breeding kink! farleigh start who always lets his girl use him as she pleases. especially when she's feeling extra needy.
in which farleigh start burns with a desire to fulfil your every needs without an ulterior motive
warning: porn without plot cuz this is just straight up fucking 😛*hands up in defeat*. breeding endeavours, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy (no actual pregnancy. well, soon), shameless fucking, worn out reader and farleigh (they been going at it), p in v, praise cuz you know how i be about it, pet names, post-oxford farleigh (he has grown up goals now)
“what a desperate little thing” he tsks, cracked chuckles slicing through the loud sounds of skin slapping and moans, head full of tight curls resting heavy against the headboard, eyes lazily tracking your every movements, but specifically your hips grinding down against him.
“what would people think if they saw you like this ?” he hums, cocking his head to the side to follow your tilted face, clearly amused.
“personally ? i’d think you’re a slut”
oh.
farleigh knows you like being called that by him. the way your walls pulsate and clamp down on his cock is a dead giveaway.
“but you’re just too— needy. aren’t you, pretty girl ?” he coos.
you blush at the pause before finding the accurate word for you, sheepishly giving him a meek nod in response.
“yeah you are,, it’s okay baby no shame in that”
shifting in his position, he beams at you before leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. he’s caged in by your entire body, spreading his thighs that are pushed down by your folded legs further apart so he could pull your hips even lower.
pushing your palms down flat against his toned chest, his tanned skin tinted dark golden hue, sticky. from sweat, maybe. or the heat radiating from both your bodies. you’ve got him pinned underneath your frail body, almost shaking from the pleasure, his hard cock deep and snug inside your pulsating pussy. the curve of your ass pressing down against his balls.
you reach over to cup your palm on his right cheek, fingers barely covering his entire face feeling the warmth of his skin beneath you. peeking through the thick buzz clouding at the top of head, you graze your fingertips along his prominent features, taking in every details. his eyebrows lay perfectly above his long lashes, your trailing fingers wiping the thinnest layer of sweat.
just when you thought you couldn’t get any wetter, thicker ring of white forms at the base of his shaft, relying on the blunt tip to keep prodding near your cervix as the rest of you is drenched. with your own wetness, mostly. some of his precum, or maybe even from you making him cum, before getting him hard again so you could continue fucking yourself on his cock.
“think i’ve spoiled you too much—” he spews, forcing a whine past your lips at his words.
“—pretty pussy can’t even stand a day without having a fat cock stuffed deep inside her”.
it’s pathetic how right he is. farleigh’s spoiled you too much with his cock, having stuffed you full every time you’re so much as let out a whine under his ghost touches. reaching up to cradle your jaw in his large hand, his thumb smoothing over your cheek, the other gently moving strands of hair that keeps falling onto your face from the vigorous bouncing and grinding you’re doing.
a breathy chuckle could be heard from him, before letting out a deep sigh. he’s shaking his head that’s about to explode trying to process just how desperate for him he’s got you, how you’re using his body to soothe the ache in your pussy.
it’s unfair, really. how he could just be doing absolutely nothing, leaning on his back lazily watching you with his eyes drooping low and still look so pretty. between the crimson brushing across his heated up cheeks, his blown out pupils half lidded and swollen soft lips that you’d kiss like he was your source of air, he’s got you hazy. light headed from only seeing him like this, his body trembling slightly from all the blood rushing towards his tip, low grunts escaping his lips, holding himself back from bursting.
feeling his cock twitch as it fucks right into your hole, you can’t help but clench your walls down hard on his shaft earning a dragged out moan from him. you’ve been fucking for hours, number of corners in the mansion having to bear the sheer fervour lingering and consuming the both of you.
farleigh’s been letting you fuck yourself on his cock just so you could relieve the ache in between your thighs and the need to have him near, so near that he’s so much as buried deep inside you. otherwise he’d be ramming into you against the mirror, keeping your hands on your back. you keep clawing for him, desperately clinging onto him and pulling him to be closer as if the both of you haven’t already became one, connected by his leaking hard cock thrusting back and forth into your weeping pussy.
“take all you want baby— fuck, take all you need. ‘m not going anywhere” a small whine escapes his lips as you rest your head in the crook of his neck, nipping your teeth on his soft skin, his hips bucking involuntarily to match your rapid bounces down his cock.
“you’re so cute desperate like this. prettiest girl i’ve had” his choked out praises has you so keen, honey sweet words dripping down his lips has been making you even more eager to carry his baby, to get knocked up by his seed that you’re gonna be so round for him, making yourself a mommy, all for him.
can’t blame yourself when he’s just so pretty that you’d want a mini little farleigh that is just as pretty as him
wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your fingers rake across his broad back as you cling onto him, pressing your entire body as his large hands grip on your waist to guide you on his cock. you’re bouncing almost pornographically, with your tits hard and clashing against his face, your hard sensitive nipples grazing his lips repeatedly.
moving his head to the side, his eyes search yours before settling into the most gorgeous pair, framed by the face he spends most of his days dreaming about. trailing down towards your swollen lips, your mouth agape with saliva threatening to spill from fucking yourself stupid.
his hands that were gripping hard on your waists move in between your bodies, reaching down before forcing a gasp past your lips at the feeling of his calloused fingers rubbing on your clit. he’s playing with your drenched folds, spreading the lips apart, pressing down hard against the sensitive nub. and like electric you feel your body jolt up, hips trembling, your whines getting louder as the movements of his fingers teasing your folds release filthy wet sounds.
“oh you like that don’t you ?” farleigh teases, his eyes twinkle seeing your blissed out face, your eyes almost showing nothing behind them as you try chasing your high.
“please—“ you whine out
“okay baby i know” he rasps out, almost like a whisper
as you feel it coming, you can’t help the tremble of your thighs anymore. your legs feel like giving up yet farleigh still has his hands wrapped perfectly around your waist, encouraging you to keep grinding down onto his cock
“it’s okay. shh— you’re okay. we’re gonna get you soo full of my cum that it’s all you’re gonna think about” he quips, almost sounding like he’s mocking you. his lips agape and sharp eyes following the way your pussy splits for his cock, disappearing into your soft walls
“you’re just a little cockdrunk, that’s it“ his hips continue to match your thrusts, the creaking of the bed begins to screech louder from both forces.
“fuck— otherwise you wont be begging for my cock every chances you get” leaning in, he lays the most delicate kiss against your lips, pressing down, asking for yours in return. you can feel yourself melt into him, every senses throughout your whole body becoming heightened, every parts of your body becoming aware of every single one of his lingering touches.
“please,, oh— please please, farleigh” the only words you’re able to let out are babbles of his name, it being the only thing you can say without having to think.
he’s got his large hand gripping at your waist, desperately trying to soothe the overwhelming pleasure of having a warm pussy engulfing his hard cock, his other hand cradling your face ever so carefully as if to not break you like you’re a fragile porcelain doll. his lips on yours, tongue swiping across them to try to get a taste of you.
as your body moves against his, hot sweaty skin sticking onto each other, his ears are being served with your moans, your whimpers that are almost too filthy for him
“what’s the matter angel ? pussy’s stretched out so good yet it’s still not enough for you ?—“
“—poor baby”
your tear stained cheeks make out new ones spilling and trickling down, as you continue to sob feeling the size of his length stretching you oh so sweet at your entrance. at this point his cock’s probably memorised every ridges of your warm walls, the feeling of your pussy wrapped tight threatens him to fuck his entire load inside right the second.
as you let out an exasperated whine, he could feel your pussy clenching hard, releasing in waves. it’s the 4th time farleigh’s made you cum tonight
“mhm, go on baby, cum on my cock. cum all over me”
you’ve got two of his loads safely stuffed right into your pussy, and you’re still trying to get another one for, you know, good measure. making sure he’s absolutely fucked a baby into you every time you fuck won’t hurt anybody.
besides, the both of you are indeed trying. ever since farleigh’s mentioned that he’s actually okay with the idea, which then developed into his whole newfound obsession of knocking you up, the idea of cumming inside you purposely to plant his seed has him excited.
“you wanna be a momma ? is that it baby ?” farleigh coos, planting soft kisses all over your face
“mhm-mm” the haze in your head’s too fucking thick to form a coherent thought. every single responses you try to give farleigh comes out pathetic whines and babbles.
“fucked yourself stupid you can’t even speak”
“you wanna be a momma i’ll fucking make you one” was the last of his words before he’s flipping you over, your back’s now pressed onto the mattress, a loud creak accompanying his manhandling.
“farleigh—!” he was right, by the end of this the only thing you’d be able to make out is his name
“it’s okay sweetheart you did good” he hums through a sinister smile
“—not good enough though” taking matters into his own hands, he’s flipped your bodies so now he’s on top without pulling his cock out. pushing your legs up by the back of your thighs, you feel even more exposed and spread out than ever. but it’s fine. it’s farleigh. you’re willing to give everything to him
holding onto your calves that are folded in front of you, you can feel your pussy stretching just for farleigh to slam his hips against your thighs, fucking his cock as deep as he could that you could swear you felt his tip in your belly. he’s so hard, his shaft curving upwards making you feel so good as it drags along the sensitive walls inside you. he fits perfectly, so snug and tight that it’s almost hard to move if it wasn’t because of your wetness drenched all over the place.
farleigh’s put his body weight against your body, pulling his hips back just to slam into you again and again that you’re sure the back of your thighs are red. he leans down, pushing his entire face in between your swollen tits, lips apart to mouth at your mounds before sucking on your nipple.
pulling away, his hands roam all across your body, fingers tweaking your nipple before his huge palms cup at your soft flesh. he’s squeezing at them, kneading and feeling them while his mouth rambles on and on about how beautiful they are. how gorgeous, how he’s so fucking obsessed with your tits. now it’s his turn to fuck you like he needs it even more so than you did just now. his thrusts are harsh, rapid and filled with lust, yet you can still feel the love he’s pouring into you.
“fuck, fuck—, fuck” strings of curses continue to spew out of his mouth as the thrusts of his hips begin to falter
“gonna fucking cum baby— im gonna cum” his voice cracks, moans staggering as he feels that his heavy cum filled balls are gonna burst any second now.
seeing him struggle to chase his high you clench down hard on his cock, feeling the bulbous tip at the deepest part of your pussy
“ffuuucckk—! oh fuck. fuck—“
reaching your hands out to roam across his stomach, feeling every crooks and tracing the ridges with your fingers. farleigh can’t help the curl tugging at the corner his lips looking your own fucked out state. messy hair with strands sticking onto your face, skin and neck hardly bruised from all his kisses and tits laying pretty and swollen that could make him hard all over again.
you can feel his third load that he’s spilled inside, this time not as much as before. farleigh reaches down to grab at his cock, pulling it out before pushing the tip back inside to neatly stuff his cum into you. you’re sensitive, yet the rub of his tip against your pussy still feels so good.
he’s breathing heavy, the soft smile turning into a smirk thinking of all the fucking you’ve down in the past hours shamelessly like some rabbits in heat. both your eyelids droops heavy, as you return his smile and a soft giggle that pulls at his heart strings
shifting his legs to move you into his lap, he lets out a sigh. sneaking his hands onto your stomach, wrapping his arms around your torso. as you lean back into him, you feel his fingers tapping against your lower stomach, where he was poking from inside a few moments ago.
Warnings: Cheating, drug use, drinking, slapping (you dont get slapped!!), oral (f receiving!), pussy eating, overstimulation (?), talks of stds, P in V sex, lemme know if i forgot anything.
Notes: Guess who's back and being ANNOYING! Lord when i say this took me forever to write and it's long. Whatever, but hi this is like 5k+ words not including notes, warnings or summary! Enjoy!! Leave comments n all that!! ALSO Shout-out to @cocoamoonmalfoy for putting up with me while i wrote this 😭 okay im running away now.
PART TWO
You think you're getting too old for clubbing.
Everything is so loud, dizzying, and sweaty and your outfit sticks to you uncomfortably. You pull at the laces, at the latex that annoyingly catches against the meat of your thighs as you sway to the music. Annabel, seemingly ignorant to your stiff movement, leans her whole body against you, grinding to the beat of the song, and out of instinct you wrap your arm around her waist and pull her closer. She melts into your arms then without missing a beat, she turns her head and even with the flashing lights you can see that her mascara runs, “You used to be good at this.”
You swallow thickly. You were good at this— clubbing, partying, getting so drunk you'd feel it the next morning but he had to ruin it for you, take the fun out of partying. “Sorry,” You say, nosing against her ear, “It’s just a lot.” Her hands clench over yours, her lashes fluttering.
“You didn't have to come.”
But you did. You couldn't spend nights in your dorm crying for the rest of the semester, not when you had an image to uphold. People were talking, half the campus knew that something happened between you and Farleigh, something bad enough for you to suddenly drop him and his family despite the looks he still sent you whenever you were in the same room. You had to come, if not for yourself, for Annabel who's going through the same thing as you, even if the cousin she got stuck with was a lot more cruel about what he did. “Couldn’t let you do this alone,” You smile. Couldn't let her sit in her dorm and cry over Felix who dropped her for India, she had lost two people in one night(—her boyfriend and best friend.) and while you two weren't the closest before this, you're friends— someone who understood what it was like to date a Catton.
Annabel smiles, turning to face you and it makes you laugh, her lipstick is smeared. You reach out and wipe out at it and she watches, her smile slipping off her face as her lip begins to wobble, “I wish I met you first.”
You smile and it's twinge with sadness. “You don't like girls, Anna.”
She shakes her head, tears falling from her eyes. It's been off and on all night and the booze running through her system isn't making it better. “I could though, I could like you.” She sniffles, “It’s not fair. I could have loved you instead but I'm here and– and crying over him while he's probably off fucking her in some dark corner. He said it was all a bit of fun– that we had the rest of our lives and it was wrong to tie him down when– when there was so much to experience. You would have thought I asked him to marry me, I just–”
Her face falls, “I just wanted him to be my boyfriend.”
Then, it's like a switch flips in her because she suddenly gags, lurching forward. You jump back in fear of getting puked on but she claps her hands over her mouth, pushing you and others out of the way and runs to what you hope is a bathroom. You stare after for a few moments, making sure you can actually see her go into the women's bathroom and when she does, you look away with a deep sigh, a hand running down your face. She's done this twice already and you know when she comes back this time, you'll cut your losses and drag her back to bed before she gets alcohol poisoning.
Politely, you try to dance your way off the middle of the dancefloor. You smile at people who seem to know you, they say your name in greeting and quickly go back to their dancing and just when you're at the cusp of exiting the crowd, a hand grabs yours. You jerk, whirling around and—
“Oliver, what the hell?” You snap over the music, you yank your hand free and his face falls. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Felix sent me over!” He shouts over the music then he draws closer to you, forcing you to take a step backward and out of the crowd. “Said you'd punch him if he came over–” Well, he's not wrong. “–and he said he needed your help, Farleigh–”
Your face crumples at the mention of your ex-boyfriend and you're already shaking your head, “No, Oliver–”
“Oh, love, come on–”
“I already told him I wanted nothing to do with him or his family-!” You quiet yourself when you notice the looks you're starting to get when you notice the group of kids near you quiet down as if to listen in. “Just no, Oliver. I can't leave Anna alone for too long–”
Oliver instantly begins to look around, “Annabel is here?”
You frown, “Yeah. Why?”
Oliver makes a face, “I have to chat with her too,” You start to sneer and he throws his hands up, his face paling. “Not for Felix, I swear. I just– we need to talk, how about we switch off– I stay with Anna and you go find the guys–”
“No. She's fucking drunk I'm not leaving her with you–”
“Oliver!”
Annabel appears from down the hall behind you, smiling as if she didn't spend the past few minutes puking up her stomach. She slides up next to you, bleary eyes peering at the both of you, “What are you doing here, Ollie?”
Your eyes narrow on him. The girl beside you is looking to make some mistakes tonight— trying to make someone jealous and while she didn't like girls, she loved boys and Oliver happened to be pretty and a close friend of Felix. You roll your lips together, eyes flickering to her when she prowls closer to him, and Oliver's hands clench and unclench at his side. She'd be picking the wrong friend to do this with, Oliver obviously had a thing going for Felix and Felix wanted something from Oliver, Farleigh had told you as much. Felix was still experimenting with his sexuality and didn't want to be kept in the straight category when he liked boys too, he had liked Eddie before he slept with Venetia and gave him head allegedly so bad, that he was gone from Saltburn by sunrise.
But that's neither here nor there, not when Oliver smiles at Annabel and you can see traces of Felix in it. It looks too practiced and painted and when he speaks to be heard over the music, it's like his accent changed to match the tallest Catton. “I just wanted to talk to you. Alone, if you don't mind–”
“Annabel–”
The girl cuts you off with a big, lipstick-smudged smile. “Of course, we can talk. I think I was just about to go back to campus, walk with me?” Then she looks back to you as if to say; ‘Relax, it's only Oliver.’
A little annoyed she's ditching you so quickly for a chance at fucking Oliver, you snap your mouth shut. It's only Oliver and that's what worries you, maybe you're being paranoid or maybe, Farleigh stuffed your head full of nonsensical claims but there's something weird about Oliver, like he's pretending to be something he's not. “Fine– just, just call me when you get back okay? If you don't I'm calling S.W.A.T on the place.”
Annabel smiles and presses a kiss on your cheek, “Thank you for being my very American guard dog tonight.” Then, to Oliver, “Let’s go, yeah?”
Oliver clasps hands with her, letting her pull him from the club but not before he turns to you and looks past the moving dance floor, “They’re all the way in the back, got a private room. You should go.”
You scowl at him, “Fuck off, Ollie.”
He smiles at you and it's like he knows you're gonna cave and go before you even decide to do so. And once you lose sight of Oliver and Annabel, you count to ten before you turn and push your way through the crowd trying to get to the private section behind them. Once you breach the crowd again, the security guards posted outside the private section only glance at you and then away, stepping out of your path as you pass them. You swallow at the feeling that evokes— that power that came with being seen with a Catton, a cousin or otherwise, was nauseating. You could ask those guards to do whatever you wanted and they would in hopes of a good tip, you could murder someone back here and they'd turn a blind eye because at the end of the day, if you weren't a friend of the Cattons’, you were against them and no one who stood against them survived very long.
You stop outside the door and you realize it's quieter back here. You can still hear the music from the club, yes, but if you pressed your ear against the door, you could hear crying. You could hear Felix talking, shuffling, and then more crying, choked and muffled and you think he's trying to silence himself and you ignore the way your heart aches. You should have ‘died’ a while ago. Should've been cast aside the moment you broke up with Farleigh and cursed Felix out, but they kept you close. Their gold-coated talons had dug too deep, you saw too much blood and bone, you saw too much of the real them and knew, in a way they'd never let you go. No matter what you did or said.
You take a breath and open the door.
Felix is crouching in front of Farleigh, his hands cupping his face as the man before him cries so hard, he heaves. He's cooing, using his thumbs to rub soothing circles on his cheeks, “It's okay, mate. It's okay, you just got to breathe– yeah, that's it, Far, just breathe with me.”
Your hand clenches around the knob and you clear your throat, praying your voice sounds uncaring.“Is he high?”
Both men look up, Felix faster than Farleigh but that doesn't stop the other man from staggering to his feet at the sight of you. “Baby,” He hiccups, he walks to you— stumbling and nearly tripping in the process and you enter the room, closing the door before any passersby can see. Farleigh reaches you and his eyes flutter, tears freely falling from his eyes as he sinks to the floor before you, his arm winding around your waist and his face placed firmly against your stomach. He's still crying, you note but he's mumbling too, “You came. You came back.”
Your hands clench at your sides to hide their shaking, you won't touch him. Even as he unbalances you and presses you flush against the door, you don't touch him as he cries which means, you won't push him away either, so you settle on ignoring him instead, your eyes on Felix who's still crouching. “Felix, is he high?”
The man sighs, running a hand through his hair before he stands, rolling his shoulders. You can't decide if he looks pissed that you actually showed or happy to see you after weeks of no communication. He looks like he's forcing himself to frown, “You’d want that, wouldn't you? Give you another reason to run away from him.”
You flinch as if he hit you and Farleigh holds you tighter, pulling you closer to him, “You don't get to say that, Felix. You don't even know what fucking happened.”
“Exactly!” He bursts. Its loud enough he throws a glance at the door, he takes a breath and you hear him struggle to keep his voice level. “I don't know what fucking happened between the two of you and he won't tell me. You won't tell me. Then, I try to call you– try to make it right and you– you fucking blocked me?”
“There’s no making this right, Felix. You can't fix everything–”
“Yes, I can!” He insists, his voice raising. “I did so before when you two fought, I did it when your scholarship fell through and you were going to get kicked from Oxford, I fixed it when Farleigh and you went streaking through the bloody campus, I can fix this but you have to tell me what happened– you just– you're family now and we just don't drop each other, we don't block each other and don't answer when the other comes knocking for answers. Just let me fix this because all I know– all I know is Farleigh fucking flushed it, okay? Flushed it all down the loo and hasn't been high in weeks and it's been fucking hell, he's been such a prick about it always snapping and blowing up over the littlest things. I can't even mention you without him trying to bite my head off.
“Please. Just tell me what happened. That's all I ask, that's all I want to know, we used to tell each other everything. We used to be friends.” He pleads.
Annoyed you snap, “He cheated on me.”
Felix draws back, surprised. “What?”
You lick your lips, trying to force the memory from your mind and Farleigh starts to cry again, he tries to curl into you, trying to bury his face and cover his ears. If he's not high, he's drunk out of his mind and you're not sure what's better, he's always been a bit of a baby when drunk, clingy, and emotional. You used to have patience for it, you used to be able to stare at him without wanting to cry, “He cheated on me with Alicia. He and her got super fucking high after I begged him to just stay in my dorm with me instead of going out and I don't know– they fucked, I guess.” You look down at Farleigh and try to force that image out of your head, how he came to you already crying and begging for forgiveness, he said he didn't even know what happened, how he even ended up alone with Alicia but the damage was done. You broke up with him then and there.
Felix makes a face like he sucked on a lemon. “Farleigh wouldn't do that. Not to you, there has to be a misunderstanding– there– Farleigh, mate, tell me it's not true.”
Farleigh doesn't answer and you didn't really expect him to, not with the desperation coating his cousin's voice. For a moment, Felix looks more hurt than you and you understand it— he had been the one to get you both together, two Americans in Oxford why not stick together, he had invited you to Saltburn last year where Farleigh worked up the nerve to kiss you whilst Felix and Venetia cheered from a balcony above. Felix in the course of it all, became your friend because you never asked for his wealth, never asked for gifts or privileges, and the only thing you ever asked for was notes in a class you shared. Notes that he had never taken before then but started taking almost instantly after and the rest was history.
“Fucking Christ, mate.” Felix curses, he's shaking his head at his cousin. He looks at you, then past you frowning, “Where is Oliver?”
“He left with Anna.”
Felix freezes, “What?”
“He took Annabel home, you remember Anna, don't you? Your ex-girlfriend?”
“We weren't dating.” Felix snaps then shakes his head, “Look I gotta go find Oliver–”
“What? No, you have to stay with Farleigh–”
“I don't even want to be in the same room as him right now. Leave him with the security guards, he'll be fine come morning.”
He kisses your cheek, ignoring your protest as he storms from the room, slamming the door behind him. You think he has no right being this angry when he did something worse but Felix sees himself differently from everyone else, and sometimes it took someone copying his actions to see how fucked up he treated someone.
With a sigh, you look down at Farleigh who somehow managed to doze off in all the bickering, slumped heavily against your smaller figure. You hesitate for a second before attempting to push a hand through his hair and get annoyed when it doesn't go through as it usually would— he wasn't taking care of himself but you can't say you were doing so either. You frown, debating.
“Fuck it, Farleigh wake up, we're going back to my room.”
He only groans against you and you know the hangover he gets tomorrow will hurt.
A part of you missed sleeping next to Farleigh.
You always ran cold and he ran hot, he'd tangle himself around you and pull you flush against his body and the warmth that bloomed made you feel like you were a bear waking from hibernation each morning. You'd shake the sleep from your bones while he'd grumble and try to pull you closer to him, trying to coax you back to bed.
A part of you missed it and you'd probably always miss it but you knew where you stood with Farleigh, you couldn't– you wouldn't go back.
He shifts next to you, his head falling off the pillow and resting in the crook of your neck, his lips ghosting over your pulse that steadily picks up the closer he draws. You've been awake for an hour now, passively texting Annabel as she updates you on her almost sleeping with Oliver, how she managed to give him a handjob (— she took several minutes to describe the size, shape, and feel of his dick to you.) before Felix burst in and dragged him out. You turn away from Farleigh, arm tucking under your pillow as you debate telling Annabel that Felix only showed up to drag Oliver out because he wanted to be the first one to fuck Oliver.
But you remember how eagerly she ditched you for Oliver. You remember how the two of you were just friends, barely acquaintances if you took away all the conversations about Felix or Farleigh so instead, you huff, turning off your phone and chucking it away from you. Farleigh follows your movement, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you back against him, his leg slotting between your legs and you freeze.
“Farleigh?”
The man hums, pushing his leg higher in an attempt to pull you closer and a startled breath leaves you. That shouldn't feel good, you won't let it show that it does. You shift, subtly trying to lift your weight from him, “If you can hear me, you should leave. Classes start soon and–” His leg presses higher, directly against your clothed cunt and you jerk, fingernails digging into the arm around your waists. “Farleigh–”
“I missed you.” He whispers against the skin of your neck and you shiver but trying to twist away only makes you grind against his leg or back against him if the breathy groan he lets out is anything to go by. “Can we– can we talk?”
“This isn't talking, this is–” He begins to kiss your neck, tongue swiping across your pulse before he nips at your skin and you nearly choke on your words. “You can't fuck this better, Farleigh. You– I don't even know if you're clean anymore.”
He stills against you and it allows you to pull yourself from his arms, to twist and sit up over him as your heart pounds. You should get out of bed, you think when he stares up at you with wide brown eyes, You should kick him out. You do neither, at least, not yet. Not when he's this close and staring at you like that. “I am,” He finally says and his voice breaks, he blinks quickly, shifting. “I got tested. Twice. I can show you–”
“No.” You say quickly, “No, it's fine. It's not like it matters anymore.”
Farleigh frowns up at you. “It does matter, baby. I shouldn't have– I shouldn't have fucked Alicia, okay? And I know you don't want to hear it but I was high.”
You instantly look away, hands clenching and unclenching. He wants to talk, fine, you could talk. “So that makes it okay?” You ask, “What if I got high and fucked Oliver, huh? Would you be okay with that?”
Farleigh scowls. “It’s not the same thing and you know it. Oliver is a fucking freak and I've told you that–”
“And I told you to stay.” You snap, “Stay in my dorm with me, spend time with me, fuck me. But you went out and fucked Alicia– so excuse me if I don't give a fuck about what you said about Oliver.”
The both of you sit in silence for a minute and you are the first to break it with a sigh, “Just leave, Farleigh. This isn't good for–”
“Do you want to get even with me?” He asks, sitting up. His eyes search your face, looking for…something. “Do you want to fuck Oliver?”
You gape at him, “Are you fuckin’ insane? No!”
“Felix, then. Do you want to fuck him?” He asks, his voice shaking. “‘Cause I'd let you. I'd let you fuck whoever you wanted if it meant you'd come back to me once you were finished.”
You try to get out of bed but he stops you, grabbing your hand and pulling you back in. A gasp rips out of you as you tug your arm away from him, anger pooling in your gut, “Do you hear how fucking pathetic you sound?!” He reaches for you again and you smack his hand away, “Don't fucking touch me!”
“Baby–”
“No!” You shout and when you stand, this time he doesn't stop you, only rushing to follow. “You can't do this shit, Farleigh. I didn't do this to us– I didn't fucking cheat on you!”
“I know–” He tries but you can't hear him, your heart is beating too fast, and your head is pounding. You're sure you're sweating in your effort to keep steady on your feet, to meet his eyes.
“You need to leave, Farleigh. We're done.”
“We’re not.” He insists, stepping closer to you. “Baby, I love you–”
You slap him before you can even stop yourself and you regret it as soon as you do. His head snaps to the side and his jaw flexes as he processes what you've done. He shakes his head, his hand coming to ghost across the reddening skin of his cheek before it drops, his eyes blown wide as he stares at you and you stare back, your hand falling to your side.
You have two seconds to brace yourself. To lock your knees and not bend against his body crashing against yours, his lips on yours as he backs you against the door. He kisses you like he misses you— like he's sorry for everything, for hurting you, for existing. His teeth bite into your bottom lip and when you feel the skin break, you turn your head with a sigh, allowing the man to kiss down your neck. “I’m so fucking sorry,” He mumbles against your skin, “So, so, sorry–”
He sucks a hickey into your skin and your hands clench at the fabric of his shirt, “Farleigh?” He hums, “That’s not how you're supposed to apologize.”
He drops to his knees before you without so much as a blink. He's nosing against your pajama shorts, his hands sliding up your thighs to pull at your waistband. “Take it off.” He orders, tugging at the material and the tone of his voice makes you frown and when he sees this, his tongue swipes across lips as he looks up to you. “Take it off, please.”
And you do so easily, giggling when Farleigh kisses your hands as you do. You push Farleigh back to kick off your shorts and the man leans forward between your legs, placing an open mouth kiss on your pussy– his tongue finding home almost immediately to flick against your clothed clit. “Oh– fuck, wait, wait–” You bend, trying to push him away once more but he shakes your hand off and pushes his face closer, mouth suctioning over your cunt. You thread your fingers through what hair you can, a choked moan leaving you before y anking him away from you, ignoring his choked groan. “Farleigh, what the fuck–?”
“I missed you,” He says, his lips parting as he pants, trying to shift closer to you. “Missed your pretty pussy too.”
Your fingers curl against his scalp, nails ghosting flesh and he moans. It's a filthy sound that makes something hot and warm pool in your gut— makes a breath punch out of your lungs. You missed him but you realize it's deeper than that, that this feeling— this want is something primal and it mixes with the anger that still lingers within you, it mixes and it makes you want to hurt him as much as you want to fuck him. “You’re so fuckin’ greedy,” You mumble, your whole body warm. “You’d eat me whole if I'd let you.”
One hand still in his hair, you use it to pull him further away from your pussy and he goes easily, watching wide-eyed as you use your other hand to pull your panties to the side. You can't bring yourself to be embarrassed about how wet you are, Farleigh has seen you naked dozens of times and you're sure half the wetness is his saliva that leaked through the thin fabric but this time it's different. He stares at you and your pussy like it made the stars, the sun, and the moon and he waits— panting, sweating, his dick straining against his jeans, looking up at you with big brown eyes. It's a good look on him, you decide, this obedience. You move your hand, fingers parting your soaked folds, “Apologize.”
And god, he does so eagerly. He jerks forward, his hands finding purchase with the meat of your thighs as he drags you forward, closer to his mouth. His tongue licks, circling your clit. You bow away from his mouth out of instinct, moans tumbling from your lips and he follows, riding the waves your hips roll to— you back away from the pleasure and he drags you forward, making you ride his tongue with each twitch. “Oh my god,” You whisper, whimpering as you roll your hips. You feel Farleigh smile against you before he slips, his nose replacing his tongue against your clit as he uses both tongue and fingers to fuck you open. “Oh my– O-oh fuck–” You clench around him, your muscles tightening and he parts them as if you're made out of wet tissue, slurping and drinking up the mess you leak onto his hand.
Your body curls away from him and he twists with you, hooking a leg over his shoulder and pressing you flush against the door, his tongue shoved up your pussy and nose against your clit and shakes his head and you nearly scream. You're so wet you can hear yourself, hear flesh sliding against flesh, hear his near-silent moans. His fingers curl into you, snagging against something that makes your legs weak and makes you babble out his name and he finds it again with a little prodding and bullies it with his fingers, rubbing and twisting till you're gasping, grinding down, and chasing the pleasure instead of running from it, “Oh sh-sh-it!” You cry, trying to pull him closer as you hump against his face, “You’re gonna m– I'm gonna–” Your lashes flutter as Farleigh shifts to kneel, hiking you further up the door and forcing you to grind down harder against his tongue and nose.
With a sharp cry, you cum. Your chord snapping as the warmth inside of you boils over. Farleigh makes you ride it out, keeping you closing and still working his tongue through your folds as you come down, he hums— drinking what you give him as your legs shall, and disbelieving giggles leave you. He's slow to stand, kissing his way up your shaky body, slowly coaxing the rest of your clothes off before he meets your lips and you taste yourself on his tongue. “You forgive me?” He asks, once he pulls away and he's still somewhat crouching to be able to look in your eyes, a smug smile pulling at his lips.
You force yourself to frown, to look annoyed despite your shaking legs and racing heart. “Did you make her cum, too?”
Farleigh has the audacity to groan. He hooks his arms around your waist and stands to his full height, lifting you easily and it sends a thrill down your spine. He wraps your legs around his waist as he carries you back to your bed, his teeth ghosting against your collarbone. “Does it fucking matter?”
“Yeah.” You say with a pout as he drops you on your mattress. You watch as he begins to strip, his shirt goes first, then his belt, and he slowly unbuttons his jeans clearly deep in thought so he doesn't notice your impatient looks. You watch eagerly as they drop and his hand slips into his boxers, clearly fisting himself. “Farleigh, did you make her cum?”
“I don't fucking know.” He admits with a frown, “I don't think so. Doesn't matter either. She didn't make me cum,” He lets out a little near-silent moan and you watch the fabric move over his fist, “Haven’t cummed since you left, not even when I touched myself. Closest I got was when I was thinking of you but it's not– fuck, it's not the same, baby. Missed you so bad I nearly fucked a hole into my mattress thinking of you.”
You bite your lip at his words. You bite it harder when he finally pulls down his boxers and his dick springs free and it is weeping, red at its tip and leaking. He rolls his thumb over the head of it before jerking his hand away when his hips try to buck against the feeling. “You’re sick.”
He fucking moans. “Say it again when my dick is in you.” He asks and despite the teasing smile on his face, you have a feeling he's deadly serious. He drops down to the bed, his lips once again connecting with yours. Farleigh rolls his hips against yours, his dick sliding against your pussy and the friction is not enough— you're too wet for it to be grinding at this point and you mumble this against his lips. Farleigh snickers, “There’s no such thing as being too wet.”
You roll your eyes. “Let me on top.”
Farleigh considers you with an odd look in his eyes before he bites his lip and grabs your waist. Your world spins as he settles back against your pillows, pulling you on top of him and he sighs, as his dick catches your entrance in all the movement. “Mm, sit on it, baby.”
You scowl, “Shut up.”
He doesn't, he smiles, his hips humping up towards you. “Know you missed my dick too, I know you missed me fucking you–”
You take him in your hand and he's hot, heavy and it throbs in your grip as you stroke him. Farleigh moans, his little rant getting cut off as he humps into your hand. “You gotta be patient.”
“But I missed you.” He gasps when you grip him harder, his voice cracking as you slowly, slowly sink down on him. “Missed you so fucking bad, missed your laugh, your smile, your beautiful fucking tits–” He gasps as you roll your hips against him. “Oh, fuck, go faster.”
You ignore him, rolling your hips at the same slow pace. Your bed creaks when you move too fast and you're suddenly uncomfortable, aware of the sunlight shining through your blinds, the possible students in the room next to you or below you— you try not to cringe about who heard you cum when you were pressed against the door. You roll your hips again, bracing yourself against his chest, grinding firmly against him, a soft moan leaving you. Farleigh only curses, his feet planted firmly on the bed and he bucks up into you, forcing you into the galloping pace that he wants. Your hands scramble, nails scraping across his chest as he momentarily brutal pace— he's panting in your ear, small and desperate, ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck-’s leave his lips like a prayer as he forces your hips down to meet him, the slap of skin nearly sounds like a song and it's nearly enough to make you cum all over again.
You gasp his name in disbelief, one hand rushing to push at his thigh because it's too much. You've just come and you're sensitive and gushy and he's making another mess out of you. Your other hand flies to his neck and you grip hard, pushing yourself up and then down in an attempt to stop his thrust and you're shocked when Farleigh almost completely goes still. He's still panting and his fingers are digging into your hips but he's staring at you with a glazed-over look in his eyes, his parting in a silent moan as your fingers flex against his throat. “I love you.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“‘m not.” He whimpers as you begin to ride him again, bed creaking be damned— he's never not fought you like this. He gasps as you pick up your pace, “I love you so fucking much, wanted to– want to marry you–”
You clench around him and he chokes out a moan. He continues, babbling. “‘nd I'm so fucking sorry baby– fuck– I-I am, I'm so sorry–” Your fingers tighten around his throat and his hips roll to meet your pace, chasing the pleasure. “I love you, fuck– I fucking love you and– and–” His breath catches as you lift your hips and drop back down, he bites his lip, his eyes rolling back. “Please?”
You let out a confused hum and he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing under your hand. “I'm so close, baby. Haven't cummed in weeks– just please, a little faster, a little harder.” When he asks like that, you don't have in you to deny him, you shift and he answers with a moan as you bounce on his dick. One hand still on his neck, and you bring the other one up to rub messy circles against your clit. The both of you are a mess, moaning and chasing pleasure and when he cums it's with a shuddering gasp— he doesn't warn you as he spills inside of you and you continue to ride him fixated on your pleasure. You cum only a few short minutes after him, collapsing against his chest and he wraps his arms around you.
“Come to Saltburn.”
You're too tired to pull away but you tense in his arms, a sigh leaving you, “Far–”
“Please.” He begs, his voice a near whisper. “Only Felix knew we–” He pauses, a choked breath and starts over. “I didn't tell anyone else we broke up and he's bringing Oliver. Don't let me go back outnumbered.”
“I don't know, Farleigh.” You mumble against his chest.
“It’s only for the summer.” He says. “It’s one summer. Then– then if you mean it, if we're done you can leave. I'll never speak to you again.”
You draw a soft pattern against his chest, a shaky breath leaving you. It's one summer, he's right. Nothing could go wrong in only one summer, you have nothing to lose. Still, “Promise?”
He hugs you tighter, almost as if he's afraid you'd disappear at that very moment. “Promise.”
disclaimers: 18+, smut, nsfw, immoral tattooing, spicy, tattooartist!farleigh, edgy undertones, tattooing, drinking, brief harrassent, felix is a weirdo is this, praise kink, overstimulation, strong orgasm, squirting, temporary nickaname, heavy teasing, pining, freaky shit!
—synopsis: you have a long awaited girls night with your friends and forgot to watch your drinking. you are followed by a drunk predator before being helped by a reserved artist, wondering where the rest of the night is going to take you with him.
a/n: hi guyzz! im rlly excited for yall to read this one ..its so freaky..major disclaimer: farleigh goes by kai first as a nickname [teehee mixing universes], i do feel like this isnt some of my best writing bc of writers block but the plot is def 10/10! pls never do anything in this fanfic though bc that is unsanitary LMFAO. i rlly hope you like it! sorry for typos! all love ♡
「divider by @/cafekitsune」
it was a slow brewing saturday evening. your friends were texting the groupchat all week about going out tonight. you were excited yes, but dreading the, well, social part. you enjoyed going out and exploring new places. but god the people sometimes overwhelmed you. nonetheless, alcohol turns on that social switch in your brain. you knew you were going to be alright and have fun regardless of what happens tonight.
"ooh! im so excited [y/n]! it's been too long since you, me, and annabel have gone out!" venetia squealed as she ran past you towards the open-door bathroom. you were getting ready on venetia's bed, already dressed. you weren't one to worry about taking forever on clothes, but you did take your time on your makeup. you found your outfit the night prior, wearing black shorts, and a maroon turtleneck halter top. you went with gold accents; earrings, cuff, and a dainty necklace.
you heard the door from downstairs open and smiled, hearing annabel squealing out of excitement coming up the stairs. "[y/nnn]! are you excited?!" she giggled, plopping on the bed next to you. you share a laugh with her and swiftly move your wand away from your face as anna falls next to you.
"yes of course anna," you hummed while putting on mascara. as anna was on her phone, you noticed something on her arm, gasping.
"anna you got a tattoo?! and didnt tell anyone?" you grabbed her arm and began examining her clear fresh ink. annabel grinned like an idiot as you admired her tattoo, holding her nose up proudly.
"i kinda forgot honestly. but it's cool right?" you nodded in agreement. you loved when your friends added new body modifications. you always felt like it was accessorizing your own character.
"i got it done at saltburn tattoo parlor–" annabel started.
"thee saltburn tattoo parlor? one of the best shops in london?" venetia yelled in shock, slamming her hand on the bathroom counter. anna nodded proudly once more, giggling mischievously.
"i waited 4 months for my appointment. i wanted to get inked by the hot guy in there. his instagram page says 'inkedbykai'. he's so hot [y/n]." annabel grabbed your shoulders and shook you for the dramatics, emphasizing her attraction. you giggled as you were briefly shaken.
"how hot are we talking? because your type can be…questionable." you joked. you were being half serious though. annabel had a wild side therefore she attracted wild people. the fiery redhead cleared her throat and sat up as you began lining your lips with open ears.
"so i was with my coworkers and their friends smoking a cig right, and i heard my coworkers talk about saltburn a few times before, specifically about a certain artist." you paced a nod every moment she paused for a second. "they always mentioned how hot he was but he never really was a social one. he is one of the more popular artists in the parlor because he is so attractive. pretty brown skin, gorgeous face, the curliest hair– and of course his sexy tattoos hehe." you playfully rolled your eyes at anna's expressive motions, fully entertained for the moment.
"and he tattooed you?" almost immediately the redhead sighed loudly and dropped her shoulders.
"no. i got this other girl. she obviously did amazing but i wanted my eye candy during my appointment. it's not like i would have gotten a chance anyways since each artist has their own room they work in." anna explained and shrugged off her minor sadness.
"aw how unfortunate." you replied, tone clearly laced in sarcasm. anna smiled and pushed you lightly before hopping up to join venetia in the bathroom mirror.
"yes how unfortunate. but! the nightclub, sapphire's, is on the same block as the parlor. so maaaybe," annabel begins fixing her signature red lipstick. "he is also having a night out."
"well!" venetia huffed before smiling. "let's go see then shall we?" the three of you all shared looks before smiling big and screaming in excitement. you, venetia, and annabel choose your preferred club shoes before exiting venetia's flat.
°°°
the three of you stepped out of the cab in front of the tattoo shop. you thanked the driver before staring at the parlor. you looked to your right and saw the line for the club at the other end of the block.
"wow, they do share a block." you hummed, admiring the window art logo in black & white western bandito font. from what you could tell, they were closing soon but it looked gorgeous inside, presenting a rustic english with gothic victorian accents.
i might need to consider an appointment.
"its pretty." you said slightly lost in admiration.
"sure is, c'mon!" venetia pulled you and annabel along towards the crowd standing outside. you wondered how you were going to get in before looking at venetia wearily.
"its cool, relax. watch this," venetia tapped the security guards shoulder and there the man turned, his serious face quite literally brightening up. "heyy leo!" venetia smiled sweetly.
"hey venetia. just you and your friends? head on in." venetia kissed his cheek with a 'thank you' before pulling you and annabel inside. you giggled amongst your two friends before your jaw dropped while stepping in. techno pop music filled your ears as your eyes adjusted to the lack of clear light and to the colorful shades of blue laser lights dancing in the air.
huh ..i guess the blue color scene would make sense.
the floor glowed and flickered along with the music. the bar was lined with blue lights and he aesthetic gave a nearly cyber techno feel. dancers moved seductively on the mini stages and you laughed in shock. it was amazing in here.
"its fuckin' fabulous in here!" anna yelled through the music.
"it is! this is definitely on the list of good ones!" you replied, beginning to move to the music. venetia all of a sudden turned to face you and annabelle with shots.
"how the–!!" venetia hushed you and placed the shot in your hand. you immediately took it with no questions. you were going to have a good night tonight, so you bit back on any questions you had and just danced. venetia bought another shot for the group so you were 2 shots in on the dance floor. you grabbed your friends and began dancing, enjoying every moment. over the next 2 hours, you had downed about 6 shots overall, feeling fuzzy and light. you felt like the perfect amount of tipsy, thanking god you could hold quite a bit of alcohol. while you did feel good, you decided to take a break from the dance floor, letting venetia and anna know you were heading to the bar.
you made sure to keep venetia and annabel within your line of sight, asking the bartender for a water and a cosmopolitan on venetia's tab. the bartender immediately handed you a bottle of water and got to work on your order. you danced simply and sipped your water in your seat while watching your girlfriends dance with some guys they met. the men seemed respectful enough so you weren't worried. you thanked the bartender as you were given your other drink.
"here by yourself darlin'?" you immediately turned to your right to a tall brunette. you leaned back instinctively from the man and made sure to avoid eye contact with him. your heart echoed throughout your chest as you sipped your drink.
"no, my girls are on the dance floor." you replied plainly. you didn't particularly care to entertain sweet talkers. you weren't one for sugarcoating rejection for men, because you disliked persistence.
"oh that them eh? they're gorgeous." he commented with a chuckle.
"yeah, beautiful girl's i know." you sighed, thankful the music was loud enough.
"not as beautiful as you though. i'm felix." the man placed out his hand for you to shake only for you to just stare at it.
"and i'm not interested, sorry." you dismissed. as you took a third of your drink down the guy laughed, sucking his teeth.
"are you sure? you haven't even looked at me yet." you sighed visibly again before turning to fully face the smug looking man. he definitely wasn't your type, and his bowl hair cut was certainly unattractive.
"i'm looking, and i'm not interested." you assured firmly. you sipped two-thirds of your drink before standing and suddenly, you were regretting your purchase. you don't know why you let that man distract you as you were sipping your drink. you were anxiously sipping as felix spoke to you and you mentally smacked yourself for it. the room began to look frame by frame, the lights occupying your sight.
"woah, you want some help?" felix grabbed onto your arm to pull you in but you ripped yourself away from him, shaking your head.
"i–i'm fine.." you scoffed, stumbling back. you instinctively caught yourself and the brunette was saying something along the lines of asking if you were okay. you began to walk away from the bar and the music. you needed fresh air and needed it soon. while pushing through the small waves of bodies, the music began to drill into your head. you groaned, eyes glazing over in overstimulation.
you finally stepped outside, mumbling a 'pardon me' every few seconds. you walked down the sidewalk, hearing and feeling the music dissipate from your body. you were at the low stages of being drunk but luckily you could still fully walk and talk if you focused silently. you cool air blew against your revealed parts of your body and it calmed your senses. you then slowed your pace to a more relax drunken speed, keeping a hand on the wall as support
"hey..hey! let me help you darlin'." the brunette yelled while jogging after you. you turned your body to him, holding your hand out. you did your damndest to focus on the guy's movements, but he was less intoxicated than you, and bigger than you regarding height.
"i said– i'm fine– ..get off me.." you swatted his hand away and sped up your pace down the alleyway. but he kept close, attempting to grab your arm to stop you. you were just going to do a circle around the block, but the man suddenly pulled you violently into him. you thrashed around, swinging your arms out of defense.
"get– off of me! i don't want your hel–" you stopped short when you felt another pair of hands divide you from the brunette. you opened your eyes to another taller brunette holding felix by a fistful of his hair and by his shirt.
"she said to get off of her." the stranger repeated, shooting daggers toward felix in the orange alleyway light. you managed to see the half-lit cigarette between the man's lips, a light whiff of tobacco passing by your nose.
"okay man– okay .." felix tapped the guy's hands, signalling mercy. the stranger looked over at you, simultaneously letting felix go without breaking eye contact with yours. felix groaned from his now tender scalp and mumbled a string of curse words before walking away. your savior immediately walked up to you and gently held your arms, scanning your person.
"are you alright?" he questioned. you gazed at him silently. from what you could see under the alley light, the man was gorgeous. this had to be the guy annabel was rambling about. there was a faint smell of nicotine that passed your nostrils again when he walked up to you. you noticed his jawline and outlined coily hair.
"mmh-hm.." you managed to get out. the man sighed softly and slowly wrapped an arm around you, mumbling a 'c'mon'. you reluctantly followed though he did just save you, so you weren't particularly nervous.
"just relax okay? we're going to chill in here for a bit." your savior opened a black door to one of the buildings you two were walking behind. you followed him into the door and down the dimly lit hallway. the hallway had doors on the left and right sides. you wondered what was behind them before you noticed framed photos of people's bodies. there were huge tattoo pieces laid across them, some taking up huge portions of the body. this was the tattoo parlor annabel mentioned earlier in the day. from what you saw through the front window, the entire place was beautiful, decorated with golden framed pieces, intricately detailed vintage chairs, and older persian hall rugs. somehow, they still managed to mix modernism with it regarding the culture of the tattoo field with some edgy decor pieces like beautifully framed moths.
the man guided you to one of the open doors, revealing a beautifully expressed tattooing space. with low rnb music playing in the background, he sat you down in a chair against the wall before grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge next to you. the man kneeled down in front of you, assessing your person again. even when kneeling down, he met your eye level.
"are you hurt?" he asked. you shook your head, immediately stopping when things spun again.
"did you know him?" you shook your head again, slow this time. the man didn't push for you to talk, instead tapping the cold bottled water in your hand. you opened the bottle and sipped the beverage. as you drank, you felt the wave of nausea wear off, wishing the spinny vision went along with it.
the man opened the fridge again and grabbed a small tupperware. he opened to reveal half of a sandwich and a mixed variety of fruit on the other side of the tupperware. he set it on top of the mini fridge next to you before stepping away.
"eating will soak up the alcohol ..i'm sorry." you looked up from your lap, knitting your brows together.
"why're you sorry? you did nothing wrong.” you stated, clearing your throat quietly.
"i know, but going through that must've been terrifying." he explained. you didn't respond, sighing softly. you lifted your hand to eat a grape from the tupperware, content with the crunch it had. you began to eat the fruit quietly. the stranger took notice out of the corner of his eye, smiling ever so slightly to himself as he organized. he was stacking books, and throwing away any pieces of plastic waste that weren't already in the trash.
as you ate, you occasionally stole glances at your savior. the first thing you noticed from his height. he had to be over 180cm. he had a nice pair of shoulders on him, and god, you saw his tattoo peak from the short sleeve black t-shirt. on his left arm, it looked like the twisted tail of a snake that didn't go past his elbow. you wondered what was under that shirt. he had the curliest hair you'd ever seen, resembling small metal springs. they were so healthy.
"take a photo, it lasts way longer." the man suddenly said. his back was still turned away from you so you immediately flushed a pink, directing your attention to the container of food.
"i didn't mean to stare ..what's your name?" you began conversation to break the awkwardness in the room. the brunette sighed gently as he continued cleaning.
"i go by kai mostly. its what i'm known as around here." you arch a brow. what did he mean he 'went by kai?'.
"so it isn't your real name?" kai clenched his jaw, pursing his lips together as he continued to clean his space, wiping down the tattoo chair in the middle of the room.
"no, i don't like my real name. it’s too old-fashioned." you hummed in response before crossing your arms. curiosity was killing the cat and your head buzzed from the alcohol still occupying your system.
"well since we're using aliases, i go by carter." kai looked over his shoulder, cracking another half smile. he must admit that the unseriousness of this conversation was becoming a bit refreshing.
"well then it’s nice to meet you, carter." he sat down in a leather seat, metal rolling stool across from you now. you blushed gently under the man's gaze, his gaze lingering longer than expected. you mumbled a 'likewise' out of bashfulness and then a slow silence laid over the room. the radio played generic rnb songs lowly and kai, or so he said, exhaled briskly before going back to sorting his cyber flash sheets. you stared at kai as he did his job. he did it so sexily in your eyes.
suddenly, maybe very abruptly, your brain cells clicked, looking up to the tall brunette. "w-wanna give me a tattoo?" you blurted, immediately noticing the sudden jerked stop of kai's movement. kai turned to you with a deadpan expression.
"and you wanna ask as i’m cleaning everything?" he questioned firmly. you immediately flushed a bright red and looked down at your knees.
"im sorry. that was stupid im sorr–" kai scoffed playfully. he didn't know you were easy to rile up. it was cute on your person and probably only on you.
"you're lucky i enjoy my job. c'mere." kai pointed to the main chair in the middle of the room. you climbed into the chair, laying on your back. kai grabbed his flash book and placed it in your lap as he re-prepared the tattoo gun.
"you got an option and a place on your body?" you flipped through the book of pieces, admiring each and every one. you were a third of the way through the book before an art piece caught your eye. it seemed like a cyber sigilism piece with a central point being a heart. you enjoyed the accents & angles of the endings of the piece itself.
"this one." you pointed at it in confirmation. kai rolled towards you in the chair as he pulled a glove over his large digits, he looked at the piece you chose before finally smiling. you caught a glimpse of his canines, a heartbeat echoing throughout your limbs. maybe it was the alcohol lingering, but kai did have pretty teeth, pretty lips..
"that one? alright, where?" you cleared your throat to also interrupt your impulsive thoughts. you finally met kai's eyes again, brown mixing with [e/c]. you held his gaze as you slowly turned around on the chair, straddling it. kai's eyes broke the gaze first by trailing down from your eyes, to your shoulders, following down your arm to where your finger was pointing to your lower back. kai chuckled softly, his chest feeling warm.
"you uh– heh–..a tramp stamp?" you turned your head to look back at him, nodding with your big [e/c] sultry eyes. god knows you wouldnt dare make a move sober, but your mind tends to wonder when you become inebriated, and being around a tall, gorgeous tattooed man wasn't helping your case. you felt like a cat in heat under a lion right now and you enjoyed feeling like prey under kai. you admit you can naturally come off as flirty when you find someone a little attractive. you couldn't help but take the gamble to see if you can get with said person.
"you been drinkin’ carter?" you gulped, sitting up more awkwardly. were you acting drunk? you were feeling immature now. your heart got louder.
"would you be mad if i lied?" you sighed almost knowingly.
"not particularly but there is a scent of it. it's not me who would be bleeding a helluva lot because you wanted to lie. you seem pretty coherent, so it's your decision if you want to continue or not." something caught your eye. there was a glint, a glimmer of edge in kai's eyes. his aura seemed to darken somehow,and a shudder went down your spine. kai took notice of this before quickly glancing down with a laugh.
"i dont mean to intimidate you–" kai started.
"no," you cut him off. "i don't cry over spilled blood. i'm a big girl. but, in order to start, i want your real name." kai sighed an 'oh brother' with a wry laugh. he rolled his eyes but couldn't hold back his smirk. the air in the room got heavier and you felt even more like prey under the man's presence. something was off. you didn't mind it though. the buzz in your core matched the one in your head as you kept your eyes on him.
your mind was bubbling up thoughts that weren't deemed moral at all. "you're not gonna drop this are you?" he quiered, you shaking your head with a giggle.
"my name's farleigh. farleigh kai catton." farleigh revealed.
"farleigh," you repeated. "pretty first name, farleigh." the cury brunette bit his lower lip, trying not to smile as he began pouring the ink into the tiny capsule. something about the way you complimented him did something to him, an almost primal feeling.
"the name's [y/n] carter matthews." you revealed.
"beautiful name miss matthews," farleigh hummed smugly and sucked in his teeth.
"now since you wouldn't drop the name, you can drop your shorts." you looked at him in pure confusion. it wasn't clicking to you on where the tattoo was really going to be. farleigh saw the perplexed expression before smiling at your intoxicity.
"you want a tramp stamp ..meaning the area needs to be free for me to move properly sweetheart. the shorts would get in the way, you understand?" it finally clicked in your head that farleigh was just doing his job. you quickly nodded before unbuttoning your shorts you wiggled out of them. farleigh casually looked away to fill another ink capsule. your shorts revealed black lace panties and an everlasting blush laying across your face. you always tend to forget how no-filtered tattooed shops can be. you believe they are the group of people who've really seen it all. farleigh turned up the music no louder than 2 more notches to hear you in case you needed to talk. farleigh didn't take any shame looking at your curves and pretty panties. they were pretty. they'd be even prettier ripped on the flo–
"thought you were going to get lucky tonight huh?" farleigh taunted to break the upteenth moment of tension. you laughed dryly while getting comfortable.
"fuck you .." you murmured sassily. farleigh only chuckled again a surprised 'o’hoh' laugh. his tone knocked down another pitch, causing a shiver to run through you. you were tipsy, in your underwear, with your backside facing a sexy mysterious stranger in a tattoo parlor. the thought of this being overly spontaneous briefly crossed your mind, but you did enjoy spontaneous things.
"you want it above your back dimples?" farleigh asked as he swallowed thickly at the mere sight of ass in front of him.
farleigh pumped the foot lever, increasing the height of the chair to his preferred height. your backside was now towards the height of where farleighs abdomen was when he sat down. your ass was now in this attractive man's face. you had to calm your jittery mind from feeling too much embarrassment. he began the process of shaving your lower back and priming your skin for the stencil. you fully spaced out, in the attempt to keep yourself calm. you only had a few tattoos, a chain cuff on your bicep you shared with your best friend and some writing on your collarbone. this was going to be considered a big piece on your body.
"i have back dimples?" you snapped out of your thoughts to turn to him. farleigh nodded with a small grin before meeting your eyes. you nodded in response and exhaled before going back to your thoughts. farleigh sighed, keeping his eyes only on the stencil, or trying his best. with how you looked back at him, your back arched and facing away from him, he already expected his body to warm up.
you were his type. his type, and doing a tramp stamp on his type during the late night wasn't ideal for him, but luckily you were facing away from farleigh so if he were to get riled up, he could calm himself down before the tattoo was done.
"ready?" you nod again, hearing the tattoo gun turn on. you kept your lower body completely relaxed but held onto your arms in tension. the needle finally hit your skin and it felt like brief warm pinches. it wasn't life-threateningly painful but if you were to rate it, you'd give it a 6 out of 10. you relaxed the rest of your body some more before turning your head to a more comfortable spot in your arms. you listened to the gun and the music in the background, occasionally humming along. over the course of the hour, you and farleigh made small talk, talking about the general facts of each other's life.
you learned farleigh lived in london for the majority of his life, had a degree of liberal arts under his name, and had a grey cat named lola. you didn't peg him to be an animal guy, but a pet cat makes sense. he seemed a bit more reserved as he talked about his daily life. he is usually fairly booked up regarding the tattoo shop but works at a bar 2 days a week. "do you make good tips as an attractive bartender?" you queried, moving your head just slightly in his direction. farleigh laughed slowly as he was finishing a line on the stencil before starting another.
"you think i'm attractive?" farleigh inquired with a cheeky tone. you could tell he was smirking like an idiot just by how he sounded. your face was gaining color but you couldn't move. you simply owned up to it. "well would you rather i call you conventionally attractive?" you replied snarkily.
"i'd rather you to walk around the bush instead of beatin' on it sweetheart." your chest felt warm now. as a matter of fact, your entire body was warming up from the nerves. you exhaled slowly before swallowing the lump in your throat.
"yes, you are attractive. and you still didn't answer my question." you muttered. farleigh was almost done with the line work on your tattoo, smiling like an idiot. ruffling your feathers was good entertainment for him tonight. he finished the line work and turned off the gun before going to stand up.
"if you must know, i do make good tips. being 196cm high flipping cups and bottles, with tattoos in a black button-up tends to attract more attention than desired." farleigh walked around and bent down to your eye level with a cheeky smile.
"wanna see the progress?" you matched his smile and got up, being immediately reminded that you were half naked. you stood up and looked in the mirror anyways, admiring the clean work. truth be told, your ass also looked good with the tattoo and you arched your back a bit more in confidence.
"its pretty ..how long for the shading?" you mumbled whilst continuing to admire yourself. farleigh watched from the chair, eyes glued to you. his body nearly ached at the sight. farleigh chewed on his bottom lip slowly, studying your gorgeous features.
"hmm ..– well i mean–" he began, chalking it up to catch himself lagging. "another hour maybe. we can also just reschedule–"
"finishing it tonight is fine, yeah?" you interrupted, turning your head to look at the brunette. farleigh only nodded, suddenly grabbing a lanyard of keys from on top of his shelf.
"i'll be right black. i'm going to go lock up. you just stay here and look pretty." and with that, farleigh exited the room.
was he flirting? did he just call me pretty?
you dwelled on it for a few seconds, smiling to yourself. you liked this game he was playing. and you certainly were posing in the mirror on purpose. you knew it didn't hurt to test the waters, but now its looking safe to jump in even. you sat back down in the same position, when you heard farleigh coming back.
"now, for the shading, you might bleed ..y'know ..since you have been drinking." farleighs word made sense. you knew the risks though. being with a man like farleigh only reassured you wanted it done.
"i'll be okay. i just want it done." you shrugged. farleigh stared at you for a handful of seconds before sucking his teeth in reluctance. you didn't seem like the type to endure pain, but maybe he was wrong from the start.
"alrighty then. just don't run then yeah?" you bit your lip at his choice of words as a certain heat grew in your core. you slowly closed your legs for a split seconds from the feeling of butterflies. you braced for pain before farleigh began the shading process. it felt like continuous cat scratches, with a hot knife. by the 15 minute mark, you'd finally strained out a painful moan. farleigh took notice, taking glances after he finished a line. you whispered another pained sound.
"you're doing so good [y/n]." he commented, his gloved hand holding you securely. you tried your best to focus more on where his hands were on your body rather than the several needles stabbing you. over the course of 45 minutes, you bitch and moan. you had tolerated the first 30 without audibly cursing.
it gets to the end of shading and farleigh noticed you had been rather slowly inching away from his hands further up the seat. it was so subtle he could only tell now when he was finishing up. the way your arms flexed while holding your head sent a pulse through his body. the curve of your arch accentuated as the pain lengthened over the course of the hour. you began to feel hot from the pain, a meek whine running past his lips.
"we're almost done. you wanted it. so you're going to sit here and take it like a good girl sweetheart." he's right. you wanted it, and you wanted it bad. not the tattoo, but him. he knew what he was doing. the ball was in full play and it was your turn.
"don't think i havent noticed you running [y/n]." you then felt his large hand grab your hips and pull you off the chair, and onto his lap. for a split second, you forgot about the pain and could only focus on the tent pressing up against your clothed cunt. you were getting nervous but so hot and bothered. you control the instinctive urge to roll your hips before looking back at farleigh. whining, you hope he'd budge but he doesn't bother.
"you're right– ah– i do want it .." you exhaled wearily from how your skin ached. you heard the gun turn off and felt farleigh shuffle just a bit. you looked back to him leaning backward to reach his desk, grabbing a sealed packet of something, he placed it back in his tray next to some paper towels and a water wash bottle. farleigh picked up the gun and continued with no warning which caused you to gasp slowly.
what a bitch move. you slowly unfolded your arms and grabbed the sides of the chair to push your forehead into the leather cushion.
"fuuck." you seethed, tone mixed with arousal and pain. it felt so good, and so bad all together. the needle merely tamed you from pouncing onto farleigh. farleigh cooed and coaxed you into sticking it out, saying things like 'you're doing so good for me' or 'just like that'. frankly his praise was not helping at all and you knew he knew what he was doing saying those things to you.
you started to bleed, farleigh immediately making sure to wipe it away. he noticed every time he stopped to wipe excess ink off an area, your hips would roll against his, causing a dreamy sigh to escape past his own lips. he was getting hard, and you knew what you were doing. you felt so dazed with the buzzing of the gun, the buzz of your own, and the tension of the room collapsing onto the two of you. you felt the firm tent in between your thighs, feeling a throb every few seconds. you held back an arousal chill from going down your spine and continued to move only when the gun was off your skin. you could feel the slightest cool of the blood seeping through your pores and forming drops on the surface of your skin.
"almost done." farleigh mumbled, but he began shading a portion that made you squeak and nearly jolt from the hot pain. your hips were moving away from his hands again and up off farleighs lap. farleigh chuckled and let you move, holding the gun back. he admired watching you relax again with your back rising from your slow, erotic-pained breaths. as you were composing yourself with paying no mind to the brunette, farleigh sighed again more dramatically before leaning forward to kiss your shoulder. you flinched and immediately relaxed, allowing him to caress your back with slow, wet kisses. they caused you to gasp and let out breathy moans.
"you wanted it," farleigh murmured against your skin, silently undoing his pants. "so take it."
you felt his gloved fingers outline the fabric of your panties, trailing them between your asschecks before reaching your second pair of lips. you sucked in a slow breath as his fingers simply lingered over your folds, occasionally over your swelling clit. you pushed your hips into his hand, but he then pulled his hand out from your underwear and pulled off the glove.
"you ready?" he asked in a low tone into your ear. he basically loomed over you even while sitting.
"for what?" you replied, opening your eyes to look back at him. but as soon as u did, he swiftly scooted you back on his lap, where his cock sat in between your ass cheeks, pressed up against your pulsating pussy.
shit.
you whined and pushed up against him, but his hand held your hip in place. "not until i finish." he stated before starting up the gun again. as a responsible tattoo artist, farleigh would never want to jeopardize the health of the tattoo. so he kept his ungloved hand away from the area, stretching the skin from a further distance on the back when needed.
"farleigh–" you protested.
"not. until. im done." you annoyingly huffed and kept ur head pressed against the chair. his cock throbbed against your pussy, which then clenched in response. the panties were the only boundary. farleigh wanted to get this done as smoothly and quickly as possible you rail right here in this parlor. he was finishing one last shaded part, wiping away blood before you were pulling away again. farleigh's patience was stretched thin. and it had now snapped.
"fine, since you can't wait until i'm done.." he scoffed and swiftly moved your panties to the side before rubbing the head of his cock along your second folds. he lifted your hips and sat you down on him. your eyes widened and your body went immediately limp by the sudden wave of pleasure. you felt every inch fill your walls, even gracefully brushing up against that spot.
"oh fuck–" you managed to say, staying immensely still. you felt like a cat who got its neck grabbed, feeling frozen. you felt good everywhere inside though, the pain of the tattoo being overruled. farleigh noticed how still you went, chuckled.
"hm, didn't think you'd go completely limp under some dick [y/n]. if i didn't know any better i'd say you were a needy little slut .." you couldn't respond, only replying with a whimper.
the gun went back on for the last time for farleigh to finish the last tiny portion of your tattoo. farleighs cock throbbed in you as he finished up, signalling he was also as eager as you were. after the 2 longest minutes of your life, you heard the gun turn off for good. you felt farleigh shuffle again, wondering if it was truly finished. farleigh had decided to take a pic of such an erotic sight from an above angle. the tattoo, your pussy lips around his thick cock, he wanted to cherish this. farleigh grabbed the paper towel and water, spraying the water on the irritated inked skin.
"f-fuck its cold–" you hissed. "no warning?"
"i think you like no warning, [y/n]. you like the element of surprise." farleigh hummed as he wiped the excess ink-mixed water. you then felt him spray water again, this time he allowed it to trail down your ass, between your asscheeks and down to where he was plugging your hole. "damn.." he whispered, continuing to watch the water drip around your lips. they clenched every few seconds, farleigh feeling your walls clenched around him.
"it’s cold." you murmured again, slowly beginning to move your hips but farleigh stopped you again.
"yeah i know, but its needed. one more thing, needy slut." you smiled at the new nickname, you wanted to show him how you could live up to it but you stayed put, allowing him to finish his job.
farleigh grabbed the sealed packet and ripped it open. it was a thin piece of plastic and he pulled off a plastic cover, laying the thin piece over your tattoo. he made sure it was secure before throwing leftover plastic packaging on his tray and rolling it away.
finally.
you leaned up against the leather chair and looked back at farleigh with his cock buried in you. you began to move your hips slowly but he continued to talk, and clearly struggled.
"the plastic is basically a– mmh–..second piece of protective–" farleigh then sighed briefly, his eyes glazing over in a daze as you rode him gracefully. he had to keep his composure to at least explain safety. "–protective skin layer ..y-you can take it off t...tomorrow–"
"uh huh–" you grinned, continuing to fuck him. a groan escaped farleigh and he tried his best to continue to speak while you enjoyed his struggle.
"when you wake up, rinse with water and anti– ..a-ant–..fuck.. hah fuck–"he whispered, looking up at you who was clearly enjoying themselves a little to much to his liking. suddenly, he grabbed your hips and held them in place as he began to deep stroke you.
"sshiiit–.." you dragged, immediately losing strength as he took over. farleigh heard you curse and laughed, keeping it slow.
"you gotta let me finish giving you the safety rules because this is my job [y/n], understand?" you heard the firm tone in his voice which caused you to obey quicker than usual, but he was filling you with every slow stroke he took.
"yes ...s–sir." you breathed out and finally submitted to stay put.
"now, when you wake up, wash gently with antibacterial soap and water and pat it dry," his large fingers slowly wrapped around your neck from behind, tingles shivering down your back. you were ready to be plowed open. god you trembled at the mere thought that was about to happen in seconds.
"do you understand?" he asked again.
"after drying it, i want you to rub a thin layer of healing ointment on it and continue that twice a day for a week, understand?" you only nodded, his cock simply leaving you incoherent, but farleigh didn't allow that. he gave you a small series of quick thrusts which resulted in a handful of loud moans coming from your lips.
"–yes sir ..y-yes sir." you moaned, gripping the seat of the chair below you. he smiled, pulling you closer into him by ur throat.
"well then, lets get started." farleigh started fucking you at a steady pace immediately. it was like counting every inch on every stroke because he'd fully pull back before entering all of you again. he was going to ruin you tonight. farleigh moaned when he'd pushed deeper every few strokes. your walls were so wet and warm and he wanted to use you like a pocket pussy. farleigh began to fuck you standing up. the slick wet sounds of your lips around him turned you on even more as he stuffed your insides.
"fuck– ohh fuck farleigh.." you seethed. you couldn't believe how good he was fucking you. your eyes didn't see the room unless farleigh stopped for a moment, because they'd only see the back of your head. you could hear your own pussy sucking farleigh off, getting the shivers all over.
"agh– fuck." farleigh huffed, slowing down. when he did, he felt another head rush as he watched you fuck him back needily. you moved your hips, fucking farleigh in near desperation. you needed him in an incomprehensible way, a primal need to be filled with his cum.
but farleigh had to slow down or he was going to cum in the blink of an eye. you were basically sucking him in and your wet walls were hot against his cock. he wanted to savor every moment, every stroke, and every moan . farleigh then pulled out and turned you to face him. it was refreshing to see his pretty face again, especially with how turned on he visibly looked. he sat leaned down and stood you up. you smiled, happy to be face to face with him again. he smiled at you, picking up one of your legs. he held it in the crevice of his elbow, lookin down to see your pussy fully exposed with his cock lining up to pound it.
"what if i fall?" you asked quickly, holding onto farleighs arm as you stood on one leg. farleigh chuckled, positioning his legs to hold both of you securely.
"i wont let that happen. now, open up for me." he whispered against your lips. as he pushed into you again. you gasped from the new angle, staring into farleigh's eyes as he now pushed up against your g-spot. your eyes immediately began to glaze over. you were going to lose your mind in this position.
"ah– ..oh– oh, god ..fuck." you cried happily. you felt your walls tingle from being stretched so easily. you were already beginning to shake as farleigh continued to fuck your g-spot. your core was burning now.
"farleigh– shit.. farleigh!" you moaned into his mouth, struggling to kiss him but you oh so wanted to badly. your eyes rolled back and your hips began to buck. you went fully incoherent as you suddenly felt a splash between the two of you. with every stroke, you squirted, letting out the most desperate of moans in farleighs arms. your walls clenched harder as you sprayed him which caused him to slow down again. a shudder went down his body as he almost finished then and there. almost.
"please..please dont stop." you begged. you only wanted one thing now, to be fucked and used like a pocket pussy. he started maneuvering his hands to slide under your legs before getting his arms fully under your thighs to hold your ass securely. farleigh's cock poked at your entrance and you gasped, your heart dropping for a moment but you were curious if it was going to fit. farleigh caught your eyes with his before slowly entering you. he began to move you, using you as if you were his own personal toy. immediately gave you one long stroke, and you gasped loudly because it scared you because it was the deepest you had ever felt him.
"w-wait" you grabbed his shoulder out of fear. farleigh stopped all movements, scanning your face.
"what? did i hurt you?" he asked in noticeable concern. you chuckles breathlessly, smiling bashfully. now you felt embarrassed you had nerves.
"no i-...i-ive never done this before and it went super deep …but ..just go slow okay?” farleigh nodded and smiled reassuringly at you. he began to move your hips again. you felt his size at a different angle now and it was ruining your mind now. he was hitting a spot right above your cervix that set off alarms in your brain. you were nearing your climax.
"mmm.." farleigh hummed contently. his mouth hung agape as he held you from under your thighs, moving you up and down to his liking. the best part was you were taking all of him, down to the base of his cock. you had a hand wrapped around his neck and the other gripping his shoulder whilst being fucked you into heaven. farleigh began to fully stroke you again with your hips fully connecting to his on every thrust. you wore a broken doll eye expression; one eye closed, the other endlessly rolling back with your mouth fully agape. the amount of ecstasy pulsing through you shook your limbs and your thighs violently shook in farleighs slender hands. your toes curled and pointed with an occasional hip twitch. you were trying hard not to fall over the edge.
"you wanna squirt again? yeah? hmm?" the hung brunette taunted and chuckled. that smug laugh didn't help. it shook your stomach into millions of fireflies, not butterflies, because your core burned and your walls twitched.
"y–yeahghh.." you answered weakly in pure emotional-physical overload. immediately after you replied you began the water works, squirting on every thrust with a staggered cry for full 30 seconds. the burning feeling of your core overwhelmed you. every squeeze of your pussy sent you into a mental frizzy. every sense of yours was sent into overdrive as farleigh fucked you silly.
farleigh watched the tears on your face. you looked a beautiful mess, and he knew you were enjoying yourself because you were begging endlessly and you kept moaning lewd submissive things. how you wanted to be used like this everyday, how he made you so wet, how his cock stretched you thin. farleigh picked up speed and aggression. you were going to milk him if he kept it up. you knew there was no way in hell you were gonna stop a hook up like this. you were going to take farleigh's cock like a good girl and recover for the next week.
"yes ...yes– yes ..yes!!" you yelled. your brain was in full overdrive. your eyes had rolled fully back and your body couldn't take it anymore. you wrapped your arms fully around farleighs neck and hugged him close as you moaned in tears. your entire body shook in his arms but he adjusted his grip to keep you in place as you became a screaming, shaking mess.
"you wanna cum like this don't 'cha? you wanna finish all over me yeah ..go ahead [y/n], cum for me," as if his words were the trigger, you sucked into a long gasp.
"yeah ..yeah, there you go ..atta girl." your legs locked up and your vision flashed white. your nails dug into farleighs nape before your walls began to violently contract around his cock. a burning intense wave washed over your core and you fully convulsed in the man's arms. you felt like a star exploding. you felt every fiber of your being was dipped in ecstasy. you couldn't think, your mind filled with a loud blank tone buzz, farleighs voice sounded so far away. you felt pure bliss, the pleasure coming in waves. all of a sudden, you let go of the breath you were holding and realized yourself crying in farleighs hands.
"[y/n] breathe, please ..it's okay. i'm so sorry. are you in pain? look at me.." farleigh was sitting down with you in his lap. you blinked slowly and got a hold of your breathing, sniffling.
"i .." you began, looking around for a moment. your head felt fuzzy but you were mentally present for the most part. you damn near couldn't stop your legs from trembling though.
"i think ..i ..had an outer body experience." you said between breaths. you wiped your soaked face and looked up at farleigh who looked scared.
"are you ..okay?" he asked cautiously this time. u sniffled and paused for a moment before nodding.
"did i hurt you in any way?" you shook your head, finally connecting the pieces. you laid your head in the hollow of his neck and made a meek sound of some sort.
"no farleigh, you didn't hurt me." you said slowly, still trying to calm your heart. "i think ..i had the strongest orgasm of my existence." farleigh laughed wearily. cupping your face with his hand.
"so, it was so good you cried?" you whined shyly, hiding your face even more.
"it was a really ..really strong orgasm." you admitted, sniffling again. "i actually only saw white and my ears rang for a bit, so.. i didn't hear you if you said anything after you told me to cum." farleigh tried his best not to laugh again but a warm-hearted chuckle couldn't help but escape his mouth.
"christ [y/n], you scared the shit out of me. i thought i was 'bout to be put on a register." you covered your mouth and sniffled a laugh before shaking your head quickly in response.
"i promise you only just gave me the best hookup of my life farleigh." the brunette bit back a smile, feeling his face warm up. he looked down at you before finding anything else to look at, knowing it was now or never to get it off his chest.
"and if i didn't want it to just be a hookup?" farleigh theorized. you froze for a moment before looking up at him, seeing he was looking only forwards.
"then .." you began before scanning farleigh's anxious body language. you then smiled and pecked his lips. "it won't be just a hookup. stay the night with me and let's see where this goes." farleigh was taken by slight surprise before smiling again. he engulfed you into a nuzzling bear hug whilst you giggled in his arms. the both of you sat together in silence, listening to music while already thinking of round 2.
Farleigh X Reader, SMUT - tw for cheating, reader both cheats and is cheated on
part two
Being Felix’s girlfriend comes with a set of rules.
Always stand to his right, so that he can hand you whatever he’s holding without having to think about it. Let him pull you into his lap whenever he wants, even if you’d really rather just sit next to him - always sit next to him. Laugh at the jokes he makes, even if they aren’t funny. Help him with his coursework when he asks, pretend that you need help with things that you know he’s good at so he doesn’t feel stupid. Pretend that he can make you cum. Pretend you don’t know he’s cheating on you.
Being Felix’s girlfriend comes with a set of rules - but the perks are worth it.
The necklace he got you for your birthday costs more than your first car, and if you ever sell it, will easily cover rent for at least a year. Designer clothes have a habit of appearing in your dorm room unannounced, always in your size - just because Felix likes when you look good next to him. No clubs are too exclusive to get into, there’s always a booth in the back of the pub reserved for you, people bend over backwards just for the chance of being in Felix’s vicinity - so naturally they’ll do anything for you.
You’re using him as much as he’s using you - it’s mutually beneficial. You get to live within his innermost circle, he gets to have someone to bring home to his parents so they don’t start looking into arranged marriages after graduation. You have no intentions of actually marrying him, god no - you’ve heard him talk about how many kids he wants, there’s no way in hell you’re pushing out six - but you’ll take what you can get. Felix is a comfortable rung on the social ladder you’re trying to climb.
“Right, love?”
Felix’s voice drags you out of your thoughts and back into reality - the warm lighting of the pub casts everyone around your table in a warm golden glow. You’re pressed against Felix’s right side - always his right side - his arm perched on the back of the booth around your shoulders, casually possessive. It’s a little funny how possessive he is, considering how often he cheats on you. On his other side, Annabel nurses a pint, her overlined eyes locked on Felix, utterly enraptured.
Across the table, India looks at him with the same hunger, even though her head rests on Farleigh’s shoulder. Farleigh looks how you feel - utterly bored, his eyes wandering the room as he idly smokes a cigarette. He’s always been prettier than Felix. More interesting too. If you weren’t trying to climb the social ladder high enough to marry rich and not have to work a day in your life, he’d be who you’re pressed against instead of Felix. There’s something about him that’s always given you the sense that he sees right through you, but it’s exciting. You know he knows why you’re here next to Felix, with a diamond he bought you around your neck. But Felix has no idea - he thinks you’re in love with him.
It’s laughable, how in his own head he is.
Still, you feed into the delusion, that practiced sugary-sweet smile playing at your lips as you look up at him. “Mhm.” You hum, picking up your pint and sipping at it.
Felix grins wide, and turns back to Annabel. “See?”
Annabel rolls her eyes, leaning around Felix to pin a look at you. “You weren’t even paying attention.”
The animosity that every other girl within a fifty mile radius directs at you is the one drawback of being Felix’s main piece. Your smile turns a little sharper. “Yeah.” You admit easily, setting your pint back down. “But I know Felix enough to know that he was probably right.”
Across the table, Farleigh snorts.
Your eyes slide over to him, and he meets your glance. Ever so slightly, he tilts his head, a dry smile playing at his lips - a silent, really?
You tilt your head in the same direction, mocking - yes, really.
Felix turns back to Annabel. “I’m always right, Anna - best get used to it.”
She rolls her eyes again, but this time it’s playful - flirty, even. You can already see how the rest of tonight is going to play out - Felix will make some excuse about drinking too much or not feeling well or whatever else his idiotic brain can come up with, and disappear back to his dorm room to fuck her. Tomorrow, of course, you’ll act like you’re none the wiser. In two weeks time, when the guilt starts to get at him, a new pair of heels or a Dior skirt will find its way into your closet.
Simply the way of things.
Pulling away from Felix’s hold, you make to get up. He glances at you, concerned, but you only smile, and kiss him on the cheek so that you can slide out of the booth. “Gotta use the loo.”
You brush your hands down your skirt as you stand up, and start towards the back of the pub, where the bathrooms are, tossing a look over your shoulder back at the table. You catch Farleigh’s eye, and hold it for a moment. His lips curl upward around his cigarette. With Felix likely going home with Annabel, your schedule for the night just opened up…
Maybe tonight’s the night you do something - someone - just for yourself. Set your plans for the future aside for once, and just have fun. After all, you’re confident Felix will be none the wiser - you know exactly what not to do after watching him fumble around with any and every other girl that’s caught his eye.
You disappear into the bathroom, Farleigh’s gaze still on you.
The noise from the pub is quieter here, just a dull hum seeping in through the walls. You lock the door behind you, and inspect yourself in the mirror. You smudge the dark eyeshadow around your eyes a little more, and fluff up your hair so that it doesn’t sit so lifelessly against your head. Your sex appeal back in place, you splash some water on your hands and pat them against your skirt before you leave, stepping back out into the pub.
As expected, Farleigh is waiting for you, leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door, finishing off his cigarette. A quick glance back at the table lets you know that you were right - Annabel and Felix are gone. India’s moved onto Jack now, laughing a little too loud at something he says.
“Felix said he wasn’t feeling well, all of a sudden.” Farleigh drawls, bringing your attention back to him. “Annabel’s walking him home.” There’s a touch of humor in his voice that you appreciate - he knows just as well as you do what they’re off to do.
“Shame.” You say, not bothering to try and sound actually sad at all. It wouldn’t fool Farleigh anyway. “Got tired of India?” You snatch the last of his cigarette from his fingers, finishing it off in one drag and dropping the butt to the floor, stamping it out with my boot.
Farleigh watches you, his eyes half-lidded. “Is there such a thing as not being tired of India?”
“She’s not all bad.” You say.
He tilts his head, that wry smile coming back to his face. “She’s not trying to fuck you.”
You can’t help but grin at that. “Touche.” You wouldn’t know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of India’s flirting - but if Farleigh’s boredom is anything to judge by, she must not be very good at it.
Silence falls between us, and you let yourself look at him, eyes tracing down the lines of his neck until you reach the hollow at the base, and then back up to his lips.
“So.” Farleigh says.
You meet his eyes again. “So.”
He grins, foxlike and charming. “You wanna get out of here?”
The walk back to campus is short, but it feels longer with how much you talk about with Farleigh - school and America and family and money and Felix and a million other, less important, things. It’s the most intellectually stimulating conversation you’ve had in a long time, and the most you’ve genuinely laughed in a while too. It’s everything you’ve been missing with Felix - and it makes the war between your want for fortune and fame in the future and your want for genuine connection rage all the more.
It comes to an end all too quickly for your liking, as you reach the steps to your dorm.
You slow to a stop, and Farleigh stops as well, looking down at you, hands tucked casually into his pockets. “Does it ever bother you?” He asks.
“What?” You reply.
“That he cheats on you.” Farleigh clarifies.
It’s a complicated question to answer, so instead you turn it around on him instead. “Does it ever bother you that he’s fucked India?”
Farleigh rolls his eyes. “That’s-”
“He does it to literally everyone.” You press on. “I stopped caring a while ago.”
Something contemplative washes over his face, and he just looks at you for a moment, eyes searching yours for something. His next question is quieter. “Who would you pick, if you weren’t stuck with him?”
Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “I’m not stuck with him.”
Farleigh looks at you, obviously amused. “I can see you trying not to roll your eyes every time he opens his mouth.”
You shrug. “The pros outweigh the cons.”
“So cynical.” He taunts, stepping closer. “You still haven’t answered the question.”
“I think it’s fairly obvious who I would pick if I wasn’t with Felix.” You say, letting him back you up the steps until your back is against the door. You look up at him, and meet his eyes.
He grins. “Yeah, but I want you to say it.”
“It’s you.” You say, voice barely above a whisper. “Like it would be anyone else-”
He cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours, a moan leaving him as you deepen the kiss without waiting, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like cigarettes and vodka and it’s made all the more delicious by the little noises that keep working up his throat, elicited when you grab him by the belt and pull him closer so that you’re chest to chest. He groans when you sink your teeth into his bottom lip and pull away, tugging him with you by the mouth. When you release him, he still follows after you anyway, chasing you for more.
Fingers still dancing on his belt, you smile. “Come up to my dorm with me?”
“Yes, fuck, please.” He already sounds debauched, and it sends a spike of heat straight down to your core. Felix would never deign himself to beg.
You push open the door to the dorm building, and start up the stairs, Farleigh trailing only a half step behind you. You fumble with your keys once you reach the door to your room, and Farleigh latches onto the back of your neck, trailing kisses across the sensitive skin that send a shiver up your spine.
Once you get the door open, you drag him inside and kick it back shut, locking it behind you.
Farleigh’s back on you in an instant, mouthing under your jaw. You wind a hand into his curls, pulling his head back from your neck. “Don’t leave any marks or Felix-”
He rolls his eyes, and cuts you off. “Duh.”
Without any more preamble he dives back into your neck, kissing along the length of it until he makes his way back up to your lips. You meet him in a kiss greedily, pushing off the door behind you and walking him back towards your bed. He hits the bedframe and breaks the kiss to sit on the edge. With a grin, you’re climbing into his lap and gently pushing him down until his backs flat against the mattress.
He’s so pretty like this - curls splayed out across your duvet cover, hands gripping onto your hips like you’ll float away if he lets go. You run a hand under his shirt, rucking it up so that you can see the way his stomach flexes when you touch him. Slowly, you dip your head down to lick a trail up his abdomen, never breaking eye contact.
He tips his head back with a shaky groan. “Oh, fuck.”
You grin, shifting forward so that you can nose under his jaw, lips ghosting across the shell of his ear. “What about you? Will India get mad if I-”
“Don’t fucking care, I want you to do it anyway.” He says, a little breathless. He’s so responsive - every little groan and whine shoots heat straight to your core. If sex with Felix was like this, maybe you wouldn’t have to pretend to be in love with him.
You sink your teeth into his neck just below his ear and he keens, his hips knocking up into yours. His fingers dig into your hips, bunching the fabric of your skirt into his fists like he’s holding on for dear life. You take the opportunity to start the slow roll of your hips as you work a chain of hickeys across his neck, scattering them artfully around his collarbone.
Deft fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, pushing it up your spine until you get the message and pull it off yourself, flinging it somewhere in your room. Farleigh wiggles out of his own shirt underneath you, pushing the offending garment off the edge of the bed. Freed of your shirt, you reach behind you to unclasp your bra as well, tossing it in the same direction.
Farleigh’s eyes fall to your tits immediately, and you swear you can see his pupils dilate. “I see why Felix keeps you around-”
“Shut the fuck up.” You say with a smile. Even when you have him in your bed, he’s the same old Farleigh. It’s a breath of fresh air after having to pretend you like when Felix calls himself ‘daddy’.
Your skirt is next, and then the tights you’d had on underneath it as Farleigh works on his trousers, kicking them off the end of the bed. Only your underwear left, you resume grinding against him, watching as his eyes flutter shut for a moment as he uses his grip on your hips to work you over him harder.
“How do you want me?” You ask, leaning down to press more kisses along the length of his neck.
You expect him to respond - to tell you to turn over on all fours or ride him reverse cowgirl - but he only sighs in the back of his throat. “Whatever you like, baby.”
You press your lips to his in another greedy kiss, licking into his mouth and swallowing up the moans that slip past his lips. He’s not making it easy to think about going back to Felix after this. Felix, who calls himself ‘daddy’ and manhandles you around however he likes and hasn’t made you cum a single time. You can feel your wetness starting to seep into the fabric of your underwear from how malleable Farleigh is underneath you - how he looks at you like he’d gladly do anything you ask him to.
You slip your fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers and shuck them down his legs. Your own underwear are next, and then you’re grinding on him again, spreading your wetness up and down his length.
Farleigh’s grip tightens, and he tips his head back again. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he moans. “Mm.” He picks his head back up enough so that he can look at you. “I was going to ask if you wanted me to go down on you but - mm - I don’t think you need it- oh fuck!”
Rising up on your knees, you line him up and slide down him in one drop of your hips, lodging him inside of you. He’s longer than Felix is, but skinnier too so the stretch doesn’t sting as much. God, it’s like he was made for you, with how easily he reaches right where you need him to without even trying. You start to bounce, planting your hands on his chest for leverage and tossing your head back, losing yourself in the feeling.
Farleigh whines, a high pitched breathy thing that sounds like it’s been forced out of him as you start to move. Gently, you pry his hands away from your hips and pin them down over his head, just because he lets you do it. It’s a rush - that he’ll let you do whatever you want and take it happily - and it goes to your head. He strains against your grip but you don’t let up, working yourself up and down his cock just to watch his eyes roll up into his head.
“What- ahh, what are you doing?” Farleigh chokes out, straining against your grip again.
“Whatever I want.” You croon, whispering against his lips.
He snags you in a kiss, sweeping his tongue into your mouth hungrily as he plants his feet on the mattress, thrusting so that his hips meet yours on every downstroke. A sharp gasp forces its way out of your throat as the coil in your stomach starts to tighten, and you can’t help but smile at him. It’s almost a novelty, the way he works with you instead of against you like Felix often does.
He grins back up at you, and tilts his chin upward to kiss you again. Breathy, he says, “Felix is an idiot.”
You choke on a moan as a particularly hard thrust jolts through you. “Why’s that?”
“He doesn’t know what he has.” Farleigh says. “I’ve fucked India and - fuck - Annabel and they’ve got nothing on you.”
You laugh and moan at the same time. “You don’t have to - mm - be nice just so I’ll let you cum in me.”
“I can be nice.” He breathes.
You ghost your lips over his neck. “You’re never nice.”
“I can be nice.” He insists, turning his head so that you can litter kisses along the length of his neck. You trail upwards until you reach the lobe of his ear, biting gently at the skin. “To you.”
“Careful.” You say. “Better stop now or I might think you’re in love with me or something-”
Farleigh tenses up beneath you, as a long groan escapes from his lips as he throws his head back. He thrusts three more times before he stills, slumping back down to the mattress, panting hard. His eyes flutter open, blown wide as he looks up at you.
You can feel a smirk playing on your lips. “Did you just cum?”
He has the decency to look a little ashamed. “Maybe.”
You laugh, and kiss him. “Well, what are we supposed to do now?”
“I’m good.” He insists, working his wrists free of your hold. “I can still- here, just-”
He pulls you to his chest and rolls on the mattress so that you’re underneath him now, and resumes fucking into you, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. The change in position makes the feeling all the more potent, and a moan slips out from your lips.
Winding your arms around his shoulders, you rake your nails up his back, and feel him shiver against you. “Farleigh…”
“Don’t fucking do that.” He laughs. “I’ll cum again.”
You toss your head back against the pillow as he speeds up his thrusts, obviously trying to get you to cum before he’s too spent to keep going. You let your eyes flutter shut and enjoy the feeling of him against you, the tickle of his curls against your neck, the breathy moans that slip from his lips into your ear, the feeling of his teeth against your neck as he sucks a hickey into your skin-
“Farleigh-” You start, only to cut yourself off as the coil finally snaps and pleasure shoots through you. “Oh fuck-”
He groans, and shoves his face deeper into your neck as his thrusts slow to a stop. He slumps again, flopping on top of you with a long sigh.
When you come back to your senses, you tug on his hair until he grumbles. “You are such a dick.” You say. “I said no marks.”
“Sorry.” He mumbles into your skin.
“No you’re fucking not.” You retort.
He lifts his head out of your neck, that foxlike grin on his face again. “No I’m not.”
“What am I supposed to do now?” You ask.
He pulls out, and flops back down on the bed next to you, nosing back into the crook of your neck as he slings an arm over your chest. “Makeup. Wear your hair down.” He shrugs. “It’s Felix - he’ll probably think he did it.”
You rest your chin on the top of his head, the aftershocks of pleasure running through you. “‘M never having sex with you again.”
Farleigh snorts. “Yeah, okay.”
You smile into his hair, because he’s right. Of course he’s right. There’s no way in hell this isn’t going to become a regular occurrence.
Summary: Your relationship with Farleigh Start has always precariously walked the line between friends and enemies for years.
But maybe there's something else there, too.
Warnings: 18+ content; MDI. AFAB, Oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex (this is fiction, please use protection in rl), hints at s and d dynamics; brief, barely there choking, outdoor/technically public sex. Sex while under the influence (takes place during Oliver's party, so drugs for Farleigh and alcohol for the reader). Farleigh being an a*s, but what's new. Reader is American. Heavy denial of feelings in the beginning.
Notes: 14.6 k words. There is an abhorrent lack of Farleigh content on this site, so I thought I'd contribute. Not proofread, divider by @saradika-graphics
𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖎𝖎 - 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦𝔦
Honestly, it's a wonder how you always manage to forget the sheer opulence of the Saltburn Estate - even when it wasn't in the throes of a celebration that costs more than your yearly salary. It's like some sort of dream almost. While you're in it the details are all startingly intense. Overbearingly so. Flaunting in front of you with all of its details and sights; like a kaleidoscope. The memories never do the estate any true justice. The soft, rolling lush fields; the crystal blue skies that loom over the tall gray spires. It's all painted behind your eyelids with a haunting clarity. But as soon as you leave - as soon as you wake up - the entire experience never truly feels real. Bits and pieces slip through your fingers. It loses its tangibility somehow and you can't help but wonder if you had imaged the whole thing, even with Felix's number programed into your phone; a physical reminder that Saltburn is indeed a real, tactile place.
But even here tonight, while walking the halls and strolling through the courtyard, it doesn't feel like reality. It seems as though you've stepped into a fever dream, crossed some imaginary threshold and entered some mirroring realm. The air is charged. Electrifying. And you swear you could feel the magnetic net of adrenaline and excitement prickling at your fingertips. A cocktail of emotions amplified by alcohol and drugs and endorphins.
Everywhere you looked there were jovial, writhing bodies. People dancing and laughing. Some full on making out - and others dangerously close to toeing the line of having public sex - and others were having a less enjoyable time by collapsing in exhaustion or blacking out in an inebriated haze. One unfortunate soul had thrown up all over the floor boards of the foyer, and you had just narrowly missed being sprayed by the projectile vomit as you had passed. It was like the Exorcist.
Thank God it hadn't been on one of the Persian rugs.
It was someone's birthday, it seemed. A little impromptu. Not initially planned. Oliver's - at least that's what you believed it was. The same Oliver that Felix had mentioned during one of your phone calls. He had spoken of him fondly, but when Felix had rushed outside this evening to greet you from your taxi and help you gather up your bags, he had seemed less interested and even a little irritated in the mention of his newest companion - or as harsh as it sounds, charity case (he seems to have a new one each summer). And he had been quick to divert your line of questioning, stopping you with a somewhat curt, "he's just a friend from Oxford. That's all." And that was that. You knew not to press him over it.
But your time with Felix was cut short when he was pulled aside by an excited Elspeth, who had spared you a quick glance and a "hello, darling," before eagerly trying to get his advice on the party preparations. Which he didn't seem particularly enthused about being dragged into. And it left you to stand awkwardly on your on in the middle of the foyer, trying to force your bleary eyes open. Jet lagged with your will to live paper thin from only having a rough five hours of sleep to back it up. And for a moment you had feared that you might actually pass out on your feet but luckily Venetia had sought you out and saved you from feeling too awkward amongst the others. Occupying the time by gossiping and interrogating you about your time back in the States. All of which, you had confessed have been rather boring. Filled with exams and dead-end dates and careless flings. And even though the initial arrival always leaves you feeling like a fish out of water, you were thankful to have been invited back over to Saltburn. The sprawling, golden fields and fresh crisp air always a welcome reprieve from the loud, chaotic clamoring and the smog blanketed horizon of Los Angeles.
Even though the wild, scattered throng of sweating bodies that were bumping into you honestly weren't all that different from the clubs you frequent back home. Of course, the sheer show of wealth and splendor that had been rolled out for Oliver was nothing that you had ever seen before with the only thing to rival it (and surpass it, probably) being Felix's very own birthday party that you had been able to take part of a few years back. One that had been themed after a strange but no less entertaining amalgamation of cowboys, space and disco, and the costumes and decorations then had left you in a state of awe, much like tonight.
Everywhere you looked there was something else to gawk at. Glittering lights, a hired contortionist and at one point you had even seen a swan rush past you out on the courtyard - which you had only felt sad and a little angry for.
It was pure, unbridled pandemonium. Noisy and cloying with the scent of perfumes and marijuana and alcohol; and you couldn't escape it. Not even when you had gone outside to take advantage of the dark, balmy summer breeze to cleanse your lungs. And everything had been going well until a drunk man had lunged out of the crowd towards you. Wobbling on his feet with a loud wail akin to a war cry as he aimed a narrow tube directly at you. And you only had a fleeting second to wish that it was one of those party canisters full of tensile when he had set it off with a loud pop! And a large, shimmering cloud of glitter had burst over you like a mist, layering across your hair, and costume and skin like a sheen of sweat. You didn't even have time to yell at him before he was scurrying off into the crowd with a demented cackle, probably on his way to find some other unfortunate person to glitter bomb.
And even worse a quick glance downward had revealed that the drink in your champagne glass had been tainted by a thin coat of sparkling silver. Even if you wanted to be lazy and drink around the floaters, the amount drifting around in the champagne was too much. You probably would have ended up choking on all of it. It was with a defeated sigh that you tossed out the remainder of your drink onto the trampled lawn.
For the first time tonight you're actually thankful that Venetia had chosen to leave you for some tall, dark, and handsome stranger that she had met near the beginning of the party. You hadn't seen her since, but maybe it's a blessing in disguise. You would hate for her to see the state of her dress. It is just glitter, easy to wash off in the grand scheme of things, and too be fair she had said that she didn't even like the garment. It was just some random piece from another one of the Catton's wild parties - themed after Renaissance art and fables, you think. And she had sifted it out from the depths of her closet with little fanfare. "It's just some old thing, " she had told you plainly, even though the dress probably cost more than your monthly rent. Clearly, she wouldn't be distressed over some glitter, but you were still having a hard time fighting the sinking feeling in your gut. It was borrowed. She was letting you wear it. And now it was covered in a dust of silver because some guy decided to be a dick.
It could be worse though. It could have been a glass full of wine that he had dunked on you instead. You suppose you should take your wins where you could get them.
A part of you thinks about returning inside the manor and calling it a night. Taking a much-needed bath to clean off the layer of glitter from your skin and just going to bed. But really, you aren't sure if you'll even be able to manage falling asleep with the sheer volume of the music playing throughout various sections of the house, and the sound of the raucous cheering and laughter. And you could imagine what Venetia or Felix would tell you, to quit being so reclusive and to get out and socialize.
You did fly all the way over here. Planned this trip for a few weeks and made preparations with your job and roommate when Felix had called to invite you over for the summer. It would be a complete waste to turn in for the night and huddle yourself up in your quarters.
And with the fog of alcohol draping over your body you know you should probably put a pause on it for a bit but fuck it, it's a party and you need another drink.
You glance around the courtyard, hoping to spy one of that servants that have been forced to parade platers of alcohol around for the many guests but all you see are the scattered throngs of people dressed in fairy wings, strange animal masks, and plastic swords. Honestly, it never amazes you how many people get invited to these events. Even with all of the family members combined, there's no way they all know every individual here directly. There's probably enough to fill a damn stadium.
In your search your gaze sweeps over the steady bonfires, the temporary lovers grinding against each other and a pair talking amongst themselves - wait. That catches your attention. You feel heat prickling at your chest; irritation rising in some subconscious sort of reaction and as if they have a mind of their own your eyes skitter back over to them to confirm if what you thought you saw was true. And lo and behold, there he is. The bane of your existence. Farleigh Start.
Your eyes flicker across him from his head to his old-fashioned boots. He's holding some sort of mask in one of his hands. A big bulky thing with long protruding ears and an equine shaped face and you have to squint to come to the concussion that it appears to be a donkey.
He seems to be talking to someone. A person that you don't recognize but they both seemed to be engaged in some sort of heated stare off from near a rotating pig on a stick. It looks like he's found another unfortunate victim to prod at and humiliate. Not that it was difficult for Farleigh. He was always eager to find someone to harass and belittle. And the more that someone fought back, the more interested he seems to become. He's been a personal thorn in your side for longer than you'd like to admit.
Of course, you knew he would be here, but that didn't necessarily mean that actually seeing him made it any easier. It had to have close to a year since you've last interacted with him, which had to have been during that awful Christmas party back in the States. Why Graham had invited both of you when he knew that neither of you get along is a mystery. It could have been some lame attempt to get two of his closest friends to finally clear up whatever animosity was between them, but in all actuality it had just made worse. All of the passive aggressive barbs and thinly veiled sneers had nearly reached a boiling point that night when Farleigh wouldn't just leave you alone. Seeming to make it his mission to antagonize you at every turn with childish insults. But as childish as they might have been, they added up over time until you were giving him what he wanted, lashing out in response to his nasty little comments.
And to think at one point you had actually been excited to meet him. As Graham's close friend and roommate, you were interested in getting to know the guy that he couldn't stop gushing about. The one who he had praised nearly nonstop. Farleigh had been nice enough in the beginning. And you even enjoyed his company for a time. His humor had always been a bit snarky, and the jokes he told were usually at another's expense. But he had been - as much as you hate to admit it, fun. And at one point, you had even considered him a friend of sorts. Or at the very least an acquaintance whose company you enjoyed while you both rambled on about nothing and everything, often gossiping about others.
It had all been fine between you. That was until Felix had come down to L.A. to visit. He had gone out with Farleigh and Graham to go and sightseeing, which eventually steered into hopping from club to club as the day wanned into night. And when the invitation had extended to you, your relationship with Farleigh had taken a turn. For whatever reason talking to Felix was easy. But that was just Felix you suppose; always able to make friends with just about anyone in the room. And the closer that the two of you had become, the more strained your association with Farleigh had grown until it was filled with nothing but sardonic remarks and passive hostility. And instead of being a sort of surface level confidant, he gradually became a presence that you detested. And your relationship had gone from a mutual respect and cordial conversations to some sort of strange cat and mouse game. The both of you exchanging snarky jabs in an attempt to see if the other would crack.
You would be lying if you didn't admit that some part of you enjoyed your little spats. And maybe you had hoped that he would be here tonight. Not that you'd ever tell him that. You'd rather trip onto the sharp end of a knife.
Suddenly Farleigh is stepping towards the stranger, shoulders rigid and body pulled taught, seeping with irritation. And he takes ahold of their face, forcing the shorter man to look into his eyes in some sort of intimidation tactic. Farleigh's nearly seething. And his expression is firm with an apparent frustration. You don't think you've seen him so visibly aggravated before. You can't help but wonder what the mystery guy may have done to warrant such a response from him.
And then Farleigh is pulling away, releasing the stranger from his grip with a smug smile. But on him it looks more like a sneer with the way his lips are stretched and showing off his teeth. He's moving towards your direction now, probably intending to head back to the house, and he's yet to notice you. You contemplate leaving. Of slipping back under the cover of the scattered crowd and disappearing before he sees you, but your body doesn't move. Instead, you're stock still. There's some awful feeling in your gut that seems horrendously akin to anticipation; fluttering and soft and nauseating.
You should just leave. You could leave if you'd just move. But it's too late. You swear there's some awful full body reaction that occurs when Farleigh's gaze meets yours and he stops in place to assess you. For a moment it's like you've been sucked into a black hole. It's like time has dilated and shrunk down around you until it's frozen solid and suddenly the lively chaos around you falls quiet, muffling down into an insignificant hum in the background. Recognition flickers in his eyes and something else crosses his face too. Something that you don't quite recognize but regardless, it feels as though the both of you are engaged in some sort of wordless exchange. There's another smile growing on his face. It's mischievous but still much more relaxed and familiar than the previous one that he had worn, and you can't help but return one of your own.
It's then that you're finally able to gain control of your own body, walking backward a few steps before you twist around to slip amongst a gaggle of passing girls with something that is suspiciously close to excitement bubbling in your gut. You briefly use them as cover to get you closer to the house entrance, and they're all too occupied with giggling and gossiping to notice your presence. But you're able to remove yourself from the cluster when one of them drunkenly trips on her skirt, and she saves herself by latching onto the shoulder of one of her friends with a wild laugh. The others all gather around her to jokingly reprimand her as they assist her in righting herself but you're already stepping through the back threshold of the manor, and you're thrown headfirst into the alcohol infused, neon casted mayhem. Party streamers, glow sticks and blaring upbeat music. It's complete madness. You can hardly hear yourself think and trying to work yourself through the tight gaps between people's swaying bodies proves to be a challenge of its own and it's a heavy reminder as to why you had even gone outside in the first place.
The atmosphere is cloying and thick; you feel as though you might actually be able to choke on it like it's a physical thing. As otherworldly and exciting as this party is, it's another experience entirely when you're being elbowed in the ribs by an oblivious drunk girl who isn't aware of her windmilling arms and all the intoxicated men who think that you're trying to feel them up and flirt with them when in reality you're just trying to get by. And for a split second you feel as though you may never make it out of the tumultuous sea of bodies. That you'll be cursed to wander around aimlessly in the wild, dancing masses for eternity. Subjected to the ear shattering music and scent of spilt wine and bourbon and sweat.
But then you hear something that sounds suspiciously like your name. It's distant and damp as though your ears are plugged and for a second you had thought that you imagined it before you hear it again. This time louder and there's no mistake that someone is calling you. It has you pausing for a moment to analyze your surroundings and then you catch sight of someone familiar at the far end of the room and for a moment you think that your eyes might be lying to you with the aid of the dim lighting. The deep, saturated, shifting hues of purple and blue and red tinting the chaotic space doing very little to aid you. But someone is waving their arm up the air for you to spot them better and a long glance confirms that you were right in your assumption. The relief that sweeps across your bones is insurmountable and the glimpse of a hand raised up in the air to beckon over you is even more incentive to press forward. And you have to shoulder past people until you enter a small break in the crowd.
"There you are!" Venetia shouts triumphantly, swaying to the rhythm of the song playing at full blast. "I've been looking all over for you!"
You don't bother refuting her. Of countering that she was the one who had wondered off without any plans to meet up afterwards. Instead, you just move up closer to her, doing your best to match her movements and energy but you're entirely too self-conscious to actually meet her. And you feel the fleeting sense of relief that she has yet to notice all of the glitter covering her dress or doesn't care.
"I had to go outside and get some fresh air, " you confess and even underneath the low lighting you can see the way that she nearly rolls her eyes at you, but even then, there's a well-meaning smile on her face.
"You're at a once in a lifetime party, and you were spending it outside?"
"Just for a minute." But she looks completely unamused by your apparently flimsy defense and suddenly she's grabbing you by the shoulders and leaning towards you like it might seal in her words better.
"Well, you're supposed to be inside. Dancing and partying and getting drunk." She squeezes her hands against your skin. "Seriously, it's like you're allergic to fun."
Okay, a little bit rude. And you try to remind yourself that she's just saying it because she's probably drunk. For the most part, all of the younger Catton's (Farleigh included) have a tendency to be social butterflies and party animals. It was something that you had struggled to keep up with when you had officially become friends with Felix. Luckily, he was typically the most understanding out of all of them, and he was aware enough to take notice when you were burning out. It was something that you had thought that Venetia had come to terms with as well, but every now and again she always makes sure to voice her objections.
And you open your mouth to protest but you hardly get anything out. "That's not tru-"
"And as your friend it's my duty to ensure that you do exactly all of the above!" She pulls away with a smirk that is entirely all too satisfied, and it immediately has the alarm bells inside your head blaring. "And maybe even a bit more."
You don't like that last bit.
"There's someone who I think you'd love to meet!" And you swear you can feel your stomach drop at those words but exasperation bleeds through the discomfort until you're holding back an irritated sigh as she practically gushes some stranger's name. "Reuben!"
And at the call of his name, the guy seems to appear from the darkness and shifting bodies like some sort of spirit. It takes you completely off guard how closely and quickly he moves, and you have to physically keep yourself from flinching back. The entire situation is jarring, and you feel like an insect pinned to a corkboard with how both Venetia and this stranger - Reuben are watching you expectantly. And it takes everything to muster up a smile that you know must look strained and unnatural. "Hi," you greet lamely, but he doesn't seem to be the least bit deterred or put off.
And he is cute, you'll admit. Kind, joyful eyes that you think are hazel but it's honestly impossible to tell in this lighting and there's a dusting of freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. He seems inviting enough if first impressions are anything to go by, but for whatever reason you don't find yourself gravitating towards him or longing for any sort of conversation with him.
"It's nice to meet you!" He returns, loudly projecting to be heard over the stereo system. "Venetia's told me a bit about you."
"Uh-huh, " you nod for him to continue or maybe divulge, but he doesn't. He just stands there silently without removing his gaze and you can't tell if it's because he's just oblivious or if maybe he's just socially awkward, but it has you shuffling on your feet all the same, desperate to move or do anything to make this less weird. And you glance over at Venetia who still has that hopeful expression on her face, doing your best to telegraph your discomfort without tipping Reuben off. And she does seem to notice but she doesn't tell him to leave or direct him somewhere else like you had wanted.
"Reuben said that he's been to America before," she reveals. Apparently trying to salvage this little interaction and cultivate it into something more.
"Oh, really?" You perk up a bit, or at least try to. "Where did you visit?"
"Uh, New York. City, " he clarifies at the end before his demeanor shifts into something a bit sheepish and playful and the gold plastic crown perched atop his head glints in the lights. "It was a bit of a bore, I won't lie. But that was probably because I was there on a business trip and not on holiday, so feel free to put the blame on me."
His attempt at joking does thaw at some of the unpleasant tension that had burdened the air, but even with the initial ice broken there's still just a simple, straightforward uninterest underneath it all. You aren't stupid. It's obvious why Venetia had pressed to introduce him to you, it's obvious why he had agreed. And you don't fault him for trying to get lucky at what might just be the party of the decade (for you at least) but keeping him here and stringing him along is a complete waste of everyone's time. You aren't going to sleep with him. Not tonight or any other night. And then you go to tell him as much, parting your lips to just get to the point and lay all of your cards out on the table but then Venetia is tapping on your shoulder, making you pause to look over at her.
She has this strange, delighted smile on her lips that's even worse than the one she was wearing when she had invited Reuben over. She nods her chin over to your right, watching eyes trained on something or someone. "Your shadow's here."
You nearly break your neck to follow her line of sight and your heart skips a beat when you see Farleigh standing several feet away from a gap in the crowd and you have to wonder just how long he's been standing there for. And you don't know why you suddenly feel as though you've been caught doing something wrong. Why your body flushes and prickles with shame and you feel like cringing. Maybe it's because of the way that he's looking at you. How his eyes dart from you to Reuben like he's assessing something. Most of the emotions flickering across his face are unreadable. But for second you think that you catch glimpses or what might be anger or irritation and worst of all betrayal before it leans into something neutral and flat. And then just as you had, he's turning on his heels and vanishing. But unlike you, he doesn't smile as he leaves. He doesn't walk away with a silent invitation to follow.
And then Venetia is turning to Reuben with a sweet smile and tilting her head. "Alright, you can go now."
He looks just as confused as you do, and he turns to look at you like he's expecting you to jump in to defend him or at the very least offer an explanation, but you don't have one to give. You're just as lost as he is and when you don't speak and tell him to stay, he backs away, spreading his arms out in a sort of silent 'what the fuck?' gesture and vanishes back into the throng of bodies.
"What . . . was that?" You ask, tense with a mutated type of bewilderment and anger.
"I just wanted to see it." She says cryptically and irritatingly, begins to dance in place before finally disclosing on that little comment. "The look on his face."
"What?" You snap.
"Please, the way you two dance around each other is getting dreadfully old. It's boring and tired. I just did something to get the ball rolling."
This in particular isn't new by any means. You had heard it all before from the two Catton siblings. Their vehement insistence that you and Farleigh had some unspoken attraction for the other that you both refused to act or speak on. It had nearly become a joke for the both of them. To prod and poke at you and Farleigh with to their hearts content. It was something that the both of you had learned to accept over time - somewhat - and ignore. But this. This new and entirely strange.
"So, what? You were trying to make him jealous?" Your forehead crinkles as you watch her; incredulous and perplexed.
"Trying?" She echoes amusedly." I succeeded. Did you see the way that he was looking at you? He was practically seething."
You almost scoff. He wouldn't be jealous; he had no reason to be. And you don't know why Venetia's little ruse has pissed you off, or why that strange look on Farleigh's face had made your heart drop, but it did.
"The two of you are so dense that it's honestly as frustrating as it is entertaining," she says with pure exasperation. "I mean, whenever you're here, you're practically fused at the hip. Bickering like cats and dogs like we can't all see the truth." She laughs but it's more of a scoff really. "He speaks about you. All the time. Always whining and complaining about something you've done. But it's different. He practically has hearts in his eyes while does it. And it's exhausting." And then she's backing away from you, leaving you to settle and drown in the disarray of your own thoughts and come to terms with that. Does he really speak about you like that? Surely, there's no way.
"So can the two of you, for all of our sake's, sort whatever mess you've got going on between you and just fuck already? "
And then she's spinning away her heels, sending you a wink over her shoulder and the silver chains wrapping around her body in a delicate draped halter glint and twinkle underneath the lights; showcasing that elaborate weblike shape that they've been constructed in. And she just leaves you. Abandoning you in the middle of the temporary dancefloor while you fight with an upstream of odd emotions. You just standing there while you tussle with the urge to find Farleigh and apologize (apologize for what?) and tell him that it was just some weird joke from Venetia (why does that matter?). You don't know why you feel the need to go and try to repair whatever damage Venetia may have just done. What that said 'damage' may even be, you don't know. And you also don't know why you're suddenly heading off in the direction that Farleigh had disappeared in, scanning the crowd for him with some ugly sense of desperation that you don't want to unpack and analyze. Not even as you yield to it.
You aren't even sure how long you search for; your gaze jumping over every face and person that you see in the hopes that you find him. But the room is packed to say the least, and the odds of you actually stumbling across him must be low. He might not even be in this specific room anymore. And if that's case then you might as well as give up now. The estate is sprawling; if he doesn't want to be found, then he won't be. And you think about giving up. Of turning in for the night and trying to talk to him in the morning when you inevitably see him at the breakfast table.
But then you see him. Only this time there's no double take or reason to reconfirm that it is him, this time you spot him immediately.
He seemed to have shed his doublet at some point, leaving him in his pale undershirt. His mask is gone as well. And it takes your mind a second to realize that he's not alone. That he's pressed against some girl like he might kiss her. There's a smile on his face; inviting and flirtatious and the tips of their noses brush together as they lean in close.
You're an unintended observer. You shouldn't be here watching them in a moment that clearly isn't meant for you but it's as though your feet are glued to the floor. It's like watching a car crash. You don't want to look; you don't want to be here but some awful part of you is making you stay. Your muscles have gone still from something prickling and cold and disarming. You can feel it in your chest too. It's making your lungs seize and for one long, paralyzing moment it's almost like you can't breathe. But you don't have a right to be bothered by this. Farleigh's entitled to have one-night stands or flings or to go on dates with people if he wants to. There's no reason why he can't. And there's no reason why you should be feeling shame and betrayal and hurt right now. Absolutely no reason. You wonder if this is what he had felt just a few moments before while you were standing with Reuben and that odd little side of you hopes that he had.
God, what if Venetia had been right? What if -
Their lips brush together.
They're going to kiss, some hideous part of your brain whispers and even worse your body tenses and coils like it's bracing for some sort of dreadfully anticipated impact. This is it. The moment the car crashes and erupts into burning flames.
But then Farleigh goes still. Pausing as though someone had called his name or he's remembered something. The girl that he's pressed up against leans back with a confused furrow pinched between her eyebrows when he turns his head and his eyes land on you.
Your mouth goes dry, and your tongue seems thick and useless, and you try to swallow around it. Now that you're here you don't even know what to do with yourself. You aren't even sure what you had gone after Farleigh for. You didn't have a plan to begin with; you didn't know what to say. You have to internally curse yourself for following after him and putting yourself in this situation. It's strange and awkward and it takes everything for you to even manage a smile. To try and look casual and pretend that maybe you had just stumbled across them and hadn't intentionally tracked him down. And you lift a hand up in a lax wave while your mind ceaselessly chants for you to leave. To just go.
You can feel Farleigh's gaze searing into you, drilling holes into your head even as the girl that he's with leans towards him and you can't hear over the distance or the music, but she appears to be saying something if the way that her mouth is moving is any indication.
You're quick to turn on your heels and all but nearly speed walk away from the both of them, eager to create as much distance between you and them as possible. You don't feel like you're apart from your body. It's like you're disconnected from it, uncomfortably aware of your limbs and movements as you rush away. And it's like your emotions are stuffing your body full and threatening to tear it at the seams. Emotions that you don't recognize; that you don't want to recognize.
A warmth and pressure suddenly encircles around your wrist, much like a hand would and for a moment you think that you've imaged it. But then you're being pulled back gently by the strength of someone's grip, and it forces you to stop. You know who it is before you turn to look at them. You can smell the burn of tobacco from his cigarette habit on his clothes, and it blended with the delicate musk of his cologne. The woody notes of amber joining along with vanilla and bergamot and cardamom made your mouth water in some horrid Pavlovian response. It was humiliating.
Then your eyes are meeting his; dark and glimmering underneath the flashing, sweeping lights dancing about the room. And for one agonizing moment neither of you say anything. It's like you're both simultaneously drifting away and stuck in place. The energy looming over the both of you is foreign and strange, and Farleigh can feel it too if the blank, unsure expression on his face gives away as much.
And then he's releasing your wrist and you let your arm drop down at your side. He shifts on his feet and the weird tension in his shoulders drop as easily as if it were a piece of clothing and a smirk takes shape on his face. This is the Farleigh that you're more familiar with, with the condescending look in his eyes and a prideful tilt to his head. It puts you at ease. Dulling the nervous butterflies in your gut and allowing you to settle underneath his presence.
"Well, if it isn't Felix's favorite little pet." It's meant to be an insult. Most would read it as such, but for you it brings nothing but relief. It feels like a consolation almost. That whatever these strange little interactions have been they haven't damaged your relationship with Farleigh (what relationship?) and made things odd. He glances around the room and all of the festivities, the swaying crowd and streamers and flowing alcohol. He wrinkles his nose in a way that comes off as falsely apologetic. "Or I guess I should say second favorite now."
"Then it's a good thing that I didn't come here for him," you respond easily enough. Internally thankful that the last remaining remnants of tension in your throat hasn't prohibited your ability to speak. "I just know how thrilled you always are to see me, and so I couldn't possibly bring myself to skip out on the trip."
"Thrilled," he echoes with a scoff. "Is that what you think? Because personally I feel like drowning myself in the pond right about now."
"No one's stopping you, " you quip back easily, finally slipping back into your old dynamic.
His forehead scrunches as he pins you with an incredulous look, tilting his head as he moves in closer towards you. "And leave you here all alone? What would you do without me?"
"Thrive. Live. Experience peace."
"Sounds boring."
But you don't have time to respond. He's leaning back on his feet and stepping away from you while he digs one of his hands into the pocket of his costume's pants. And when he removes his hand, it comes out clutching a packet of cigarettes, which he's quick to ruffle around in. "Come on, I wanna smoke."
You don't ask any questions as he moves, leading you out from the dancefloor and throughout the house. Every so often he glances back over his shoulder like he's reconfirming that you haven't wandered off and left. He guides you up a set of staircases, past the couple planted by the first step who are openly making out and grinding on each other and up into the twisting, changing hallways.
"Where are we going?" You ask, nearly getting shoulder checked by a pair of girls who rush down the corridor in a fit of giggles.
"I told you, " he replies and hardly looks back. " I want to smoke."
You want to press him about. About how suddenly he's unable to smoke inside when you've seen him do at least a thousand times. Even at the breakfast table. He probably does it on the toilet too. It wouldn't be a surprise. You aren't sure how long the two of you walk for, higher up into the highest floors of the house until he's finally stopping and opening a door at the end of the hall. He pauses in the threshold, dipping his head in and looking in like he's checking to see if it's occupied. He could have just knocked. It would have been an unpleasant surprise for the people inside if it actually had been unavailable. But the coast must be clear because he's slipping inside and nodding his head for you to follow after. He shuts the door behind you, closing it with a click and gives you a passing smirk when you shoot him a curious glance.
You follow him into the room, vacant apart from some paintings and a few pieces of furniture - an old office maybe, and he leads you across the floors towards a pair of large glass double doors.
He tugs on one of the handles, swinging it open, revealing what appears to be one of the balconies. He's outside before you. And by the time you slide up beside him he's already leaning against the chiseled stone railing on his elbows and the cigarette perched between his lips is lit and smoldering.
The air outside is still warm, sweet and earthy with the scent of moister in the air, like some distant, unseeable storm is brewing. And you can see so much of the estate from this high up. The frolicking people down below in their costumes and those massive, glowing lotus lamps drifting in the pond. But even with all of the guests down on the courtyard engaging in various kinds of trouble; drinking and shouting and singing amongst themselves, up here their voices can harldy reach you. It sounds like a faint murmur on the soft summer wind. And for maybe the first time tonight you actually feel a sense of calm.
"He's a selfish lover, " Farleigh says randomly, flicking the butt of his cigarette to sprinkle the dead ash onto the far grounds beneath. "And a notoriously fast one too. Eliana Merrick said he busted as soon as he put it in."
He notices the lost look on your face and sighs, twisting around on his feet to lean his back against the railing instead. "Your little boytoy from earlier. Reuben Amory." He spits his name out with something that sounds suspiciously like contempt. Venomous and irritated and he lifts the cigarette up to take another drag. "His father's a friend of the family. To James specifically. That's how he always manages to weasel his way into our parties."
"I guess I dodged a bullet then." You joke, absentmindedly fiddling with one of the elaborate pearl earrings dangling from your ear.
"What? He didn't scratch your itch?"
"No," you shake your head with a light shrug. "He was fine. It's just . . . I don't know, I wasn't interested."
Farleigh snorts, making you glare at him, eyebrows furrowing. "What?"
"Nothing." But his tone is a little sarcastic, and unconvincing and the nasty smile on his lips reveals as much. "He just seemed to fit the bill of your type pretty well. Well-meaning, polite and a little pathetic."
You nearly laugh but it comes out as more of a scoff. "That is not my type."
"Oh, really?" He challenges, moving closer towards you and you can smell his cologne again. The vanilla sticks out the most this time. Delicate and sweet. "What about that guy you used to flirt with at IHop? "
"He was a server. It's literally his job to be nice-"
"And then there was your neighbor back at the apartment. The one across the hall with the abysmal amout of plants. And then who could possibly forget, what was his name? Adrian? Who you dated for all of four weeks."
It has you falling silent, unable to counter his argument even though you have a remark waiting on the tip of your tongue. You've never realized that Farleigh had ever paid that much attention to you and your affairs. It has that syrupy, fuzzy feeling pooling in the center of your chest despite that fact that you're actively telling yourself that it doesn't actually mean anything. It's normal for people to notice things about people that they're forced into proximity with.
"Wow, I never knew you were so interested in my love life, " you say, gripping onto the rough texture of the railing. Stroking your fingers over the soft groves and bumps. "Maybe you should get one of your own."
"But yours is always so entertaining," he snuffs out the cigarette and carelessly drops the butt onto the ground near his feet. "You know, with the way that it always seems to crash and burn."
It probably would have stung to hear if you weren't able to say that you were the one to end all of the relationships that you had been in. That you were always the one to take the first step in severing ties. Even with Adrian you had been the one to sit him down and explain that you just hadn't been able to see it progressing anywhere. The both of you were too different. Your goals and wants in life were polarizing and the only things that had brought you together were superficial at best. You just weren't built to last.
"Please, like yours has ever been any better." But he doesn't look the least bit offended. Instead, there's a satisfied quality to his expression. Your lips purse and something akin to defeat weighs down your shoulders. "Besides, they were all too sweet anyway. A little too nice. They could never keep up. I'd always end up saying something to hurt their feelings on accident and they would think that I meant it and then I'd get the silent treatment."
"Not like us, huh?" Farleigh responds a little softly. And he was right. There was always something about your dynamic with Farleigh that you had never been able to achieve in your relationships. The constant push and pull. The competition of your endless banter and insults. The way that you could be completely bare and unrestrained with your words without putting your standing with him at risk. There was . . . an intimacy in it that couldn't compare with anyone else. You had seen the worst of Farleigh. The sneers and jabs and heated sarcasm. And in turn he had gotten the brunt of your own ire and jokes, but it still didn't change a thing. Neither of you ran from it. Instead, you both seemed to revel in it. To seek it out even. It was a type of security that you had never found with any other friend or lover.
And you don't know what it is, but some invisible element shifts and rises between the both of you. Something that's always been there. Simmering and quiet, building up underneath your every interaction like water boiling on a hot stove.
"No. Not like us," you admit in a near whisper like if you spoke to loudly that it might disrupt whatever magnetic thrum has fallen over you both. So low that he might not have heard you. But then you see something flash in his eyes. Something hungry and eager and he's moving closer until you can feel his body heat pouring over your skin, seeping underneath the delicate fabric of your dress and into your bones.
"I hated all of them," he says it like a confession. Hushed and passionate. And you suppose that it is one. Told in total confidence, with a certain fervor like a sinner tucked away in a confessional booth. "I hated them because they should have been me."
It makes you gasp lowly. And your fingers squeeze around the banister like it might ground you and keep you from floating away. And suddenly Venetia's previous statements are echoing around in your skull; mocking and satisfied. You feel slightly stupid now. Blind. But never in a million years would you have guessed that Farleigh had actually ever been jealous of the men that you had dated. It seems like such a silly concept. Or else it would have in the past, but now here he is confirming the very thing that the two Catton sibling's have been vehemently trying to drill into your head for years. And you like it. God, you actually like it. Some nasty little side of you is completely satisfied and even elated that he's been seething over all of your old flings and exes. It feels good because you've been doing the same thing you suddenly realize. Every time that stinging burn had caught up in your chest at the sight of him curled up with some other person - it hadn't been irritation for Farleigh. It was jealousy. You had actually been jealous.
"Can I tell you something?" You ask.
He just hums, low and soft. You can't even glance away from him. Not even if you wanted to. Not with the way that he's looking at you. His stare is heavy and intense, and it feels like you're being held by the throat, forced to maintain eye contact with your breath steadily being stolen from your lungs. "I wished they were you, too."
It's like something breaks free from you when you say it. It was heavy, oppressive and suffocating and in its absence, it's replaced by a sense of ease and a freedom that makes you want to laugh and maybe even cry. And maybe if you weren't preoccupied with the entirety of your attention zoned in on Farleigh you might would have.
Now he's stepping even closer than before, and now you can actually feel the press of his body against yours. The pressure of it has your lips parting, and you have to angle your head to maintain your shared gaze without breaking it. Then his hand is tucking underneath your chin; the pad of his thumb lifts to brush over you, tracing the shape of your bottom lip with something that feels close to reverence.
"Can I kiss you?"
Something inside of you breaks apart at the question, crumbling and washing away like sand underneath the crashing power of a wave. You nod before you even fully register it, and your body is buzzing with a honeyed heat. And you understand that if you do this then whatever relationship you have with Farleigh is going to fundamentally altered. It will be the point of no return and the consequences, positive or negative, will be unavoidable. Maybe tomorrow things will go sour. Maybe by then you'll be back to hating each other, even worse than before. But you want this. Consequences and all.
"God, yes. Please."
His lips are soft and warm, and they taste sugary and faintly floral with what might have been the flavors of some beverage that he had drank earlier. There's the bite of tobacco on his skin too, sharp and smoky. It's usually something that you had never enjoyed when kissing people in the past, but right now it hardly even registers. You're too busy getting lost in the feel of him. The warmth of his hands framing your face, the way that he shifts you on your feet and nudges you back against the railing of the balcony. Your hands are everywhere that they can reach, stroking down his chest and dipping down to grip his hips, pulling them flush against you like any amount of space left between you might kill you.
He groans into your mouth at the gesture, nipping at you lip before soothing the sting with his tongue. It has heat, liquid and thick building between the cradle of your thighs. And you know that it's just kissing, but you can't help but internally berate yourself, because if the both of you hadn't been so horribly bullheaded you could have been doing this the entire time.
And he pulls away from you all too soon, making an embarrassing whimper bubble up from your throat, but he's hushing you with a soft coo, snickering lightly under his breath when he ducks his head beneath your chin to suck at the skin there. Taking it between his teeth and lips and you can't help to soft, breathless pants that start to leave your chest in response. It's purely possessive and you're sure that he's trying to leave marks there, and you can't find it in yourself to tell him not to. It's like your muscles are melting, going boneless at the sensation of his tongue tasting your skin, licking up the salt from it. You can feel the shape of his smug smile against your throat, and it makes you want to slap him. But instead, you're reaching a hand up to cradle the back of his neck, keeping him close to you.
You're wet already, soaking through your underwear. It's something that you would have been awfully conscious of in the past with another partner, but here and now you can hardly think around the red fog that's beginning to cloud your brain. And then he's shifting, sweeping a hand underneath the silk skirt of your dress to clasp around your thigh so that he could pull it to the side, allowing him to nudge his leg between the both of yours.
"Farleigh," you gasp, and he cruelly grinds his thigh against the heat of you, steadily feeding the pressure thrumming there but not letting it build towards anything more. It's frustrating. Mean. And it has you clawing at his shoulders impatiently.
"Yeah? What is it?" He asks, nipping at the sensitive skin on your ear, making sure to be mindful of your earring. You don't respond at first, unable to with the way that he's still steadily moving his thigh against you. It's simple, but with the way that you're already so pathetically worked up, it feels like agony. "Come on, you can tell me."
And to make it worse, that hand that had been gripped around your leg is now moving further underneath your dress, slipping between the press of your bodies to settle above where you want him. His fingers play with the elastic band of your panties, teasing, implying more. But then he hooks it in the crook of his fingers and pulls, letting it snap back against your skin. The sting is dull, but it has you gasping regardless. You mindlessly reach for his hand that's still underneath your skirt, taking it into your own. And you briefly fear that he'll pull it from your grip. But he allows you to guide him. He removes his head from your neck to look into your eyes, watching your expression when you finally slip his hand underneath your underwear, and you can feel the shocking chill of his signet ring trailing across your heated skin. He takes over from there and you can't help the way that you arch into him when his fingers finally move down to where you need him the most. His face pinches when he spreads you open, and he nearly groans at the feel of you. "Jesus, baby, you're fucking soaking already."
Your eyes flutter from the drag of one of his knuckles brushing over your clit and it's like it's directly connected to every individual nerve in your body, making you squirm and moan raggedly.
"Is this all for me?" He asks, dipping one of his fingers lower, teasingly circling the entrance of your cunt but he doesn't go any further.
"Yes." Your lungs feel tight and your nipples brush against his chest with each breath that you take, doing little to help ease the tension and desire threatening to tear you apart. "Yes, it's 'cause of you. Please, Farleigh. C'mon."
"What's the rush?" He taunts, angling his head to take your bottom lip between his teeth and biting. "The night's still young. "
He rocks his thumb against your clit, smirking at you with pure arrogant satisfaction from the way that you shudder underneath his touch. You know that he's absolutely delighting in the way that you've been practically turned into mush by what is essentially some heavy petting. Especially after all of the years of trying one up each other, you're sure that this is doing wonders for his ego. Like it needs to get any bigger. That little prickle of irritation peeks out from underneath the saccharine haze shrouded over you, and you can't keep it down. "I fucking swear, Farleigh, " you nearly hiss, nudging your hips in the hopes that it'll drag the pressure of his fingers closer. "If you don't do something, I swear I'll-"
"You'll what?" Comes his immediate reply, the low rasp of his voice sounds completely unbothered.
"I'll leave, " you say firmly. Or as firmly as you possibly can with the way that the knuckle of his thumb has begun to rotate around your clit in tight, but soft sweeping brushes. But he doesn't appear to be worried in the slightest. He just grins at you. And shakes his head as he lowers it to nudge his nose against yours.
"No, you won't." He says it so certainly. Like he's omnipresent and has already seen the decided future. Like your fate is already sealed. And he's right as much as it pisses you off to admit it. You won't leave. But you don't want to tell him that and give him the satisfaction. " 'Cause you need me don't you, baby? Need me to make you cum."
You're nodding in agreement before you even realize it, throwing whatever semblance of control that you had right out of the window.
"Yeah? Gonna let me taste you?" Just the words alone nearly makes you keen aloud like some desperate slut, and you just barely swallow the sound down. But he must see it in your eyes. The sheer want and desperation that you feel coursing through your body like a drug. The need possessing you might actually be debilitating and you're back to clawing at his shoulders and arms in an attempt to just do something. To pin your focus on something other than the heavy ache between your legs. And you can just distantly hear yourself chanting a string of 'yes' like a broken record.
He tugs his hand from your underwear, and you can't help but mourn the loss, even when he's lowering himself down on his knees and planting kisses down across the expanse of your body as he goes. But then he's rucking the skirt of your dress up over your hips and tucking his fingers back into your underwear like he's getting ready to pull them down. Instead, he's just staring, and his eyebrows are pinched together almost like he's pained.
"You really are soaked," he says with a sort of awe. A thrum of embarrassment rings through you when you realize that he's probably admiring the noticeable wet spot that has dampened the crotch of your underwear from your arousal. You try to close your legs, mostly out of reflex but the sharp, reprimanding smack on the outside of your thigh that you get in response makes you freeze in place. He glares up at you and you have to reach behind you to grip the railing to keep from collapsing from underneath the intensity smoldering in his gaze.
"Keep them open," is his only warning before he all but rips your panties down your hips. Guiding one of your legs up with a hand for you to step out of them, but he leaves your lace underwear to hang from the high heel on your opposite foot; apparently too impatient to fully remove them. And he barely gives you time to think or breathe before he's taking ahold of you by your waist and swinging both of your thighs over his shoulders.
The feel of his tongue laving over the heat of your pussy in a long, greedy swipe makes you scream, completely uncaring for all of the guests down below. And all some distant, buried part of you can do is hope that you're up too high for anyone to hear you. That no one happens to glance up and see you clutching onto the railing for dear life. There's no build up to it. He's completely unrestrained, apparently having the goal to make you cum as quickly as possible with the way that he's working his mouth on you. Swirling his tongue over the swollen, sensitive nerves of your clit and lapping at the dripping entrance of your cunt like a man possessed.
You mouth drops open with heavy pants, and your hands scramble across the cool chiseled stone for something to ground you and keep you pinned to reality. You can see the glint of your arousal smearing across his lips and cheeks and the look in his eyes is a blend of determination and a dazed kind of contentment, and you can feel him groaning against your pussy, amplifying your pleasure. And if it wasn't for the way that you could barely stop whimpering and crying out, you'd nearly think that he was enjoying this more than you with his pleased hums thrumming throughout your body.
He takes your clit into the cradle of his mouth and sucks, and you think that you actually sob but you feel miles away from your body and also helplessly, deliciously trapped inside of it. "Farleigh, " you keen, humping against his face in a debauched display of hedonism. One of your hands reaches down, gripping onto his hair when your eyes roll back from the hot suction of his mouth.
"You taste so good, baby, " he huffs, lapping at the entrance of your cunt with firm, maddening strokes. "So fucking good."
It's too much. You feel like you're on fire. Like he's pulling you apart with each swipe of his tongue and putting you back together again one agonizing piece at a time. It feels cruel but it's also utter bliss. Your thighs are shaking from how tightly they're seized, clamped around his head in a tight squeeze. But he doesn't seem to be bothered about it, because when you try to be mindful and spread them open, he just takes them into his hold and presses them back up against his ears again like he wants to be suffocated. And the thought of that alone has something sharp and electric zipping through you. You file that little theory away for later.
And that familiar ache is rising up like a high, simmering tide. Building and rushing towards you with a quickness that takes you by surprise and you can feel your entire body winding up and coiling tight in anticipation. He drags you closer to his mouth, scooting you down lower against the railing. You're pretty sure that your back is going to be covered in scratches from the rough texture digging across your skin, but as of right now you couldn't give less of a shit. You let your head loll back on the stone, unable to find the concentration or strength to keep it up yourself. You stare up at the sky sightlessly, just barely taking in the winking glow of the scattered stars above while pure, liquid heaven seeps across your limbs.
That overwhelming looming pleasure is right over you now, just a few good strokes off. And with the way that he's licking and sucking at you with his mouth it won't be long before you're breaking apart for him.
"Farleigh," you whimper, choking around a wanton moan, trying to warn him.
He doesn't give you any verbal indication that he hears you. But the grip on your thigh's tense in response, and he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue before dipping it down inside of you; fucking you with it. You can't help the way you're grinding against him, crying out breathlessly when the point of his nose nudges against that swollen bundle of nerves, urging your orgasm to rush towards you at a breakneck speed that you can't brace for.
"Farleigh!" You nearly shriek this time while that wild, rush of pleasure crashes down on you with the intensity of torrential downpour. It tears through your body in a way that's almost violent, making you twist under the heat of his mouth and the iron grip that he still has secured around your legs like you've been jabbed with an electrical current. You sob through the brunt of it, probably alarming the entirety of the Saltburn Estate of your current position. And even after the most of it has made its way across your body, he doesn't stop lapping at you, determined to make sure that he wrings every ounce of your pleasure out of you. It isn't until you're weakly nudging his head away from your sensitive cunt that he pulls his mouth away, but he occupies it by kissing at the inner stretch of your thighs. He massages your hips gently and the sensation works to help guide you back into your own body and return a sense of coherence to you.
All you can do is just sit there and catch your breath, panting raggedly into the night air. You stare up at the stars with complete disbelief while your brain tries to catch up with the fact that Farleigh had just casually sucked your soul out of your body. Sure, you had heard stories of his sexual prowess from some of his past flings before. Heard all of the people gushing and praising his technique in the bedroom, and you had never not believed them per se, you had just never imagined that he was actually this good.
"You doing alright up there?" He asks and his voice is ragged and a little raspy like he was the one screaming and not you.
"Yeah," you confirm after a brief pause. "Just give me a minute and I'm gonna suck your dick."
You can feel him chuckle against you, playful and more than a little cocky but he's more than earned the right to be. "Take your time."
Thankfully, the strength has begun to come back to your body. And even though your limbs are still a little bit shaky you're more than determined and able to ignore it and push through. You raise your head up look at him, using your arms to shift and lift yourself up. He looks up at you expectedly, eyebrows raising with amusement while he aids you in removing your wobbling legs from his shoulders.
He must notice something in your gaze; desperation, want, determination, because he just moves to lean back on his elbows with a relaxed smirk.
"Right here?" He asks. You just nod wordlessly as you lower yourself down on your knees. You could go inside. You probably should. There wasn't a bed in the room that you had entered the balcony from, but there was a couch. Hell, even the floor in there would probably be more comfortable for the both of you than the harsh rock underneath you right now, but you don't want to wait. Not even with the room being so close. Your knees are going to absolutely hate you tomorrow but as of right now, you can't find it in yourself to care.
He parts his legs for you to settle between them and you're fast to crawl over him while he lifts himself up to kiss you. Your lips connect with teeth and tongue, and you moan into each other's mouths when you reach down to cup the length of him from over his pants. He's hot and heavy, even with the layer of fabric covering him. You're still sensitive from your recent orgasm but when you feel the weight of him against your palm, your pussy flutters and tinge of heat settles in the base of your abdomen.
"Baby please, just take it out, " he whines. His voice is petulant and quivering. On any other night you would have used it as an excuse to tease him, but as of right now, you don't have the heart (or patience) to. The urgency in his tone has you thumbing at the buttons closing his pants, but it doesn't help that they're so small and that its dark. You have to squint underneath the dim moonlight to find them and your fingers slip more than once. But luckily you manage to pop all of them through their opening in the fabric; even with the way that Farleigh impatiently grinds into the air, trying to use your hand and forearm as something to grind his cock against.
It's so desperate and dirty but it's also so fucking hot. Seeing him all laid out and begging has a heavy anticipation fizzling underneath your skin, prompting you to grip at the edge of his pants. He's eagerly lifting his hips up, aiding you as you tug the fabric down, working it around the swell of his ass and his hips. And he audibly groans in relief when his cock springs free from the restraint of his clothes. It's so hard that it looks like must be uncomfortable, and there's a steady stream of precum pouring from the tip and trailing down along a thick, throbbing vein in a pearlescent sheen.
Your mouth waters at the sight, and you have to swallow it in the fear that you might actually drool if you don't. He catches the way you're admiring him, and something smug bleeds into his dazed expression. A reversal from the way that he had outright begged for you earlier. You really want to wipe that look off of his face.
Then you're giving into your basest desires and leaning forward to lick at the head of his cock with long, steady sweeps, scooping up the salt of him into your mouth. He's rewarding you as soon as you touch him, breathing out a strained, "fuck," while his fingers come up to grip your hair, already knocking a few of the fake flowers clipped along your updo free; honeysuckles and pink camellias. He doesn't force your head down, but he doesn't remove his hold either, gently urging you to keep going and you can't help but concede. Stretching your jaw open further to slip him inside your mouth before slowly pulling off of him with a firm suck, lapping at the slit of his cock when you do.
He isn't the biggest you've taken, but he's still thick enough for you to feel a slight strain at the hinges of your jaw, but it doesn't deter you in the slightest. You nod your head down to take him in your throat, making sure to be mindful of your teeth as you go and luckily, you're aided by the lubrication of your saliva. You don't stop until you feel the faintest hint of your gag reflex and even then, you have to push off the thought to just keep going, to let yourself gag on him. You'll save that for some other time. As of right now, you want to be able to savor every little movement and twitch and whimper.
You've just started and it's already so sloppy, wet with the way that your drool smears around your lips and chin, and Farleigh seems to be struggling to keep his hips still, resisting the urge to fuck your mouth. His thighs are tense underneath the palms of your hands, muscles flexing and twitching with frayed restraint and each jerky hitch of his hips is punctuated by airy sighs and moans.
A glance up from your place between his legs has you appreciating the way that his back is already arching. He looks gorgeous like this, all splayed out with the thick of his eyelashes fluttering against the jut of his cheek bones. You've always had the sneaking suspicion that Farleigh would lean a bit on the submissive side in bed. Always overcompensating with his arrogant attitude and sarcasm, but you didn't think that he'd be this sensitive. You aren't sure if it's just because he might have already been so worked up from eating you out, or if he's naturally just responsive, but either way the way that he's acting is doing wonders for your ego. The power that you're getting from seeing him already so pleased and dazed is filling your head full of a syrupy sort of satisfaction.
You pull off of his cock with a pop, delighting in the way that he whimpers in protest. You just hum in response, smirking at him while you nuzzle your nose down the line of his shaft and all of his complaints die out once you take one of his balls into the warm cradle of your tongue, reaching up to grip him in your hand while your mouth is occupied.
He moans raggedly, a string of whispered, "so good, don't stop - please, don't stop." Like you'd ever do that now that you've got him underneath you. And not to sound dramatic, but the sky could split open with brimstone and hellfire and the apocalypse could reign down on Saltburn and you still wouldn't pull away from him. Not when he sounds so sweet. Not while he tastes so good. Salty and earthy across your pallet. And the way that he pants into the balmy night air, already breathless has the heat between the apex of your thighs back with a vengence; burning and wet, and you have to rub them together in an attempt to ease the tension there.
You can't help the way that you moan around him, lightly sucking at the sensitive point between his balls and the base of his cock while you smear your thumb over his slit. You the use the fluid to aid in few more pumps from your hand before you're licking back up his shaft again, swallowing him back down while your hand switches places to fondle his sack and the cry that he lets out in response is heavenly. Urging you to bob you head down on him in a steady rhythm. You try to remember to breathe through your nose but in your fervor, you often find yourself neglecting to take in lungfulls of air and as a result an oxygen deprived haze has begun to fizzle over your head. But you can't bring yourself to be worried over it. It feels good. The fuzzy, drunken buzz stuffing your skull full while you work his cock is stupidly addictive.
He must notice the glazed over look in your eyes because he's smiling at you from around the way that his lips have dropped open to release a bout of heavy pants. He drops the hand that had been clutching your hair to sweep his fingers across your face in a gesture that's way too sweet for a guy who's getting head. And it has something soft and sweet blossoming in your chest when he strokes your cheek with his thumb; it makes you feel delicate and adored even while your chin is smeared with spit and cum and your jaw is starting to ache.
"You're already a little fucked out aren't you?" It's rhetorical, you know, but you find yourself moaning in response regardless. "You look so georgous like this."
Liar. There's absolutely you look even remotely attractive right now. You can feel the prickle of tears threatening to slip past your water line and down your face, and you're sure that your lashes have begun to clamp together from the damp. Your lips are swollen and there's a sheen of sweat glittering on your forehead. You probably look like a wreck but it still has you melting, and you begin to lick and suck at him with even more passion than before.
And it must have felt good for him because his head is rolling back on his shoulders and his elbows nearly collapse, leaving him to drop onto his back with a gutted groan. His eyes roll back, and his thighs seize. His white undershirt has ridden up around his ribs, showing off the stretch of his abdomen and you can see the way that his muscles flex and tense with the same pulse of his hips. He's close and it only has you doubling your efforts with even more vigor, desperate to taste him on your tongue, to feel the heat of him in your mouth and throat. The sound of his gasping has changed in pitch, rising into something that sounds close to a sob.
But then you're being torn off of him without warning and you can't contain your mournful whimper when the weight of him leaves your mouth. Irritation and betrayal flares and you can't keep yourself from glaring at him even while he looks close to wrecked, rambling underneath his breath something that sounds like, "I'm sorry baby, I need to feel you, " as he hauls you onto his lap.
And your scattered brain is still able to grab onto what he wants. You gather up your skirt to settle your knees on either side of his hips and you're quick to grab ahold of his cock to line it up with your entrance. Neither of you have the mental capacity to tease or draw the process out longer than it needs to be, and you're thankful that he had already ate you out earlier, giving you some semblance of prep. And without any fanfare you're sinking down onto his cock, and your pussy flutters around his girth, stretching until he's buried in at the hilt.
The shared groans that you let out are ones of relief and pure bliss. Your body shudders at the fullness nestled within the apex of your thighs and Farleigh impatiently grinds his hips up into yours, rocking his pelvis into your clit with a petulant huff. "Come on baby, ride me, " he urges. "Fucking take it."
You can't find it in yourself to deny him. Or yourself. And he lets you plant your hands onto his chest for support when you lift yourself up with your thighs to begin wildly bouncing on his cock, grinding and swiveling your hips with each downstroke. That thick, heated pleasure is already building up near the base of your spine, and you already know that you aren't going to last long. Not with how worked up you are. And you don't think that he's going to be able to hold off either.
He's watching you with something akin to wonder in his eyes and his lips are snagged between his teeth like he might be trying to quiet himself. Like he's trying to selfishly hide those punched out little moans. And you don't know why he tried to be hushed now after he's been groaning and whimpering this entire time but that petulant expression on his face tells you all you need to know. He's doing it on purpose, the brat. It has you leaning over him to pepper soft kisses over his cheeks, nipping at his chin and jaw sweetly, before you squeeze your pussy around his cock like a vice and you place your hand around the base of his throat. You don't tighten your fingers around it, but let him feel the pressure of your grip, testing the waters to see if your earlier theory had been right.
And his body goes taut underneath you while his hips thrust into you with a harsh twitch. A gutted moan follows closely behind, and he grips onto your thighs like he needs it to ground himself and keep himself present.
"Feel good?" It's admittedly a little condescending but even then, you can't help the softness that bleeds through your tone. He nods his head drunkenly, tilting his head back to bare his throat to you. The way that he's melting underneath the ceaseless roll of your hips and mindlessly fucking into you with deep, heavy thrusts is already driving you towards that tide of heat and ecstasy, and they way that you openly keen reveals as much.
Your knees are already stinging from the harsh stone floor digging into them and your thighs are already burning with exertion from the ruthless pace that you had set. But you have no desire to stop yet. To switch positions or ask him to take over, not with how beautiful and fucked out he looks beneath you.
You're both already messy and incoherent, chasing after your pleasure desperately. The noises coming from the place where your bodies are joined is filthy with the repetitive smack of skin on skin and the crude squelching of your cum echoing off of the rock walls around you. And maybe if your brain wasn't practically mush you might would have had the capacity to care, but you just can't find it within yourself while you watch every minute, rapturous expression flit across Farleigh's face. Not while his plush lips are parted for him to gasp, and his eyes have nearly gone cross.
"Baby, " he whines brokenly. A warning for the way that he's quickly hurdling towards his release from the constant rock of your hips. Yours isn't far off either, simmering and curling within the pit of your abdomen and you can already tell that your orgasm is going to destroy you. It's so close. So, so, so close and you find yourself nodding shakily in response to him.
"I know, I know, " your jaw goes lax at a partially hard thrust from his hips, muscles spasming around the drag of his cock.
"Where - where can I- "
"Inside," you answer, choking on your breath." I'm on the pill - it's safe, you can- "
He cuts you off with a gutted, shredded groan of your name and his entire body seizes up from the power of his orgasm. The warmth of his release spreads throughout your lower stomach and another choppy, wild thrust from Farleigh grinds his pelvis into the tender nerves of your clit. It just sneaks up on you. Sweeping you up and dragging you down before you can even register that it's ravaging your body and making you scream. For a second you completely forget what it means to have a physical body. You don't have hands, or feet, or a mind. You don't have a favorite song and there aren't any bills to pay, or an apartment back home in America, and the chaotic party downstairs doesn't exist. The cold stone floor beneath your knees isn't there. You're just floating. Suspended in a state of bliss and pleasure.
For a moment you just are.
And then your lungs are gasping, filling up with oxygen. Clarity comes back to you in pulses and the feeling in your limbs follows behind. Sensation returns to your toes and fingertips and then your eyes are fluttering open. The first thing you hear is the rapid pulse of a heartbeat and when you breathe the scent of something like vanilla and cigarette smoke nestles within your lungs. It has you rubbing your cheek against the heat of their chest - Farleigh's chest, your brain supplies sluggishly. You don't remember collapsing on top of him but apparently you had.
"God damn," he slurs, prompting an amused, tired laugh from you. For a moment the two of you just lay there, taking the time to return to yourselves and grasp your senses. And with it, reality rises up too. That you're laying here with Farleigh on an open balcony with his cum dripping from between your thighs. And apart from his confession earlier there's some small insecure part of you that's worried that he hadn't fully meant it. That this was just a simple fling. Something to ease the tension that's been brewing between the both of you for the past few years. But you don't get to wallow in your fears for long before he's tapping on your thigh and shuffling up onto his elbows.
You just hum at him questioningly, not yet trusting your voice.
"Need a cigarette," he answers.
That has you moving, lifting yourself from his hips and you both hiss, sensitive and raw when he slips from you. Your knees are tender too, aching and you inelegantly plop yourself on your rump beside Farleigh to give them some relief. And you briefly occupy yourself with your underwear, slipping it back underneath your dress and smoothing out your skirt as best as you can.
He works on slipping his pants and tights back over his hips, digging into his pocket as soon they've been righted for a cigarette and his lighter. You watch him with something nervous in your gut. And you tell yourself that you're being stupid and overdramatic. So, what if this was just a one-time thing? It was an amazing time. And if this turned out to be some random fling then that would just make it even more special, right? And he said that he was jealous of your past exes but that didn't necessarily mean that he had feelings for you. You had been the one to jump to conclusions and assume.
And even if by tomorrow he pretends that this never happened then that would be fine. You'd make do. You'd survive. It won't be the end of the world.
"Do you want to spend the night with me?"
The question tears you from your thoughts. Saves you from them really and pulls your attention onto Farleigh. His eyes are glimmering from the burning embers at the end of his cigarette, laying some strange quality in his gaze bare. But whatever it is looks uncertain and hesitant. And it serves as reminder that this is new territory for him as well. That he's just as unsure as you are. It gives you a little boost of confidence that you aren't alone in your self-induced doubts. It makes you smile; soft and relaxed and you hope that it helps whatever thoughts he may have running around in his own head.
"Sure," you say. "But I want to rewatch House of Wax. "
His face scrunches up in response, but he's already rising up to his feet and holding a hand out for you to take, helping to pull you up on your wobbling feet. "That movie is shit."
"Well, I wouldn't be able to tell with the way that you wouldn't stop talking the last time that we all watched it." You grip onto his forearms while you find your balance, lowly cursing your heels and unsteady ankles. The energy has shifted into place, as easily as breathing; thawing all of the worries and insecurities that had initially clattered around in your brain as though they hadn't been there at all.
"That's because the characters were nothing but cliches and one note, " he scoffs and promptly drops his cigarette on the balcony, snuffing it out by grinding it with his shoe.
"I also need a bath."
A smile curls on his lips, a little teasing. " Want to share?"
You stare at him, a little disbelieving. There's absolutely no way that you could do that again tonight. At least not so soon. You're exhausted, barley holding yourself up as it is and you're still clinging to one of Farleigh's arms for support.
"Really? After that?" You question, eyebrows raising, but you can't keep yourself from trying to joke despite your surprise. "You're terrible."
Farleigh chuckles, guiding you towards the double doors gently, "Oh, don't look at me like that," he says, purely amused. "I wasn't suggesting another round, you're the one with your head in the gutter."
You don't reply. Too caught up in the fuzzy way that it makes you feel; his request to share a bath with you. A small gesture maybe, but it also feels wonderfully domestic and intimate. It has you leaning into his side as you step into the adjacent room, breathing in the scent of his cologne, soaking up the body heat that radiates from his skin. Whatever new chapter between the both of you has opened has still left you two with a lot of unsaid questions and answers. You still don't know what you two are. If there's a label to apply to you both of it was just a one-night stand, but you don't have to get those answers right this second. For now, you can just bask in his company and come morning, once you've both had time to think and adjust you can sit him down and have a conversation. And maybe (hopefully) your relationship will finally become something more.
But as for now, you don't mind spending the night in his room. Of cuddling up underneath the covers of his bed after a nice bath and watching a movie together, even though you know that the duration of it is going to be spent with him criticizing every line of bad dialogue and griping over plot holes, no matter how insignificant they may be.
It sounds like the perfect night, honestly.
But still there is still one burning question that's searing at your brain like a hot coal, and you can't keep yourself from voicing it.
Farleigh with an innocence kink for Felix’s friend that he brings home for the summer?
love this sm. I made Farleigh kinda a perv sorry😭 (not sorry) reader is naive and too innocent‼️
Farleigh Start! Who didn’t think much of it when Felix mentioned bringing someone home with them for the summer, and quite honestly didn’t care. till he seen you.
Farleigh Start! Who’s thoughts were only filled of doing vile things to you as he shook your hand, Felix introducing the two of you. The skirt you wore when you first met while forever be engraved into his dirty mind; a lace baby pink with small flower designs on the frill, but what he remembers the most, was the way it barely covered your ass.
Farleigh Start! Who thought you knew what you were doing when you’d suck on your little cherry lollipops everyday, or when you’d lick your popsicles from the base to the tip to prevent the juices running down. Hell, he almost confronted you when you bent over in front of him while wearing your thin bikini that left little to the imagination; but you were truly oblivious.
Farleigh Start! Whos dick hardened at the way you blushed profusely, trying to avoid eye contact the day in the meadow when they were all naked. His eyes had zoned in on how you squeezed your thighs together when you glanced at his body. Of course, you were the only fully clothed one there. Farleigh made sure of that. No one was ever going to get to see you naked but him.
Farleigh Start! Who shares a bathroom with you; the both of your rooms connected. He’ll quietly crack the door open, just enough to see you undress and take your place in your rose petal filled bath. God, it smelled heavenly to him.
Farleigh Start! Who makes dirty jokes around you, only to grip his cock through his pants discreetly when you either give him a look of confusion, or embarrassment. Or, when you sit next to dinner he’ll rest his hand on the plush of your thigh, telling you it was just a “friendly gesture” as he squeezed. And of course, you’d believe him, why wouldn’t you? Farleighs an amazing friend!
Farleigh Start! Who keeps you close to him and scares off drunken men, and even a few women, who tried to hit on you at one of the many parties they hosted throughout the summer. Acting as your own body guard, even going as far as beating one man to a pulp for grazing his hand over your ass.
Farleigh Start! Who you beg to tell you about sex one day, seeing as you were the closest to him, and he sees this as his opportunity to finally taint the dainty aura of innocence you head floating around your pretty little mind.
Farleigh Start! Who reluctantly sits you down on your bed, watching as you clutched your stuffed bunny to your chest; peering up at him through lashes as the filthiest words slipped past your strawberry lips. “What’s masturbate?” You asked with a tilt of you head. He inhaled deeply. “Masturbation.” He corrected you.
Farleigh Start! Who merely said, “let me show you.” As he, right then and there, whipped out his throbbing member, standing tall against his lean stomach. He watched as you dropped to your knees unknowingly in front of him with awestruck eyes. “What’s this?” You asked. “S’my cock. It likes you.” He chuckled out as he watched your brows furrow when it twitched.
Farleigh Start! Who gave you the okay to touch his cock, letting you play around with it for a little bit. He hissed when your finger skimmed over his weeping tip. “I’m sorry.” You rushed out. He groaned. “That’s alright, didn’t hurt me. Felt real good, baby.” He reassured with a smile.
Farleigh Start! Who instructed you how to give your first hand job. “Tighten your fist, sweetheart. Juuusstt like thattt..” he bit out as you stroked up and down his shaft with a tightened fist. He gripped the pink sheets beneath him, trying to restrain himself from forcing his cock into your mouth and down your throat.
Farleigh Start! Who was losing his self control as you’d look up at him with blown-out, lust filled eyes. The fact that you had no idea just how amazing you were making him feel had him close to the edge. His groans getting more louder as he grew breathless.
Farleigh Start! Who painted your face white when you batted your lashes up at him with the hesitant question of, “Am I doing a good job, Farleigh?” Your lost little puppy dog eyes had him folding. You flinched in surprise as what you learned was his cum, landed on your cheeks, nose, and mouth.
Farleigh Start! Who instructed you to open your mouth, scooping up the cum on your face before shoving it into your mouth. Your oral fixation kicked in as you sucked around his thumb. “Good girl, baby. Made me feel so fuckin’ good. My best girl.” He said as he kissed your head.
“Now, let’s take care of that little ache you have down there, hm, Princess?”
don’t be shy, ask to be a part of the tag list and request things!!
Goshhh! I miss Farleigh Start every single day...i mourn him everyday...even tho he didn't even die...i know hes doing good in america working with a minimum wage awww my sweet babyy...Farleigh Start you will always be loveddd!he didn't deserved all of that!!!!! he deserves better!
Childhood bestfriends! Cameron and farleigh, who absolutely squeel with you like teenage girls when you all meet up at the airport again, after years of doing your own stuff, you just decided to meetup and hangout like back in highschool.
Childhood bestfriends! Cameron and farleigh, fighting between eachother to pay the bill after going to a fancy restaurant for some dinner, you managed to slip your own card between them and pay while they still bicker between eachother
Childhood bestfriends! Cameron and farleigh, standing behind and infront of you in the club, their bodies pressed against you and alcohol running through all three of you, they towered effortlessly over you, their own faces inches away fro eachother as they let their hands wander around you
Childhood bestfriends! Cameron and farleigh, who sat so cramped and in anticipation in the small cab on your way back to the Accommodation, their hands enveloping your exposed thighs, staring between eachother and you.
Childhood bestfriends! Cameron and farleigh, who didn't waste any time the moment the door closed behind you guys, Cam diving in for your neck behind you while Farleigh tongued you down.
You could feel a pair of warm hands cupping your breasts, the soft pair of lips nipping at your skin sending shivers to your core–you couldn't help but push your hips back to meet Cams, the buldge in his pants poking at your lower back
"I...fuck–we, wanna make you feel so good."
Farleigh's hands cupped the back of your thighs, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his hips, this caused Cam to move in closer.
You could feel them both, hips shifting slowly against your clothed pussy, they let out a stuttered sigh together eachtime they pressed together.
You cranes your neck to the side to kiss Cameron, Farleigh working over to your neck and slowly lifting your dress up for better leverage.
Childhood bestfriends! Cameron and farleigh, who had you sprawled over the bed, Cameron fucking his fingers into you while Farleigh sucked at your clit. Your mind turned to mush at how well they were treating you, each thrust of Cam's fingers against that sensitive spot in you sent shocks to your brain.
You cried out into the night, locking one leg over Farleigh's shoulder, the other pushed up to your chest, you were blabbering pleas and their names. Your juices soaked the sheets under you, Farleigh's lower face and Cams fingers, the loud squelch echoed around.
Childhood bestfriends! Cameron and farleigh, who had you perched on your knees, Cam slowly thrusting into you while your mouth occupied with Farleigh's dick, your moans muffled and going straight through the man, you could barely hold yourself up.
You could hear their pants and the soft sound of kissing between them, the brief still of their movements to focus on the taste of eachother, you stared in awe before feeling that heat creep up even stronger.
"Mm..boys.."
You whined, shifting back against Cam, your hand slowly stroking Farleigh, the two men above you continue their thrusts–still focused on the warmth of eachothers mouths, their sighs and moans made you clench around Cameron.
Childhood bestfriends! Cameron and farleigh, who cuddled up with you in the messy sheets of the bed, snoring away their exhaustion. You're activities drained you three so much you didn't even care to throw on some clothes.
Childhood bestfriends! Cameron and farleigh, moving on with their lifes once everyone has to go back to their regular schedule. You weren't even sad to go, glad to have seen them after a long time and have some bonding time.
