(no subject)
title: you're always holding onto stars
rating: nc-17
pairing: girl!harry/zayn/louis
For Lizz, because she told me all about this lovely verse and I wrote porn for it. Also, she wrote this, which you should read because PEGGING.
They wind up like this a lot, the three of them in bed with Harry between them, engulfed by Zayn and Louis’ bodies curled around her like they were made that way, like they’re the mold and only she can fit inside.
This time, it was when Zayn heard the front door slam shut and there was Harry, flinging off clothes and her boots (they weren’t hers, they were Louis’ ridiculous UGGs because he insists she wear them when the snow starts to melt and turn to slush even though his feet get cold in just his TOMS) and she ran excitedly to Zayn, twisting her hair up in a bun and rambling about someone she’d just seen on campus with a tattoo like paint, like brush strokes, like sweeping lines and spattered splashes and messy, like her, and she chattered on about, “would that suit me, you think?” and “where do you think, what about here?” and he watched her, amused, as she pointed to places on her body, until he reached for her arm, kissed along her collarbone, tapped at the inside of her bicep.
“Here?” he asked, and licked at an old bruise he sucked onto her throat. He felt her shudder and breathe, “yeah, okay.”
He moved down, rucked her sweater up a little, just above her hipbone, fingers trailing along her stomach and tongue licking next to them, “Or here.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she panted and then Louis had walked out and found them and he led them straight into their bedroom, clothes stripping along the way until Harry was all caught up in her tights and she just gave up with them, falling to her knees in front of them with a, “Can - can I?”
She swirled her tongue around the heads of their cocks, mouth sliding down and sucking and fingers coming up where she couldn’t reach, alternating, until Louis was leaning heavily into Zayn’s side, panting with tiny whimpers, and Zayn kissed him, mouth open and tongues sliding and they came almost in sync, Harry swallowing what she could.
And that’s how they end up like this, kissing lazily in the middle of the bed with Harry squished between them. Her mascara’s smudged a bit, green eyes almost owlish and surrounded by black, and her hips keep twitching, thighs clenching where they won’t give her what she needs.
Louis works his way up to the headboard, kisses Harry until she follows willingly and leans back against his chest, twisting her head around to catch his mouth. It keeps her distracted enough that Zayn can settle between her spread legs, hands coming down to keep her thighs open, moving his mouth to where she’s hot and aching.
He kisses along the crease of her thigh, watches her hands come to rest at Louis’ hips, fingernails digging in while Louis keeps her mouth occupied. He comes to her clit and blows against it, fingers spreading her even more, and Harry and Louis separate as she lets out a keening sigh.
Zayn gets his mouth on her, leans in and swipes his tongue at her clit and she moans for him, a pretty sweet sound that makes Louis whisper into her ear, “Yeah? Just like that, huh?”
Zayn’s hands clutch at her knees, curls over the rosebud on her knee cap that he put there, inked into her skin and over her bones, and his mouth comes down to her clit and sucks, edges his teeth in where it’s most sensitive and he listens to her shake and pant.
He pulls back, just enough that she starts to fight against Louis’ arms around her waist and protest, and Zayn works two fingers into her quick, and she falls back again, legs spreading even wider. He fucks them in and out of her fast like he knows she likes and moves in a third, thumbs against her clit and she comes, wailing, knees coming up to force his hand away.
Zayn pulls them apart again, none too gently, and draws his fingers out slowly. He flicks his tongue out, listens to her pant, flushed chest heaving up and down like her ribs and her lungs are suddenly too big and they don’t fit anymore. Zayn catches Louis’ eye over her shoulder and he moves his mouth in closer, trails a finger up and down her slit until Harry’s hips shake, thighs trembling where Louis holds onto her.
She watches him, mouth slack, cheeks red, and her eyes half-lidded, as he moves his mouth down again, presses his tongue flat down where she’s throbbing. Harry whines, fingers scrabbling in the sheets, and they break eye contact as she throws her head back, lolling it on Louis’ shoulder, where he’s leaning into her ear, biting and sucking, kissing along the shell while she shudders, and Zayn can hear him murmuring, “Another, baby, come on.”
He laps his tongue there, hard against her clit even as she cries out and his fingers draw into her heat, push inside where she’s soaking from her first orgasm.
Zayn feels her getting close again and he curves his fingers up, fucking into her and forcing little pained noises from her mouth. He closes his lips around her and sucks, humming right against her clit and Harry gasps, hips churning, hands coming up to clutch at Louis’ shoulders instead of Zayn’s hair. (He doesn’t bitch as much as Louis, but hair pulling is more Harry’s thing and he can’t very well walk into work with his hair all wilted.)
He looks up, groaning at her melted back into Louis’ chest, the column of her throat bared and Louis biting at her collarbone. Zayn circles his tongue around her clit at the same time Louis’ hand comes up to her nipple piercing and his fingers twist, just enough, and she comes hard, with a strangled cry, her eyes rolling back, and her back arching so harshly and so quickly Zayn’s a little afraid it might break. Louis keeps hold of her as she pants against his chest, eyes fluttering open and closed and Zayn gives a quick kiss to the bend of her knee before he crawls up her body, caresses her cheek and kisses the bow of her lips. Louis’ hands work into her hair, moving through the knots and the curls and scritching at her scalp and they whisper, “hey, hey, pretty girl, come on,” waiting for her to come back down.
She slits her eyes open finally, hint of a smile on her lips and Zayn kisses it until she’s grinning, big and huge and breathless. Louis pouts behind her and Zayn kisses that off, swipes his tongue in along his teeth and keeps the taste of Harry, feels where Louis’ hand comes up to feel along his ribs, settle his palm on his skin like he finds what he’s looking for. (Soulmates never die, and they had both held his hands through that one even though it didn’t hurt as much as he pretended it did. It didn’t hurt at all.)
“Bath?” he asks when he finally pulls back and Harry nods at him, still smiling, opening her sleepy eyes.
Zayn heads into the bathroom, runs the water scalding because Harry doesn’t like it unless her skin burns and she and Louis can draw pictures in the steam on the mirror after. Louis follows him in, hauling Harry in with a piggyback when she claims jellylegs.
They settle her in the water, her skin flushing even pinker and little ringlets of hair curling against her neck from the heat. They slide in next to her, one on either side, and she tilts her head back automatically for one of them to start wetting her hair.
Louis huffs and starts to do it, and Zayn has to lean in and kiss him over her shoulder, breathes in deep and smells the both of them, Harry’s paint and Louis’ musk and sex and shampoo, and Zayn isn’t sure how they can fit, all squeezed into this tub, or in the bed, later, but they do.
rating: nc-17
pairing: girl!harry/zayn/louis
For Lizz, because she told me all about this lovely verse and I wrote porn for it. Also, she wrote this, which you should read because PEGGING.
They wind up like this a lot, the three of them in bed with Harry between them, engulfed by Zayn and Louis’ bodies curled around her like they were made that way, like they’re the mold and only she can fit inside.
This time, it was when Zayn heard the front door slam shut and there was Harry, flinging off clothes and her boots (they weren’t hers, they were Louis’ ridiculous UGGs because he insists she wear them when the snow starts to melt and turn to slush even though his feet get cold in just his TOMS) and she ran excitedly to Zayn, twisting her hair up in a bun and rambling about someone she’d just seen on campus with a tattoo like paint, like brush strokes, like sweeping lines and spattered splashes and messy, like her, and she chattered on about, “would that suit me, you think?” and “where do you think, what about here?” and he watched her, amused, as she pointed to places on her body, until he reached for her arm, kissed along her collarbone, tapped at the inside of her bicep.
“Here?” he asked, and licked at an old bruise he sucked onto her throat. He felt her shudder and breathe, “yeah, okay.”
He moved down, rucked her sweater up a little, just above her hipbone, fingers trailing along her stomach and tongue licking next to them, “Or here.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she panted and then Louis had walked out and found them and he led them straight into their bedroom, clothes stripping along the way until Harry was all caught up in her tights and she just gave up with them, falling to her knees in front of them with a, “Can - can I?”
She swirled her tongue around the heads of their cocks, mouth sliding down and sucking and fingers coming up where she couldn’t reach, alternating, until Louis was leaning heavily into Zayn’s side, panting with tiny whimpers, and Zayn kissed him, mouth open and tongues sliding and they came almost in sync, Harry swallowing what she could.
And that’s how they end up like this, kissing lazily in the middle of the bed with Harry squished between them. Her mascara’s smudged a bit, green eyes almost owlish and surrounded by black, and her hips keep twitching, thighs clenching where they won’t give her what she needs.
Louis works his way up to the headboard, kisses Harry until she follows willingly and leans back against his chest, twisting her head around to catch his mouth. It keeps her distracted enough that Zayn can settle between her spread legs, hands coming down to keep her thighs open, moving his mouth to where she’s hot and aching.
He kisses along the crease of her thigh, watches her hands come to rest at Louis’ hips, fingernails digging in while Louis keeps her mouth occupied. He comes to her clit and blows against it, fingers spreading her even more, and Harry and Louis separate as she lets out a keening sigh.
Zayn gets his mouth on her, leans in and swipes his tongue at her clit and she moans for him, a pretty sweet sound that makes Louis whisper into her ear, “Yeah? Just like that, huh?”
Zayn’s hands clutch at her knees, curls over the rosebud on her knee cap that he put there, inked into her skin and over her bones, and his mouth comes down to her clit and sucks, edges his teeth in where it’s most sensitive and he listens to her shake and pant.
He pulls back, just enough that she starts to fight against Louis’ arms around her waist and protest, and Zayn works two fingers into her quick, and she falls back again, legs spreading even wider. He fucks them in and out of her fast like he knows she likes and moves in a third, thumbs against her clit and she comes, wailing, knees coming up to force his hand away.
Zayn pulls them apart again, none too gently, and draws his fingers out slowly. He flicks his tongue out, listens to her pant, flushed chest heaving up and down like her ribs and her lungs are suddenly too big and they don’t fit anymore. Zayn catches Louis’ eye over her shoulder and he moves his mouth in closer, trails a finger up and down her slit until Harry’s hips shake, thighs trembling where Louis holds onto her.
She watches him, mouth slack, cheeks red, and her eyes half-lidded, as he moves his mouth down again, presses his tongue flat down where she’s throbbing. Harry whines, fingers scrabbling in the sheets, and they break eye contact as she throws her head back, lolling it on Louis’ shoulder, where he’s leaning into her ear, biting and sucking, kissing along the shell while she shudders, and Zayn can hear him murmuring, “Another, baby, come on.”
He laps his tongue there, hard against her clit even as she cries out and his fingers draw into her heat, push inside where she’s soaking from her first orgasm.
Zayn feels her getting close again and he curves his fingers up, fucking into her and forcing little pained noises from her mouth. He closes his lips around her and sucks, humming right against her clit and Harry gasps, hips churning, hands coming up to clutch at Louis’ shoulders instead of Zayn’s hair. (He doesn’t bitch as much as Louis, but hair pulling is more Harry’s thing and he can’t very well walk into work with his hair all wilted.)
He looks up, groaning at her melted back into Louis’ chest, the column of her throat bared and Louis biting at her collarbone. Zayn circles his tongue around her clit at the same time Louis’ hand comes up to her nipple piercing and his fingers twist, just enough, and she comes hard, with a strangled cry, her eyes rolling back, and her back arching so harshly and so quickly Zayn’s a little afraid it might break. Louis keeps hold of her as she pants against his chest, eyes fluttering open and closed and Zayn gives a quick kiss to the bend of her knee before he crawls up her body, caresses her cheek and kisses the bow of her lips. Louis’ hands work into her hair, moving through the knots and the curls and scritching at her scalp and they whisper, “hey, hey, pretty girl, come on,” waiting for her to come back down.
She slits her eyes open finally, hint of a smile on her lips and Zayn kisses it until she’s grinning, big and huge and breathless. Louis pouts behind her and Zayn kisses that off, swipes his tongue in along his teeth and keeps the taste of Harry, feels where Louis’ hand comes up to feel along his ribs, settle his palm on his skin like he finds what he’s looking for. (Soulmates never die, and they had both held his hands through that one even though it didn’t hurt as much as he pretended it did. It didn’t hurt at all.)
“Bath?” he asks when he finally pulls back and Harry nods at him, still smiling, opening her sleepy eyes.
Zayn heads into the bathroom, runs the water scalding because Harry doesn’t like it unless her skin burns and she and Louis can draw pictures in the steam on the mirror after. Louis follows him in, hauling Harry in with a piggyback when she claims jellylegs.
They settle her in the water, her skin flushing even pinker and little ringlets of hair curling against her neck from the heat. They slide in next to her, one on either side, and she tilts her head back automatically for one of them to start wetting her hair.
Louis huffs and starts to do it, and Zayn has to lean in and kiss him over her shoulder, breathes in deep and smells the both of them, Harry’s paint and Louis’ musk and sex and shampoo, and Zayn isn’t sure how they can fit, all squeezed into this tub, or in the bed, later, but they do.