Won't Let The Pictures Leave Her Phone - Eleanor/Louis/Perrie/Taylor/Danielle - 1/2
Title: Won't Let The Pictures Leave Her Phone
Pairing: Eleanor Calder/Louis Tomlinson/Perrie Edwards/Taylor Swift/Danielle Peazer
Part: 1/2 - Standalone
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~14,200
Summary: The one where Louis has an unexplained itch he can’t physically scratch...and his girlfriend and his bandmates’ girlfriends get caught in the crossfire.
Disclaimer: I do not know these people in reality, it isn't true and not meant to offend. The beauty of fictional constructs.
Warnings: Het smut. Female-to-male rimming. Slight dub-con and D/s undertones. Lots of other sex acts but it's SEX-POLLEN!FIC so that should be explanation enough for how kinky it's gonna get. Very cracky, unnecessarily long, very smutty fic.
A/N: I've never written sex-pollen!fic before and barely written het smut, so be gentle with me. This is all the fault of randominity. We were chatting about Louis threesomes/moresomes then this happened. Okay, it's a little bit my fault as well. Comments are always love, especially for this to let me know I've not gone completely insane! <3
It starts as an itch.
At first, as it’s natural to think as much, Louis treats it as a physical thing. It begins in his arms, but is bewildered to find that it doesn’t seem to stay there. The minute he feels settled enough to believe it’s gone with a simple needy scratch to the area; the itch springs up somewhere else. In his legs, in his feet, behind his damn ears, until it feels like there’s not one place on his body that isn’t thrumming with the irritation. The most frustrating aspect though is that it’s not actually that constant. It’s a coming and going, an urge that he frantically tries to satisfy in the hope that this’ll be the last time. He can make it through whole gigs without a problem, but then it’ll resurface when he’s back at the nightly hotel, goading him until he’s catching himself in the mirror absent-mindedly scratching his short nails into his skin.
It’s the night after their Madison Square Garden triumph of a concert and usually he’d rightly feel pretty damn pleased with himself and his boys for a job done good. They’re staying on in New York for a few more days and he had planned to maybe see a Broadway show or at least get some dinner, but he finally positively realises that something’s not quite right when Eleanor returns from her shower to find him sat half-dressed on the double bed, scratching at what’s steadily becoming a favoured spot on his arm.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, eyeing the pinked up skin but her tone is light, “Got fleas?”
“Ha!” he breathes, before shaking his head a little thoughtfully, “No, I just - I don’t know. I keep feeling...off.”
“Off?”
“Yeah,” he says, eyebrows twitching in frustration because now he’s said it out loud, he’s desperate for her to understand, “y’know, like, not right.”
“I know what ‘off’ means, babe,” she laughs, kissing him on the forehead as she passes on the way to her suitcase wedged into the seat of the armchair by the window.
The second her lips touch his skin feels like standing under the coolest waterfall on the planet, blessed relief for a suspended moment in time, but it disappears as quickly as it arrives and he’s left to chase the phantom sensation, swaying into her space long after she’s stepped away.
As she suggests cuddling up with a film in his laptop instead of going out, Louis suppresses his sigh and wills the itch to behave.
***
He should’ve known that whatever this thing is wouldn’t listen to him and neither would his body. He’s starting to feel betrayed as it continues, crawling along his insides. Whilst Eleanor, as his girlfriend, was immediately concerned before she did her best to put him at ease, Louis’ bandmates do no such thing. It’s a prime opportunity to needle him as he tries to sneak fingers underneath the cuff of his jumper sleeve. The skin there feels warm from overuse and he fidgets on the spot, eyes darting around to work out if anyone’s watching. Harry tries to cuddle him out of it, gripping tight, and Liam slaps his hand away any time he’s quick enough to catch him before he can scratch, but mostly they stick to teasing. He wants to feel annoyed that embarrassment seems to be a little more effective than the fleeting touches of forehead kisses and hugs as the hot flush reaction curls around him like a heated blanket, but it feels so good that he’s leaving himself open each time. His bandmates eye him a little strangely when he barely bites with a comeback before pouncing again and again. It’s all about how he’s impossibly even more tactile than usual and how it’s actually quite adorable. His frown automatically starts when Zayn distracts him with a snigger and finally says, “You really need to get laid, mate”. The proverbial lightbulb pulses to life inside Louis’ head and he lunges forward, giggling as Zayn’s arms twine around him as they playfight and he swallows the delirious urge to kiss him from joy.
His mistake is to think that his own right hand will be enough.
A day or two after his non-date with Eleanor, it’s karaoke at one of the function rooms in their hotel, commandeered by everyone involved in One Direction as a party for smashing through their night at Madison Square Garden. Louis’ restless and tipsy, his hand glued to his drink and immensely enjoying sucking it through a straw for a change. He’s happy with an edge that alcohol can’t seem to dampen and for a while that’s fine, in fact the glow to his cheekbones and the pliancy of his limbs makes him feel almost sexy and he swallows around the mischievous revelation that right now he could do with a wank. He looks for Eleanor through the talking, drinking crowd of bandmates, friends and colleagues but can’t seem to keep his eyes on any one person for long enough to work out if it’s her. When he starts to think of her long, wavy hair sliding between his fingertips and her skin tight trousers clinging to her slender legs, he brushes a discreet palm across his cock as he slips into a darker corner of the room and quickly decides that he needs to leave. The door’s close so he eases through it, exhaling a short breath when he’s on the other side before taking off for his room.
His hands are trembling as he puts his glass on the floor to better use the keycard in the slot, his drink sat suddenly forgotten as he closes the door with his body. He doesn’t know what makes him move from there except that a bed is always good and this one looks particularly inviting, freshly made with soft sheets and he seeks out the shape of his cock over his jeans with a breathless laugh. It’s one of the best nights of his life, probably one of the best parties with all the warm, fuzzy feelings and he’s intentionally alone to masturbate. Never let it be said that he isn’t still a teenager at heart!
He unzips quickly and pushes his jeans around mid-thigh as he sits on the edge of the bed, licking his palm with the sweet scent of alcohol before he returns to rubbing himself through his boxer briefs to try and make it last. If he needs to properly get laid with another person, he’s going to make the effectiveness of this moment count until he can do just that. When he curls his hand around the base of his half hard cock, the tingle that fizzes down his spine has his legs straining against the denim still over them and his fingers moving quickly to tease him into a full erection. He’s clumsy with drink and need, but it’s all the better for it because soon his dick is curving towards his belly, sticky at the tip and sensitive as his thumb catches beneath his foreskin. Here, he’s free to fantasise about anything and in his mind he replaces his hand with Eleanor’s, slighter but a grip that’s just as sure until he’s aware that his hips are starting to roll in tiny circles. Spurred on, he can feel the phantom brush of her dark hair against his skin; falling over his chest when she climbs into his lap or across his thighs as she leans down to suck him off. Memories and thoughts converge and the muscle in his jaw twitches as he squeezes his eyes shut and his body goes taut for a second, breath punching out of him when he can feel his arse clench.
Unwilling to let go of his cock or his imagination, Louis kicks his shoes off then moves a foot up over his knee to try to desperately flick his clothes down. As he suspected anyway, nothing budges more than his open zip catching on the back of his heel so he chooses to do it all quickly, like ripping away a plaster. He sighs when room temperature hits the bare skin below his waist and the feel of cotton underneath his arse. The hand not building a rhythm on his cock comes towards his chest and pushes his t-shirt up against his armpits before rolling a nipple. His hips buck and he blinks down at his body, the realisation coming back to him that this is him, Eleanor’s not here. He always thought he just did that kind of thing to the boys for a giggle, but a forceful tweak to his other nipple has him biting down on his lip and squeezing the length of his dick. He’s reclining more on the bed, his feet off the ground and almost able to plant them on the sheets if he just let himself fall back. The thought has him shivering and he means to reach down to fondle his balls when the tip of his pinkie finger prods the crease that leads to his hole.
“Fuck!” he breathes, surging back into a sitting position because that’s supposed to be forgotten, that’s never supposed to happen again.
He’s certain it’s never usually this intense until he’s about to come when he remembers the itch. As if all he has to do is will it into existence using his mind, it slithers back over him like a crafty snake and he tugs faster on his cock, eager to find out if this will finally satisfy the invisible beast, but with a sinking feeling that it probably won’t. With his palm wet with spit and pre-come, he twists his fingers over the head, repeatedly pulling up his foreskin and trembling as he eases it down again when he hears a whisper. Go on, it says gently, and he falls onto the bed without meaning to, his knees bent and toes curled onto the end. He pinches his nipple again, breathing hard and shallow, and roams a path down his torso to wrap his hand around his inner thigh. His cock slaps against his stomach as he lets it go, cupping his balls out of the way before the one on his leg moves towards his arse. He returns to his dick lest he chicken out and his stomach swoops as his finger damply puts pressure on his hole at the same time. It’s nothing more than that but he finds himself moaning, the itch floating blissfully further and further from him. He pauses, testing when, in the next second, a feverish wave tears through him, stronger than ever, flashing hot and tense like pins and needles. It’s enough to make him cry out, moving his face so his teeth clamp into the sheets to muffle the sound. Blinded by frustration and a lingering tinge of embarrassment, his insistently rubbing finger slips inside him. He clenches down reflexively, gasping when his hips churn enthusiastically and his body recognises the smooth heat. It’s the best solution yet, so he pumps his cock in time to the thin length of his finger pushing and curling.
He’s high on the pleasure and working up to adding another when he hears faint noises outside the door. Its laughter, he realises, feminine giggling, and then the thump of something falling over on carpet.
“Oops,” he hears right up against the door and his body arches towards the sound, millions of images playing behind his eyelids because it’s Eleanor.
He understands in split second fragments that she’s with someone, perhaps quite a few people, and picks out mumblings about the glass of half empty, straw-adorned drink he drowsily left sitting in the corridor that’s no doubt been spilt. His biceps tighten as her keycard fits in the lock - clickbeep - and something clicks in Louis’ head to because he can’t stop now, the itch will come back with a vengeance and he almost wants to cry at that so he doesn’t stop but he can’t look either, his spine bowing as he tucks another finger into his arse and rides the upward curve of his impending orgasm.
“Lou?” Eleanor calls and he thinks yesyesyes, “Are you in here? Do you know you left your - oh my god,” she says, cutting herself off as her voice changes breathily because it’s not every day you find your boyfriend masturbating to the feel of his fingers in his own arse.
“What is it, El?” another voice giggles and it snaps Louis from his chase, his chest heaving as he comes back to himself and wrenches his fingers out. “I thought you said there was more drink up here?”
Louis’ head lolls to the side and he catches Eleanor standing in the doorway, her spread arms keeping anyone else from entering and seeing what she can see. She doesn’t look angry or confused, just surprised - her pink mouth temptingly slack - with a little bit of concern thrown in. Good Eleanor, he thinks hazily and shoots her a half smile. She’s tilting her head fondly, still not entirely understanding the situation but Louis jerks like he’s been poked in the side and his face twists in a sudden grimace. Eleanor springs into action.
“Shush, girls,” she says, turning to them with an innocent look and disappearing from Louis’ view, “Lou’s asleep,”
“Probably passed out from too much this,” Perrie laughs, obviously referring to the drink now on the floor.
“Yeah, probably,” Eleanor agrees, “I’m just gonna stay with him if that’s alright? Sorry, bye,”
Perrie and whoever else is with her manages to make their hasty goodbyes before the door slams and Eleanor comes to stand level with Louis’ face. He whimpers pitifully as she ruffles his hair and her thumb drags across his forehead.
“Want to tell me what’s going on? Or is it what it looks like?”
The easy explanation would be that he fancied a wank that included a little more playfulness than usual, but he can never lie to her and he’s distressed enough to want to solve this situation that the only viable option is to tell the truth. Whether she’ll believe him is another story.
“I - ” he croaks, the itch persistent again, “ - I still feel...off. Weird. Itchy.”
“Itchy?” Eleanor frowns, palming his forehead, “Do you feel hot? Like a fever?”
Louis nods under the cool weight of her hand, “But - but it’s more. Touch - touching helps so much.”
“I guessed as much.” she says in wry tone and he blinks up at her to find her smirking, “Why else would you sneak out of a big party to apparently wank yourself to death,”
“Not death,” he shakes his head vigorously, dimly aware that his hips still twitch in the air from time to time, “just ‘til s’gone ‘way,”
Her lips press to his forehead as she slides half of her body onto the bed next to him, “Want me to help?”
He strains his neck and catches her lower lip with a puckered mouth, relaxing again when she easily opens beneath him in a kiss and follows him down. She shimmies until they’re properly side by side, her dress hitching up her legs, and rubs a palm affectionately along his chest. He’s damp with the sweat of exertion and he means to lean away, but he’s never really missed an opportunity to make her sweaty too so why is he trying to start now?
She laughs against his lips as he curls towards her, “Even when you look and act ridiculous, you’re still hot,”
He tucks his face into her neck in thanks as she removes his bunched t-shirt from his arms and bites at the elegant line when she leans on an elbow to be able to reach his neglected cock with her other hand. He’s warm and still hard and she hums encouragingly as he kisses her bare shoulder and shifts his hips deliberately into her touch.
“Do you want my fingers too?” she whispers and his arse clenches again, reminded clearly of her blowing him and adding the feel of her teasing his hole into the picture.
He realises with a jerk that she’s already sitting up to pet him and that she probably felt his reaction, but he’s so grateful for the help that his embarrassment instantly melts away. The lads more than likely said to get laid as a joke, except this feels right and the itch is dissipating once more. Louis wonders if it would’ve completely vanished had he just carried on trying to sort things out himself and a groan rips from his throat as Eleanor’s lips lightly kiss his cock and two saliva-slick fingers wiggle into his hole to pick up where he left off. As she’s curling them sharp enough to make him swear, he hears a beep and neither of them are fast enough to spring apart as the door clangs open.
“Hey El, I’ve still got your keycard so I thought I’d return your - ” Perrie announces blithely, with Danielle coming up behind her, “ - bag.” she finishes lamely, eyes as big as saucers as she takes in the scene quickly, the strap of Eleanor’s handbag dangling from her finger. “I thought you said he was asleep!”
She claps her hand across her mouth as soon as she’s said it, as if she hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but even so Eleanor moves to cover Louis or let the sheets cover him or basically just do something when Louis fiercely grabs her wrist. He shakes his head, eyes wild like a blazing fire, and she frowns.
“S’not - it’s not enough,” he chokes out, using his grip on her to gently bite at the pad of one of her fingertips, the digits that were just inside him.
He can feel the tendons in her arm as she tries to flinch away, tries to make him see what he’s doing and what he’s implying but he can’t stop now. It’s better than when Eleanor first walked in and he doesn’t want to give that up without a fight.
“Stay,” he gasps, pushing at Eleanor’s side to get her to close the door with Perrie and Danielle on this side of it. “Please,”
“What?” Perrie giggles, her and Danielle’s eyes closed like this is all one big prank, “No, you’re alright, we’ll just be - ”
“Hey, wait,” Louis feels the bed bounce up from the release of a body as Eleanor scrambles over to the girls, turning them by the shoulders to talk in barely-there whispers by the door where Louis can’t see.
His hands are clutching the bed now, his body spread-eagled naked and aching for touch and sensation and pleasure. He’s gritting his teeth and growling under his breath when Eleanor returns and he lifts his head, pleased to see that Perrie and Danielle haven’t fled. Obviously the braver of the two in that moment, Perrie wraps a hand around one of Louis’ ankles and smiles.
“It’s okay,” she soothes, “we’re here to help,”
A manic sort of laugh bursts out of him as he watches her open the patent leather belt cinching her waist. The end falls onto his knee before she loops both in her hands and crawls up the other side of the bed, curling the belt underneath his neck then darting down to steal a quick kiss. Her vibrant lipstick leaves an imprint and she giggles at it, swiping her thumb over his lips to clean it off. He turns back to Eleanor to see her and Danielle’s hands clasped together, Eleanor’s glance soft and coaxing. It’s the worried line between her eyebrows that must do it because Danielle sits beside her and against Louis’ ribcage, rubbing his hip.
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” he smiles closed-mouth at the simple, effective touch, three sets of hands pleasing to the scrabbling menace below his skin, “more, go on,”
He grins when Perrie pulls off her grey dress, bright purple hair falling from its clip and settling around her shoulders and feels more sated in days as the other girls follow her lead. He feels comfortable because he’s no longer the only one showing some skin and they take solidarity from the fact that they’re together in this with one mutual goal.
“You’re a lucky boy,” Eleanor smiles, tugging on his hair if the look in his eyes sway dizzily like he’s giving in.
“Mm, I am,” he nods, distracted by the thought as Eleanor and Danielle pull him to sit until Eleanor can get behind him better, his head leaning back to rest on her bare thigh. “Hurts - so much - sorry,”
“Shh, I know, babe,” she coos, “No more teasing, promise,”
“Three girls and me, that’s tease enough,” he huffs with amusement before his eyes pop open, “Shit, what about - ”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, too busy rushing to get off the bed as the reality of what he’s asking hits him like a truck. They’re his bandmates’ girlfriends, his friends in their own right, but he’s shocked as hands yank him away from making strides to the door and step aside before he can crash into them, stumbling as his knees buckle. He can’t tell whether he feels lightheaded because of this mystery locked inside him or the sudden force of three girls determined to make him see this through. On his hands and knees, Louis’ aware that Perrie’s belt hangs from his neck and he raises his eyes both ends are grasped in one fist. They grin down at him in a formed semi-circle, clad in their underwear as it was the only other garments beneath their pretty party dresses. Their gazes or the itch itself making him restless, he sits back on his haunches to scratch at the angry red patch on his arm until Eleanor kneels slowly, catches his elbow and brings his arm to her lips. He watches dumbly as she licks then blows, the cool air soothing but her hungry eyes filthy enough to make him feel hot all over, so he struggles not to touch her when she straddles one of his thighs and whimpers when Perrie uses the belt to have him lie back, moved to the floor and for now glad for the softness of the carpet.
With nothing malleable like sheets or pillows to grab onto, his arm flails around until Eleanor takes it again, pressing it between her breasts and kissing his knuckles as she discreetly tries to adjust her seat upon his thigh that effectively holds his side down. His other arm tries a futile attempt for the carpet anyway, but the material is short and he knocks Perrie’s knee right by his head as wet warmth closes over his fingers. Louis shoots a look to Eleanor but they say nothing at that and only stare at each other, Perrie breaking the deadlock as she leans across to massage her palm down the length of his cock. His hips make an effort to buck in surprise, but Eleanor holds him steadfast on one side and Danielle strokes his other flank, his hand squeezing hard into Perrie’s kneecap. Now when he looks up its smooth pale skin in his eye line decorated in lacy underwear and the scent of arousal and girl filling his senses. He’s pinned to the floor, the webbing between his fingers sucked into Eleanor’s mouth as Perrie tugs enthusiastically on his cock, the belt now just a forgotten loose band around his neck. Once his flagging erection blooms into life again, Perrie climbs off him, her hair tickling his throat as she shuffles backwards and Danielle replaces her in Louis’ focus, lapping gently at one of the nipples he’d so readily tweaked and abused when he was still alone. The reddened skin twinges under her soft ministrations and he wiggles as much as he can to show approval as Perrie discards her belt and crawls towards his feet. She taps the thigh Eleanor hasn’t commandeered, but Eleanor makes room anyway, nudging Louis’ leg out wider between both of hers as he’s a starfish on the floor instead of the bed. He moves his free arm just because he can, but Danielle’s dancer reflexes are razor-sharp and his wrist smacks into the carpet as she laughs shyly, deciding boldly with her body that he’s going nowhere from either side.
Perrie looks to Eleanor this time before she resumes pumping at Louis’ cock and he whines as she nods her permission and the grip is instantly unyielding and fast. She giggles breathlessly at his urge to thrust and meet her fist and he squirms as it’s a little too overwhelming, tight and claustrophic and ready to stroke his orgasm out of him. There’s something missing, something from earlier that the itch greedily ate, and he can feel his cheeks flood with heat because he knows what it is, but he’ll be damned if he outright asks for it. His minute shifting moves Eleanor and her breath hits his hand where he curls his thumb onto her chin, putting pressure until she comes close for a kiss and ruts her crotch down into him. With the slight release of her not sitting there solidly, she slides off but winds her calf around his and Louis hears a pleased murmur from one of the other girls as he’s kept spread open and another as his muscles tighten.
“Wanna make it good for you, Lou,” Perrie kisses the line from his pelvis, easing the grasp of her hand through the multitasking.
It’s perfect and Louis gasps, wiggling as she licks at the shiny, drying smudges of precome on his belly and undulating his hips until his cock brushes her throat. He doesn’t need her mouth to get off exactly, not with Danielle’s suckling his chest and Eleanor kissing his lips, aware that she’s wet for him, but he certainly wouldn’t object. Perrie asks him to tell her what he wants and he grunts, refusing by burrowing his hot face into his girlfriend’s neck. His tongue darts out to lick the tops of her breasts and Perrie’s hand tightens again. This time it’s manipulation because she’s twigged all too quick that it’s a grip that’s too harsh for him, but he’s stubborn and steels himself to withstand more when fingers gently thread into and pull the short hairs at the back of his head until his neck is arched and he’s slightly looking up at Eleanor.
“It’ll come back,” she reminds gently; “we want to make it stop for good. You want that too, don’t you, baby?”
“Yeah, but....” he trails off, uncertain.
Whether she instinctively knows or not, Eleanor doesn’t force him to talk but she does move away from him, gesturing with her hands for Perrie to let her take over and dropping a kiss to her forehead in thanks when she easily submits. Perrie takes Eleanor’s place at Louis’ side and at first he’s shy at the thought that she thinks he’s rejected her help, but she grins and crosses her arms to push her breasts up in her bra, crossing her eyes with a giggle when Louis laughs at her, no tension between ever arriving.
Eleanor settles on her knees between her boyfriend’s thighs and surveys the picture he and their friends make before her, hunching over to mouth at the leaking tip of his cock. Pulled from his light-hearted look to Perrie and the comfortable diligence of Danielle roaming his torso but keeping his hands in check, Louis’ free to thrash his legs more and he does so with relish and aplomb. Eleanor indulges him - he suspects she has practice at that - but only for so long before she strays away from the kitten licks to his cock and bites a sudden, throbbing bruise into his inner thigh. The bolt of pain amidst Danielle’s soft lips covering him all over and Perrie’s switching to his ear is a shock to the system and he groans long and loud as Eleanor continues to suck the skin, determined to mark him for the many scrapes he’s got her and his boys into. She’s still sucking when he feels something else and he searches for her hands, counting one flat on his sternum but the other is...
A strangled noise comes from his throat as she withdraws the deft finger inside him almost all the way out, so only the tip remains, then folds down another finger next to it, pushing them in and crooking them hard when she lifts her face to tongue at his dick. It’s a press that’s unmoving on his prostate and he writhes and longs for friction that he’s not getting, except for the rustle of carpet underneath him.
“Careful,” she chides, eyes immeasurably soft but he shakes his head, not caring about any sort of burn other than the one constantly rushing through his veins when he can’t feel anyone’s touch.
“Please,” he implores and she nods as best as she can once she closes her lips around him, the vibrations of her answer a glimpse of what he can have.
He sees her smile when Danielle and Perrie join forces with her and they’ve all got hands clutching him, around him, inside him and the suction of Eleanor’s mouth beneath her curtain of hair. He looks at Danielle pleadingly and somehow she reads his mind as she pulls Eleanor’s hair away and holds it against her head in a messy ponytail. Seeing her flushed face and bright eyes as the girls stroke whatever’s not beneath the swirling of her tongue has him so fucking close his vision is collapsing in on itself and he tries to push at Eleanor’s shoulder to tell her he’s going to come. She makes a noise like so what? and raises an eyebrow because it’s not as if it’s her first time swallowing and he knows she doesn’t abhor it either.
She’s taking a fortifying breath and three slender hands are fondling his length and rubbing his balls when there’s a knock at the door. It’s loud in a room charged with heavy breathing and wet kisses and Louis jumps the most out of everyone. Eleanor’s fingers push into his prostrate as he hears “Hello? Guys, are you in there? I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” in an American accent and he tries to glare at his girlfriend in panic but Eleanor’s not looking at him, her fingers sliding in and out of his arse as she jerks her head towards the door and nominates Danielle to answer it. Louis distantly feels that that’s something of a bad idea, but Danielle brushes a thumb against his eyebrow then stands up and walks away.
As their new positions mean that anyone at the door can see in to what they’re doing, Danielle luckily seems mindful of this and, as soon as she’s opened it to Taylor, curiously standing on the other side in her flowing, nude and gold dress, she pulls the blonde immediately into the room and slams the door shut. Louis hazily watches her stumble in her satin mules before Eleanor twists her fingers like a dagger and he squeezes his eyes tight against the shock on Taylor’s face, his ears ringing with her “oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” exclamation as his dick twitches in Eleanor and Perrie’s combined steady grip and he suddenly paints their hands and his stomach with his come. His world is out of control, swerving this way and that as he’s helpless to stop spurt after spurt, his blush blanketing his chest and contrarily raising goosebumps.
Eventually, the moment is gone and the aftershocks subsides enough for Louis to give in to the aching string of his spine, slumping into the carpet and instantly petting Eleanor’s damp hair in gratitude when he can open his eyes. She eases her fingers out of him and wipes them on his thigh before he lifts his head to languidly catch Taylor’s eye. She’s frozen on the spot with Danielle’s hand still wrapped around her clothed elbow and he feels a hysterical laugh bubble up out of nowhere.
“Bet you’ve never seen that before, love,”
Eleanor pulls a face to which he automatically pulls one back, “She’s sleeping with Harry, of course she’s seen that,”
“I dunno, El.” Perrie hums thoughtfully, poking her fingertip through the sticky pool of come collected in his shallow bellybutton, “That was pretty fantastic,”
“Aw, thanks, babe!” Louis grins, figuring he’s got nothing to be shy about after what they’ve all just seen so he pulls her in for a celebratory kiss.
“I - I mean - ” Taylor stutters, but can’t seem to get further than that as Eleanor smacks Louis’ thigh where he’s bruised.
“Ow!” he complains in laughter, retreating from Perrie and turning towards Eleanor to slide his hand into her hair, “sorry, okay, kisses for you,”
She leans on her side and dips down to connect their lips, “You can bet your arse on it, Tomlinson.”
He’s happily swimming in the kiss when a bright flash and a curse causes them to pull apart and Perrie lowers her phone, her gaze fixed on it as she berates the camera for ruining the moment. They stare at her bowed purple head quietly until she notices the settled silence and looks up.
“What?”
“Do you mind?” Louis quips, arching an eyebrow expectantly, “I’m trying to kiss my girlfriend and you’re taking pictures like a creeper. A creeper pap!”
“You should be used to it then.” she grins, raising her phone to her eye to imitate a photographer, “Go on, give us another, hot stuff.”
Louis thinks it’d be frowned upon to take her phone and throw it across the room, even if it was for a laugh, but before he can think of a suitable verbal response, Eleanor’s long legs are clambering over his thighs with her arms outstretched towards Perrie and dark mutterings about “I’ll give you another,” until she reaches her and tackles her onto the carpet in a tangle of scantily-clad limbs and giggles. Louis watches them whilst idly scratching at the rapidly drying come across his belly before he stops and realises what he’s doing. He moves his hand to the inside of his elbow, the patch of skin that’s raised and red raw from his frantic itching that could apparently only be solved by what’s just happened. Laid out beside his girlfriend laughing with someone else, the itch returns.
He stubbornly ignores it again with a wince, knowing in the back of his mind that it’s futile, but he’s also got no idea what else anyone can do for him. Maybe he’s ill, he reasons. Maybe this is just a rash that needs sorting and whilst that’s slightly gross and embarrassing, it’d be of some comfort to know that there’s actually a simple solution to all this (even if he’s just had one of the best sexual experiences of his life in a roomful of beautiful ladies). But the thing is, it feels like more than that. It feels like a lit match bobbing along his bloodstream, licking a flame right over his body until he’s burning from the inside out. It’s an urge, a compulsion, an addiction like Zayn’s cigarettes but one which hits him between the eyes when he least expects it.
“El,” he says in a low, careful voice, trying to catch her wrist. “Eleanor.”
“Yeah?” she says, but her smile falls when she sees the stricken look in his eyes, “Lou? What is it? What’s wrong?”
“It’s - ” he swallows the madness rising in his head, scratching quicker over his arm, “I - I need - ”
“What is it?” he hears Taylor echo his girlfriend, but sounding utterly confused, “Louis? What’s wrong? I don’t understand,”
“None of us do,” Danielle answers gently with a little smile.
She leaves her dumbfounded and staring as Eleanor shuffles back to Louis and Perrie sits up, crawling into his side as Danielle flanks the other, their hands caressing softly in an effort to centre and calm him again.
“I - I can’t,” he croaks, his fingers like claws as Eleanor tries to pry his hand away from his smarting skin.
“Mm, you can,” she shushes, kissing his knuckles before a glint appears and she guides him to touch over her underwear between her legs.
It startles a giggle out of him and he snatches his hand back, oddly conscious that two popstars and a dancer are watching him touch his girlfriend sexually. Eleanor straddles his lap and briefly nudges their noses together, Danielle and Perrie’s palms sometimes overlapping them leisurely in a cycle of touching they’ve worked out keeps Louis’ mind present and correct before he’s figured it out himself.
“What do you need?” she asks into his mouth, so quiet only the two of them can feel it, never mind hear it.
His lips twist and his head tilts in thought when Eleanor ‘innocently’ shifts her hips against his crotch at the same time as another wave of feeling smacks into him, powerful enough to make him groan. “More,” he gasps, eyes fluttering shut, “I need more,”
“Okay, baby,” she whispers, kissing his eyelids, his brow, the high plains of his cheeks, “we’ll get you more. It’s going to be alright.”
“What?” Taylor’s voice rings behind them and Louis manages to huff a small laugh because he really thought the poor girl might’ve a) fainted or b) ran out screaming by now and he’s quite impressed that she’s chosen neither. A kindred spirit of curiosity perhaps. “M-more? More of what? Hey, will someone - ”
“Listen,” Perrie interrupts, sliding between her and the trio on the floor, “you can hold that and all will become clear. Please, sit down if you like,”
“It’s our room,” Louis feels like he needs to protest on his and Eleanor’s behalf but it’s weak and Eleanor stifles a giggle into his shoulder, kissing the spot to make him sigh.
Perrie comes back to them and Louis notes that she must’ve given her phone to Taylor and his head goes fuzzy for a second because what the fuck? His reaction seems to be all over his face, but Perrie shrugs.
“I can’t help it, I want this imprinted on the insides of my eyelids and if I can’t have that, pet, then it’s going on me phone,”
“Mm, pet,” Eleanor murmurs into his neck, breathing hotly, “I like that. You want to be my pet, Lou?”
As Danielle rubs at his hip and smoothes her fingers over the baby soft hairs brushed over the tops of his thighs, Louis’ dick twitches and she looks across at Perrie, “Send us a copy,”
“Fuck you all,” he snaps, well moans really and that’s probably why it loses its acidity because, joking aside, it feels good and he needs this.
Their hands seem to try for gentle when he appears more with it, but Louis squirms greedily, torn between provoking them into something as firm as before or clinging to their light touches that drive him crazy. He recognises his impatient energy for what it is, another symptom, but it doesn’t mean he can stop and he winces as new marks overlay old, the carpet beginning to burn into his back, his legs, his arse the longer he tosses and turns and valiantly tries to get closer. Someone makes a clucking noise upon a wordless decision apparently being made without his input and he grits his teeth, struggling to get his feet under him as he’s clumsily lifted with the press of breasts near the back of his head and slender hands tight beneath his armpits.
He blinks quickly as the girls let him drop onto something solid but comfortable and his hands grip at the edges before he looks down and sees the chaise lounge from the far side of the room. It’s rather ordinary looking despite the decadent, long shape, one colour and no frills, just sturdy and simple and Louis sinks into the cool cushioned seating with a wriggle as fingers comb the mess of his hair from his forehead.
“Hey Taylor?” he hears slightly above him and opens his eyes, surprised that it’s Danielle who speaks, “You can come a little closer, babe,”
Louis takes in his new vantage point - Danielle sitting on the arm of furniture behind him with Eleanor by her side, Perrie at his feet, tickling her fingertips around his ankles and his eyes slide to Taylor in the corner of the room, the bed an ocean of distance between them as she stays in her chair, her shoes kicked off and her knees tucked into her chest, Perrie’s phone balanced on her arm and steadily pointed in their direction. Her pale eyes are wide as she stares at the screen before she chances a look at the real them. He watches Danielle give her a nod and another smile and it could be her curly hair or the fact that she has that same ‘trust me’ vibe as Liam or something else entirely, but Taylor moves towards their side of the bed, a lot closer, and Louis means to bite his lip, not roll his hips, a whimper getting stuck in his throat. His eyes are tiny slivers when she licks hers, siren red, and the unbidden thought slaps into his brain of what she might look like with her painted mouth wrapped around his cock. He hears a breathless giggle, an oh of sound, and then a hand is on his dick, encouraging it to fill and coax him into not thinking clearly. He groans, hoping for disgruntled as he says stop, aiming it at Taylor even as he turns his head and kisses the inside of Eleanor’s calf. Eleanor straightens from her perch leaning half over his torso and Perrie seems to be there to torture him, taking over from his girlfriend in stroking him with a gleeful smirk that tells him somehow one orgasm isn’t enough. He grimaces already, still feeling sensitive but from electricity that’s addictive rather than scary like the heat in his veins.
(Continued here)
Pairing: Eleanor Calder/Louis Tomlinson/Perrie Edwards/Taylor Swift/Danielle Peazer
Part: 1/2 - Standalone
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~14,200
Summary: The one where Louis has an unexplained itch he can’t physically scratch...and his girlfriend and his bandmates’ girlfriends get caught in the crossfire.
Disclaimer: I do not know these people in reality, it isn't true and not meant to offend. The beauty of fictional constructs.
Warnings: Het smut. Female-to-male rimming. Slight dub-con and D/s undertones. Lots of other sex acts but it's SEX-POLLEN!FIC so that should be explanation enough for how kinky it's gonna get. Very cracky, unnecessarily long, very smutty fic.
A/N: I've never written sex-pollen!fic before and barely written het smut, so be gentle with me. This is all the fault of randominity. We were chatting about Louis threesomes/moresomes then this happened. Okay, it's a little bit my fault as well. Comments are always love, especially for this to let me know I've not gone completely insane! <3
It starts as an itch.
At first, as it’s natural to think as much, Louis treats it as a physical thing. It begins in his arms, but is bewildered to find that it doesn’t seem to stay there. The minute he feels settled enough to believe it’s gone with a simple needy scratch to the area; the itch springs up somewhere else. In his legs, in his feet, behind his damn ears, until it feels like there’s not one place on his body that isn’t thrumming with the irritation. The most frustrating aspect though is that it’s not actually that constant. It’s a coming and going, an urge that he frantically tries to satisfy in the hope that this’ll be the last time. He can make it through whole gigs without a problem, but then it’ll resurface when he’s back at the nightly hotel, goading him until he’s catching himself in the mirror absent-mindedly scratching his short nails into his skin.
It’s the night after their Madison Square Garden triumph of a concert and usually he’d rightly feel pretty damn pleased with himself and his boys for a job done good. They’re staying on in New York for a few more days and he had planned to maybe see a Broadway show or at least get some dinner, but he finally positively realises that something’s not quite right when Eleanor returns from her shower to find him sat half-dressed on the double bed, scratching at what’s steadily becoming a favoured spot on his arm.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, eyeing the pinked up skin but her tone is light, “Got fleas?”
“Ha!” he breathes, before shaking his head a little thoughtfully, “No, I just - I don’t know. I keep feeling...off.”
“Off?”
“Yeah,” he says, eyebrows twitching in frustration because now he’s said it out loud, he’s desperate for her to understand, “y’know, like, not right.”
“I know what ‘off’ means, babe,” she laughs, kissing him on the forehead as she passes on the way to her suitcase wedged into the seat of the armchair by the window.
The second her lips touch his skin feels like standing under the coolest waterfall on the planet, blessed relief for a suspended moment in time, but it disappears as quickly as it arrives and he’s left to chase the phantom sensation, swaying into her space long after she’s stepped away.
As she suggests cuddling up with a film in his laptop instead of going out, Louis suppresses his sigh and wills the itch to behave.
***
He should’ve known that whatever this thing is wouldn’t listen to him and neither would his body. He’s starting to feel betrayed as it continues, crawling along his insides. Whilst Eleanor, as his girlfriend, was immediately concerned before she did her best to put him at ease, Louis’ bandmates do no such thing. It’s a prime opportunity to needle him as he tries to sneak fingers underneath the cuff of his jumper sleeve. The skin there feels warm from overuse and he fidgets on the spot, eyes darting around to work out if anyone’s watching. Harry tries to cuddle him out of it, gripping tight, and Liam slaps his hand away any time he’s quick enough to catch him before he can scratch, but mostly they stick to teasing. He wants to feel annoyed that embarrassment seems to be a little more effective than the fleeting touches of forehead kisses and hugs as the hot flush reaction curls around him like a heated blanket, but it feels so good that he’s leaving himself open each time. His bandmates eye him a little strangely when he barely bites with a comeback before pouncing again and again. It’s all about how he’s impossibly even more tactile than usual and how it’s actually quite adorable. His frown automatically starts when Zayn distracts him with a snigger and finally says, “You really need to get laid, mate”. The proverbial lightbulb pulses to life inside Louis’ head and he lunges forward, giggling as Zayn’s arms twine around him as they playfight and he swallows the delirious urge to kiss him from joy.
His mistake is to think that his own right hand will be enough.
A day or two after his non-date with Eleanor, it’s karaoke at one of the function rooms in their hotel, commandeered by everyone involved in One Direction as a party for smashing through their night at Madison Square Garden. Louis’ restless and tipsy, his hand glued to his drink and immensely enjoying sucking it through a straw for a change. He’s happy with an edge that alcohol can’t seem to dampen and for a while that’s fine, in fact the glow to his cheekbones and the pliancy of his limbs makes him feel almost sexy and he swallows around the mischievous revelation that right now he could do with a wank. He looks for Eleanor through the talking, drinking crowd of bandmates, friends and colleagues but can’t seem to keep his eyes on any one person for long enough to work out if it’s her. When he starts to think of her long, wavy hair sliding between his fingertips and her skin tight trousers clinging to her slender legs, he brushes a discreet palm across his cock as he slips into a darker corner of the room and quickly decides that he needs to leave. The door’s close so he eases through it, exhaling a short breath when he’s on the other side before taking off for his room.
His hands are trembling as he puts his glass on the floor to better use the keycard in the slot, his drink sat suddenly forgotten as he closes the door with his body. He doesn’t know what makes him move from there except that a bed is always good and this one looks particularly inviting, freshly made with soft sheets and he seeks out the shape of his cock over his jeans with a breathless laugh. It’s one of the best nights of his life, probably one of the best parties with all the warm, fuzzy feelings and he’s intentionally alone to masturbate. Never let it be said that he isn’t still a teenager at heart!
He unzips quickly and pushes his jeans around mid-thigh as he sits on the edge of the bed, licking his palm with the sweet scent of alcohol before he returns to rubbing himself through his boxer briefs to try and make it last. If he needs to properly get laid with another person, he’s going to make the effectiveness of this moment count until he can do just that. When he curls his hand around the base of his half hard cock, the tingle that fizzes down his spine has his legs straining against the denim still over them and his fingers moving quickly to tease him into a full erection. He’s clumsy with drink and need, but it’s all the better for it because soon his dick is curving towards his belly, sticky at the tip and sensitive as his thumb catches beneath his foreskin. Here, he’s free to fantasise about anything and in his mind he replaces his hand with Eleanor’s, slighter but a grip that’s just as sure until he’s aware that his hips are starting to roll in tiny circles. Spurred on, he can feel the phantom brush of her dark hair against his skin; falling over his chest when she climbs into his lap or across his thighs as she leans down to suck him off. Memories and thoughts converge and the muscle in his jaw twitches as he squeezes his eyes shut and his body goes taut for a second, breath punching out of him when he can feel his arse clench.
Unwilling to let go of his cock or his imagination, Louis kicks his shoes off then moves a foot up over his knee to try to desperately flick his clothes down. As he suspected anyway, nothing budges more than his open zip catching on the back of his heel so he chooses to do it all quickly, like ripping away a plaster. He sighs when room temperature hits the bare skin below his waist and the feel of cotton underneath his arse. The hand not building a rhythm on his cock comes towards his chest and pushes his t-shirt up against his armpits before rolling a nipple. His hips buck and he blinks down at his body, the realisation coming back to him that this is him, Eleanor’s not here. He always thought he just did that kind of thing to the boys for a giggle, but a forceful tweak to his other nipple has him biting down on his lip and squeezing the length of his dick. He’s reclining more on the bed, his feet off the ground and almost able to plant them on the sheets if he just let himself fall back. The thought has him shivering and he means to reach down to fondle his balls when the tip of his pinkie finger prods the crease that leads to his hole.
“Fuck!” he breathes, surging back into a sitting position because that’s supposed to be forgotten, that’s never supposed to happen again.
He’s certain it’s never usually this intense until he’s about to come when he remembers the itch. As if all he has to do is will it into existence using his mind, it slithers back over him like a crafty snake and he tugs faster on his cock, eager to find out if this will finally satisfy the invisible beast, but with a sinking feeling that it probably won’t. With his palm wet with spit and pre-come, he twists his fingers over the head, repeatedly pulling up his foreskin and trembling as he eases it down again when he hears a whisper. Go on, it says gently, and he falls onto the bed without meaning to, his knees bent and toes curled onto the end. He pinches his nipple again, breathing hard and shallow, and roams a path down his torso to wrap his hand around his inner thigh. His cock slaps against his stomach as he lets it go, cupping his balls out of the way before the one on his leg moves towards his arse. He returns to his dick lest he chicken out and his stomach swoops as his finger damply puts pressure on his hole at the same time. It’s nothing more than that but he finds himself moaning, the itch floating blissfully further and further from him. He pauses, testing when, in the next second, a feverish wave tears through him, stronger than ever, flashing hot and tense like pins and needles. It’s enough to make him cry out, moving his face so his teeth clamp into the sheets to muffle the sound. Blinded by frustration and a lingering tinge of embarrassment, his insistently rubbing finger slips inside him. He clenches down reflexively, gasping when his hips churn enthusiastically and his body recognises the smooth heat. It’s the best solution yet, so he pumps his cock in time to the thin length of his finger pushing and curling.
He’s high on the pleasure and working up to adding another when he hears faint noises outside the door. Its laughter, he realises, feminine giggling, and then the thump of something falling over on carpet.
“Oops,” he hears right up against the door and his body arches towards the sound, millions of images playing behind his eyelids because it’s Eleanor.
He understands in split second fragments that she’s with someone, perhaps quite a few people, and picks out mumblings about the glass of half empty, straw-adorned drink he drowsily left sitting in the corridor that’s no doubt been spilt. His biceps tighten as her keycard fits in the lock - clickbeep - and something clicks in Louis’ head to because he can’t stop now, the itch will come back with a vengeance and he almost wants to cry at that so he doesn’t stop but he can’t look either, his spine bowing as he tucks another finger into his arse and rides the upward curve of his impending orgasm.
“Lou?” Eleanor calls and he thinks yesyesyes, “Are you in here? Do you know you left your - oh my god,” she says, cutting herself off as her voice changes breathily because it’s not every day you find your boyfriend masturbating to the feel of his fingers in his own arse.
“What is it, El?” another voice giggles and it snaps Louis from his chase, his chest heaving as he comes back to himself and wrenches his fingers out. “I thought you said there was more drink up here?”
Louis’ head lolls to the side and he catches Eleanor standing in the doorway, her spread arms keeping anyone else from entering and seeing what she can see. She doesn’t look angry or confused, just surprised - her pink mouth temptingly slack - with a little bit of concern thrown in. Good Eleanor, he thinks hazily and shoots her a half smile. She’s tilting her head fondly, still not entirely understanding the situation but Louis jerks like he’s been poked in the side and his face twists in a sudden grimace. Eleanor springs into action.
“Shush, girls,” she says, turning to them with an innocent look and disappearing from Louis’ view, “Lou’s asleep,”
“Probably passed out from too much this,” Perrie laughs, obviously referring to the drink now on the floor.
“Yeah, probably,” Eleanor agrees, “I’m just gonna stay with him if that’s alright? Sorry, bye,”
Perrie and whoever else is with her manages to make their hasty goodbyes before the door slams and Eleanor comes to stand level with Louis’ face. He whimpers pitifully as she ruffles his hair and her thumb drags across his forehead.
“Want to tell me what’s going on? Or is it what it looks like?”
The easy explanation would be that he fancied a wank that included a little more playfulness than usual, but he can never lie to her and he’s distressed enough to want to solve this situation that the only viable option is to tell the truth. Whether she’ll believe him is another story.
“I - ” he croaks, the itch persistent again, “ - I still feel...off. Weird. Itchy.”
“Itchy?” Eleanor frowns, palming his forehead, “Do you feel hot? Like a fever?”
Louis nods under the cool weight of her hand, “But - but it’s more. Touch - touching helps so much.”
“I guessed as much.” she says in wry tone and he blinks up at her to find her smirking, “Why else would you sneak out of a big party to apparently wank yourself to death,”
“Not death,” he shakes his head vigorously, dimly aware that his hips still twitch in the air from time to time, “just ‘til s’gone ‘way,”
Her lips press to his forehead as she slides half of her body onto the bed next to him, “Want me to help?”
He strains his neck and catches her lower lip with a puckered mouth, relaxing again when she easily opens beneath him in a kiss and follows him down. She shimmies until they’re properly side by side, her dress hitching up her legs, and rubs a palm affectionately along his chest. He’s damp with the sweat of exertion and he means to lean away, but he’s never really missed an opportunity to make her sweaty too so why is he trying to start now?
She laughs against his lips as he curls towards her, “Even when you look and act ridiculous, you’re still hot,”
He tucks his face into her neck in thanks as she removes his bunched t-shirt from his arms and bites at the elegant line when she leans on an elbow to be able to reach his neglected cock with her other hand. He’s warm and still hard and she hums encouragingly as he kisses her bare shoulder and shifts his hips deliberately into her touch.
“Do you want my fingers too?” she whispers and his arse clenches again, reminded clearly of her blowing him and adding the feel of her teasing his hole into the picture.
He realises with a jerk that she’s already sitting up to pet him and that she probably felt his reaction, but he’s so grateful for the help that his embarrassment instantly melts away. The lads more than likely said to get laid as a joke, except this feels right and the itch is dissipating once more. Louis wonders if it would’ve completely vanished had he just carried on trying to sort things out himself and a groan rips from his throat as Eleanor’s lips lightly kiss his cock and two saliva-slick fingers wiggle into his hole to pick up where he left off. As she’s curling them sharp enough to make him swear, he hears a beep and neither of them are fast enough to spring apart as the door clangs open.
“Hey El, I’ve still got your keycard so I thought I’d return your - ” Perrie announces blithely, with Danielle coming up behind her, “ - bag.” she finishes lamely, eyes as big as saucers as she takes in the scene quickly, the strap of Eleanor’s handbag dangling from her finger. “I thought you said he was asleep!”
She claps her hand across her mouth as soon as she’s said it, as if she hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but even so Eleanor moves to cover Louis or let the sheets cover him or basically just do something when Louis fiercely grabs her wrist. He shakes his head, eyes wild like a blazing fire, and she frowns.
“S’not - it’s not enough,” he chokes out, using his grip on her to gently bite at the pad of one of her fingertips, the digits that were just inside him.
He can feel the tendons in her arm as she tries to flinch away, tries to make him see what he’s doing and what he’s implying but he can’t stop now. It’s better than when Eleanor first walked in and he doesn’t want to give that up without a fight.
“Stay,” he gasps, pushing at Eleanor’s side to get her to close the door with Perrie and Danielle on this side of it. “Please,”
“What?” Perrie giggles, her and Danielle’s eyes closed like this is all one big prank, “No, you’re alright, we’ll just be - ”
“Hey, wait,” Louis feels the bed bounce up from the release of a body as Eleanor scrambles over to the girls, turning them by the shoulders to talk in barely-there whispers by the door where Louis can’t see.
His hands are clutching the bed now, his body spread-eagled naked and aching for touch and sensation and pleasure. He’s gritting his teeth and growling under his breath when Eleanor returns and he lifts his head, pleased to see that Perrie and Danielle haven’t fled. Obviously the braver of the two in that moment, Perrie wraps a hand around one of Louis’ ankles and smiles.
“It’s okay,” she soothes, “we’re here to help,”
A manic sort of laugh bursts out of him as he watches her open the patent leather belt cinching her waist. The end falls onto his knee before she loops both in her hands and crawls up the other side of the bed, curling the belt underneath his neck then darting down to steal a quick kiss. Her vibrant lipstick leaves an imprint and she giggles at it, swiping her thumb over his lips to clean it off. He turns back to Eleanor to see her and Danielle’s hands clasped together, Eleanor’s glance soft and coaxing. It’s the worried line between her eyebrows that must do it because Danielle sits beside her and against Louis’ ribcage, rubbing his hip.
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” he smiles closed-mouth at the simple, effective touch, three sets of hands pleasing to the scrabbling menace below his skin, “more, go on,”
He grins when Perrie pulls off her grey dress, bright purple hair falling from its clip and settling around her shoulders and feels more sated in days as the other girls follow her lead. He feels comfortable because he’s no longer the only one showing some skin and they take solidarity from the fact that they’re together in this with one mutual goal.
“You’re a lucky boy,” Eleanor smiles, tugging on his hair if the look in his eyes sway dizzily like he’s giving in.
“Mm, I am,” he nods, distracted by the thought as Eleanor and Danielle pull him to sit until Eleanor can get behind him better, his head leaning back to rest on her bare thigh. “Hurts - so much - sorry,”
“Shh, I know, babe,” she coos, “No more teasing, promise,”
“Three girls and me, that’s tease enough,” he huffs with amusement before his eyes pop open, “Shit, what about - ”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, too busy rushing to get off the bed as the reality of what he’s asking hits him like a truck. They’re his bandmates’ girlfriends, his friends in their own right, but he’s shocked as hands yank him away from making strides to the door and step aside before he can crash into them, stumbling as his knees buckle. He can’t tell whether he feels lightheaded because of this mystery locked inside him or the sudden force of three girls determined to make him see this through. On his hands and knees, Louis’ aware that Perrie’s belt hangs from his neck and he raises his eyes both ends are grasped in one fist. They grin down at him in a formed semi-circle, clad in their underwear as it was the only other garments beneath their pretty party dresses. Their gazes or the itch itself making him restless, he sits back on his haunches to scratch at the angry red patch on his arm until Eleanor kneels slowly, catches his elbow and brings his arm to her lips. He watches dumbly as she licks then blows, the cool air soothing but her hungry eyes filthy enough to make him feel hot all over, so he struggles not to touch her when she straddles one of his thighs and whimpers when Perrie uses the belt to have him lie back, moved to the floor and for now glad for the softness of the carpet.
With nothing malleable like sheets or pillows to grab onto, his arm flails around until Eleanor takes it again, pressing it between her breasts and kissing his knuckles as she discreetly tries to adjust her seat upon his thigh that effectively holds his side down. His other arm tries a futile attempt for the carpet anyway, but the material is short and he knocks Perrie’s knee right by his head as wet warmth closes over his fingers. Louis shoots a look to Eleanor but they say nothing at that and only stare at each other, Perrie breaking the deadlock as she leans across to massage her palm down the length of his cock. His hips make an effort to buck in surprise, but Eleanor holds him steadfast on one side and Danielle strokes his other flank, his hand squeezing hard into Perrie’s kneecap. Now when he looks up its smooth pale skin in his eye line decorated in lacy underwear and the scent of arousal and girl filling his senses. He’s pinned to the floor, the webbing between his fingers sucked into Eleanor’s mouth as Perrie tugs enthusiastically on his cock, the belt now just a forgotten loose band around his neck. Once his flagging erection blooms into life again, Perrie climbs off him, her hair tickling his throat as she shuffles backwards and Danielle replaces her in Louis’ focus, lapping gently at one of the nipples he’d so readily tweaked and abused when he was still alone. The reddened skin twinges under her soft ministrations and he wiggles as much as he can to show approval as Perrie discards her belt and crawls towards his feet. She taps the thigh Eleanor hasn’t commandeered, but Eleanor makes room anyway, nudging Louis’ leg out wider between both of hers as he’s a starfish on the floor instead of the bed. He moves his free arm just because he can, but Danielle’s dancer reflexes are razor-sharp and his wrist smacks into the carpet as she laughs shyly, deciding boldly with her body that he’s going nowhere from either side.
Perrie looks to Eleanor this time before she resumes pumping at Louis’ cock and he whines as she nods her permission and the grip is instantly unyielding and fast. She giggles breathlessly at his urge to thrust and meet her fist and he squirms as it’s a little too overwhelming, tight and claustrophic and ready to stroke his orgasm out of him. There’s something missing, something from earlier that the itch greedily ate, and he can feel his cheeks flood with heat because he knows what it is, but he’ll be damned if he outright asks for it. His minute shifting moves Eleanor and her breath hits his hand where he curls his thumb onto her chin, putting pressure until she comes close for a kiss and ruts her crotch down into him. With the slight release of her not sitting there solidly, she slides off but winds her calf around his and Louis hears a pleased murmur from one of the other girls as he’s kept spread open and another as his muscles tighten.
“Wanna make it good for you, Lou,” Perrie kisses the line from his pelvis, easing the grasp of her hand through the multitasking.
It’s perfect and Louis gasps, wiggling as she licks at the shiny, drying smudges of precome on his belly and undulating his hips until his cock brushes her throat. He doesn’t need her mouth to get off exactly, not with Danielle’s suckling his chest and Eleanor kissing his lips, aware that she’s wet for him, but he certainly wouldn’t object. Perrie asks him to tell her what he wants and he grunts, refusing by burrowing his hot face into his girlfriend’s neck. His tongue darts out to lick the tops of her breasts and Perrie’s hand tightens again. This time it’s manipulation because she’s twigged all too quick that it’s a grip that’s too harsh for him, but he’s stubborn and steels himself to withstand more when fingers gently thread into and pull the short hairs at the back of his head until his neck is arched and he’s slightly looking up at Eleanor.
“It’ll come back,” she reminds gently; “we want to make it stop for good. You want that too, don’t you, baby?”
“Yeah, but....” he trails off, uncertain.
Whether she instinctively knows or not, Eleanor doesn’t force him to talk but she does move away from him, gesturing with her hands for Perrie to let her take over and dropping a kiss to her forehead in thanks when she easily submits. Perrie takes Eleanor’s place at Louis’ side and at first he’s shy at the thought that she thinks he’s rejected her help, but she grins and crosses her arms to push her breasts up in her bra, crossing her eyes with a giggle when Louis laughs at her, no tension between ever arriving.
Eleanor settles on her knees between her boyfriend’s thighs and surveys the picture he and their friends make before her, hunching over to mouth at the leaking tip of his cock. Pulled from his light-hearted look to Perrie and the comfortable diligence of Danielle roaming his torso but keeping his hands in check, Louis’ free to thrash his legs more and he does so with relish and aplomb. Eleanor indulges him - he suspects she has practice at that - but only for so long before she strays away from the kitten licks to his cock and bites a sudden, throbbing bruise into his inner thigh. The bolt of pain amidst Danielle’s soft lips covering him all over and Perrie’s switching to his ear is a shock to the system and he groans long and loud as Eleanor continues to suck the skin, determined to mark him for the many scrapes he’s got her and his boys into. She’s still sucking when he feels something else and he searches for her hands, counting one flat on his sternum but the other is...
A strangled noise comes from his throat as she withdraws the deft finger inside him almost all the way out, so only the tip remains, then folds down another finger next to it, pushing them in and crooking them hard when she lifts her face to tongue at his dick. It’s a press that’s unmoving on his prostate and he writhes and longs for friction that he’s not getting, except for the rustle of carpet underneath him.
“Careful,” she chides, eyes immeasurably soft but he shakes his head, not caring about any sort of burn other than the one constantly rushing through his veins when he can’t feel anyone’s touch.
“Please,” he implores and she nods as best as she can once she closes her lips around him, the vibrations of her answer a glimpse of what he can have.
He sees her smile when Danielle and Perrie join forces with her and they’ve all got hands clutching him, around him, inside him and the suction of Eleanor’s mouth beneath her curtain of hair. He looks at Danielle pleadingly and somehow she reads his mind as she pulls Eleanor’s hair away and holds it against her head in a messy ponytail. Seeing her flushed face and bright eyes as the girls stroke whatever’s not beneath the swirling of her tongue has him so fucking close his vision is collapsing in on itself and he tries to push at Eleanor’s shoulder to tell her he’s going to come. She makes a noise like so what? and raises an eyebrow because it’s not as if it’s her first time swallowing and he knows she doesn’t abhor it either.
She’s taking a fortifying breath and three slender hands are fondling his length and rubbing his balls when there’s a knock at the door. It’s loud in a room charged with heavy breathing and wet kisses and Louis jumps the most out of everyone. Eleanor’s fingers push into his prostrate as he hears “Hello? Guys, are you in there? I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” in an American accent and he tries to glare at his girlfriend in panic but Eleanor’s not looking at him, her fingers sliding in and out of his arse as she jerks her head towards the door and nominates Danielle to answer it. Louis distantly feels that that’s something of a bad idea, but Danielle brushes a thumb against his eyebrow then stands up and walks away.
As their new positions mean that anyone at the door can see in to what they’re doing, Danielle luckily seems mindful of this and, as soon as she’s opened it to Taylor, curiously standing on the other side in her flowing, nude and gold dress, she pulls the blonde immediately into the room and slams the door shut. Louis hazily watches her stumble in her satin mules before Eleanor twists her fingers like a dagger and he squeezes his eyes tight against the shock on Taylor’s face, his ears ringing with her “oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” exclamation as his dick twitches in Eleanor and Perrie’s combined steady grip and he suddenly paints their hands and his stomach with his come. His world is out of control, swerving this way and that as he’s helpless to stop spurt after spurt, his blush blanketing his chest and contrarily raising goosebumps.
Eventually, the moment is gone and the aftershocks subsides enough for Louis to give in to the aching string of his spine, slumping into the carpet and instantly petting Eleanor’s damp hair in gratitude when he can open his eyes. She eases her fingers out of him and wipes them on his thigh before he lifts his head to languidly catch Taylor’s eye. She’s frozen on the spot with Danielle’s hand still wrapped around her clothed elbow and he feels a hysterical laugh bubble up out of nowhere.
“Bet you’ve never seen that before, love,”
Eleanor pulls a face to which he automatically pulls one back, “She’s sleeping with Harry, of course she’s seen that,”
“I dunno, El.” Perrie hums thoughtfully, poking her fingertip through the sticky pool of come collected in his shallow bellybutton, “That was pretty fantastic,”
“Aw, thanks, babe!” Louis grins, figuring he’s got nothing to be shy about after what they’ve all just seen so he pulls her in for a celebratory kiss.
“I - I mean - ” Taylor stutters, but can’t seem to get further than that as Eleanor smacks Louis’ thigh where he’s bruised.
“Ow!” he complains in laughter, retreating from Perrie and turning towards Eleanor to slide his hand into her hair, “sorry, okay, kisses for you,”
She leans on her side and dips down to connect their lips, “You can bet your arse on it, Tomlinson.”
He’s happily swimming in the kiss when a bright flash and a curse causes them to pull apart and Perrie lowers her phone, her gaze fixed on it as she berates the camera for ruining the moment. They stare at her bowed purple head quietly until she notices the settled silence and looks up.
“What?”
“Do you mind?” Louis quips, arching an eyebrow expectantly, “I’m trying to kiss my girlfriend and you’re taking pictures like a creeper. A creeper pap!”
“You should be used to it then.” she grins, raising her phone to her eye to imitate a photographer, “Go on, give us another, hot stuff.”
Louis thinks it’d be frowned upon to take her phone and throw it across the room, even if it was for a laugh, but before he can think of a suitable verbal response, Eleanor’s long legs are clambering over his thighs with her arms outstretched towards Perrie and dark mutterings about “I’ll give you another,” until she reaches her and tackles her onto the carpet in a tangle of scantily-clad limbs and giggles. Louis watches them whilst idly scratching at the rapidly drying come across his belly before he stops and realises what he’s doing. He moves his hand to the inside of his elbow, the patch of skin that’s raised and red raw from his frantic itching that could apparently only be solved by what’s just happened. Laid out beside his girlfriend laughing with someone else, the itch returns.
He stubbornly ignores it again with a wince, knowing in the back of his mind that it’s futile, but he’s also got no idea what else anyone can do for him. Maybe he’s ill, he reasons. Maybe this is just a rash that needs sorting and whilst that’s slightly gross and embarrassing, it’d be of some comfort to know that there’s actually a simple solution to all this (even if he’s just had one of the best sexual experiences of his life in a roomful of beautiful ladies). But the thing is, it feels like more than that. It feels like a lit match bobbing along his bloodstream, licking a flame right over his body until he’s burning from the inside out. It’s an urge, a compulsion, an addiction like Zayn’s cigarettes but one which hits him between the eyes when he least expects it.
“El,” he says in a low, careful voice, trying to catch her wrist. “Eleanor.”
“Yeah?” she says, but her smile falls when she sees the stricken look in his eyes, “Lou? What is it? What’s wrong?”
“It’s - ” he swallows the madness rising in his head, scratching quicker over his arm, “I - I need - ”
“What is it?” he hears Taylor echo his girlfriend, but sounding utterly confused, “Louis? What’s wrong? I don’t understand,”
“None of us do,” Danielle answers gently with a little smile.
She leaves her dumbfounded and staring as Eleanor shuffles back to Louis and Perrie sits up, crawling into his side as Danielle flanks the other, their hands caressing softly in an effort to centre and calm him again.
“I - I can’t,” he croaks, his fingers like claws as Eleanor tries to pry his hand away from his smarting skin.
“Mm, you can,” she shushes, kissing his knuckles before a glint appears and she guides him to touch over her underwear between her legs.
It startles a giggle out of him and he snatches his hand back, oddly conscious that two popstars and a dancer are watching him touch his girlfriend sexually. Eleanor straddles his lap and briefly nudges their noses together, Danielle and Perrie’s palms sometimes overlapping them leisurely in a cycle of touching they’ve worked out keeps Louis’ mind present and correct before he’s figured it out himself.
“What do you need?” she asks into his mouth, so quiet only the two of them can feel it, never mind hear it.
His lips twist and his head tilts in thought when Eleanor ‘innocently’ shifts her hips against his crotch at the same time as another wave of feeling smacks into him, powerful enough to make him groan. “More,” he gasps, eyes fluttering shut, “I need more,”
“Okay, baby,” she whispers, kissing his eyelids, his brow, the high plains of his cheeks, “we’ll get you more. It’s going to be alright.”
“What?” Taylor’s voice rings behind them and Louis manages to huff a small laugh because he really thought the poor girl might’ve a) fainted or b) ran out screaming by now and he’s quite impressed that she’s chosen neither. A kindred spirit of curiosity perhaps. “M-more? More of what? Hey, will someone - ”
“Listen,” Perrie interrupts, sliding between her and the trio on the floor, “you can hold that and all will become clear. Please, sit down if you like,”
“It’s our room,” Louis feels like he needs to protest on his and Eleanor’s behalf but it’s weak and Eleanor stifles a giggle into his shoulder, kissing the spot to make him sigh.
Perrie comes back to them and Louis notes that she must’ve given her phone to Taylor and his head goes fuzzy for a second because what the fuck? His reaction seems to be all over his face, but Perrie shrugs.
“I can’t help it, I want this imprinted on the insides of my eyelids and if I can’t have that, pet, then it’s going on me phone,”
“Mm, pet,” Eleanor murmurs into his neck, breathing hotly, “I like that. You want to be my pet, Lou?”
As Danielle rubs at his hip and smoothes her fingers over the baby soft hairs brushed over the tops of his thighs, Louis’ dick twitches and she looks across at Perrie, “Send us a copy,”
“Fuck you all,” he snaps, well moans really and that’s probably why it loses its acidity because, joking aside, it feels good and he needs this.
Their hands seem to try for gentle when he appears more with it, but Louis squirms greedily, torn between provoking them into something as firm as before or clinging to their light touches that drive him crazy. He recognises his impatient energy for what it is, another symptom, but it doesn’t mean he can stop and he winces as new marks overlay old, the carpet beginning to burn into his back, his legs, his arse the longer he tosses and turns and valiantly tries to get closer. Someone makes a clucking noise upon a wordless decision apparently being made without his input and he grits his teeth, struggling to get his feet under him as he’s clumsily lifted with the press of breasts near the back of his head and slender hands tight beneath his armpits.
He blinks quickly as the girls let him drop onto something solid but comfortable and his hands grip at the edges before he looks down and sees the chaise lounge from the far side of the room. It’s rather ordinary looking despite the decadent, long shape, one colour and no frills, just sturdy and simple and Louis sinks into the cool cushioned seating with a wriggle as fingers comb the mess of his hair from his forehead.
“Hey Taylor?” he hears slightly above him and opens his eyes, surprised that it’s Danielle who speaks, “You can come a little closer, babe,”
Louis takes in his new vantage point - Danielle sitting on the arm of furniture behind him with Eleanor by her side, Perrie at his feet, tickling her fingertips around his ankles and his eyes slide to Taylor in the corner of the room, the bed an ocean of distance between them as she stays in her chair, her shoes kicked off and her knees tucked into her chest, Perrie’s phone balanced on her arm and steadily pointed in their direction. Her pale eyes are wide as she stares at the screen before she chances a look at the real them. He watches Danielle give her a nod and another smile and it could be her curly hair or the fact that she has that same ‘trust me’ vibe as Liam or something else entirely, but Taylor moves towards their side of the bed, a lot closer, and Louis means to bite his lip, not roll his hips, a whimper getting stuck in his throat. His eyes are tiny slivers when she licks hers, siren red, and the unbidden thought slaps into his brain of what she might look like with her painted mouth wrapped around his cock. He hears a breathless giggle, an oh of sound, and then a hand is on his dick, encouraging it to fill and coax him into not thinking clearly. He groans, hoping for disgruntled as he says stop, aiming it at Taylor even as he turns his head and kisses the inside of Eleanor’s calf. Eleanor straightens from her perch leaning half over his torso and Perrie seems to be there to torture him, taking over from his girlfriend in stroking him with a gleeful smirk that tells him somehow one orgasm isn’t enough. He grimaces already, still feeling sensitive but from electricity that’s addictive rather than scary like the heat in his veins.
(Continued here)