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xob1tchs · 2 months

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| mutual help ; l. berkshire

genre; smut 😜

warnings; bickering, NOT e2l sorry every1!!, no actual sex, mentions of blowjob, food play (?), oral (f receiving), public sex, fingering, dirty talk, name calling (baby, honey bc that’s readers nn and babe)

a/n; idk i saw these pics on pinterest and thought they were cute and then i just got to thinking abt how i could make smth and use them and yeahhhhh — but i actually like this a lot so im thinking this isn’t the end 😅😅 pt.2 maybeee

playlist; meddle about by chase atlantic, single by the neighborhood, cry baby by the neighborhood.

You smile around the ice cream filling your jaw, cheeks puffing out in a way that makes enzo's pants grow tighter, some of the pinkish-white cream dribbling from the corners of your mouth, making a mess that stains the pristine collar of your dress shirt.

He toys with the mechanical pencil in his grasp, running it along the seam of his lips, pressing them into a cat-like grin when you look up at him over the top of your textbook, eyes turning to crescents when your grin widens. Your book thumps against the table when you lean forward, caught between your chest and the hardwood, making you stutter over whatever you were gonna say, shiny lips falling into a confused pout, blinking down at the pages before you roll your eyes, nudging it to the floor with your elbow, letting it clatter against the wood without a care.

“You’re going to get us in trouble – ” Lorenzo warns, watching as the ice cream cone in your hand melts over your knuckles, seeping into the cuffs of your cardigan, forming sticky lines between your knuckles “Finish that, or i’ll throw it away.” he finishes, arching a perfectly trimmed brow as you bring the strawberry cream to your lips again, licking a thick strip from the base of the cone to the top of the cream.

You hum in satisfaction, ready to bring the cone back for another lick, when a group of students brushes past, one of their shoes knocking the back of your chair, grip on the come loosening for a moment before it topples from your fingers and lands in the crevice of your thighs. You gasp, scowling at the fifth years as they giggle, rushing around a corner.

“God damn it, honey” enzo growls deep under his breath, snapping his book shut, making you flinch as you look up at him from the mess between your thighs. Your brows draw together in confusion, used to hearing the nick name in a more saccharine tone. This wasn’t your fault.

You tilt your head “they bumped into me!” you whisper yell, uncomfortably rubbing your thighs together, only spreading the sticky mess further.

Frowning he scoots his chair back, leaning back enough to see the drying ice cream, something straight out of wet dream as you spread your thighs, chasing some sort of relief from the uncomfortable feeling - he can see your white panties, delicate lace trim along the edges and a cute little with bow just below your navel.

“You’ve made a fucking mess” his tone is annoyed, shoulders tensing as you gaze into his puppy like eyes, puffy lips parting in a pout once again.

This has been torture – weeks of tutoring you, dealing with the innocent pouts and whines, begging him to just lie to professor snape for you. Games of on and off, that he knows he’s definitely winning, because you were practically begging for his cock a fortnight ago. He’s thought about you so many times – thought about beating the shit out of the guys that talk about you.

He can’t fucking take it anymore, cock throbbing in his boxers as you squirm around in your chair, huffing out delicate breaths, wide eyes turned glassy – you look like you might even cry, and makes him tick, knuckles pale from how tightly his fists clench against the smooth hard wood table.

Gripping the table with one hand, and the hem of your skirt with the other, you sigh “I can clean it up enzo” you plead, nervous as he shifts in his chair, tugging the sleeves of his dress shirt up his forearms.

The whole library falls silent when he looks at you, rasping out a command that makes your eyes go wide “spread your legs” he mumbles. He drops to his knees not a moment sooner, brunette head of hair disappearing under the table, the drag of his chair back to the table making you gasp.

Fingers wrap around your ankles, forcing your legs apart, unveiling your clothed pussy to his sparkling eyes when your skirt rides up your thighs, the fabric is damp and stained with strawberry ice cream, molding your warm folds to the cotton, puffy pussy straining for attention against the threads. He blows out a soft breath between puckered lips, chuckling hotly when you squirm, thighs trembling against his strength.

“Lorenzo — we’ll be caught” you whisper, glassy eyes meeting his own dark ones, a gentle blush spread across the bridge of your nose and the apples of your cheeks. He tuts, leaning forward just enough for his nose to rub your clit, breathing in the musky-sweet scent emitting from your core.

“You don’t want me to help you out?” He murmurs, tongue darting out to lick a stripe along your seam, planting a wet kiss against your hole as one of his hands creep up the inseam of your thigh, toying with the outer hem of your panties.

You sigh, cradling your face in your palms, unable to voice the denial you thought you had wanted to say, overwhelmed by the heat from his breath ghosting your cunt.

“be a good girl and keep quiet” he mutters, peeking up at your flushed face between your fingers before he tugs your panties to the side, the threads snapping under the pressure, ripping the crotch right out of them, ruined as they fall to the floor.

he takes his time, as he leans in, eyelids fluttering closed, jaw hanging slack – pressing an open mouth kiss to your spread folds, humming in delight at the sticky slick seeping from your core, pressing in deeper for more, nails digging crescents into your sticky thighs.

his tongue toys at your entrance, the warm muscle prodding your tight walls until you let out the softest wine from above him, hips bucking forward against his face, pressing his nose into your clit.

“s’fucking good” he mouths against your cunt, shaking his face side to side, making your squirm against the wooden chair, thighs threatening to squeeze around his head if he were to let go.

“shit- enzo '' you chirp, drooping eyes casting a weary look around the library, despite knowing your meticulously tucked away study corner is shielded from most prying eyes.

one of his hands drifts from the inseam of your thigh, to the top of your pussy, pulling the hood up so he can wrap his puffy lips around your clit, gently tugging on the nub with his teeth, before giving it a lewd suck, slurping and smacking sounding from between your legs - he’s the one being fucking loud.

his other hand glides down your pussy as he pulls away, spreading your folds to watch your greedy hole wink, pulsing for something to fill you up - seeping wetness that runs down your asshole and the wooden chair, staining the hardwood floor below you even further.

he groans as he presses the pad of his middle finger to your pussy, watching as you suck him in, gliding to the second knuckle with ease “you can take more than that, can’t you baby?” you hum from above him, thighs spreading further in a silent agreement, etching a wicked grin across his lips.

he slides a second finger in with ease, cock jumping in his trousers when he feels the suction of your velvet walls around his thick fingers, clenching around him with need even when he doesn’t make a move.

when he leans in to flick your clit, your thighs clamp around his head, one hand tangling in the hair the crown of his skull, the other gripping the edge of a textbook so harshly you fear the pages will rip.

he groans against your heat, eyelids rolling back in his skull as he makes harsh thrusts in and out with his fingers, alternating between quick sucks and nips at your swollen bud, the weight of his cock in his boxers becoming unbearably heavy with every jut of your hips against his face, precum making his boxers stick to his length in an uncomfortable manner.

“m’so close enzo, baby please” you croon, leaning back in your chair to lock eyes with him, tears brimming at your lash line as you press a palm to your mouth, muffling the sounds that multiply with every passing second.

he doesn’t stop at your confession, the words spurring him on, desperate to swallow your cum and taste it on his tongue for hours to come, cock twitching at just the thought alone.

his hand drives into you with so much force that wet smacking sounds start to ring out, so fast and frequent that if anyone were near they’d surely know what you were up to.

it’s only a couple seconds later that you’re falling apart on his fingers, thighs squeezing around him so tightly that he begins to go lightheaded, surely not helped by the way he desperately laps at your seeping cunt like a man starved, groaning and moaning into your folds until he’s satiated, and your hips are squirming away from his mouth, pussy swollen and sensitive against the cool air of the library when he finally does pull back.

you look down at him through a bleary gaze, flushing at the sight, covered in a mix of sweat, cum and strawberry ice cream, smeared along his jaw and across the tip of his nose, you lick your lips, shaking your head when he meets your eyes “now we’ve both made messes” you mumble, using the cuff of your sweater to wipe some of the liquid from his face, glancing between his legs to where his cock strains against the zipper.

“now i should help you then, right?”

#lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire smut #slytherin boys #slytherin #slytherin boys smut #harry potter smut #fanfic #fanfic smut #slytherin smut

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forthelostones · 6 months

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𝚙𝚝.𝚝𝚠𝚘 ; 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 ─── ⋆

⟡⋆˙୨ᥫ᭡. 𝚗𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚞 - 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎!𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚢 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ᥫ᭡.୧⋆˙⟡

synopsis: abby was a woman whose presence was becoming deeply irresistible to you. in your final year of nursing school, you toil with the idea of pursuing her — ruin what you have or enjoy what’s in front of you?

warnings. 18+ (mdni); sub!abby (eventually), mini slowburn, suggestive language, jealousy, nora & mel & ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parental death, nickname: dummy, and modern au - pre-established relation.

an: hi everyone, waaaa thanks for all the follows! i appreciate you all sooo soo much. this is something i just thought of idk, maybe a series who knows! i am thinking abt putting this on ao3 too!

(no y/n)

wc: 4.3k

pt one.

Alarm. Dress. Meet Abby. Go. Today was a lecture day and although long, at least you got to sleep in a little this morning. The only thing is Abby is always locked in and there’s no way to get her out of that headspace. She doesn’t take unnecessary breaks or doodles, she is virtually a perfect student. But you sit beside her scrolling through your notes, unamused.

Abby’s head is downwards, with her braid falling over her shoulder, focused on the presentation. Her hand moves quickly as she writes all the details down, while you type mindlessly. You notice how her bulging veins dress her hand peak-a-booing out of her cardigan. The way she gripped her pen enhanced the greenish threads under her skin as she drew diagrams and large title cards. Why was everything about her attractive, you thought. Mel was sitting next to you with her laptop open, scrolling on Pinterest, mumbling. Her clique of girls speak in what they think is a hushed whisper, but it's just a poor attempt. You feel your lips forming to sh them.

“Hey.” Abby snaps, holding direct eye contact with Mel.

Mel looks over her screen with disgust, like she just wished death upon her. But that lasts only a minute before they start up again and Abby sighs, slamming her pen on the desk which causes your professor to turn and look in your direction.

“Ladies, let’s focus.” She said.

At the 30-minute break, Abby stormed out of the lecture hall and you followed behind like a lost puppy. She stood in the hallway with her hands above her head, inhaling and exhaling with her eyes closed, counting silently. She rolled her shoulders back and finally looked to find your eyes. Which calmed her for a moment — seeing you there.

“Y’know what pisses me off about that Mel?”

She said her name like a swear word.

You were taken aback at the anger bubbling inside of her. Her calm demeanor was all you knew, she avoided conflict, never raised her voice but seeing her like this pang in your heart unlike anything else.

“She only acts like that because she doesn’t have the mental capacity to comprehend what’s going on. Not everyone can just throw their life away, some of us actually have to work for what we want.”

Her eyes were wide, her fists curled, and her lips tight. You walk over to her and just wrap your arms around her. She was reluctant to reciprocate but eventually did — give into you, and fell into your arms. Her hands linger on your lower back, tugging you.

“They don't understand.” Her voice cracked.

You knew what this was about, it was about her dad. You saw how reluctant she was to go into detail about him last night. She just changed the subject. You didn’t know what illness he passed away from, if any, she wouldn’t go that far.

“Abby, I know. They don’t.” You reply pulling away sooner than you both would like.

She composed herself and peered at your welcoming eyes and she suddenly forgot where she stood. In the middle of a high-traffic hallway, filled with the rustling of scrubs. Her hands came up onto your shoulders and she nodded her head. “You’re right and I can’t fault them for that, can I?”

The rest of class was incredibly quiet.

As you both stood at the entryway of your apartments you felt like you wanted to spend more time with her. Just because. You slid your key into the lock and swatted the thoughts away. “Dummy?” She asked.

“There’s a party today, uh, some sorority thing. I don’t really know anyone else going—“

“Yes, yea absolutely.”

You smiled at her and then closed your door with excitement, maybe too much?

Abby wasn’t sure what came over her, after overhearing the other nursing students she thought it would be nice to go out, since it had been three years. That text from Nora was burning her phone, flames encased it so brightly that she didn’t go on her phone all day.

After pouring a glass of wine and stripping to get in the shower she stood in the mirror examining her body. Checking her back out, quads, and glutes… she didn’t know why but looking at herself was so invigorating. She pulled her phone out and snapped a photo, forearm covering her chest, gently flexing. Her eyes brightly admired her frame and debated sending it to Nora. She had never taken a nude photo before let alone sent it to someone. She shook her head reaching into the shower, turning the knob, and throwing that thought aside.

When she was showering all she could think about was your embrace earlier. It was unusual for her to be held — well have human contact at all. She wasn’t one for physical touch, but in that moment she yearned for more. She wet her hair and paused, rekindling the memory in her mind, how you smelled, your warmth, and how she felt — safe.

She didn’t want to admit it to you this morning but she stayed up last night after you left. She replayed the quick events as she rinsed her hair, visualizing sections of your face behind her eyelids.

As she was on her last full body rinse, there you stood on the other side of her apartment door knocking, slightly startling her.

“Wait!” She hollered from the bathroom.

Quickly wrapping herself in her white towel, wet feet trailing to the front door, she peeped out the hole to see you nervously awaiting her arrival. “Hi, oh shit. You were showering, right. Sorry. I just, I should’ve texted you, but if you wanted to get ready at mine you can.” You said casually.

Abby felt your eyes flick toward her collarbones, making her pull the towel taut.

“Yea perfect, leave the door open for me ‘kay?”

After closing the door Abby became self-conscious instantly. Her sopping hair clinging to her wet face made her feel strange, especially with your lingering eyes. Abby wasn’t the type to rush but she wanted to be closer to you as quickly as she could. She blew her hair dry, finished her wine, and got dressed in twenty minutes, already walking through your front door.

She had never actually ever seen your apartment in its full glory. It was cluttered by her standards, decorated by yours. “Hey Dummy, it’s me.”

You peered your head out of your bedroom and welcomed her to help you pick an outfit. You sighed at Abby fully dressed, all ready to go, and completely misunderstanding the concept of getting ready together.

“So, I was thinking of this combo.” You say, breaking her wandering eyes from your unpolished bedroom.

Abby looked at your dress, long sleeve, black number, comfortable and easy. She imagined you in it and it made her tense as her mind began to wonder.

“That’s pretty.” She replied eagerly.

You were in your silk robe that wasn’t very well at hiding what was underneath, she became flush and attempted to focus on the stitching on the dress or something. But when you bent over to reach for the next item you laid out on your bed she fought herself to look away. Your skin was freshly moisturized and the scent filled her nose so instinctively making her nostrils twitch with pleasure.

“I think so too, but I also have this. I used to wear this a lot, I don’t know. Should I try them on for you?”

You showed her a dark brown number with a swoop back, flowing out at the knee in a wing-like manner. She thought about how high up the hem of the bottom was and blinked her eyes vigorously, unsure if this was a dream or not. She said no words but just nodded her head.

“Okay, let me change, there’s tequila on top of the fridge.”

Abby pulled her hands into her carpenter-style jacket and retrieved the liquor. She took the bottle, no glasses, and waited for you at your dining table. Her forehead was misty with beads of sweat looking for an escape, she felt sheepish at how turned on she got from looking at your body. What the fuck is wrong with me, she thought.

You walk out in the black dress and look at her eyelids lifting at the fabric hugging your body. She brings her hand to her chin as you do a spin for her and then pose. Abby watches you walk towards her in what she swears is slow motion, and straightens her back as her eyes drift up and down your body. She looked completely hypnotized by you. You reach for the bottle, removing the cap in a swift motion and then bringing it to your lips. Abby latched onto each of your movements. In her comatose state, she made it a mission to let it be known at that moment that she was yours. Her thick eyelashes hung heavy as she watched you move your hand to her chin, lifting it and pouring a shot directly into her throat. As her lips came to a close you swiped her chin.

“I like this dress a lot.” She said, now having an excuse to peer down at your body.

“Me too,” you smiled. “Let me show you the brown one.”

She couldn’t refuse the pleasure of watching your ass switch as you went to change. She took another pour into her mouth and shook off the heat coming from her core and throat. You threw your arms up and spun again.

“I like both but the black one, it’s— it’s really pretty.”

“So, I’ll wear that one then.”

Abby felt a light bubble form in her stomach from your willingness to listen to her and do as you’re told. She watched your hips sway into your bedroom, just moments after she realized her jaw was set like a rock, wide open, admiring your ass.

Abby held all the doors open for you as you exited the apartment building, which rendered small thank you’s from under your breath. The sound of your boots clattering against the pavement filled both, you and Abby’s ears, prying at the silence in the air. She looked exceptionally clean tonight, most days you don’t see her outside of her uniform but today, you were really mesmerized by her. You questioned if it was the drinks you consumed or just her sweet scent enticing you.

Her black boxy tee was blanketed in a woody sage perfume, just nipping above the hem of her dark-washed denim that was slouching below her hips, exposing the skin around her navel.

“I haven’t been to a party in a while,” she sighed.

You smiled at hearing her voice within the stillness.

“Me too, I’m glad you invited me.” You reply. She peers over to you with a bewitching smirk that makes your cheeks hot.

“To be honest, I wouldn’t have wanted to go with anyone else.” She says matter-of-factly, not knowing how sweet her words sound. You think of a reply, but nothing seems good enough at the moment.

You both slip side glances at each other as the moon shimmered on your skin. You kept tucking your hands in your hair and adjusting accordingly. In this moment, you became conscious of how close you two were huddled together. Occasionally her knuckles would tickle yours and she’d hum a sorry, but you couldn’t help to indulge in the brief moments of her touch.

The house party was secluded, the bass of the shitty music vibrating the outside of the porch that was sprinkled with stoners and nicotine rats. Abby grabs your wrist to guide you up the steps sees your dress ride up your bottom and gently tugs it down, following behind you. Your mind buzzed with the image of her hand drifting further.

You pull open the jagged screen door and inhale the miles of smoke trailing outside. You look over your shoulder to see Abby retreat into her turtle shell and instantly become turned off. You reach for her hand and clasp it, to which she refuses and intertwines them, tying her clammy hand into yours. Your palm pushes wet bodies to find a corner worth standing in. The house was crumbling under the music and clabbering feet.

Abby saw you were struggling to plow your way through the crowd so she took the lead. Her eyes were like darts, locking in on the target. She used her elbow as a driving force, the pull of her weight had you tripping over your feet. You ended up at steps going towards the basement, florescent with colored lights. The vibe was mellow and not as many people were here. After hitting the last step, you feel the release of compression from Abby’s hand, and you casually cross your arms.

“You good?” She asks, hand softly grazing your hip as she leans in.

All you can muster is a nod.

The room was surprisingly cold, the old basement that had been decorated in FSL graffiti and memorabilia. In the corner was Mel and her friends from class who instantly spotted you and Abby like a sore thumb. Sitting on the couch were two women, legs laid on top of each other, sharing a dab pen. The brooding brunette peered over at you and you swore you could hear her voice by the look coming from her eyes. Abby taps your shoulder and gestures to all your classmates who are now loudly offering drink service. Mel lifts a bottle of flavorless vodka to Abby’s lips, pouring it into her mouth, while nursing her open jaw.

“Good job, Anderson.” She practically moans. You’re unsure if she’s being condescending or flirtatious, either way, you become uncomfortable.

Mel was in a mini skirt and a tube top, both white and pristine. Her hair was pinned back and tied in a low bun, embellished with a pink silk bow. Her makeup was simple but flagrant, enhancing her features so beautifully and highlighting her predator eyes on Abby.

Suddenly, after handing you both a shot, Mel’s perfectly polished fingernails were gripping Abby’s strong shoulder. Massaging it and laughing as if she hasn’t been an asshole to her for almost four years. Obliviously, Abby just continued to collect shots from Mel, being drawn into every string pouring out of her mouth. You follow shortly behind but are left out of the conversation, standing behind Abby, watching like the Secret Service. Mel’s hand slowly creeps down towards Abby’s back, under her jacket, and now making some joke about our professor, throwing her head back and forth, then setting it on her shoulder, rubbing her.

You glance over to the couch to see the cat-like woman sizing you up. She waves her pen in front of her face like a dangling carrot. You strut towards her and she pats the couch and you swear you see dust fly into the air. She brings the pen up to her lips and lets the smoke brush her bottom lip. Her hand comes to rest on your thigh and then blinks narrowly at you.

“Why haven’t I seen you before.” You whisper in her ear.

She waits to pull away, allowing the pattering of your breath to trill against her skin.

“Don’t know,” her hand slides upwards. “What’s your major?”

“Nursing.”

Her arm was colored with an interesting tattoo that you find yourself tracing. Her hand came up to the curve of your ass. “Smart girl, so if I get an injury say… here,” She brings her mouth to graze your neck, then places a soft kiss. “Then you’d help me out?”

Her lips flick against your ear lobe which makes you shift under yourself.

“I certainly can.”

In the midst of the ever-present tension, Abby walks over with her pinky wrapped around Mel’s, a smile, unapologetically flashing gums and teeth. “Coming to dance with us?” She asks.

“Yea we can come.” Your new companion replies.

Abby smiles stiffly at her, then dashes her eyes back at you, saying your name, and then lets go of her connection to Mel.

“Sure, be up in a minute. Get us some beers?” You smirked.

Even under the lights, you can see how flush Abby became. Mel dragged her off, their hands back in love. You look back at your partner, cup her chin, and follow shortly behind.

Abby stood in the corner with Mel waving her hips against the beats of the song. She held three bottles of beer by the neck in her large hands. You two caught each other’s eyes and for a moment you could see her grin. Once you join them in their designated area, your date retrieves the bottles from Abby and sips behind you, wrapping her hand on your waist.

“I love this dress?” Her voice vibrating against your damp skin.

Her hand kept running over the smoothest parts of your body, gripping, pinching, — drinking you in.

“What’s your name?”

“Ellie.”

Abby came over to you and asked if were you okay to which you replied with a nod. Ellie was pushing her pelvis against your ass, gyrating desperately. Her hands became sticky with desire, practically bending you over, forcing you to arch your back.

Mel pulled Abby into her sphere and tacked her arms around her neck, tossing her head wildly, and making Abby slide her free hand on her lower back. Mel’s eyes were glossy with a feminine ache, the same one you had. You stood confused watching it all play out and Abby went along with her. Something boiled inside you, lust or jealousy, you didn’t know. It distracted you so much you didn’t realize Ellie’s lips pressed on your nape.

You turn to her and she latched her lips onto your neck, tattooed hand cupping your ass, dipping you back as she fused with you. It felt so good to be wanted like this, you felt your eyelids flutter and you could've sworn you smelt Abby’s shampoo. You could feel Ellie’s hands widen, and you could see the shimmering blonde locks under the flashing lights, and the formation of Abby’s name on your bitten lips.

“What?” Ellie pulled away in a half-hearted laugh.

“Hm? Did I say something?” You yelled.

Ellie couldn’t stop peering at your mouth, then glancing upwards, then down again. As she closed her eyes and moved inward, a shove from behind you interrupted your connection. Ellie yells at them but all you see is Abby locking lips with Mel, her hands full of her ass and Mel’s knees buckling. You see how Abby casually slides her tongue inside her mouth, and Mel accepts it like it’s hers.

Ellie bucks up to the guy who pushes you. His beer split on his shirt, hair soaked in sweat, mouth sloppy, and hollering slurs at her. Abby looks over at the situation and notices you in the midst of it all and pulls you away.

Her lips were bright and wet as she looped her arm into yours and put you behind her. You bring your hands up to her shoulders and tug at her when you see Mel searching for Abby in the crowd. Abby’s steps stuttered as you led her out of the house. It was like being released from a chokehold as the fresh wind smacked your face. You guide her down the steps and she smiles, teeth on display and eyes wedged into her cheeks.

“Abs?”

“Hmm… fuck me. I’m drunk.”

Her voice was resonant, sexy.

She stumbles over to you and dangles her wrists off your waist, face-to-face. Although drunk, she had no issue flashing you a playful gaze. You analyze her soft face and stare at the tip of her nose, then her lips, and back to her eyes. You break out of your tipsy and notice how fidgety her hands are, causing your panties to dampen.

“You think you can handle me?”

“Wha— what do you mean?” You choke.

She reaches into her coat pocket and dangles her keys, which you take for safekeeping. Thoughtlessly, her hands return and cascade towards your ass, fingers brushing your dress fabric. You stay like this for a moment, relishing her touch.

“Let me get you home Anderson.”

She tried her best and pick her feet up off the ground and not wash her shoes against the concrete. You held her by her waist, looping through her outer arm, hoisting her up, which wasn’t an easy feat. The puffs of her breath filled the air in front of you and you couldn’t believe you were carrying her home.

You walk her through her apartment and lay her out on her bed, turning on her lights. She groans loudly, pressing her palm against her temples, “No, turn it off. Open the blinds.”

She sounded so sweet, totally different from her persona at the house party. So you comply, the moon was full in the sky, cascading over the room like the sun, illuminating her face. Abby sat up lazily and attempted to remove her shoe, but all she could do was giggle at her failure. You sat the the edge of the bed and unlaced them, placing them across the room. She manages to remove her jacket alone, but you insist on tucking your fingertips under her shirt and pulling it upwards. The static made her fly-aways stand up, which you naturally brushed downwards. She observed you as you then moved to unbutton her pants. The beats in your chest were obnoxious in your ears — you were sure Abby could hear it too. The only noise in the room was the huffing of her breathing, which was two touches away from becoming moans. Abby sat before you, legs spread, dangling off the edge in her nude bra and matching lace panties. Her dainty underwear in contrast to her toned body filled that cave in your belly. She brushed her hands through her hair, rolled her neck, and fell back on the bed.

You ran in the kitchen and filled a glass with water, leaving it at her bedside. She was now under her sheets, admiring you.

“I’ll come check on you in the morning.”

A heavy pause floated above your heads.

“Wanna just… s—?” / “I’m gonna go.”

You both speak simultaneously, you freeze, curious if you let her repeat herself, but you don’t.

“Okay.” She smiled weakly.

“If you need me just knock. ‘Night Abby.”

You peeled your dress off and tossed your shoes and underwear on your living room floor. Your naked body glistened with goosebumps, making your nipples harden. They became so sensitive, begging for touch, and suddenly you wished you didn’t leave Abby alone. You fall into your bed that was plush with warmth, ruffling the sheets under you. Your mind painted images of Abby’s hands slipping under your dress, pushing aside your panties, and sticking her fingers in your slick that she was responsible for.

Your hands trailed to your aching core, surprising you with how wet you stayed all night. You roll your arousal-covered clit languidly, imaging Abby. The picture of her partially nude body flashed clearly, making you sweat. Once you build up the courage to slip your fingers in you groan her name. Abby. Letting her name levitate in the air as the sloshing noise between your legs increases.

The Saturday sun broke through the curtains of your bedroom, revealing the state you left yourself in, nakedly aroused. A soft pattering was rhythmic at the door, which spooked you. Your back is now erect, and you don’t care to remember how or why you were this nude in bed, you just reach for the nearest t-shirt and cover your top half as you open the door. Abby was grinning, a smile as bright as the sun, holding two coffee mugs. She had ditched her matching attire for red and black plaid pajama pants, with an old college top that was worn from time. You undo the chain lock and let her in, kicking aside your dirtied clothes.

Even hungover, she still looked beautiful.

“Good morning.”

You were slightly upset that Abby woke you up this early on a weekend, especially looking this good. You run to the bathroom and see the caked makeup on your face and wash it fresh. You lead her to your room where you ruffled through your dresser for a clean pair of underwear. Abby shot her eyes to the ground as you lifted your shirt to slip them on. You accepted the coffee from her hands and sat on your bed, curdled in the corner.

“Thanks.” You squint.

“I woke up feeling like shit.”

“You had a night.”

Just for a moment you had forgotten the Mel fiasco, but quickly remembered.

“I did?”

“You and Mel…” You allude.

Her face falls into her palm, “Oh no,”

You force a giggle but you hated seeing it.

“Full tongue.”

“Fuck. I really — I don't really know why or how that happened.”

“She got you drunk, kept feeding you drinks… hands all over you.”

“But it’s Mel! It’s Mel, she hates me.”

“Hmmm.”

She stares.

“There you go with that again.”

“What?”

“The hmmm stuff.”

“You’re just hard to understand sometimes Abby.”

“Maybe I’m not meant to be understood.” She smirked, watching your face contort with agitation.

She leans against your headboard and just stares at you.

“Did I do anything else?” Her voice suddenly capricious.

You shook your head in reply as you sipped.

“I just didn’t know she liked girls.”

“Abby, she doesn’t.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Glad nothing further happened. Right?”

“Nope. I mean unless something happened just as I put you to bed.” Her eyes lit up at this news, something ignited in her, mostly gratified. You drink more and feel your body tensing up under her lens.

“Put me to bed?” Her fingers find her ridges in your sheets, the same way they did to your dress, and smooth them out. You shudder remembering her drunken touch. Her eyes glaze over with a sharp look, almost as if she remembered too.

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