whine anymore. His hands had slinked down to the column of your throat, linking beneath where the two of you were already connected. He applied a pressure to the edges, blindly but cautiously trying not to harm you or block your air way completely. He clamped down little by little until not a peep was heard from your perfect mouth and he used your silence to pull you down until your nose was meeting his pelvis, till he felt his own cock pulsating down your throat whilst in his hands. He let out the heaviest pants as you tried to gag around him. That’s when it hit you.

When you saw this gaping mouth, his usually light eyes darkened like the night sky, his cheeks burning hot like a furnace. You came without a single touch, a slither of friction, not even a weak attempt at conversation. As if he was in your mind, knowing what had just happened to you through some unbreakable bond, he released you from him, hands shifting to pat your head, smooth his fingers through your hair and settle you down from this insane high of yours. You choke out a moan and your head crashes against his torso. You’d never known yourself to come undone like that. You were a giver and always had been. It was no secret to you or anyone you’d fucked, just how soaked the act got you but to cum from that alone. To finish with his cock filling your mouth. You felt your cunt continually spasming.

“What the fuck?” You question yourself breathlessly, ashamed of yourself for letting your guard slip like that. It was Luke who was meant to cum first, not you. It was him who needed to know just what he’d been missing. Your body had betrayed you. It was mortifying. You hid your face to escape the mockery you knew would be coming. You were so prepared for it, so distracted from the original task at hand, you’d stopped touching him all together. If he weren’t so ridiculously in love with you, he’d be telling you to get back to it. He was so on edge it wouldn’t take more than a couple flicks of your wrist to finish him anyway. Because that, that was the most incredible thing he’d ever witnessed.

You were hiding away from him, shying away as if it were something he’d judge you for. If anything, he was blessed by it. You’d literally wanted his cock down your throat so badly you couldn’t stop yourself from finishing when you felt it there. You had fucking ruined him. He would never look at you the same way again. He’d think of this moment, the bulge in your throat when you couldn’t contain him, the tears staining your cheeks from the fullness, the hand wrapped around him tight like a vice because you had to just touch him with more than just your mouth. He adored you so much you’d never, ever understand just how much.

Luke nudges you gently, hand slipping under your chin, lifting you up, the rest of your body deciding to go with it. Your red and puffy eyes meet his pathetically. “Gotta let me take you baby.” You find yourself nodding, even if you didn’t really know what he meant. He had been taking you. He’d had your mind, body, and soul, what more could there be? “Gotta get these clothes off for me.” His hands stroke over your shoulders, still coated in a t-shirt now dampened with sweat. You nod lazily before reaching for the hem to grip onto and lift. “Wait.” He pushes his forehead against yours, hands preventing yours from following his instruction. “Can I kiss you?” You stare dumbfounded. You’d done a lot more than kiss him now and yet he still had to ask. “Taste like you though.” You mutter. “Think I can live with that.”

His kiss breathes life back into your aching form. You feel like you can straighten your back again, sit tall, sit confidently without gripping his thighs for support. Luke kisses you slowly, not slow in a disappointing manner, not too vanilla to take away from the passion of the moment. It’s just pleasantly slow, soft, and serene. His lips feel nice. You decide you quite like the plumpness of his bottom lip in comparison with the sharpness of his top. You sink into his mouth, hand cupping his cheek as you glide your own over his.

His hands wander to your waist, grabbing a handful of flesh before fleeing further south. Your tongue licks a stripe over his bottom lip which he takes as a sign to part them. You slip your tongue into the warm cavern of his mouth, and he tastes himself with a whimper. His palms smack down on your ass hard enough to echo it like the sound of a cracking whip. The erotic sounds of your tongues dancing with each other should put you off but it just doesn’t. The wetness is invited, the warmth is accepted, the sensation had your hips rolling again and God there must be something wrong with you. You couldn’t fill your void with enough of him. He just smiled into your kiss because he’d felt exactly the same way.

“Gotta- “he tugs your shirt, “take- “lifting it clumsily above your hips between kisses, “your- “you start to feel the coolness of the exposure as it climbs higher, “these- “it’s becoming an unbearable taunt, “fucking clothes off.” He pulls back to watch you discard the material as fast as you could so you can throw yourself into his lap. He’s halfway through removing the remainder of his jeans when you start to remember the rest of you is also still clothed.

You both fumble to remove your trousers and any other barriers separating you from each other. You don’t have a single drop of energy left to allow yourself to feel self-conscious when his eyes wrack over your body. It’s hard to feel anything other than perfect when his top responses are to wrap his own hand around his cock and suck his bottom lip between his teeth. “You’re so pretty Luke.” You sigh and he whines, gripping himself just that little bit tighter at the tone of innocence in your voice. “Yeah?” You nod in confirmation before flicking his hand away, replacing it with your own. He fucks up into your hand unabashedly, too swept away to care, too comfortable with you to reconsider the impulse.

“Need you to touch me.” You mewl, swiping your thumb over the throbbing head of him similarly to how you did it with your tongue before. “Where baby?” He knows exactly where. “Touch you where?” He needs to hear it; he’s vibrating just considering it. “You know where.” You match him. “No, no, gotta tell me.” You slow your movements, hand loosening around his cock causing his smile to falter. “Where do you need me?” You curse him. “You fucking know where.” You glare at him before you lie yourself down, arms crossing over your bare chest, sick of how ridiculously needy you were that you would put up with this childishness for the sake of another orgasm.

“How can I know I’m right if you don’t tell me?” His fingers have moved to your hip as he lay on his side, watching you closely, walking his fingers over your scorching hot skin. “Playing games now baby?” You pout towards him in a final attempt to win him over. You could just kill him for giving you as much of a fight as you did him. The two of you too stubborn for your own good.

“Where do you want me?” He asks again, voice shifting, dripping with a power that had you weak. “Same place I’ve always wanted you.” You soften your tone to reel him in and for a moment he believes he’ll never win this fight. Then you speak again. “My pussy, need you inside me, please Lu, please baby, waited so long.” You plead for your life. His cock is actually hurting it’s so fucking tight and hard right now. “Your pussy?” He offers as a question, and you hardly notice it until he speaks again.

His hand slips between your legs, swiping his index finger through the hot, sticky mess made between your thighs. “You think this is yours?” He continues to pry. “It’s not yours babe.” You open your mouth to ask what he’s alluding to, but he silences you, slipping a finger into your hot cunt, you clamping down on him immediately. “Not yours baby, your pussy’s fucking mine.” The noise you made was unholy but the look he gave you even more so. “See,” he coos, “you know it too, bucking up into my hand like that, such a good girl for me.” Unsurprisingly to you, that simple term of endearment, that affectionate little name, is the straw that broke the camel’s back. Any morsel of self-respect you’d ever had left was fucking desecrated. “Spread your legs for me angel.”

[nickireadstfc]

The Foxhole Court, Chapter 7 – The Literal Opposite Of Squad Goals

In which the Foxes don’t exactly win Squad Of The Year, everyone fights with everyone, disturbingly weird sexual tension is more disturbing and weird than sexual, and just when you think ‘oh man, it can’t go downhill from there’, spoiler alert: It does.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Foxhole Court.

Since we finally – finally! – got the gang together last time, I thought this chapter was going to be entertaining Exy practices, getting to know our new characters better and some fun squad banter.

Apparently, I had not been reading this series correctly if I assumed there was any fun to be had.

           The entire first week of summer practices was eaten up by in-fighting as the court hierarchy fell into place again.

The Foxes do not fuck around, you guys.

Let’s sum this up: Momma Dan keeps them all in check, Kevin is next in line because of his expertise but like everyone hates him, Matt is the underappreciated real MVP, next is my baby Renee who is still calm and gentle (and I’m not buying one bit of it), and then the rest is left to bash each other’s heads in at the bottom of the pecking order.

           It seemed Allison and Seth didn’t believe much in middle ground: either they were slinging vile insults at each other or they were making out in the locker room regardless of whoever might be around.

Oh Allison, I was just debating on whether to like your or not, but you sort of took that decision from me with your choice in sexy-time partners.

I’m sorry. I still deeply, deeply dislike Seth.

Here’s to hoping he comes around at some point.

           Even Andrew seemed quite taken with [Renee]. Neil saw them talking off to the side several times throughout the week. It was obvious no one else approved of their odd friendship, but neither goalkeeper paid any mind to the unhappy looks sent their way.

This is amazing. I cannot get over how amazing this Brotp is. Goalie BFFs for LIFE <3

Also, how is Renee so wonderful, how is she even REAL.

(She’s not. They’re all fictional. I have to constantly remind myself of that.)

I’m also beginning to realize how far we’ve already come in this book. We’re halfway, you guys, and they’ve only now got the whole team together and are starting summer practices. We may not even meet Riko and the gang in this book, let alone play any league Exy games.

Halfway, what the hell. It feels like it just fucking started.

Speaking about getting started! Remember that fun party trip with Kandreil, Exy Courfeyrac and Small, Blonde And Shady that was promised to us last chapter? Well, it’s time to suit up, guys, ‘cause we’re going to Columbia.

           “This is for you,” Nicky said. “Andrew said you don’t have anything appropriate for where we’re going. He told me what size to get you, and I picked it out. Trust me, it’s awesome.”

Not to be gay but……… How does Andrew know Neil’s size………..

Can’t be an educated guess, Nicky could have done that himself, so the only logical conclusion I get from this is that Andrew paid special attention to Neil’s clothing size when going through his duffel in case he’d need to get him an outfit for something at some point.

I can’t decide if that’s more creepy or cute.

Today’s Casually Mentioned, Yet Heart-Breakingly Sad Neil Fact is this:

           Nicky hooked the twine handle over Neil’s fingers. Neil watched him do it, trying to remember the last time someone gave him a gift and coming up blank. That his first one should be from Andrew was unsettling.

No shit dude, I’d be unsettled by that as well. Gifts from Andrew could, in all likelihood, include everything from bloody knives to living snakes to tips on how to get the freshest ‘I just murdered a dude’ look, none of which sound particularly appealing to me.

           “Ditch them tonight. Your contacts, I mean. (…) It’s not like they’re a secret. Anyone who’s looking can see the ring in your eyes that means you’re wearing lenses. I saw ‘em day one.”

I fucking called it. You can seriously always tell when someone is wearing contacts, especially if they’re coloured. I just spent an entire weekend at a cosplay convention, trust me, you can tell.

           “And seriously, brown? How boring can you be?”

           “I like brown.”

           “Andrew doesn’t,” Nicky said. “Take them out.”

And since when does Andrew’s opinion on Neil’s appearance matter? Homeboy seems to have a pretty defined taste in boyfriends. The ‘creepy or cute’ question begins to lean more towards creepy.

           Every piece of [the outfit] was black. The cargoes were light and cut to accommodate a pair of heavy boots. The shirt was long-sleeved, tight and fashioned to look like it’d been torn through in places. A charcoal inner layer peeked out through the gashes.

So what we’re saying is that Nicky shops at the Tumblr Department of the Soft Edgy Grunge Moodboard Store?

(10/10 would wear in real life. GIMME.)

Right on cue, the monsters show up again, and we’re kicking off this night of disturbing debauchery with yet another ‘creepy or cute’ incident:

           Neil couldn’t leave with Andrew in the way, so he stopped as close to Andrew as he dared and waited for Andrew to move. Andrew did, but only to reach out for Neil with one hand. Neil tensed as Andrew’s finger wrapped around the back of his neck, but Andrew only wanted to pull Neil’s head down. Neil focused on Andrew’s cheekbone so as not to go cross-eyed and let Andrew study his eyes.

A classic. Blocking your boyfriend’s way, getting into his personal space, pulling his head as close to yours as possibly to check out his eyes, who gave Andrew a handbook on how to aggressively flirt with people and how can we take it from him.

           Nicky perked up as the two stepped into the living room, but his happy expression faltered when he got a look at Neil. “Oh man. Neil, you clean up good. Can I say that, or is that against the rules? Just – damn. Aaron, don’t let me get too drunk tonight.”

           Andrew (…) put his lighter in Nicky’s face.

           “Don’t make me kill you,” Andrew said.

           Nicky held up his hands in self-defense. “I know.”

           “Do you?”

           “Promise,” Nicky said weakly.

This just in: Neil is a Banger™ and Andrew is Possessive™.

I’m still undecided on the ‘creepy or cute’ matter, although I have to admit I find this scene wonderfully funny. Because honestly, everyone having the hots for Neil and talking about how attractive he is while Neil just doesn’t care is probably one of my favourite things about this.

They drive out to Columbia and at this point I got really excited. Fun party times! Banter! Nicky fucking killing it on the floor! It’s gonna be great!!

Oh boy.

Was I an idiot.

The first stop on this night of debauchery is a nice little restaurant where they stop for some ice cream. Oh, sorry, did I say ice cream? I meant fucking drugs.

This is not off to a good start.

Next up: Fun club time!

           There was a line of people waiting to get in, and the clothes they wore made Neil’s outfit look plain. Most of the men wore leather, half the women had corsets, and a good number of both genders were covered in buckles and chains.

Fun club time at a fucking bondage house, apparently. Aaron seems to be besties with the bouncers. No biggie.

As soon as they’re in, Andrew drags Neil off to the bar, and this is the point where the ‘creepy or cute’-o-meter officially swings towards very, very creepy.

           [The bartender] flashed Andrew an easy smile. “Back so soon, Andrew? Who’s your newest victim?”

           “A nobody,” Andrew said. “It’s the usual for us.”

I am decidedly not liking the use of the word ‘victim’ in any context involving Andrew and alcohol.

                       “Cracker dust,” Nicky said as he ripped his packet open. “Heard of it? Tastes like sugar and salt and gives you a small rush. Sure you don’t want in?

           (…)

Dust isn’t bad. It just makes the night more interesting. You think Kevin would ruin his future over a night out at the club?”

           “What future?” Neil asked.

Get #rekt.

Remember when I said I’m not liking the word ‘victim’ here? GUESS FUCKING WHAT.

           As soon as it hit the back of his throat, Neil knew he’d made a serious mistake.

           His sodas had tasted sweet, but this shot as almost unbearably so, and the aftertaste on Neil’s tongue wasn’t sugar. Neil lurched to his feet, but Andrew grabbed him by the hair and slammed him back into his seat. (…)

           “Just noticed, did you?” Andrew asked. “You’re an idiot.”

WHAT THE FUCK. Are you guys DRUGGING HIM. This whole thing just flew way past ‘creepy’ and landed firmly in ‘disturbing and abusive’.

           “Did you think you were safe because you were up there ordering you own drinks? Roland knows what it means when I bring outsiders here.”

I FUCKING KNEW IT. WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL. What, is this what they do for fun at the weekends? Drive newcomers up to Columbia, drug them against their will, and then what, date rape?

           Bodies and lights blurred around him, making Neil nauseous. He clawed bloody lines down Nicky’s arm as he fought to get free. Nicky didn’t let go until they’d reached the middle of the dance floor. He pulled Neil up against him and caught Neil’s chin in his fingers to force his head back.

           Nicky’s kiss was harder than Neil expected it to be, and there was more than just tongue in it. Beneath the burn of vodka Nicky shared with him was the sweet tang of cracker dust.

Oh god. Wish I’d shut my mouth.

NICKY, I TRUSTED YOU. You’re disowned from being Exy Courfeyrac, Courf would never.

Seriously, what the actual fuck. I have nothing else to say but WHAT THE HELL YOU GUYS NO.

           “The team is split, you know. Most of them think you’re trailer trash like Dan. Renee knows better. So do I. I think you’re something a little more like us.” Andrew leaned forward and enunciated every syllable. “Runaway.”

I can’t even perk up at the mention of Renee’s name or hints at her possible backstory because this is so beyond fucked up. I’m in shock.

           “Mind your own business.”

           “Tonight is Mind Neil’s Business Night,” Andrew said. “Didn’t you notice? Give me something real or I won’t let you stay here.

           (…)

           Edgar Allan is in our district and you are on my team. You, a know-nothing from Arizona who somehow managed to catch Kevin’s eye. You, a lie from head to foot, with a bag full of money and a hard-on for everything Kevin and Riko. Do you understand?”

You bring Neil out to Columbia, drug him, practically rape him, just to find out if he’s a fucking MOLE? Are you KIDDING ME??

I’m slowly beginning to realize why Kevin puts this much trust in Andrew’s abilities if this is what the fucker is willing to do to keep him safe.

I’d love to interpret this in some funny shipping way, except I really, really can’t find this anything other than disturbing, fucked up and so, so not okay.

Also, NICKY WHAT THE FUCK. I knew Kevin and the twins were varying degrees of shitty, but I had some trust left in you. You know it’s a fucked-up story when even the comic relief is an asshole.

Come find me at the bottom of the trashcan, angrily crying over recent developments.