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As Leigh steps off the bus, she quietly thanks the driver and minds the line of fallen leaves on the curb. The sidewalk is blanketed by a sea of red and orange, slickened with morning dew and November rain. She hears the doors of the bus close behind her, then continues down Montlake toward the bridge.
It’s her favorite time of year: she loves autumn for the perfect excuse to bundle up in oversized sweaters, yet not cold enough for her to dust off her coats from the closet. She spends hours holed up in a coffee shop to drain through endless mugs of hot coffee. But the greatest reason Leigh loves it is because this city reminds her of being home in D.C., granted it’s a warmer in the Mid-Atlantic. She has always taken comfort walking through columns of trees and sidewalks painted in red and yellow.
The wind picks up the closer she gets to the bridge, and a harsh gust plasters up against her left cheek when she begins her journey across it. The path is crowded with people hanging over the side of the bridge to look down through The Cut. Leigh squeezes between two people to watch an eight glide through the water. She can hear the soft clicks of each seat and stroke as they sweep through the water. It looks so peaceful from here, how much ease and grace is put into each effort of the rowers despite the shrill commands of their coxswain.
She tugs down on the sleeve of her sweater to ball the cuffs into her fists as her eyes follow the boat until it passes beneath the bridge. The wind picks up again and she shivers while pulling on the edges of her beanie over her ears. It’s her cue to finish walking across the bridge. She always forgets how much cooler it is down by the water.
Leigh curls down to the path that runs next to The Cut. It’s lined with more people leaning over the bars to watch another eight pass through. The boat looks like it’s moving at twice the speed as the one she watched from the top of the bridge, and this time she can see the strain in a few of the rowers’ face, the sweat beading down their brows and a deep red flush burning down the back of their necks. A dozen people dressed in green cheer as she continues walking, minding the shoulder of a runner to her right.
She pulls out her phone from her pocket to check the time. It’s still at least another thirty minutes before she needs to meet with Jesy for breakfast, probably closer to forty knowing Jesy’s schedule is always running ten minutes behind the rest of the world. Leigh slips her phone back into her pocket.
A group of people dressed in purple start to cheer, whistling loud enough to wake the dead, and Leigh peers between a pair of shoulders to see another boat cutting through. Leigh ducks under a low maple tree branch and pulls out her phone again. Only two minutes have passed since she last pulled it out, and she’s about a ten minutes walk from the place they’re meeting. It’s plenty of time for her to stop and wait for the rest of the eights to row through. The pairs are next–they have to be. She scuffs the toe of her boot against the brown moss as the crowds roar for the next boat passing through.
There’s an opening in the railing not even ten feet ahead, and Leigh takes the liberty to lock in her spot for the next twenty minutes. The morning clouds are starting to burn off as the sun shines through what’s left of them over Portage Bay. The wind rattles through the leaves of the painted trees and tips the top of the masts of sailboats docked in front of a few houses.
She leans her hip against the bar and watches two fours make their ways through the bay toward The Cut. Leigh bites her lip, nervously pulling out her phone again to check the time. Time isn’t budging, just bidding to go by slower. Watching the oars push through the water doesn’t help it any, either, considering it looks like they’re pulling the boats through molasses as they inch their way toward the spectators.
Someone throws down a cigarette butt a couple feet from Leigh’s foot and stamps it out with a scuffed, black boot. She trails her eyes up the black denim clad leg, bony fingers extending out from a green flannel sleeve.
“Zayn?” Leigh says.
He jerks his head over his shoulder and leans the heel of his hand against the bar.
“Hey,” he says nodding his chin up. “How’s it going?” He turns to her, smoothing out the wrinkles on the front of his shirt. His hair is elegantly disheveled, black strands gracefully swept over his forehead with maybe three days of product buildup keeping it in place.
“Good, good,” she smiles, “Just surprised to see you, really. Didn’t know Lik Fury ever saw daylight to be honest.”
“Fuck off,” he says, eyes crinkling under laughter.
“What’re you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
Leigh feels a spike of heat run through her chest, “I’m just passing through. I’m meeting Jesy for breakfast up the street.”
“Cool,” Zayn nods again, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“You wouldn’t happen to be camping out here to see Liam, are you?”
Zayn bites his lip and turns his back to her for a second.
“Oh, you so are!” Leigh pokes his shoulder. He kicks his shoe against the pole. “I saw you two at Greg’s last weekend.”
“You saw us at Greg’s?”
She remembers spotting Liam weave his way through the crowded living room, patting a sorry onto every shoulder he collided into, and made a beeline to Zayn. Harry was following a few steps behind, his strides cut short with greetings and brief hugs. Leigh watched Liam back Zayn into a corner with his hand on Zayn’s shoulder, and it didn’t take long for them to exchange a few more flirtatious smiles before Liam was stroking the hair out of Zayn’s face and leaning down for a kiss. It was chaste, but it was the first of many for them that night, nothing like the kiss they shared when Leigh walked back into the kitchen to see Zayn slumped over Liam on the counter with the bill of Liam’s cap turned backward, Zayn’s arms thrown around Liam’s neck and legs wrapped around Liam’s waist.
Leigh feels the edge of her lips curl back into a smile. “Who didn’t see you two at Greg’s?”
Zayn coughs into a fist.
“It’s cute,” Leigh admits. And it really is cute to see him here watching the boats pass through.
“I didn’t know you knew Liam.”
“We go way back,” she waves her hand. Leigh instantly wishes she hadn’t said anything as soon as she sees Zayn furrow his brows into question. “Known him for a minute. Mutual friends and all that.”
“I see,” Zayn nods. “You ever been to one of these?”
“Regattas?”
“Whatever they’re called,” he waves his hand toward the water.
“Yeah,” she pulls out her phone to check the time again. She reads a new text from Jesy:
Bus is running late! Be there in fifteen! Looovvveee yoooooooou :D
Leigh pockets her phone and remembers the first regatta she went to. She was standing on the other side of The Cut waiting in a red jacket and knee socks, and the rain was spitting down on her umbrella. She had expected to be bored watching the teams row through, but it was soothing to see them make it look so effortless to drive their oars through the water. There was a thrill stuttering through her chest, that anticipation when she’d watch the gradual progression of each boat check through where she was standing, how it felt like forever for them to cross the bay, but fly by when they’d come next to her.
She’d waited over an hour in the rain for Liam and Harry. Her socks were soaked, bones achey, but the rush that spiked through her chest when she watched them pass through The Cut, the focus carved into their brows, the flawless synchronization of their oars catching the water. Leigh couldn’t help screaming for them at the time, despite knowing Harry’d never hear her shouting his name.
“Shit, I really gotta go,” she excuses herself as a women’s pair make their way by them, “you take care.”
“Yeah, same.”
Leigh gives one last small wave and turns up the path back toward the street. The walk to the restaurant takes hardly any time, and by the time she takes the steps up the white porch to the front door, she spots Jesy waiting at the side of the order window.
She catches a waft of cinnamon, mangoes and salsa as soon as she opens the door. She can feel her stomach twist at the thought of deciding between chilaquiles or a breakfast burrito.
“Good morning!” Jesy sings, opening her arms for a hug. Leigh greets her in kind and feels
Jesy peck a quick kiss on her cheek.
“Hello hello–”
“Can’t believe I beat you here!”
“Yeah, I got your text and saw you were running late, so I thought I’d just get off the bus early and walk the rest of the way here.”
Jesy purses her lips for a second looking like she’s fighting a smile, “Oh really?”
“Really,” Leigh tugs her backpack higher on her shoulder and steps to the register to put in their order.
Jesy orders a chorizo skillet and turns to Leigh. “How was it?”
“How was what?”
The cashier taps her finger on the edge of the register and Leigh quickly averts her gaze back up at the menu.
“The walk over!” She can feel Jesy’s eyes still on her pressing for an answer.
Leigh shrugs a shoulder and settles on huevos rancheros. “Do you want to go get us a table?”
Jesy turns out toward the tables without any further questions and Leigh collects her change to dump into the tips jar. She walks over to the salsa bar and watches Jesy weave through the tables going straight through the doors to the back patio. Leigh ladles a few cups of salsa verde, and loads up the tray with a basket of tortilla chips and glasses of water. She picks up the tray to seek out Jesy, but puts it down again to nab a bottle of hot sauce before making her way out to the table.
The sun is out in full-force now; all of the mid-morning gloom has burned off. Rays of sunlight to shine like glitter dust off the water in Portage Bay. This back patio is one of Leigh’s favorite places to enjoy a sunny day in Seattle: she had come here with Harry a few times after his late morning training in the springtime. They’d ordered beers and split a mango quesadilla, and Harry listened to Leigh talk about the new book she was reading, then he told her about the regatta in New Zealand he and Liam were training for in a month.
Jesy grabs the glasses of water from the tray as Leigh carefully sets it down onto the table. Leigh pulls out her sunglasses from her purse before sitting down and scraping the chair across the deck. She can hear a coxswain swearing in the distance as she tears the paper off her straw.
“Lovely morning,” Jesy sighs, grabbing a chip from the basket.
“Perfect, really.” Leigh nods and looks out to the bay to watch a single row toward the University bridge. She spots a couple already sunbathing on the dock of their boathouse and curls into the sleeves of her sweater as the wind picks up. Typical Seattle; even when winter is approaching the people will splay out in their shorts for a sliver of sunshine as if it may be the last day they’ll ever get to see it.
“For sure,” Jesy continues, “like, there’s not a cloud in the sky in November, and there’s a regatta the same day you decide on having brunch on the water–”
Leigh picks up her water and foregoes the straw for a gulp. It’s so cold it makes her eyes water, and she starts to choke.
“I can see right through you, Leigh-Anne!”
“Shut up,” she pats her throat. Each inhale burns; she can’t believe she’s been betrayed by water of all things. “I’m dying.”
“Hands up,” Jesy gestures, “above the head.”
Leigh wheezes once more before surrendering her hands straight into the air. She coughs a few more times then sets her palms flats onto the tabletop to settle herself.
“Can you breathe?” Jesy asks.
“Yeah,” she nods.
“Good. Means you can talk to me.”
Leigh shifts in her seat and crosses her arms back over her chest. It feels tight all over again, and she should have known Jesy was too smart to not call her out for coming here today, of all days, for their weekly weekend brunch dates. She just wishes Jesy didn’t bring it up so early into the meal.
“Continue the interrogation,” Leigh rolls her eyes.
“So are we, or are we not here in hopes of you seeing Harry?”
“No.”
“I said seeing, not talking to him! Just a teeeeensy glimpse, admiring from afar and all that. Yeah?”
Leigh refuses to look up at her and picks off a pill on the sleeve of her sweater.
Jesy clicks her tongue, clearly unamused by Leigh’s lack of response. “You shouldn’t have broken up with him.”
“It was just time. It needed to happen. It felt right.”
“If it felt right, you probably shouldn’t be haunting him.”
“We aren’t strangers–I said hi to him at Greg’s last weekend.”
“How civilized,” Jesy leans forward to grab another chip. “You can get back with him, you know. It’s been like, what, two weeks now?”
“A month and a half,” she corrects. It sounds just as surreal saying it out loud as it did thinking about it on the bus this morning.
They had come back to her apartment after a book signing when she set down her book onto the arm of the couch and told him she what had been rumbling around in her brain for a while: that they’d make better friends than lovers, and her tongue was rattling off words quicker than what her thoughts could process.
He was quiet, still, simply nodded in agreement when she was on her toes to take his face between her palms to plant one last kiss on his lips. He smiled into it, and it killed her. He said he understood where she was coming from, and it made the lump forming in her throat ache as she tried to swallow it down and conceal the frustration boiling within. He didn’t put up a fight.
Harry always did give her what she asked for. But in that moment, he didn’t give her what she wanted.
“But still!” Jesy sings. “That isn’t that long. I bet he’d take you back in a heartbeat.”
Leigh rips out a laugh as the food arrives to their table. She unwraps the silverware from the napkin to place to the left of her plate and screws off the cap to the bottle of hot sauce.
Harry did always give her what she wanted. But she wasn’t his anymore. “I’m not in the mood for that.”
He didn’t even ask her if she was sure about what she was saying at the time. And that’s what bothered her the most.
“You’re stubborn and heartbroken,” Jesy says with a frown.
Of course I am, she thinks. She fell in love with him.
“Relationships are exhausting,” Leigh says. “I’m too young to put effort into anyone other than myself.”
“Ah, and that’s why you’re seeing Ice Cream Boy.”
“Niall,” Leigh shakes out her napkin to drape it neatly across her lap with a smile, “is nice.”
“Just nice? Has he taken you to any gallery openings yet?”
“We’re not like that.”
“Then what are you like?”
“We just,” Leigh shrugs and plucks out a chip from the basket, “like to hang out.”
“Hang out how?”
Leigh rolls her eyes, and makes sure Jesy can see her do it, too. Jesy’s always been one to know exactly what’s going on but likes to corner you into a confession.
“Mostly in bed. Sometimes other surfaces.”
“You better not have done anything to our couch,” Jesy scolds.
Leigh wiggles her brows and dodges a broken chip piece Jesy launches over her head.
“Pipe down! Don’t worry,” she pats down her soft curls, “it’s been contained to my room.”
Jesy pulls the straw of her drink between her lips and takes another sip. She doesn’t say another word on the subject for the rest of their meal.
Leigh catches up on the current drama happening between Jesy’s roller derby team and the team from Bremerton: apparently one of Jesy’s teammates got into a bar fight the night after a match with a Bremerton player in SoDo. Their little brush with the police means that their star player is now suspended for three games.
“You think roller derby would take out enough of their aggression,” Jesy laughs.
Jesy checks the time on her watch and tells Leigh she has to head back over to the Hill for her shift at the cupcake shop. They tidy up their table and make their way to the front of the restaurant to say their goodbyes.
After brunch, Leigh walks up to The Ave and straight into her favorite used book store.
As soon as she steps inside, she kneels down to pet the fluffy, white cat lounging by the front window, then snakes her way past stacks of gently used Palahniuk’s. Leigh crouches down and grazes her finger over the worn spines of a few Stephen King’s, then stands back up to see the Sci-Fi offerings of the week.
She still can’t find the Octavia Butler she's been craving to read for a few months, so she pulls out her phone. She mindlessly scrolls through her messages a few times, then opens up her text convo with Niall.
What are you doing tonight??
Leigh locks her phone and shoves it back into her front pocket.
None of the periodicals snag her interest either. She walks back to the front of the store, strokes the fluffy, white cat one last time, and heads straight for the bus stop.
The 49 pulls up ten minutes later, and Leigh takes a seat towards the back with her headphones on for the rest of the way back to Capitol Hill. She scribbles down a few notes about the biker who nearly missed being hit by a car on Broadway, then hops off in front of Seattle Central. The farmer’s market is pitching down their tents, and before Leigh pulls out her phone to confirm the time, she already knows it’s past 3 in the afternoon.
nothing
you ?
Leigh smirks and unlocks her phone to reply, shoulders squared to the world bustling past her at the corner of Broadway and Pine.
Was thinking you... she sends.
She waits a second, shuffles her playlist a few times when Niall texts back.
haha ok
we can arrange that :)
I get off at 430
Leigh decides to put her phone away. It never hurts to make a man wait, but she’s weak, feeling a bit giddy, and shoots over a text to Niall asking him to come to her apartment before hitting Pike.
i ll knock three times :)
She pockets her phone again and heads up Madison back home. Bus 11 churns its way up the street beside Leigh as the sun sets behind them on the Sound. The wind rattles down the hill, through the sleeves of her knit sweater, and she kicks through a pile of leaves as she turns onto a side street.
Leigh finally makes it to her apartment and immediately peels off her clothes at the foot of her bed. She kicks them aside to stand in front of the full length mirror next to her closet.
She unhooks her bra, throwing it onto the pile of clothes behind her, then runs her palms over the fabric of her polka dotted cotton boyshorts at her hips. She turns to her profile to check out the back of her calves. She rolls off her underwear to toss into the hamper, then trails the tips over her fingers over the tops of her thighs. Her legs are still smooth, despite being shaved two days ago, but she reaches over her desk to apply a fresh layer of lotion.
The clock on her wall says it’s quarter after 4, and her heart skips when she quickly inspects her under arms. She plucks a few stray hairs with her tweezers, almost going crosseyed. She picks up her new bottle of perfume to spritz across her collarbones, then on the backs of her knees for good measure. Last time she did that, Niall kissed her kneecap and mentioned how good she smelled. It made her stomach flip.
She walks over to her underwear drawer, and sorts through a few neon briefs and frilly floral panties. At the back of the drawer, she unearths a sheer, canary yellow thong. It’s been a while–at least four months–since she last wore these.
Harry gifted them to her last Christmas. She remembers watching his cheeks turn scarlet as she untied the red bow off the silver box, then pushed the soft tissue aside to see them delicately folded inside with a matching lacy bra and a book of John Donne’s poetry.
It was very bold of him; they had only been ‘official’ for a few months at that point. But she was grateful, and in awe, and ended their night in his bed reciting The Good-Morrow to him with his head between her thighs.
The lingerie set made its debut a month after Christmas on Harry’s birthday, and then a few other occasions when they’d lounge around her room in their underwear drinking hot toddy’s on her bed. Leigh would read through drafts of her poems while sitting in his lap with his chin resting on her bare shoulder.
Leigh puts on the canary yellow set for the first time in months in front of her mirror. It still fits her so well she can hardly feel the band hugging her chest. She leans forward to adjust her breasts, nipples grazing the sheer lace.
She turns around in the dim lighting of her room to adjust the thong just right under the small over her back, then runs her hand over one of her right cheek to give it a quick slap.
There’s a knock at the front door, three consecutive raps in quick succession that make Leigh jump from her spot in front of the mirror. Leigh scrambles around the room to find something to cover herself up and snatches up a knee-length silk robe off the back of her desk chair. She knots the belt, takes one last glance of herself in the mirror to adjust the front folds of the robe, and scurries to the living room to open the door.
“Hey,” Niall smiles, pulling at the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. It’s black outside behind him, and Leigh can feel the cold night air wrap around her legs.
“Hi,” she says leaning against the doorpost. She can feel the robe slip down on her shoulder and Niall’s eyes on the exposed skin. “Come on in.”
Niall nods and follows her inside, immediately dropping his backpack by the front door like he’s accustomed to doing as soon as he steps in.
“How’ve you been?” she asks. “Want a beer?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
He has his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, and Leigh steps forward to unzip it the rest of the way down. She gets her hands on his shoulders to help him slip it off.
Niall smiles and lifts his hands to cup at her face. His palms are warm, slightly damp, and she can see a fine line of sweat on his hairline. He wastes no time in leaning down to kiss her, one hand slipping down to the side of her neck as she nips at his bottom lip. She can feel him smiling into the kiss, his hand getting a better hold on the back of her neck then suddenly pulling her mouth away from his to graze his teeth down the side of her neck.
She gasps, bouncing on the balls of her feet and curling her fists into his t-shirt. He smells like coffee and stale after shave, and she gets her hand back up to his hair to guide his mouth from her collarbone back to her lips.
“Room then?” she mumbles between quick pecks.
“Mhmm,” he hums into a new kiss.
Niall takes her arms to wrap around his neck and pushes his hips into hers to begin walking her backwards to the bedroom. She feels his hands skate down the back of her robe, over the curve of her ass, then squeezing at her thighs to pull her up from the floor.
She yelps, toes dragging against the rug, then brings her feet up to squeeze her thighs around his hips. Niall keeps walking them towards the room and kissing at her neck. Leigh grabs at the back of his head again to bite at his lip and slip her tongue inside his mouth.
The kissing has always been the strongest part of their foreplay. Leigh kept up her habit of offering Niall something to drink every time he stopped through the door. After the first time they hooked up, his acceptance of her beer offerings and their pre-sex flirtation stopped altogether. Her next offering is always a kiss; hungry, full force at breakneck speed, and Niall would accept each time, and pay her in kind.
Now he’s lead them to the foot of her bed and slowly lowers her onto the duvet. Leigh lets out a small sigh rolling her hips against his as he pants against her cheek. Niall was always good with that–kissing her anywhere she’d please, finding what she’d like before she could even tell him.
Niall pushes himself off the bed to stand back up. Leigh watches him pull his shirt over his head and throwing it off to the side. He stops, hands balled into fists at his sides and chest panting as he looks down at Leigh.
“So,” Leigh spreads her thighs open wider. Her heart is pounding out of her chest as she tries to catch her breath again. She feels the end of her silk robe drape over the insides of her legs until she plants her feet up on the bed and it drops down to her waist.
Niall swallows down a loud gulp and Leigh watches his eyes follow her hands as they untie the knot from the belt. She slowly opens the robe then leans up on her elbows to let the silk fall from her shoulders. Her shoulders start to quiver, arms feeling a bit weak and resisting the part of her that’s telling her to curl back into a ball under her duvet.
She runs a hand down her stomach, hand strained to not show any of the tremor of nerves spiking through her veins.
“Jesus,” Niall lets out, running a hand through his hair. He slides it back down his face and curls it under his chin in thought. He looks like he’s holding down a laugh.
“Everything all right?” she asks keeping her feet planted on the duvet. She won’t show him any signs of weakness.
“Yeah, it’s fucking great,” he laughs. “You’re full of surprises, that’s all.”
“Surprises?”
“You’re too good to be true,” he kneels at the edge of the bed between her legs, “you’re like, the hottest person I’ve ever met.”
“Really?”
Niall leans closer, palm sliding down the top of her thigh. His breath is hot over her lips. She licks over them slowly and keeps her gaze straight into his.
“Ever.” He sucks in a sharp breath when she strains up closer to his mouth. “Even if I never got to see you naked.”
“Wow,” she giggles, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, “what a compliment.”
“You’re always so sexy.”
“Thank you,” she tilts her head back to allow him to lay kisses down her chest. He slips a hand behind her to keep her back up from the bed as he leads a trail of slow, wet kisses down her stomach. “What’s with you teasing me tonight?”
Niall lets out another laugh, “you make it sound like I see gorgeous women in lingerie all the time.”
“I didn’t think you’d be so into it,” she says.
Niall’s looking back at her from his knees at the foot of the bed. His hands pull at her hips to slide her closer to him, toes curling over the edge.
“You don’t mind keeping these on for a bit, do you?”
“No,” she gasps as he runs a knuckle down the inside of her thigh. She feels his soft hair brush against her knee.
“Good.” He turns his face to kiss the side of her knee, lips lingering for a second. “You always smell so nice.”
Leigh can feel the rabble of butterflies stir inside of her, then her heart jump into her throat when Niall’s fingers stroke over the damp fabric of her panties. She shivers watching him smile then lower his face between her thighs. He’s torturously slow with his tongue, yet quick to pull aside the fabric to slip his finger between her lips.
“Shit,” she gasps, one hand grabbing for Niall’s blond hair. He keeps a light pressure over the fabric with his tongue, then brings his lips together to kiss the crease of her thigh. Leigh whines when she feels his fingertip pull the fabric back over her cunt.
He sets his calloused hands on her waist, running them up and down her sides, then hooking his fingers under the edge of her panties.
“Come here,” Leigh beckons with her finger. Niall lets go of her hips and moves back up toward her mouth. He plants his hands on either side of her head and kisses her. She can feel the weight of his hips settle on top of her, the soft hairs of his torso brushing against her skin. She’s smitten over the fact she had the forethought to re-apply lotion to her legs and thinks about how the autumn weather hasn’t got the best of her. Come winter, even bothering to shave her legs will be such a chore when she’s living in layers of clothing.
Leigh arches up into his touch, reaching up to take one of his wrists in her hand to place it against her ribs. Niall slides his hand underneath, palm pressing into the center of her back to pull them closer. She hooks her thighs around his waist, feeling the weight of his cock swelling against her hip as she grinds against him. He tries to pull away for a second, teeth biting at her bottom lip. Leigh lets out a small laugh, relishing the sting, but she grinds up against him once more, squeezing her thighs around him with more intent, and swiftly flips Niall over onto his back.
Both of his hands slip down the curve of her back, up and over the swell of her ass, and finally squeezing both cheeks as she spreads her knees wider. She lifts herself up from his chest, air cooling at the sweat already rolling down her stomach. Niall runs the palms of his hands down the tops of her thighs. The rise and fall of his chest keeps at a rapid pace as he tries to catch his breath.
One of the straps from her bra slips from her shoulder. Leigh goes to fix it, but brings her hands behind her back to the hooks.
“Mind if I take this off?” she asks unhooking the band with ease.
“If you’d like,” Niall runs his hands back up the plane of her stomach, then stopping them just under the band. “It was only a matter of time.”
He swipes a thumb over her nipple, soft lace dragging against it. She feels her toes curl beneath her as she leans into his touch, arms dropping to her side.
“I’ve been wearing a bra all damn day,” she bites her lip, slipping her left arm out of the strap. Niall grips tighter around her ribs and alternates between circling and stroking his thumbs around her nipples. It’s driving her crazy, sending all the blood in her body straight to her head. She leans away from Niall’s touch and sheds the bra to the floor with a sigh of relief then pleasure.
“Feel good?” Niall asks, propping himself up on his elbows.
“Much better,” she smiles. Leigh pushes at his shoulders to have him settle flat onto his back again.
She can feel the cotton of his boxer briefs pressing against her thigh, his cock a heavy presence between her legs. Leigh inches back on her knees to straddle over his knees and tugs at the elastic at his hips. Niall helps her shimmy them off the rest of the way down, kicking them off at the foot of the bed while she strokes him to full hardness.
Leigh plants her palms on the center of Niall’s chest and positions her knees at his sides. She runs the tips of her fore and middle fingers down the front of the lace and between her legs. Niall’s eyes are watching as she presses up into the fabric. She’s blushing at how warm and wet she already is, the mere thought of turning Niall on is setting her on fire.
“Feels like it’s been too long since I last saw you,” she slips her fingers under the lace to seek out her clit. Leigh bites back a gasp as she gently rubs them in a slow, circular motion.
“Three days,” Niall shrugs. She watches his hand wrap around his dick, then quickly uses her other hand to catch his wrist.
“No,” she clicks her tongue.
“So not fair!”
“Quit being–mmm–I’ll make it worth it,” she can feel her thighs ache as she adds pressure around her clit.
Niall takes one hand around her wrist and the other to rest flat between her legs. He presses up with the heel of his palm onto her lace-covered fingers to stop her movements. Leigh whimpers, the soft throb swelling up with each gasp.
“Leigh,” Niall pleads.
“Yeah,” she rocks her hips forward, “I’m so close.”
Niall lets go of her wrist and moves his palm over her hand with more pressure. Leigh is nearly there, breaths shortening–
“I,” she sobs, slowing pulling her hand out from her panties, “I wanna wait.”
“Whatever you want,” Niall props himself up on his elbows. He leans up to swipe a strand of hair behind her ear. She leans into his touch, then he moves his hand away to catch her wrist before she wipes it at her thigh. He looks up at her with his blue eyes sparkling under the shaded lamplight. He opens his mouth to guide them between his lips.
Leigh nods before any words come out from either of them. Niall wraps his lips around her fingers to suck them clean as she sits back down over his legs and swivels her hips. She can feel the damp lace catch against his cock as both of them let out a moan.
She pulls her fingers out of his mouth, fingers scraping gently between his teeth, and nudges his shoulders to fall back onto the bed. His hair falls away from his eyes as he tilts his head back, brow furrowing tightly with his eyes squeezed shut.
“Shit,” he pants.
Niall grabs a fistful of the duvet with a chorus of appraisals streaming from his lips as she picks up her movements. He has his eyes open now, albeit looking glazed over as he stares straight at the ceiling.
“Niall–” she whimpers and clears her throat, keeping a steady rhythm of her hips.
“That’s it, baby,” he brings his hands up from the duvet and to her ass.
Leigh falls onto his chest with a moan when Niall brings his hips off the bed. She can hear his soft sighs against her ear as she buries her face into his neck. Everything is warm, from the tips of her toes, to the palms of her hands slipping from Niall’s shoulders. Their motions go from smooth to frantic, Leigh rutting against his cock and nipping at his skin beneath his ear.
“Christ,” he moans. Niall wraps his arms around her back and rolls them over to the other side of the bed.
Leigh lets out a small yelp as her head bounces against the pillow. Niall grinds his hips against her with more fervor, his bottom lip bit between his teeth. His cheeks are flushed with a deep red that runs down to what she can see of his chest.
“Fuck me,” she says, arching her back and scratching at the duvet. “God, fuck–”
Niall switches to smooth, long strokes with his hips. She can feel his pre-come smearing just below her belly button.
“Close–” he pants.
“Yeah?”
He nods, squeezing his eyes closed and letting out a ragged breath.
Leigh licks her lips, “Can’t even wait until you get it in, can you?”
Niall lets out a small laugh, “Fuck–”
Leigh rakes her nails down his back, mumbling appraisals against his ear, and pressing her hips off the bed up into Niall’s. He comes on her stomach, pressing his body close to her as she feels the warmth between her thighs burst, toes curling onto the duvet.
She drops her arms down onto the bed and tries to catch her breath. Niall falls onto her chest, nearly knocking the wind out of her, but scrambles to brace himself back up to look down at her.
“That was really good,” he says and smiles between breaths. Niall strokes a strand of hair behind her ear then cups his hand under her jaw to give her a quick peck on the tip of her nose. She giggles and tilts her chin up to give him one last kiss on the lips. Niall melts into it, sweeping his tongue across her lips to lick into her mouth. Leigh lets out a satisfied hum before Niall breaks the kiss.
He finally kneels up between her legs, and they’re a complete mess between the two of them. Leigh tries to ignore the cooling sweat and come across her stomach.
“Sorry about that,” he points.
“No big,” she shrugs, rolling the panties down her legs. “I have plenty of other nicer ones.”
“Oh, there’s more?” Niall gets up from the bed.
“I can show you sometime,” she says.
Leigh crosses her legs and brings her hands up to rest under her pillow. There’s goosebumps flushed across her chest now that Niall’s left the bed. She really should get up to take a shower to clean up, but all she wants in this moment is burrow her way beneath the blankets with a steaming cup of chai and Zadie Smith.
“I’d like that.” He runs his hand up the back of his hair and bounces on the heels of his feet. “Erm–I’ll go–clean…”
“Sure,” Leigh nods. She looks down at yellow thong in her hand; they’re completely ruined. There’s Niall’s come all over the front, and part of the lace at the hip has a noticeable hole starting. They’re not even worth salvaging.
Leigh lets out a deep sigh and chucks them into the trash bin by her desk.
Niall comes back from the bathroom and tosses a damp cloth onto Leigh’s stomach, then bends down to pick up his boxers from the floor.
“Thanks,” she says wiping up the rest of the mess from her skin.
“I’ll see you Thursday then?” he steps through his boxers and lets the waistband snap against his hips.
Leigh always goes to the Open Mic Nights where he works, and for as long as she’s noticed Niall, he’s always had a shift through the weekly event.
She turns to her nightstand to pick up the wilted leather bound journal. She’s been writing in it for three and a half weeks, and it’s already covered in two layers of spilt earl grey and three-quarters of the pages are covered in ink.
“D’you wanna hear what I’m working on for Thursday?”
She bites her lip, holding the journal across the top of her chest. Niall stands back up with his jeans in his hand and tilts his head to the side.
“Really?”
She nods slowly, patting the spot next to her on the bed. Niall drops his pants back onto the floor and crawls back onto the space next to her.
Her stomach flips as she cracks the spine and turns to face him. He’s propped up on one elbow, calloused fingers drawing circles against her bare hip, lying in wait.