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Bottoms Up: Liam Payne story prompt challenge.

One of my friends and I decided to do a short story prompt challenge. We would both write a short story based on the short details we agreed upon. It’s up to you guys to decide you think did the better job based on these prompt details:

-Must be a smut based story. -Must include something about the August 29, 2014 Chicago WWA show. -Must include me as the main character. -Must be written about Liam Payne. -Must include something out a hotel room with no air conditioning. -Must include something about my hair being extremely long. -Must include heavy drinking. -Must include the line, “Don’t you fucking dare; I’m not finished with you yet” (Or some form of it). -Must be based on the song “Bottoms Up” by Brantley Gilbert. With those in mind, see you you think followed the prompt most closely and also did the best job. His story will be first, mine will be posted directly after. Message me your choice or reblog with your choice.

Entry #1:

Jade smirked. This night was going her way.

After hanging out at the bar where Liam was playing on his birthday in Chicago, she had successfully managed to secure his attention for long enough that his tipsy self was focusing less on her voice and more on her tits. Normally, in a man, that would be a total write-off, but in this case, Liam was drunk (as usual, these days, worryingly) and her entire mission tonight was to bed him.

Jade would pretend to drop a coaster, or her purse, and bend down slowly enough that she could feel his eyes poking right through her shirt. Like any classy girl, Jade knew how to squat to pick something up instead of bending over, but this time, she bent right over. She wanted him to try and peek up her miniskirt, and telling by the way his eyes sloppily tried to come back up to hers when she made eye contact with him again, he was. This was working.

She chatted him up all night, capturing his attention with a mixture of discussion about music, to which a strong education and level of experience was definitely helping, and her lustful attire, which was doing the rest of the work. Liam was hooked on her and the longer time went on, the more inebriated he got (she was drinking at a quarter his pace), the closer things sped towards the eventual “let’s go back to my hotel”. Those words were making her wet just thinking about them, the anticipation killing her. Liam had been trying to undress her all night with his eyes; she was dying to give him the chance to do it with his hands. Over the loud music, Liam was clearly becoming more anxious to leave despite the enrapturing conversation he was in. He had told her many times during the course of their talking that he had never had such enriching topics to discuss with a fan; most of them just wanted to talk about his hair or the other band members or their play count of his songs on iTunes. Jade was different; Jade was discussing the subtleties of different guitars and the choices of notes that they used – even in some of their most successful songs. Liam was engaged and interested. Jade was internally squealing … and wet. Very wet.

Eventually Jade found herself walking with Liam a few blocks west to his hotel. They had a car outside and while Liam was inebriated, his sense of direction and sturdiness were still about him, so they decided to take in the Chicago air and walk the eight or so minutes. During this time, he had his arm around her waist. He initiated that, to which Jades heart fluttered and she flushed, which he hadn’t noticed, thank fuck.

“Of all the members of your group, I do believe you to be the manliest,” she said to him in the elevator, which earned her an earnest smile. “I’ve never heard that before. Usually I get called cute.” That earned him an honest smirk back, and knowing they had at least a few moments of privacy, Jade stepped closer to him.

“Cute does not even begin to describe you.” She said, biting her lower lip, which Liam watched carefully. As soon as the bell rang and the doors open, he walked with her to his room with a slightly quicker pace. The door slammed shut and Jade slammed Liam against it, pushing her body up against his. He was surprised at her aggression but any surprise on his face was missed when she kissed him, hard, her hands finding his and clutching them. They kissed for a long enough time that neither of them knew how long it was. Liam’s next thought that entered his mind came in the form of a whisper from Jade: “I know why you drink.” He froze.

“It’s okay.” She stepped back and stared at him, and he stared back, unsure what to think or feel. “It’s okay. I know how hard this life is. I’m right on track to dive headfirst into it myself and I know exactly how hard this is. You don’t have to apologize to me.” She stepped closer to him again, seeing that his whole body was communicating that he was a little relieved at what he was hearing.

“What I do want, is to see what you’re masking under there.” She kissed him again as one of her hands brushed against the front of his jeans, feeling his erection. “I want to see your anger, your frustration, and your fury. Show it to me.” She squeezed his cock and got what she was hoping for in return – a hard kiss back and his hands moving up her shirt.

Liam slipped off Jade’s shirt in one deft move, leaving her in a lacy bra and her miniskirt. He licked his lips and slipped off his shirt, revealing his famous steel-cut and beautiful figure. Jade was always unbelievably attracted to this man, but seeing him topless in person was enough to flood her with arousal.

She stepped close and pushed herself up against him once more, letting her fingernails run down his sides, tracing his ribs, while Liam’s fingertips pushed under the hem of her skirt. Jade let him slide down so he was squatting and pull her skirt off, to which the first thing he did was tug her panties aside and place his mouth on her pelvic bone and sucked. She let out a solid moan, totally not expecting to find his lips there, and her arms braced the door she had pushed him up against.

Liam’s hands ran up and down her legs and touched them hard. She felt him dragging his nails across her skin while he squatted down there, topless and still in his jeans, sucking on parts of her upper thigh, moving to just above her panty line, switching to her other leg, and in general teasing her pussy with his mouth. He could feel the heat radiating from it and could smell her sweet scent. He wanted nothing more than to rip them off and put his face between her legs, but the teasing was going to work to his advantage.

Jade couldn’t handle it anymore and reached down to tug Liam back up to her. She once again pushed him hard against the door and reciprocated with her mouth on his chest, sucking hard, making it hurt. She had no idea whether he enjoyed the pain until “fucking lord that’s sexy” came breathlessly out of his mouth. She smirked, placing a line of hickeys across his chest and abs. She squatted now, having tossed her skirt aside, in her panties, and sucked on his pelvic bones, which were so beautifully defined and sexy. His fingers ran through her hair and her fingers slowly worked off the button and zipper on his jeans.

Liam was almost too distracted by the feeling of her lips on his skin to notice that she had taken hold of his cock, but suddenly he looked down and she was looking up at him, the head of his cock on her open-mouthed tongue, just teasing him to death. Liam bit his lip and exhaled, watching Jade rub the bottom of his head against her tongue, never losing eye contact with him.

“Do it,” he said, thrusting his cock further into her mouth. She obliged and wrapped her lips around his eight inches. She had never experienced girth like him before and it was incredible; she could barely fit her mouth around him, but was able to deep throat him just the same. Liam groaned and writhed in pleasure. Jade wanted to smirk if she hadn’t had his cock buried in her face; she imagined that few others before her had ever managed to fit it all in their mouths.

After Jade had gotten him close to orgasm no less than three times, she stood up and kissed him again. Something about the taste of his own cock on his lips made Liam go crazy with arousal. What he felt was magnified by her whispering in his ear, “I like it rough, baby. Show me what you can do.”

Liam’s eyes shifted and he dug a small remote out of his pocket. With the press of one button, a song Jade vaguely knew came pouring through Liam’s iPhone dock – Bottom’s Up by Brantley Gilbert. His eyes locked with hers and he bit his lip, digging a flask of whiskey out of his back pocket and taking a swig. He handed it to her, she took a drink, and then he said “Let’s do this.”

Suddenly Jade was whirled around and shoved against the door, much harder than she had shoved him. Liam planted a voracious kiss on her lips and pressed his cock against her panties, wanting to feel her heat. He felt his own. The heat not just coming off of his cock, but in the room – was the AC off? He could feel himself sweating. It was hotter in the room than it had been at noon, with the sun out. The sweat ran down his neck, and he could see that Jade was sweating too.

She gave him a devilish grin and bit her lip, dying to have his cock buried inside her. Jade squirmed at the very thought, looking him right in the eyes and saying “I’m not impressed.”

Liam smirked and grabbed Jade by the wrist, pulling her towards him, kissing her hard, and walking her over to the bed. He turned in such a way that her back was against it and pushed her hard onto the bed, her legs spreading in front of him. She bit her lip in dire anticipation.

“Face. Down. Ass. Up. Now.” He said, and she obeyed. Jade got up on her knees and grabbed a pillow, hugging it against the bed in anticipation of being absolutely railed by this man. She left her panties on, wanting him to tear them off. Liam didn’t disappoint.

Cause tonight it’s bottoms up Throw it on down Rock this quiet, little country town Get up, drop a tailgate on ya truck Find a keg and fill ya cup up Kick it on back Pretty little mama lookin’ at ya like that Make ya wanna slide on in like “Girl, what’s up.”

Liam stepped out of his pants, turned the music up, took another swig of his flask and crawled onto the bed. He took hold of her panties and in one deft move, used both of his hands to tear her underwear straight in half and pull them off of her. Jade yelped and grinned into the pillow. That was so hot.

When she felt his cock slip between her cheeks, Jade pushed her butt up further towards him. She hoped her was staring down at her and admiring. Her question in her mind was answered when he said “damn, girl” and slipped his head between her lips. She could feel how large he was just from his head, and she shivered in anticipation, getting goose bumps. Jade pushed her pussy against him just a little bit, and felt Liam grab her ass hard, his other hand on his cock guiding it into her soaking wet entrance.

The heat in the room was causing both of them to pour sweat. Liam’s was racing down his abs and legs, and Jade felt hers running down her back and down her legs as well. Still, having her ass up in the open air on the bed was refreshing and felt deliciously sexy.

Liam had never had expectations like this placed on him before, but he heard her words when they entered the room. “What I do want, is to see what you’re masking under there.” What was he masking?

Anger. Mostly anger, for his fans, for his family. Anger that his life will never be ‘normal’ again. That he will never, until the day he dies, be able to just walk out of his house and down the street to a coffee joint and be with solely himself. That someone, somewhere will intrude. Because people are selfish and aren’t thinking about the person they’re intruding on before they just do it.

That everything is amazing, and he will never be happy.

Liam felt that anger, felt that emotion, felt it well up and felt it mix in with the pleasure he was feeling. It didn’t make sense – how could he be angry and feel good at the same time?

It wasn’t making sense logically, but it was still happening. Liam didn’t know what was happening or why, but he stared at Jade’s ass, her beautiful pussy and asshole entrenched between her gorgeous, sweat-dropped cheeks, and bit his lip. This was so hot, and his anger, his rage, was fuelling his lust, and it didn’t make a single bit of sense but he didn’t care anymore. He wanted this and here it was, ready for him. This woman – who the hell was she? A musician and so gorgeous and she didn’t seem interested in him because he was Liam Payne, Mister One Direction. She enjoyed his company and he enjoyed hers. Now, she had tapped into a part of him he had never felt before. Liam didn’t think he was probably going to leave in the morning.

Focusing back on her ass, Liam slipped his head into her entrance and made her moan. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t sit down,” he said to her. She nodded into the pillow. “I’m going to leave you raw and red and bruised, so sore that you’ll remember me every time you move,” he uttered. Jade nodded again, pushing her ass up against him. His cock rode up between her cheeks and she raised one hand behind her, spreading them for him.

“Just fuck me, you sexpot,” she had turned her head and gasped. Liam smirked and pushed his cock down again, his hand resting on her hand, grabbing her ass. He grabbed her hand and squeezed. The sight of her spread cheeks made him harder than he had ever been, and he was certain he was larger than he had ever seen himself.

Liam slipped his cock inside Jade with expected effortlessness – she was so, so dripping wet, both from her arousal and from the heat. The sweat pouring off of both of them and her juices were mixing to create a gorgeous smell in the room, accented by the smell of the whiskey in his flask. Liam and Jade both moaned as he entered her, and her moan increased as he slipped his entire eight inches and six inches of girth inside her pussy.

Jade saw stars flash across her vision. She had never, ever been penetrated by something so big, and it hurt for the first few thrusts. The pain was glorious, and she reveled in it and his animalistic grunts and thrusting. Liam knew what he was doing, despite being drunk as hell. This boy had no performance issues whatsoever. She gripped the sheets, her nipples getting more sensitive as he fucked her, brushing against the sheets of the bed.

Feeling Jade’s pussy clenching onto his cock nice and tight, Liam let himself go and allowed the rage to channel through him. He thrust into her hard, establishing a beautiful rhythm that Jade was enjoying immensely. The idea came to him suddenly, and without fully qualifying it, he slapped her ass.

Liam paused, still thrusting, but unsure of whether or not that was a good idea. Jade had paused in the same breath, having never once had her ass slapped before. It stung … but it felt very good.

“Harder, baby,” he heard her say, his question answered. He increased the pace of his thrusting, and slapped her ass even harder with his free hand, leaving a solid mark of his handprint. Jade cried out and moaned. Both of them were holding back so that they could let this last longer, and the longer they held back, the better both of their climaxes were going to be.

Wanting to turn this up, Liam started fucking Jade so hard that her legs started giving way beneath her and her ass was definitely no longer in the air. He was leaned over her, his hands holding him up on either side of her sides, and her legs were flat against the bed and almost together while he fucked her, nearly straddling her ass. In this position, Liam let his strength show off and held himself up with just one hand, using the other to claw his fingernails down her back, leaving heavy scratch marks and in a few areas, a small amount of blood, while his mouth got busy leaving hickies on her back. The pain from both his fingernails and his mouth while he thrust into her, and the slightly higher angle of his thrusting, was making Jade go insane with lust. He was going to fuck her straight into the floor.

The grunts Liam was making so close to her ears were bringing Jade so close to orgasm, she didn’t know how much she could hold it in anymore. She breathlessly whispered how close she was to climaxing, and that earned her a SMACK- really hard on her bum again. She felt the sting and yelped in surprise, not expecting it at all. Liam whispered “Don’t you dare, I’m not fucking done with you.” It wasn’t making her any less closer to orgasm, and if anything, his words were making her quiver.

Liam’s rage was in full swing. At first, the thoughts, the images associated with his rage were distracting him, but eventually he learned how to simply be with the feeling, to let it exist inside of him, to turn off his brain and just feel it. It was giving him an empowerment he had never once felt before, a way to channel this anger into lust instead of into drink. He knew that sex was when a lot of people mistakenly start falling in love with the person, only to regret it later, but goddamn it if he wasn’t falling in love with this gorgeous woman.

His way of showing appreciation? His (and her) newfound interest in spanking. He smacked her ass again, earning him a gorgeous yelp from Jade. Getting another devilish idea, Liam slipped himself out of Jade and sat back up on his knees. Jade yelped again, looking behind her to determine why she suddenly wasn’t filled with his cock, and he said “get back up here, now.”

Jade was happy to oblige, and got back on her knees, her butt in the air and resting against him. Instead of Liam slipping himself back inside her, he dragged his head along her pussy lips, even going past her entrance and dragging his head between her cheeks and across her asshole. He repeated this several times until she was clearly squirming, and then smacked her bum again.

“How badly do you want it?” He grunted at her.

“Fuck me, please, I need your cock, Liam,” Jade whimpered into the pillow. She was loving this domination, the rough way he was treating her. Now that he had stopped fucking her for a brief moment she could already feel the soreness kicking in, and it was a wonderful feeling. Liam reached forward and grabbed Jade’s ponytail. Her hair was down to her butt, nice and long, and a beautiful dark brown. Jade yelped when he grabbed her hair, and she resisted by keeping her head down and to the side. This was also very new to her, and the pain was initially hard to deal with, but when Liam continued sliding his cock against her pussy, all the pleasure she had coursing through her body flooded back in that moment and mixed in with the pain.

Jade decided that she liked it.

“If you’re angry, I’m not seeing it,” Jade teased, with a smirk on her lips. She could just barely make eye contact with him from the way her head was turned, and each time he tugged on her hair it pulled her vision just a little further away from seeing him. She wanted him to fuck her while holding onto her hair, so that he could do it even harder. “Come on Liam. I’m still not impressed yet.”

This woman was the only person in the whole world Liam had found hard to impress. He took her up on the challenge.

Centering his cock back on her entrance, Liam thrust back into Jade once more. She was still just as wet as she was when he first thrust into her, and that first thrust felt just the same, incredible and mind-blowing. Liam had never lasted this long, but the mixture of pain, rage, and pleasure was hardening his resolve. Jade gripped the sheets, bunching them up in her hands as she bucked against Liam, so thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being filled by him. She was sure that no other man would ever be able to give her the same feeling of fullness. It was utter bliss, indescribably good.

Liam knew that they were both ready to collapse onto each other. He tugged on her hair, wrapping it around his hand easily, and barked “Is this what you want?!” to her, which got him a silent nod followed by the sexiest moan she had uttered all night. He pounded her so hard, he was starting to feel sore himself. His free hand continued to give her random, errant, and hard spankings, and her ass was raw and red from it, and the scratch marks he had given her earlier were still raw and red. Best of all, his pulling on her hair actually was working – it gave him an anchor and allowed himself to thrust into her deeper, harder.

Jade started to breathe harder. The mixture of all this pain, all this pleasure, the sounds of Liam’s grunting, the feeling of his solid cock inside her, it was too much. She lifted one hand and grabbed Liam’s hand, which was resting on her ass, and they both squeezed her ass together as she rode a loud and long, crashing orgasm, bucking hard into Liam so much that she was seated practically in his lap.

Liam allowed himself to release at just that time too, the image and the sounds of Jade climaxing that hard on top of his cock more than enough to send him into his own descent of crashing pleasure. Stars streaked across his vision as they both came hard; Jade’s orgasm was just starting to calm slightly when she felt Liam’s cum firing inside of her – thick, hot cords of cum that she felt burn pleasurably inside her pussy, making her cum a second time on top of him and in his lap.

Both Liam and Jade crashed down onto the bed on their sides, and Liam eventually gained enough strength to extract his cock from Jade (she wasn’t complaining) and lay beside her, facing her. Liam was drunk and now he was exhausted; Jade too was exhausted, less drunk, but still sore.

Neither of them managed a single word to each other before passing out.

Entry #2:

I’ll start off by telling you that, while I can’t remember everything that happened that night, I remember the most important parts and that’s what counts, right? I don’t want make that sound like I’m a whore - I’m anything but. I’ve only gotten drunk a handful of times and only so smashed that I couldn’t remember every small detail of what I had done - at least until that night.

I’m not even sure how I ended up there, in that bar. Okay, that’s not completely true. It was my idea to go. What I’m not sure of is how I managed to lure Liam Payne, Mr. One Direction, into the grips of that bar. It was pure luck. I was probably one of the only people at the One Direction show in Chicago that night (besides my best friend, who was standing faithfully next to me, screaming at the top of her lungs, too, and of course all the cringing parents in the house) who was old enough to be holding up the poster I had worked for hours on the night before. You see, that night was Mr. Payne’s 21st birthday. If you’ve spent any significant amount of time in the Unites States (and, incidentally, I have - I was raised here), you know that the rite of passage for the 21st birthday of any person is to be taken to a bar and showered with so many drinks, you can’t stand up. Of course, Liam was already well-adjusted to that. Rumor had it, he was spending more time with a drink in his hand than he spent doing anything else these days. Usually, I would have minded - no one that young needs to pick up such a bad habit - but as he seemed to be able to hold his own, I wasn’t going to comedown too hard on him.

So, I can distinctly remember standing there in that crowded stadium at Soldier Field, waiting for the perfect moment to throw up my poster. My best friend, Lucy, and I had spent the months leading up to the concert devising several clever ideas for posters we would take with us to the show. Having been to close to 100 concerts between the two of us, it was our expertise to know that artists love to read clever and funny signs - we might as well play with our five favorite European beaus. It sort of helped that we had picked our seats out very carefully from a list of tickets set up for picking. And after paying damn near $900 per ticket, we decided that we had better get some sort of recognition for our hard work. They had taken notice - that was the best part. And what was more was that we had made them laugh. So I already had the confidence to do what I needed to do; I was just waiting for the right moment.

It came about halfway through the second to last song. I had been fearing that I wasn’t going to get another shot. There was a 100-meter catwalk they had been racing down all night to stand on a smaller b-stage in the middle of the crowd and they just weren’t coming back down it. We were seated right next to both - the catwalk and the b-stage - settled right in the nook of the left side, in the corner just as the catwalk opened into the b-stage. As I said before, we chose these seats carefully. They were perfect. Finally, as Liam started the second verse of “Best Song Ever,” he started to make his way down the catwalk one last time and I knew it was now or never. Honestly, as clumsy as I am sometimes, I can remember being surprised that I was able to nimbly climb into my chair while holding the poster. But I got to the standing positiong just as Liam stopping singing and let Harry take over and I threw the sign up high over my head. As I’m not very tall to begin with (hey, I’m 25 years old and only 5'0"), the chair didn’t give me much height, but it helped. The bright neon green sign caught Liam’s attention almost immediately and he took a moment to read it and then visibly chuckled, giving me a wink, and then turned to sing to the other side of the stadium. I sighed and then stepped down as one of the security guards was eyeing me angrily. I smirked at myself. Well, at least he had paid attention for a moment, right? I looked at Lucy and we both burst into a fit of laughter.

As the song ended, the guys of One Direction walked around the b-stage slowly, waving one last time to all the people in the middle of the crowd, working on introducing their last song of the time. And without warning, Liam was speaking.

“There was a sign over here on this side some place,” he mumbled in his thick British accent, sweeping his finger over our section, “I wanted to read it more closely. Where was it?” And with that, all the pre-pubescent girls in our section started to throw their hands and posters into the air, screaming at the top of their lungs and threatening our ears.

“No, no,” Liam said, “She was standing on a chair.” And my heart flew into my throat. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Lucy was elbowing me with vigor, shaking me to my core to put my sign back up for Liam to see.

“Where are you, sweetheart?” Liam’s deep voice crawled through me as his eyes squinted over the crowd, through the blinding spotlights all over him. I clumsily lifted the sign back into the air, holding it high above my head.

“There it is!” he shouted, pointing at me, “Let me read this again. I couldn’t see it clearly before.” He cleared his throat and leaned closer to us, threatening to fall face first into the crowd of screaming girls around us.

“Happy 21st birthday, Liam,” he read out loud, “Let me buy you a drink at Funky Buddha Chicago.” With that, he leaned back away from the show of hands that were reaching toward him and chuckled again, this time more loudly. He eyed me with suspicion as I pulled my sign back to my side and dropped it into the pile of posters next to my feet.

“You don’t even look old enough to get into Funky Buddha,” he grinned and I scoffed loudly.

“How old are you, sweetheart?” he asked. I tried to look affronted but just ended up laughing at him.

“Twenty-five!” I called loudly and his face turned up in a look of confusion.

“Twenty-five?!” he half-screamed, “Fuck’s sake, I thought you were seventeen.” I let another burst of laughter fall through my lips; I get that a lot. He grinned and then looked around the stadium.

“All right,” he called through his microphone, “Show of cheers, how many of our fans here tonight are actually old enough to go to a bar with us?” And while I thought that the entire stadium was going to cheer just to appease him, only a handful of screams came from the crowd surrounding me, mostly up in the bowl seats. My eyebrows raised - that couldn’t have been more than 20 people. Liam laughed loudly. He smirked at me and then fell into the kneeling position on one knee again and leaned closer to me again.

“Tell you what,” he murmured to me, still speaking into the microphone, “You head to Funky Buddha after the show and if I show up, you can buy me a drink.” I remember that I had turned so red, it felt like my face was on fire. The crowd around me went insane. A few people were shoving on me with appreciation - I was the girl who had gotten his attention at the show. Liam grinned his crooked grin at me and then pushed up off the floor, joining the other guys on the main stage to finish off the show.

When Lucy and I left the stadium to head back to our hotel to ready ourselves to go have a few drinks, I wasn’t really expecting him to show up, especially considering that most of the younger crowd was waiting outside of the club when we arrived, hoping to catch a glimpse of him in his after-concert glow. Mostly, I didn’t expect his tour manager to allow him to come to the club. They had a repeat show in Chicago the next day (which Lucy and I would be in attendance of) and drinking heavily the night before would not make for a great start to that day. Mostly, I just wanted to unwind. It had been an eventful past few days - what with driving from northern Indiana to St. Louis, Missouri and then back up to Chicago in almost the same breath. We were just ready to de-stress and relax.

There wasn’t much to my outfit - a loose, black tank top, light denim Daisy Dukes, and black, high-top Converse. It was too hot out to worry about wearing anything else. It had been sweltering at the show, which had been in the outdoor Soldier Field and the heat was more oppressing as deep night closed in around us. There was definitely a storm coming. I can remember hoping that it would cool down the air around us for the next day. It was welcomely cool inside of the club when we arrived. I hadn’t brought a jacket with me (why would I need to when it was a blistering 102 degrees outside?) and it was for that reason that I released my long, brown hair from its ponytail. It fell over my shoulders and cascaded down to my behind. I remember reveling in my mind how long my hair was.

Lucy and I weaved through the growing crowd inside and made our way up to the bar. We didn’t come to dance; we just wanted to have a few drinks and then walk back to our hotel. We ordered from a very harrassed looking bartender in an all black tuxedo outfit - Jamison and Coke for me, Amaretto sour for her. Lucy and I have always been people watchers. That’s how we always spent most of our time whenever we went out. It wasn’t that we meant anything by it; we just liked to give our take on the people around us. I was halfway through my first drink and Lucy glanced up behind me and her eyes widened. I raised my eyebrow at her and then jumped so hard I almost spilled my drink down my front when a voice sounded in my ear.

“Where’s mine?” the thick British drawl startled me. I gasped and then turned to see Liam standing two feet from me. It was too much for him to hope that he wouldn’t have a gaggle of people following him through the crowd and when I glanced behind him, there were four or five girls pointing and staring with open mouths and smiles. He glanced back, annoyed for a moment, and I smirked at him.

“I guess I do owe you a drink, birthday boy,” I said over the music, taking sympathy on him, and he chuckled.

“Isn’t the guy supposed to be buying the girl a drink?” he asked and I laughed.

“Well, as I’m older than you,” I reminded him. He licked his lips and then let a smirk play on them.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “That’s sort of gross. Cougar.” I let a loud laugh fall through my lips as he flipped a high-risen chair backward and sat on it, hugging the back of it to his chest.

“I’m only five years your senior,” I told him, “I would hardly call that a cougar.” He smirked.

“So what are you drinking?” I asked him and then looked at the bartender who had extracted himself from several from tispy looking college kids.

“Whiskey,” he told me and I raised my brow at him.

“On the rocks?” I asked and he nodded, his chin laying on the backs of his hands on the chair and his eyebrows raised, amused. A small smirk was playing on his lips. He glanced toward the bartender, who was watching him expectantly.

“Have you got Highland Park Scotch?” Liam asked him and the man gave one curt nod and then turned toward the back of the bar, reaching high and pulling a bottle from the dusty very top shelf. I cocked an eyebrow at Liam.

“You’ve got expensive tastes, Mr. Payne,” I said, taking another sip of my drink. He smirked and then pulled the drink toward himself as the bartender set it down on a coaster for him.

“Guess you’d better let me pay after all, hadn’t you?” he said quietly and then brought the drink to his lips, taking a sip and then swallowing slowly. I chuckled. He wasn’t going to make it easy to treat him for his birthday, he was making that clear right off the bat. I remember thinking, “Two can play at that game.” I looked at him, narrowing my eyes, and then drained the last dredges of my drink and then glanced at Lucy, who was on her iPhone, texting away. I licked my lips and looked back at him.

“Bartender,” I said, not looking away from Liam and he raised his eyebrow at me, pulling his drink away from his mouth. The bartender stepped toward me and from my peripherals, I saw him glancing back and forth between Liam and I. I inwardly wondered if he was used to seeing games like I was about to initiate. If Mr. Payne wanted to play, I could play hard. And if he was insistent upon paying, I could make him pay.

“Two shots of firewhiskey,” I said to the man, turning toward him finally, “And keep them coming until Mr. Payne picks up his tab.” I grinned and then looked back at Liam. He smirked at me, shaking his head. I watched him reach back and extract his black leather wallet from his back pocket. He opened it and pulled out a white card, throwing it onto the counter in front of the bartender. The bartender looked at it apprehensively and then slid it toward himself, laying it on the counter behind him. He then turned back around and I watched him set two multi-colored shot glasses down on the bar. He grabbed a bottle of a clearish red liquid from under the bar and then filled two shots for us. He shoved them toward us and Liam looked down at them.

“Bottoms up, Payne,” I smirked at him and he licked his lips, wrapping his fingers around the small glass.

“Your good health,” he said, holding the glass up in the air above my face and I glanced up at it, doing the same with mine and then watched as he tipped his head back, draining the shot in seconds. I followed suit and set the shot glass back onto the bar, willing myself not to cringe at the liquid inside my mouth and as I stared Liam in the face, I could tell he wasn’t affected by it at all. This was going to be a challenge. Oh well. He started it. The bartender filled the glasses back up and we took the shots again. I could hold my own when drinking, there was no doubt about that, but firewhiskey was my one downfall. It was hard to stop once I started. Coupled with the fact that I had, so dispondently, told the bartender to keep the drinks coming until Liam was ready to leave, I was sorely regretting my decision five shots in. My head was swimming. And it was then that the details of the night started to become a blur.

Laughing at the direction of the conversation Liam and I had been having, Lucy had politely excused herself, letting me know that she would be at our hotel and that if I needed a ride when I was done playing, she would kindly come and get me. I had nodded at her and thanked her for her attentiveness to my situation. She was probably going to need to bring a dolly with her in order to wheel me back to the hotel, but that was besides the point. I was having fun and Mr. Payne wasn’t letting up any time soon. It was around that time that I started to silently ask myself why it was that he drank so much. Every time he was pictured over the last few months at awards shows, out with friends, even after shows, he was either holding a drink or barely holding on to himself. I can remember thinking, fleetingly, that maybe the fame was catching up with him. There were constantly people around him, berating him, begging him for pictures and autographs, pushing and shoving him in all directions. He couldn’t even walk out of his house without someone trying to mob him or steal something from him - a glance or something more. And it was in that moment that I realized just how young he was. He had the looks and physique of someone ten years his senior, but he wasn’t anymore than a twenty-one year old. In my enibriated state, I found myself feeling slightly depressed for him.

Our conversation shifted somewhere around the sixth or seventh shot and we started talking about music. We talked about his rise to fame and my fight to do the same. We talked about my music and why I hadn’t yet pursued something bigger - he forced me to sing a line of one of his own songs back to him and in my less than sober state, I didn’t really care that half of the bar was staring at me. He smiled at me as I finished and everyone else went on about their business.

“Well,” he mumbled drunkenly, “You’ve definitely got the voice for it. No reason why you shouldn’t fight harder for your dreams.” I shrugged and bit my numbing bottom lip.

“I guess I’m just afraid of being rejected,” I admitted. He snorted and then took another sip of his top shelf Scotch.

“I’m living proof that if you get rejected once, you can still try again,” he told me, “I had to try out for The X-Factor twice, didn’t I?” I shrugged at him. He smirked and then looked around.

“Another shot?” he asked, pointing to the newly filled glasses in front of the two of us. I sighed. I wasn’t sure that my stomach could take anymore.

“You go ahead,” I told him and he shrugged. He grabbed his glass and threw it back easily, swallowing and smacking his pout lips appreciatively. And then, looking at my face and realizing that I wasn’t going to drink mine, he lurched out and snatched it from beside my arm and downed that one too. I shook my head at him. I supposed he was bigger than me. And he was holding himself exceptionally well for having drank as much I had watched him drink. Perhaps he was a lot better at this than I had given him credit for. The bartender had placed two more shots in front of us and Liam smirked at me and then downed both of them. I shook my head at him. He wasn’t going to be able to walk. The bartender returned to give us another round but Liam shook his head and waved his hand.

“I think we’re finished,” he chuckled and the bartender nodded.

“Would you like me to tally up your tab, Mr. Payne?” the man asked and Liam considered it for a moment. Finally he nodded and then looked at me. My heart sank a bit. I wasn’t ready for him to leave. I was enjoying my time with him. The bartender turned away and then returned a few moments later with a white piece of paper and a pen. I glimpsed the receipt and my heart stopped when I saw the black, “$312.18” glaring back up at me. I let out a small gasp and then instantly felt bad for all the drinks. Liam, however, didn’t flinch. He signed his name sloppily, as if he hadn’t even looked at the total. Oh, right. International superstar. He doesn’t need to worry about small matters such as a $312 alcohol bill. He handed the receipt back to the bartender, having added a hefty tip onto the bottom of it, and then turned toward me. I was preparing myself for the goodbye. At least I would see him the next night at Soldier Field. I opened my mouth to tell him that I had had a good time when he cut me off.

“Dance with me?” he slurred and I blinked at him. I wasn’t in any state to dance, but I wasn’t going to tell him no, not when I could milk a few more moments of his time. The dance floor was a blur of lights and hands. People jammed in around the two of us and it was hard as hell to move around in the compact space. On the plus side, having so many people that close to me kept me standing. I was having trouble holding my alcohol now that I had stood up. Liam, however, seemed as if he was completely at ease. I glanced up at him, glassy-eyed and unsteady. A country song started from the sound booth behind us and the crowd cheered. Even in Chicago, Brantley Gilbert was popular and “Bottoms Up” blasted through the speakers. The beat had always been perfect a bar dancing and I chuckled. I couldn’t help but think about how convenient it was that it was this song that Mr. Payne had chosen to dance to with me. I felt his hands snake around my waist and turned around, dancing against him. I could hear him breathing in my ear. His large hands slid down my waist and he grabbed my hips, yanking me closer to him. I huffed out a breath and licked my lips. This night could not have changed direction more quickly. He hooked his fingers into the belt looks of my Daisy Dukes, holding me to his front and I felt him brush against me. I put my hands on top of his, backed myself into him, and ground into his pants. I heard his breath hitch in his throat and a small, feral groan started in his chest and then died in his throat. The firewhiskey was making me feel more brave than I ever would have been while sober. I reached up a hand behind me and buried it in is hair, balling it, and fisting his brown quiff. He blew out a heavy breath again and then through my extra long tussel of loose curls, his voice found my ear.

“Come with me,” he whispered and my knees almost gave out at the burl in his voice. I blinked and suddenly we were at the front door of the bar, laughing at the tangle of people we’d have to fight through to get there. When the door burst open, I blinked, holding my hands up, as a pouring sheet of rain assaulted my body. I gasped and then looked upward. I was instantly drenched. Lightning flashed around me and then thunder grumbled.

“Come on,” Liam murmured and grabbed my hand, yanking me down the street. Lightning flashed again and then we stumbling off an elevator and into a narrow hallway filled with doors. He burst into the one marked 417 roughly and thunder blasted the building around us again, causing me to jump. Another flash of lightning lit up the room and without warning, the power flashed and then went out. I heard the air conditioner splutter and then go off. We looked around ourselves, standing in the doorway, and lightning flashed again. I blinked at the sudden brightness of it and then I was somehow tangled in his arms, my back pressed against the wall. He was holding me up by my behind, pressing his chest into mine. My fingers were buried in his sopping wet hair and his lips were on my neck. Lightning blasted through the room again and without knowing how I got there, I was being carried toward a desk pushed up against the wall in the center of the larger than life room. My hands were wrapped around his neck and he held me up with one hand. The other hand reached out harshly and knocked a lamp roughly from the desk and onto the floor where it shattered loudly, tinkling glass to the carpet. He threw me to my back on the desk harshly and it almost knocked the wind out of me. I looked up at him and it was all there, in his eyes: lust, rage, pain, pleasure, everything that was making him drink. And laced in with it was a small amount of incoherence. He had no idea what he was doing. Lightning came again, flashing like a strobe like, and I saw him yank his wet black shirt roughly over his head. Thunder cut off all sound around us and then I was there, in the same position, but somehow different. My shoes and shirt were gone and I lay there in my bra and shorts. He was showering my still soaked body with kisses. He pressed his jeans into my Daisy Dukes and I groaned, trying my hardest to push back up against him. Lightning and thunder crashed around us again and when I opened my eyes, my small hands were pushed against the wall beside the desk, his fingers laced into mine on either side of my head, bracing himself, and his back was pressed to mine. My shorts were gone and I felt the tattered fabric of his jeans, still around his hips, brushing up against me, which I didn’t understand, because he was buried to the hilt inside of me. His lips were at my ear and he was growling a low, feral growl. I cried out and lightning flashed again. When my cry and the thunder died out, my back was on the desk again, and he had finally shed his jeans. He was in between my legs, holding himself up on his hands next to my head. The desk was hitting the wall hard - so hard, in fact, I was surprised it wasn’t putting a hole through to the other side, where the bed sat. His breathing was laced with grunts and sweat dripped from the tips of his usually quiffed hair down onto my throat; it was getting hotter in the room now that the air conditioning had gone out. He dipped is head low and sucked the sweat off my neck, sucking and biting so hard, I was sure there would be a dark mark there later. Lightning burst through the windows again and thunder drown out the sound of desk’s bangs for a moment. When I opened my eyes again, I was turned the other way, my back facing him, and I was laying face down on the desk, my arms stretched so I was holding on to the dip on the other side of the it. His fists were rested under my armpits and the desk was still hitting the wall with brute force. His chest was pressed against my back and his skin was sliding against mine, drenched with sweat and rain water. His forehead was set on the back of my head and I could hear his gasps and groans growing louder. He was taking his rage out on me in the best way possible. I whimpered into the wood of the desk and he groaned.

“You like that?” he murmured, setting his lips close to my ear again and I nodded at him, letting out another small whine as I heard him moan into my ear again. Another flash of lightning caught me off guard for a moment and when it died away, I was on the plush white blankets of the king sized bed that dominated the bedroom with Liam’s hands on either side of my head. He lifted one of them and reached behind him, pulling my feet higher up on his waist. He pulled his arm back toward his front and then slipped it under my behind, lifting me toward him and holding me there. He looked down toward our middles and then let a whimper fall through his lips. The banging was still sounding through the room, this time assaulting the wall behind the bed. As lighting crashed around us once more, I found myself face down, ass up, with his fingers digging into my hips. I called out wildly through the room and he matched it at equal pitch - this position was the one. I could feel the sweat from his chest dripping onto the lower back tattoo I had gotten four years before. I lifted myself from my elbows and pushed up onto my hands, quieting my cries for a moment and flipped my long hair out of my face, throwing it down my back. Liam’s right hand ghosted up my spine and then, stopping midway up, fisted into my tangle of loose curls. He yanked hard on the makeshift ponytail and jerked my head backward. I closed my eyes and let a heavy breath fall from my throat and into the sweltering room. He used his new reigns as an anchor and pushed into me harder, causing me to cry out into the room again. Lighting burst through the windows next to the bed and I closed my eyes again. When I opened them, he had my hair pinned in his hand, and my chest and hands were pressed against the wall and headboard. His back was leaned against mine. My knees, which were spread far too far apart, were barely holding me up; I was shaking, so close. He pulled my hair down again and made me tilt my head slightly to the right, opening my left ear and neck to him. He leaned toward my ear, his panting laced with almost unbearable grunts.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled into my ear, “I’m not through with you yet.” I called out through the room as he attached his lips to my neck again, biting down on it and sucking, running his tongue around the spot. Lighting and thunder crashed through the room again and the bed started to hit the wall harder than it had done all night. I was scooted away from the wall again, but still face down, ass up. His hands were latched into the headboard above my head and he was using it as leverage. Rough. That’s all I could think. But it still wasn’t rough enough.

“Harder,” I begged in a whisper and he obliged by letting out a dark chuckle and then holding onto the headboard so hard that his knuckles turned white. He jammed into me once, so hard that my head crashed into the wood. I cried out and then he started a sloppy rhythm that had the bed shaking and beating the wall with such force that I feared it might come apart at the seams. I buried my face into the pillow and screamed. Lightning flashed and I felt him toss his head like a raging bull. He let go of the headboard and his fingers dug into my backside again, pushing down on me. More lightning and he slapped my behind hard, growling and pouring sweat down onto my back. It slid from my tattoo, up my spine, and landed at the base of my neck. I called out through the room, tossing my hair back again. Flash and I was flat against the bed, face down, unable to hold myself up any longer. He was almost completely parallel to me, his fists bracing him under my arms, and shoving into me so hard that I was sliding up the bed. FLASH. He clawed my behind with his fingernails, growling loudly through the room like an animal. FLASH. My head hit the headboard again as I clawed at the blankets beside my head. FLASH. I heard his breath hitch, just as the bubble in my belly burst and I screamed out through the room. FLASH. His arms shook hard as I felt his welcome warmth inside of me and he bellowed out through the room, growling out a loud, “FUCK!” FLASH. He fell to my back, pushing my hair away from my neck and the side of my face and showering both with gentle, whiskey scented kisses. FLASH. My vision blurred as I could barely hold my eyes open. FLASH. “Stay with me,” brushed across my ear in the rush of a whisper before I closed my eyes and didn’t reopen them. FLASH.

My heart beat in my throat and I swallowed hard, unable to figure out why I was so thirsty and why it was so sweltering. I opened my eyes, blinking against the sunlight that was shining through the window next to me. I blinked harshly a few times and then took a deep breath, dragging my chin across the crisp white blanket under me. I narrowed my sleep blemished eyes for a moment and then glanced at Liam, who was still sleeping soundly next to me. One of his legs was tangled into mine and his left arm was draped lazily and loosely across my bare back. I watched him sleeping for a few moments. His brown hair was everywhere and his pout lips were parted slightly, smashed roughly into the mattress, pressing them up from the side. Long, dragging breaths were falling in and out of those lips and I decided that, with the current state of my head and stomach, I wasn’t ready to extract myself from this. I closed my eyes again and fell, surprisingly, into another deep and dreamless sleep.

What felt like hours later, I jumped hard, hearing a door slam and then blinked roughly against the light again, lying on my back. I groaned and threw my arm up over my eyes, pulling the white blanket covering me up to my mouth. I heard a small whisper of a chuckle and then there was a weight on the bed next to me.

“Wake up,” a small whisper came and I licked my lips.

“No,” I moaned quietly and then pulled my arm away from my eyes, glancing to my left slowly. Liam was inches from me, his brown eyes filled with laughter, as they usually were when he was awake and sober. He rested his head on his shoulder and smirked at me. I yawned slightly and then rubbed my sleep blemished eyes. He chuckled again and then I felt him extract his arm from beside himself and he wrapped it over my waist, pulling me closer to him. I felt my bare back drag across the sheet. I winced as a stinging sensation washed over me. He pursed his lips, amused.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, “Your back is probably going to be a little sore for a bit. I can get you some Neosporin. Incidentally, the cleaning staff is going to be a little angry I ruined their sheets with blood.” I let a small, incredulous chuckle burst from my throat and he smiled at me.

“I got you breakfast,” he told me, “I hope you like bagels.” I nodded slowly at him and then closed my eyes, throwing my arm over my eyes again. He laughed a quiet laugh and then brushed his lips against my hairline at my ear.

“I have to get to the venue soon for the show later,” he said, “And if you want, I’d really like you to go with me.” And without warning, my heart stopped. Lucy. She probably thought I was lying dead in a street somewhere. I needed to call her. I sat up quickly, my hair flying windly in all directions, and hugged the blanket to my chest.

“My phone,” I croaked and then cleared my throat, “I need to call Lucy.”

“Oh,” Liam bumbled, “I hope you don’t mind. She phoned earlier, just before I had left to get the bagels. I answered it. I didn’t want her to worry about you.” He stepped across the room and plucked my phone off the entertainment center and then handed it to me. I pushed my hair out of my face and looked at the screen, unlocking it. There was a text waiting there for me from Lucy.

Liam Payne just answered your phone. I want details. Now.

I laughed and put my head back, my hair falling away from my back, and looked up at the ceiling.

“What’s so funny?” Liam asked. I shook my head at him.

“Nothing,” I said and licked my lips. I looked up at him.

“I would love to go to the venue with you, Mr. Payne,” I told him and he smirked, throwing me a black button down to put on to extract myself from the bed.

And that’s all I remember of the night that we crossed paths by chance in a bar in Chicago - but I will forever remember every detail of the relationship that it started.

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