"What are you in for?"
The new girl clutches her pillow closer to her chest as she surveys Louis carefully. "I thought you weren't supposed to ask that." She's got long, dark hair that makes it hard for Harry to see her face from where she's eavesdropping a few feet away.
"Just making conversation." Louis cocks her head to the side and smiles that wide, stupid smile that gets girls' panties to drop and Harry to roll her eyes at how fake it is. "Can't imagine what a pretty thing like you did to end up here."
The girl looks down at her knees nervously. Harry takes that as her opening.
"Don't pay her any mind." Harry brushes past where Louis is hovering in the doorway, sits down on the bed next to the new girl, and pushes her sleeves up over her shoulders. "She's just over-excited about meeting the fresh blood."
Louis's eyes narrow. "Could say the same about you, y'know."
"Well, I'm not drooling over her." Harry raises her eyebrows at Louis and the new girl giggles.
Louis snorts and looks pointedly at where Harry's knee is already bumping against the new girl's. Touché.
Harry turns back to the girl. "'m Harry." She holds out her hand and gives the girl a lopsided smile that has her smiling back, broad and genuinely. Score one for Styles.
"Eleanor." She crosses her legs on the bed and tucks her hair behind her ear. "I'm in for fraud."
"Fallen in with your bedfellows already, then." Harry leans back against the wall and makes sure to give Eleanor a good view of her long legs. "So 'm I, and Lou here's an embezzler."
Louis crosses her arms over her chest and wrinkles her nose. "Such an ugly word." She doesn't sound too annoyed at having been interrupted in her seduction attempts, more… amused.
"Well, stealing from clients who've already just handed you their stacks of money lacks the artistry of the long con."
Louis rolls her eyes. "Artistry. Is that what they're calling it these days?"
"Plenty of people consider seduction an art." Harry turns to Eleanor and smiles sweetly, cocking her head to the side as she checks out her figure, hidden underneath the orange smock. "Wouldn't you?"
Eleanor's nostrils flare as she looks down at her knees again, then up at Louis with raised eyebrows.
"I think it's more of a science, personally." Louis uncrosses her arms and runs a hand through her short, feathery hair. "Put all the right ingredients in and the results will tumble out."
Eleanor hums and Louis's smile broadens. "There's a shed out back where I usually do my experimenting," she says, slowly enough that even half-deaf Martha down the hall probably gets her drift. "Interested?"
That's the worst line Harry's ever heard. It's so bad that she actually can't help smiling to herself, endeared. They've been going after the same girls so often lately that Harry can't help thinking that most of the bullshit lines Louis's been spouting are more for Harry than the girls she's trying to fuck. The prison isn't that small. They don't always have to go for the same girls.
But it's fun. It's fun to flirt with girls, sure, and it's fun to make them come, and it's definitely fun to come in turn, but maybe even more fun is the game Louis makes of it, the teasing and the wiggling eyebrows and the is that the best you can do, Tomlinson? Fucking with Louis might be more fun than actually fucking, and Harry appreciates Louis's ridiculous pick-up lines as acknowledgment of that sentiment.
Only, Eleanor stands up.
"All right." She's got this grin on her face, like… like she's just gone to prison but figured out she gets to sleep with Louis Tomlinson as a consolation prize. (Harry can't blame her. Except for how she does, anyway.)
Louis leads Eleanor out with an arm slung around her waist and a smirk over her shoulder at Harry. Harry shakes her head slowly and mouths next time.
(It's not a major setback in Harry's plans for the day, since she ends up getting eaten out by Roxie from laundry only three hours later, but it's not quite as satisfying as a multiple orgasm session usually is.)
Louis comes to dinner a few hours later looking smug, sitting across from Harry and letting out a pleased sigh before digging into her food. Harry rolls her eyes.
"Lovely, thanks for asking." Louis takes a big bite of her stew, then after she swallows, adds, "I'd say she asked about you too, but—" She shrugs with a wide grin.
"Eleanor," Niall muses as she stirs her yogurt. "Isn't that the girl who—?"
"Got here twenty seconds ago? Yeah." Zayn twirls a wilted sprig of asparagus around on her fork, looking between Louis and Harry. "Drove her in myself."
Niall shakes her head. "You two are fucking ridiculous."
"It's like they're competing to see which one of them can score more." Zayn chews her asparagus and shakes her head.
"It isn't a competition," Harry says with a little pout. She glances around for Eleanor, but doesn't find her.
Louis snorts. "Yeah, you're no competition at all."
Harry can feel her neck get red. That hadn't been what Louis had thought when Harry had arrived at Litchfield two years earlier and threatened Louis's position as the reigning lesbian sex goddess by charming half the women in the place with her dimples and cascading curls. Louis had been cold to her, at the beginning, but at some point Louis seemed to decide that the easiest way to neutralize Harry's affect on her ability to get some was to take Harry under her wing, and they'd been friends ever since.
Friends who took an awful lot of interest in each other's sex lives, given that they'd never fucked. "When was the last time you got some before Dirty Roxie, anyway?" Louis presses. "Week and a half?"
"She's not dirty," Harry protests.
"Are you keeping track?" Zayn shakes her head in disbelief.
Niall grunts. "Sounds like someone's worried about the competition after all."
Harry frowns. "People don't like being treated like they're part of a game."
Louis kicks Harry under the table. "Aren't you in here for conning wealthy middle-aged widows into giving you their fortunes?"
"What's your point?"
"Nobody marries the people they bang while they're in prison." Louis looks over Harry's shoulders and winks at someone. Harry doesn't have to look to know it's Eleanor. "It's just fucking, Harry, relax."
"You're just jealous that being nice to people works better than looking at them like—like they're a piece of meat." Harry spears her asparagus sulkily. It had, actually, been quite a while since she'd gotten laid before Roxie, and she's still a bit cranky about it.
"They think I'm plenty nice when I'm making them come," Louis says, casually, like that's something you talk about at the dinner table while your knees are bumping against the knees of your sexually frustrated lesbian friend. "Or, at least, that's what I assume what they mean by yeah, Daddy, please."
"Will they just make out already?" Zayn says to Niall wearily.
Niall nods. "Or whatever they need to do to settle the tension around here, because it's getting—"
"A bang-off," Louis says all of a sudden, putting down the fork in her hand with a clatter. She's looking at Harry and smirking. "Prove once and for all who's the reigning stud."
Zayn and Niall are mumbling something under their breaths that definitely includes the words fucking idiots. Harry, on the other hand, is suddenly intrigued by the possibility. "What do we win?"
Louis's triumphant grin falters for a moment. "Glory?" she suggests weakly.
Niall snorts, drawing Harry and Louis's attention back to the other people at the table. "I'm sure my supplier could think of something for the proven lesbian sex champ of Litchfield."
Harry and Louis's eyes lock across the table in a sudden moment of seriousness. "Do you mean—" Louis says.
"What I think you mean?" Harry finishes. They've all heard legends of the Great Dildo Confiscation of 2009. No one had known how the dildos had gotten in in the first place, but if it was Niall—if Niall could do it again—
"No promises," Niall says, in her trademark you'll do anything I say because I can make it worth your while voice. Her eyes are shining. "You in?"
Things do not start out smoothly for Harry.
"How's it going, babe?"
Grimmy doesn't even look up from the laundry she's folding. "I appreciate the offer, but no thanks."
Harry frowns. "Haven't even offered anything yet."
"Yeah, but you're going to ask if you can eat me out, I can just tell."
Harry rakes her hand through her shoulder-length curly hair and tries to look alluring. "I've never heard you turn down an offer before."
Grimmy snorts. "You've never been the one offering."
"You don't think I'm pretty, is that it?" Harry crosses her hands over her chest and pouts.
"You know you're very pretty," Grimmy says, with thick condescension that makes Harry pout even more. "But I'm already in Louis's column on this one."
"What?" Harry balks. "It's been, like, three hours, how did you even—"
"News travels fast." Grimmy smirks. "And, if you're trying to keep your little game on the down low, maybe you should tell the competition not to count out points while she's fucking."
"She didn't," Grimmy concedes. "But she did say you both agreed I was a solid three, so fuck you very much for that."
"The points are out of five, for how easy it'd be to get you." Harry sits down and pouts. "You traitor! You're supposed to be my friend. I'm the one who put that stupid lotion on your feet when you had that fungus. You throw all that away for a one-off with Louis?"
"Louis is my friend, too." Harry actually laughs out loud, and Grimmy snorts. "Okay, fair enough. But Louis is my friend who makes me come. Extremely regularly. And I'm not going to jeopardize that to add a couple points to your side in this stupid game."
"Wait, you—and she—" Harry's eyes go wide. She thought Grimmy and Louis hated each other.
"I have needs, you know."
"She didn't say that." Harry balls her hands into fists. "That shouldn't—fuck, she's playing dirty."
"I'll say," Grimmy says, sounding a little wistful.
Harry pauses and fumes for a minute. Then: "Is she, like… really as good as people say, or—"
Grimmy frowns at that. "Wait, you've never—?" Harry keeps her face still, and then Grimmy erupts in laughter. "Oh god. Find out for yourself, Curly. You won't regret it."
Harry sulks for a minute. "Since you've betrayed me, I think that as my friend, you're required to play wingman at least once."
"Aren't you your own wingman?" Grimmy hasn't stopped chuckling. "Isn't that kind of the point?"
"Shut up." Harry kicks Grimmy's shin. "Lou's already stolen points from me with you, so can you just get me laid, like?"
Before Grimmy can answer, someone else clears her throat. Harry glances over and finds Kesha giving her a smoldering look over a pile of folded white undershirts.
"Hey, babe," she says, quirking her eyebrows. "Couldn't help overhearing."
"Sorry," Harry mumbles, though she's not sure why. She scratches the back of her neck. "Y'know, if you wouldn't mind—not spreading it, so much? I don't want people to think—"
"Well," Kesha says, checking Harry out in the least subtle way possible. "There's definitely something you can do to buy my silence."
They've barely made it into the chapel when Kesha shoves Harry up against the wall. Harry's pussy twitches so hard in response that she's almost embarrassed about it. Not embarrassed about liking it—she's had plenty of time to get used to how wet she gets when she's being tossed around a bit—more like, embarrassed because she must have slept with dozens of women since she was incarcerated twenty-eight months ago, but not a single one of them has really—had Harry, at least not like this. Not like shoving her up against the wall of the chapel and digging her fingers into Harry's flesh so hard she'll leave marks, not tugging on her hair and practically fucking her mouth with her tongue, so that Harry's knees feel weak and she's whimpering back against her lips.
Harry loves sex, in pretty much every way. She loves making women come with her tongue and her fingers and her soft whispers in their ears, and since that's how pretty much all of the women she finds herself with seem to want it—soft and sweet and almost like making love—Harry does everything she can to give that to them. Those are the kind of people that go for Harry, generally: the ones who are just looking for somebody nice, and Harry relishes the opportunity to be nice to them. She likes making people happy. It's just… maybe not the thing that makes her the happiest. Neither is this, exactly—but as Kesha keeps Harry pressed against the wall with a hand on her shoulder and twists her nipple hard with her other hand, Harry figures it might be good enough, for now.
(Once, three months into her sentence, she'd slept with an eighteen-year-old with more piercings than she could count who called Harry ma'am and tried to get her to spank her for having been such a bad girl. Harry had tried, but she'd been more sympathetic than anything when the girl started crying because Harry wouldn't hit her hard enough. They'd been close for a while after that, actually. Until the girl had found Louis. The ones who like it rough always seem to find Louis, in the end.)
"You wanna eat me out?" Kesha whispers in Harry's ear. "Eat me out, then." She tugs Harry's hair down, like she might actually pull her down to the floor that way, which. Jesus. Harry closes her eyes and clears her throat to mask the whimper caught there before sinking to her knees. She runs her hands over Kesha's thighs, the swell of her ass, trying to ground herself while looking up into her eyes.
Usually, that would be Harry's way of showing the girl she's with that it's okay, she can trust Harry and let go. Now, with Kesha looking down on her with a smirk, pulling off her own pants, and lacing her fingers through Harry's hair, it feels more like Kesha's saying fucking take it.
So Harry does. Kesha's pussy is dark pink and wet and smells heady and like everything Harry needs, at this particular moment, so she doesn't start slow, getting her lips over the hood of Kesha's clit and sucking hard. She trails down to tease over her lips a bit, neck starting to ache from the angle, until Kesha yanks her head back up again. She doesn't ask if it's all right, but Harry still nods as much as she can without breaking the rhythmic circles of her tongue around her clit.
At some point Kesha leans back, giving Harry better access to her clit, which she responds to with a hum of gratitude before she realizes that Kesha is leaning back on the altar, supporting herself on it with two elbows and groping her own breasts. Harry's hum turns into a moan, and she grabs at Kesha's ass with one hand while the other slips under her pants, rubbing her clit fiercely while Kesha moans loudly, like she wouldn't even care if anyone came in and found them like this—almost like she's inviting it. Harry comes to that thought just as Kesha's thighs squeeze around her head and her fingers curl against Harry's scalp, so hard that there's maybe a few seconds where if Harry wanted to pull away, she wouldn't have been able to.
Harry actually pants as she pulls her head away, but before she has a chance to be embarrassed about that, Kesha's pulling her pants up and saying, "Thanks, babe. You need me to—?"
Harry blinks twice, then pulls her hand out of her own pants. "'M fine." Her hand is sticky. Her face is sticky, but she feels too—nervous, maybe, to wipe it off, and that's not a familiar feeling. "That was good?"
"Definitely." Kesha kisses Harry on the forehead, and she blushes a bit, feeling a little awkward but not uncomfortable. "Gotta get back to work, though. Let me know if you ever want me to return the favor, yeah?"
Harry swallows, then nods. "You know where to find me."
Kesha ruffles Harry's hair before she leaves. Harry slumps back against the altar, wiping Kesha's come off her lips with the back of her hand. She has to get back to work too, really. There are a lot of things she has to get to that are not getting herself off again in the chapel, like going to change her panties and trying to wash off the smell of sex before she runs into the creepy guard with the mustache, but none of them seem quite as important as celebrating the five points she's just bagged. Not to mention the bruise blooming on her collarbone. Harry wonders, as she slips two fingers inside herself without even taking off her pants, if Louis will ask about that.
Louis doesn't ask about the bruise. She definitely notices, unless she's taken a preternatural interest in Harry's collarbone for some other reason, but she doesn't say a word about it, not while staring at it from the other side of the table over dinner, not when they run into each other in the bathroom, not even when Niall tracks down both of them to tally their scores for the day. Louis seems almost uncomfortable with it. Maybe Harry had been wrong to pin her as some kind of… hardcore Daddy top, but whatever. Things are so awkward that they barely speak at all until fate throws them together again.
"Feels so fucking good inside you, babe."
If Harry's being completely honest, she may have imagined hearing Louis say those words a few times before, but in Harry's imagination, it wasn't while Louis was fingering somebody else on the opposite side of the prison kitchen counter. (Niall's going to give them so much shit later. Oh well.)
If Caroline can hear them too—fuck, of course she can hear them, Nick just moaned so loudly Harry can hear Louis slam her hand over her mouth and pause for a moment to see if anyone has heard. But Caroline doesn't say anything. She looks down at Harry between her legs like she might give her a smirk, only then Harry presses pointedly down on her g-spot and Caroline throws her head back and keens.
It's kind of surprising that this hasn't happened before, actually. They're in fucking prison. It's not like there's an infinite number of places they can go for a bit of privacy. Harry favors the chapel and Louis favors the toolshed (she's kept her shitty work assignment for ages, Harry knows, just because it gives her the key), but there are times you just need to go with the flow of the moment, and once again, the flow of the moment seems to have brought Harry and Louis to the same place.
"So fucking wet." Louis seems to have gotten over the fear that a guard will overhear rather quickly, because she's not keeping her voice down. On top of that, Harry swears she can hear the wet working of Louis's fingers even over Caroline's keens in her ear and the sound of Harry between her legs. "You're always so fucking wet for me."
"Yeah," Nick breathes, her breath audibly hitching. Caroline still doesn't say anything. Harry grinds her teeth together for a minute, her eyes clenched shut as she tries to stop herself from shivering. Then she leans forward and latches her mouth to Caroline's breast, urging a moan out of her while she keeps working her fingers deep inside her.
"You gonna come again?"
Harry laves her tongue over Caroline's nipple while Nick gasps fuck fuck yeah fuck on the other side of the counter. Caroline sinks a hand into her hair and claws at Harry's scalp like she's close, and Harry keeps her fingers deep inside Caroline's wet heat as she clenches around Harry's hand, keeping a steady rhythm against her spot as her breath grows shorter, her whimpers higher.
"Know you want it." Louis's voice is low, so low it feels like she's whispering directly in Harry's ear even though she's halfway across the room. The hair on the back of Harry's neck prickles because she does, she fucking wants it, whatever Louis says, God. She buries her hand as deep in Caroline's cunt as she can, barely even focusing on making her feel good, just focusing on feeling as Louis continues, "Come on, come for me already."
Harry's hand spasms inside Caroline as she comes with a bitten-off shout at the same time as Nick lets out a long, low groan. Both of them seem to get their breathing back under control faster than Harry.
Know you want it. Harry had figured that Louis would be just as bossy in bed as she was in life, but she's no less affected by it for already having known.
There's a moment of silence as all of them settle into their bones a bit. Just as it feels like it's about to get awkward, Nick says loudly, "I thought you were fucking crazy, but I'm starting to support this game you're playing."
Caroline laughs. Harry's so wet she might actually be dripping onto the floor, but like hell is she only going to get Caroline off once while Louis listens. She licks her lips before running her tongue in an experimental circle over Caroline's clit, making Caroline squawk.
"It has its upsides," Louis says with a chuckle as Harry gets a hand between her own legs and whimpers into Caroline's pussy. Harry's not sure if this is an upside or a downside, but it's a side she's definitely interested in seeing more of.
Harry is good at seducing people, damn it. So good that she was deemed a menace to society and thrown into this hellhole. Three days into her plan to seduce Officer Cowell, though, Louis wriggles her eyebrows and whoops at the two of them while they're having a heart-to-heart about the reality TV show Cowell was on once, which leads the correctional officer to back away from Harry with horror at the thought that someone might see the friendship they'd struck up as inappropriate. Which it was, obviously—that was the point, prison administration counted for so many bonus points it would have made up for Harry's lack of game over the past two days. Instead, Harry ends up apologizing profusely for any misunderstanding and blustering off with entirely the wrong kind of flush on her cheeks.
Harry goes to find Louis into the rec room with every intention of ruining her chances with whatever girl she's invariably picked up by now.
When she finds Louis cozied up in a corner with Jesy from the kitchen, though, Harry's wolf whistle dies on her lips and she blurts out something unexpected.
"Leave some room for Jesus, yeah?"
They both look at Harry like she's crazy. Which, like… fair. Louis's hand moves even farther up Jesy's thigh, and Jesy looks at her and giggles. Louis catches Harry's eye across the room and smirks. Something not quite like anger flares in Harry's stomach, and she turns and leaves.
It's not like Harry couldn't have found someone else. She and Louis compete for girls, but it's not due to a scarcity of resources. Horny, lonely women are practically the only thing there isn't a scarcity of in this prison. So when Harry ends up with her own hand between her legs in her bunk later that evening, it's not because Louis has driven her to this situation, exactly.
Except… it sort of is, is the thing. Because no matter who Harry could have pulled that evening, she knows she would have been thinking about somebody else. About Louis's feathered fringe bobbing between someone else's legs.
The emotions that that brings to the surface are not ones that Harry really wants to deal with, so she doesn't. Avoiding dealing with emotions is one of the few skills she's picked up inside. Another is bringing herself off with her hand, after years of her clit being spoiled by vibrators. It feels simple, almost profound, the simple act of rubbing her fingertips gently over her slit, allowing them to find her clit almost of their own accord, like it hasn't been throbbing for attention for the better part of an hour.
It's not actually that profound. It's just sex. Without the complications of other people. Well, almost entirely without. Harry's fingers start circling her clit slowly, toying with the hood, while she allows her mind to wander… knowing full well it'll end up on that look that Louis gave Eleanor earlier that day, the way she wet her lips like she was about to tuck into a feast, like she was literally going to devour her.
She's probably doing exactly that right now. Harry bites her lip and ducks two fingers down to tease at the wetness of her hole, dragging it back up and rolling it around her clit. She bucks her hips up a little and relishes the wet slide of her finger over the velvety flesh.
It tastes salty. Probably shouldn't have eaten all those chips from Niall in one sitting. Harry sucks her fingers into her mouth anyway, getting them wet and licking off the taste. When she glides her fingers back over her clit, it's hard and slippery and easy enough to pretend it's someone else's hand working her up to letting out small whimpers muffled by her pillow.
Harry glances over her shoulder to make doubly sure no one is going to intrude on her, then turns over and lifts her ass slightly into the air, cheek pressed against her pillow for leverage, and plays with her lips, by now totally wet, while her other hand continues to work steadily around her clit. For someone who has as much sex as Harry does, she's pretty easily flustered by how desperate she must seem like this, both hands between her legs like she can't—like none of it is enough. By the time she gets two fingers just inside her entrance, both of Harry's hands are drenched in wet and her hips are rocking forward of their own accord, pushing her ass farther into the air and her face farther into the pillow as her carefully-cultivated control starts to slip.
Daddy, Harry says into the pillow, so quietly that it only echoes through her own mind as she imagines Louis's fingers fucking her like this, from behind, Louis's hands running over the backs of her thighs and gripping her hips and tracing her spine, Louis's tongue on her clit, running down her slit, fucking into her asshole, Louis tugging Harry's head up by her hair and whispering dirty words in her ear, calling her pretty and slut and perfect for Daddy. Harry's shoulders seize up and her head feels so light it might roll off her body as she finally brushes against the most sensitive spot inside her with two fingertips. Her joints hurt from all the effort it takes to get there but the hurt only makes her feel better, like she has to earn this rocketing out of her mind with pleasure as she keeps fucking herself and circling her clit hard and fast. She comes seconds later with a choked-off shout, her eyes rolling and her toes and knees and cunt clenching around her hand like it's the center of the universe, and for one not-quite-long-enough moment, it is.
Harry collapses onto the bed without pulling her hands away from her pussy. Once she's recovered enough to remember that she won't get clean sheets for another week, she rolls onto her back and sucks her fingers into her mouth one by one, keeping her eyes shut so tightly that she thinks she might be able to ignore the mental image of someone else putting her up to that, making her taste her own arousal, cleaning herself with her tongue like an animal. When she's done, Harry pulls the covers up over her head, inhaling deeply the smell of sex and falling asleep with her fists clenched tightly in frustration.
Harry does end up bagging the guard the next day, tying her with Louis at an even twenty-four. Having worked their way through most of the low-lying fruit, they both end up reaching for some of the more highly-placed pussy.
"No way am I gonna be a pawn in your stupid game."
"You're definitely not a pawn, baby." Louis strokes Zayn's forearm lightly, fixing her with a shit-eating grin. "You're, like, definitely a knight, at least."
Harry grinds her teeth for a moment, observing Zayn melt a bit into Louis's touch. Then she puts a light hand on Zayn's knee—and, when Zayn doesn't flinch, she leans in and kisses her on the cheek softly.
"More of a queen, I think," Harry says into her ear. Louis snorts. Zayn hums. She had to have had some idea what was in store when Harry pulled her into the chapel earlier, all sideways smiles and hair twirling and flirty whispers, and she'd happily let herself be dragged along by Harry until Louis showed up with something to prove, so Harry feels like her odds are still all right, even if Louis's wearing some fucking sinful eyeshadow today.
"On second thought, definitely keep trying to out-charm each other." Zayn sets a hand on top of Harry's hand on her knee, then raises her eyebrows in Louis's direction. "I might be interested in seeing where that takes us."
Louis runs her hand up Zayn's inner thigh. "I'll take you anywhere that you'd like," she says. It's blatant enough that Harry's inner con artist is offended, aesthetically. She used to do this sort of thing semi-professionally. She used to have rules. A good seduction should have a certain subtlety, classiness. General flattery that was supposed to come before the innuendo, but fuck if Louis Tomlinson gave a shit about seducing people properly, and fuck if Zayn Malik seemed to care, her pupils dilating as she soaks in the attention of the women on either side of her. Zayn smiles at Louis indulgently before looking back in Harry's direction. Louis's gaze follows Zayn's, and she cocks an eyebrow at Harry like a challenge.
Fuck it. They're in prison. The time for following rules is long past. Harry gets to her knees and crawls between Zayn's legs.
"I'd really like to eat you out, Zayn." Harry places her hands on Zayn's knees and gives her her most earnest smile, hoping that she doesn't catch a whiff of the eat shit, Tomlinson that Harry is subconsciously signaling to Louis.
"Fuck." Zayn spreads her legs a little more and rests her hands on top of Harry's. "Yeah, okay."
Louis's mouth falls open in shock as Harry stands up and drags Zayn behind the altar, to give them a modicum of privacy. Harry's not sure she ever expected Louis to respect that, but she certainly doesn't expect Louis to outright follow them and declare, "I'm next."
Zayn glances at Louis over Harry's shoulder and shrugs. Harry rucks Zayn's shirt up a bit and kisses her stomach before pulling her pants down over the swell of her ass, revealing her pussy, already glimmering with wetness. Harry kisses just above Zayn's clit, nestling her nose in the hairs and just inhaling the scent of her for a minute. She doesn't acknowledge Louis again until Zayn does.
"Okay," Zayn says. She nods at Louis. "Okay." Her hand comes to rest on the back of Harry's head. Harry hums, darts a glare over her shoulder to where Louis is smirking in satisfaction, then dives in with a long lick up Zayn's slit.
Most people Harry's met in prison have complained about the lack of job skills training, but Harry's pretty sure that the improvement in her pussy-eating skills is going to pay off for her one day. In her sugar baby con days, she'd gotten up close and personal with her fair share of pussy, but it turned out that the view between one wealthy white woman's legs wasn't really that different from the next one. Here, Harry's learned to appreciate the whole spectrum of cunts in the world. Zayn's is cute and pink, framed with dark hair and long lips that Harry teases for a while before getting down to business, sucking Zayn's clit into her mouth and teasing her vagina with her finger while Zayn's grip on her hair tightens.
Suddenly, there's another hand on Harry's head. "Is she doing you good, baby?" Louis curls her fingers in Harry's hair, not pushing her down, just… sinking her fingers into Harry's scalp hard enough for Harry to lose her focus for a minute and whimper. "Getting you nice and warmed up for me?"
"Shut the fuck up, Lou." Zayn pulls Harry back against her pussy and the pulling of her hair in so many directions makes Harry stutter for a minute before her tongue regains its rhythm over Zayn's clit. "Harry, shit."
Louis tuts. "Gonna have to do better, Harry." She tugs Harry's hair again lightly and Harry completely loses herself for a minute, shit, she had no idea she would be so into this. "Think you're getting off on this more than she is."
That's a lie, is what it is. Harry may be a little (a lot) more wet than she usually gets just from eating somebody out, but she's also really fucking good at eating pussy. Even as Louis trails a hand between Harry's legs, locating her clit even through her clothes and petting it teasingly, Harry moans a little but doesn't stop flicking her tongue in the way that's really working for Zayn, if the clenching of her fists and soft but ragged moans are anything to go by.
"Distracted?" Louis sounds pleased. Harry hums and grinds her hips down against Louis's hand, moaning a little against Zayn's clit, but she doesn't actually let Louis distract her from the rhythm she's got going that's bringing Zayn closer and closer to the edge
"Fuck, fuck, yeah, right—right there, don't stop, fuck—"
Zayn comes with trembling thighs bracketing Harry's head just as it seems Louis's about to slip her hand into Harry's pants. It feels oddly unlike a triumph. Harry kisses her clit once more and Zayn slumps back onto the carpet with an arm thrown across her face, slowly steadying her breathing.
Louis tugs Harry's head from between Zayn's legs by her hair. "My turn," she says, and before Harry even starts to lick Zayn's come off her own lips Louis is lapping it from between her thighs, making Zayn shiver on the floor.
Louis gets two fingers in Zayn immediately, fucking her deeply in a steady, insistent rhythm that has Zayn's thighs shaking again before Louis even gets her mouth on her. Harry is buzzing with arousal. She kneels next to Zayn and kisses her on the mouth, but Zayn's already so gone that she doesn't kiss back, barely even acknowledges Harry's mouth on her.
Harry intends to mess with Louis, she really does, but. Louis looks kind of beautiful like this, is the thing, face soft but concentrated as she works Zayn's cunt over with her mouth and her hand at the same time. Harry doesn't want to disturb her, even though by all accounts that's exactly what she should be doing. Instead, she just ends up putting a hand on the small of Louis's back, just over the waistband of her pants, rubbing circles there while the muscles of Louis's back ripple under her undershirt as she gropes Zayn's breast and thrusts her fingers inside her until Zayn comes with bucking hips and a high-pitched moan, more quickly than she did for Harry, but fuck if Harry isn't still going to take some of the credit for that.
She's ready to say as much as soon as Louis resurfaces, but. Louis doesn't pull her face away from Zayn's crotch. She keeps sucking Zayn's clit even as Zayn shivers through the aftershocks of her orgasm, and the thrusts of her fingers have slowed significantly but haven't stopped. In fact, as Zayn's breathing starts to return to normal, Louis only starts fucking her deeper.
"Hey." Harry frowns and slaps Louis on the ass a little harder than she means to (Louis doesn't flinch). "You don't just get to go again. That's not fair."
Louis hums, breaks the suction on Zayn's clit, and looks up Zayn's torso. "You want me to stop, baby?"
"Don't." Zayn's voice is totally wrecked. "Don't you dare, fuck, that's—" She breaks off and keens as Louis runs her tongue up her slit slowly, then licks her lips.
Harry lets out a low grunt of indignation. "You play dirty, Tomlinson."
Louis smiles up at Harry with her mouth wet with Zayn's come. "Don't hate the player," she says cheerfully, before burying herself in Zayn's pussy again.
Harry can't bring herself to hate the game. Her hand rests on Louis's lower back again, before she gets up on her knees behind Louis and settles her hands on Louis's hips. It's quite a view, with Louis bent over Zayn's pussy in front of Harry, her ass perfectly positioned in front of Harry's hips. If they were playing a different sort of game, this would be a really great way for Harry to fuck her.
Then again, maybe that is the game they're playing, after all. Harry grabs Louis's ass in both hands, just to see Louis's reaction. Louis hums and presses back into Harry's touch without even a nasty comment, like she may have forgotten that they're competing. Harry hasn't.
"Distracted?" Harry thumbs over the waistband of Louis's pants while groping her ass with her other hand.
Louis pulls her face off Zayn's pussy long enough to laugh, "You wish." That's all the reason Harry needs to pull down her pants roughly.
Wow. Harry's spent a good chunk of her adult life appreciating women's asses (and "appreciating" is putting it lightly), so when she finds herself thinking that Louis's is the most perfect she's ever seen, it's not a statement to be taken lightly. Harry lets her finger trail down the cleft of Louis's ass slowly, giving her a chance to flinch away. Louis doesn't.
"Want me to distract you, then?" Harry's voice is so gravelly it's almost embarrassing. Zayn moans. Louis doesn't pull her mouth away from Zayn's pussy long enough to responds, but she hums and thrusts her ass back into Harry's grip, as if to say do your best.
Harry rubs her thumb over Louis's small, tight hole a few times, drawing little more than another hum out of her. It's only when Harry gets a good grip, spreading her cheeks apart and licking broadly over her hole, that Louis really reacts, letting out a breathless whine and spreading her legs a bit, even as she starts fucking into Zayn with her fingers faster. Zayn shouts as Louis's lips latch around her clit again with a loud moan as Harry circles Louis's rim with her tongue slowly, reaching for her own clit as she tastes Louis, musk and sweat and a little bit of harsh prison soap. Louis doesn't stop making little sounds deep in her throat as Harry works over her rim thoroughly, slipping just the tip of her tongue inside, and that only seems to drive Zayn crazier, making her bang her fist against the floor and spread her legs so far open it's like she's doing a split. Louis's thighs have started shaking a bit as well, as she clenches down hard from just the suggestion of Harry's tongue inside her. Harry curls her hand around to get at Louis's clit, slippery and hard and perfect, just as Louis's ass starts to open itself to the intrusion of Harry's tongue, and then Louis's moaning obscenely and rabbiting her hand inside Zayn and Zayn's coming for a third time with fluttering eyelashes and her back arching up from the floor. Louis sits back on her haunches, pulling her ass out of Harry's reach.
"Fuck," Zayn mumbles, pressing her cheek against the cold floor as Louis pulls her fingers out of her and sucks them into her mouth. "Remind me never to knock y'all's competitive streak again." Harry smiles at Louis, only to find Louis staring at her as she slurps noisily around her fingers wet with Zayn's come, a smirk evident in her eyes.
Before Harry has a chance to think much about what she's saying, she's blurting out, "That means I get another go, right? In the interests of fair competition."
Louis withdraws her fingers from her mouth and licks her lips, looking at Harry's hands settled on Zayn's knees.
Zayn groans. "Shit, Harry, can we give my fucking cunt a break for a minute?"
"Sure," Harry says easily. "I was thinking I'd eat your ass, anyway."
"Fuck." Zayn bangs her head back against the floor and winces. "I mean… yeah, fuck. Shit."
Harry helps Zayn flip over to her stomach, then runs her hands over the backs of Zayn's thighs as Zayn tries to boost her ass up even as her whole body sags with exhaustion. Harry keeps her eyes on Louis the whole time she teases Zayn's hole with her thumb, fingers sinking into her cheeks and spreading them. Harry licks her lips before closing her eyes and licking down the cleft of Zayn's ass before latching her lips around her rim.
Zayn doesn't taste that much different than Louis—at the end of the day, ass pretty much tastes like ass—but it feels different, because while Louis was a model of barely contained restraint, Zayn is already a fucking wreck from having come three times. When Harry reaches around to stroke her clit she's already so wet and overstimulated that she bucks back eagerly against Harry's mouth, forcing Harry's tongue into her and scrabbling for purchase on the floor as she rolls her neck in ecstasy.
It also feels different because this time, Louis is staring at Harry while fucking herself with three fingers. Harry loves rimming because of how intensely intimate it is, being invited into the most private part of someone. It makes what would otherwise be just another random fuck between prisoners with nothing better to do feel like something more.
Louis comes around her fingers and doesn't break eye contact with Harry as she continues to fuck her tongue into Zayn's ass. It feels like something more. Harry clenches her eyes shut, overwhelmed by the arousal flooding through her, and thrusts her fingers deep into Zayn, searching for her spot, and she knows she's found it when Zayn is coming moments later, crying into the carpet while Harry's tongue keeps working rhythmically inside her.
Zayn deflates quickly into shallow breathing and tiny whimpers as the aftershocks continue to make her thighs shiver. For a moment, Harry's convinced that Louis is going to pin her down and eat her out. There's this hungry look in her eye, raking in the sight of Harry's body, the curve of her waist, the wetness of her inner thighs. Harry knows that look, she spends most of her days trying to draw that look out of people, this whole fucking game is about that look, and now that it's Louis looking at her that way she feels like she may have won.
Then Zayn speaks up. "Somebody's going to have to carry me to the shower," Zayn says, her voice blissful if faintly annoyed, cheek still pressed to the carpet. "My legs don't work and it's definitely not my fault."
Louis breaks eye contact with Harry and smiles sweetly down at Zayn. "I've got you, babes." Louis's pants are pulled up before Harry even figures out where hers went, and then she's helping Zayn to her feet. Zayn kisses Harry quickly before she and Louis hobble out of the chapel as one tangled mess of limbs. Louis barely glances back at Harry before they're gone. Harry flops down naked on the floor of the chapel wondering how she's been having sex twice a day but keeps ending up orgasming alone to thoughts of Louis fucking Tomlinson.
"I've got to step up my game, Niall." Harry almost chops off her thumb along with way more onion than necessary as she sighs.
"Yeah?" Niall looks up from where she's stirring the huge vat of stew. "Last I heard, you and Louis were tied."
"It's neck in neck." Harry finishes off the onion and slides it into the stew carefully. "She's just—she's like a machine. I'm an artist, I can't keep up like this." Harry pouts and rubs her eye with the back of her hand, making her eyes tear up with the strong scent of onion. Perfect. Niall looks at her pityingly.
"What do you expect me to do about it?"
"Well." Harry wipes a stray tear from her eye. "If you're offering…"
It was too easy to get the panties into the prison. Like, Harry's almost concerned for her security, wondering if it would have been just as easy to smuggle a gun or something in with the kitchen produce order.
Then again, none of the other inmates would really want to hurt her, at least not since that one religious nut had taken up the carpet-munching lifestyle for herself. Moreover, as far as Harry knows, none of the other women have ludicrously wealthy sugar mamas on the outside who still feel bad about the whole turning-Harry-in-to-the-cops thing, and are more than willing to make up for it.
And damn, does Ms. Winston make up for it. The panties are a deep red silk with soft lace trimming, nothing cheap and scratchy. Harry stuffs them into the waistband of her pants when she pulls them out of a massive bag of beans in the morning, and they stay there most of the day. Harry keeps reaching down to rub her fingers over them absentmindedly until she has time to duck away to the bathroom when she doesn't think anyone else will see her.
When Harry had first gone inside, she felt the absence of the pretty things she'd made a point to fill her life with so acutely that she probably would have cried as she pulled the soft silk up her thighs, the red accentuating the paleness of her skin and the lace hugging her hips, barely doing anything to cover her ass cheeks.
As it is, Harry's had two years to get used to the deprivations of prison life, but she still finds herself shivering as she runs her hands over the panties in the cramped little stall, and—fuck, she knows she shouldn't risk stepping out of the stall in them and having someone see her, but she just has to see herself in the mirror.
As luck would have it, the very moment that Harry opens the stall door, the bathroom door swings open and, before she has a chance to slam the door shut again, she gets a glimpse of Louis, who definitely notices her, if the way her jaw drops is anything to go by.
Harry slams the stall door shut again and keeps running her hands up and down her thighs to calm herself, not wanting to lean the lace against any of the gross stall walls. For some reason, she feels like it's her second week in prison again and she's going to have a nervous breakdown over the third day of grits in a row.
"Harry." Louis's voice is strained, laced with something Harry can't quite place. "Where the fuck did you get those?"
"Can you just—" Harry holds her face in her hands, feeling her flushed cheeks. Her smock is hanging low over the panties, but she can still feel them, and it's so nice and everything is so fucked up and she wishes Louis would just leave.
Harry hears Louis leaning against the sinks. "Come on out, let's see 'em."
Harry takes a few steadying breaths, considers the risks, then steps out again. She keeps her eyes on the mirror, barely coming out of the stall, but twisting her hips a little so that she can see her ass in the mirror. She can see Louis out of the corner of her eye, standing still with her arms crossed over her chest, and even though Harry's been living in this prison with next to no privacy for years now, she's never felt quite this naked.
"You dirty cheater," Louis says eventually.
Harry finally makes eye contact with her. "There are no rules about not using our assets. You've got that fucking eyeliner."
"My eyeliner is not in the same league as lingerie." Louis's eyes rake over Harry's naked thighs and her ass and Harry realizes that there's no reason for her not to just pull up her pants already, now that she's seen herself, but. But.
Louis opens her mouth and says just about the last thing Harry expects her to say.
"You have to share them."
Harry is so completely blindsided by the image of Louis's perfect ass filling out the skimpy red panties that she almost stumbles over. "I—I do not."
"You do, and you will." Louis sounds so sure that Harry knows she'll end up doing what she says. "Because you are a con artist with a heart of gold."
Harry glances at the door before turning a little again to admire the view of her ass. "I've barely even worn them yet."
"I'll wash them," Louis says. Her eyes are plastered to Harry's crotch and, like, Harry would be getting wet if anyone looked at her like that, so it's not like she's embarrassed, per se—but she still pulls her pants up quickly, irrationally worried that Louis will see.
"Honor among thieves?" Harry bites her lip as Louis's eyes move up to her face, and she feels another surge of wetness. Louis licks her lips and nods.
"Tomorrow," Harry promises in a soft voice. She has her own plans for the panties tonight. Plans completely unrelated to how she's committing the curve of Louis's lips as she smiles to memory.
One of the women who's been in prison for almost a decade is being released the next day, so there's something of a party for her in the rec room a few hours after Harry had handed off the panties to Louis furtively in the bathroom in the morning. Harry can tell she's wearing them from how she's smirking and swaggering around the room, but she doesn't seem to be having much luck. Harry catches her while she's leaning against the wall pouting at her most recently abandoned prospect, the frazzly red-haired middle-aged woman being released.
"How's it going?" Harry asks, trying not to smile too much at Louis's misfortune.
"Terrible." Louis sighs and slams her fist back against the wall in frustration. "Nobody knows I'm wearing them, and it's kind of hard to flash anybody in these damn pants."
Harry hums, surveying over the room full of women and wondering how many of their (proverbial) panties would drop if they knew what Louis was wearing underneath her uniform-issue prison pants.
Then Harry just starts thinking to herself about how Louis must look, and, well. She glances down at Louis's crotch even though she knows she won't be able to see anything through the baggy pants Louis's wearing, but she finds herself saying quietly, without really knowing what she means by it, "I know you're wearing them."
Louis pauses for a second, doesn't chime in with the dismissive comeback Harry expects. "I suppose you do." Louis keeps her fists clenched as she looks out on the party. "Not like you'd ever do anything about it."
Harry swallows. "You sound sure of that."
Louis waits a beat too long for it to be casual before she says, "You've had plenty of chances to get a piece of this." She turns and slaps her own ass playfully, before looking over her shoulder at Harry and smiling slightly, a little too awkwardly to be a smirk. "But for all your ass-eating, you've never gone for the best ass in this joint."
Harry's stomach drops and seems to push all of the blood in her body towards her clit. "Are you—offering?"
Louis turns back around, her shoulders slumped a little as she searches Harry's face. Harry's about to laugh the offer off when Louis says, "What's your score?"
Harry blinks. "I, uh, just broke fifty this morning."
Louis lets out a hmmph. "Who?"
Harry steadies herself against the wall and frowns, the dreamlike character of the moment she's finally going to get into Louis's panties slipping away. "Roxie from laundry."
"Dirty Roxie is who you broke fifty with?"
"She's not dirty—"
Louis holds up her hand and sighs. "Well," she says, "I'm at fifty, too."
There's silence between them for a moment, except for the thirty women hooting in a conga line next to them.
"Is that a problem?" Harry asks, her voice coming out almost hysterical. Her cunt has been through a lot in the time she's been lusting after Louis, and she's not sure it can take a single moment longer of teasing.
Louis glances over her shoulder, then heads towards the door, tugging on the bottom of Harry's shirt. "Nah," Louis says casually, "just means I might have to eat your ass as well."
Pulling down Louis's pants to reveal her ass clad in panties must be the closest thing to a spiritual experience anyone has had in the prison chapel in years.
"Fuck," Harry says shortly. She bites her lip and glances up at Louis, like she might say no even at this stage, but Louis's eyes are closed, her head tilted back, and Harry takes that as a sign that she's into the way Harry's been pawing over her impossibly golden skin like it might be the actual sun. Harry's not even embarrassed about how eager she must seem because Louis's ass is right in front of her face and it's the most incredible thing she's ever seen, round and full and framed with lace and most importantly, attached to Louis, who lets out a stifled moan as Harry's lips latch onto one cheek, biting and sucking while she kneads both cheeks in her hands, running the tips of her fingers over the silk stretched out over Louis's curves.
Louis is uncharacteristically speechless, bent over the altar in nothing but her undershirt and panties, until Harry drags her finger down the cleft of her ass, skimming over the silky red panties and approaching Louis's hole until Louis says, "What do you like so much about it, anyway?"
"Your ass?" Harry's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "'S the best one in this joint, Lou, you said it yourself."
Louis rolls her eyes and tugs on one of Harry's curls playfully. "Rimming."
"I—" Harry swallows and addresses her answer to Louis's asshole, pulling aside the red silk to expose it. It's just… pretty isn't really the word, nor cute, but Harry knows the sounds she can pull out of girls when she presses her tongue there are both of those things and she loves those sounds. "I don't know, I just… I like it. It's nice."
Louis makes a strange sound of not-quite disagreement. "It's filthy."
Harry bites her lip and rubs her thumb over Louis's puckered hole. It's clean and pink and Louis shivers a little when Harry presses down. "You're not filthy," Harry says quietly.
Louis reaches back and pulls Harry's face against her ass suddenly—not right to her hole, just shoving Harry's nose into the cleft, her cheek rubbing against the silk spread out over Louis's ass. Harry gasps and tweaks her own nipple (somehow she's the one that's ended up completely naked in all this), closing her eyes and wetting her lips. "But you are, aren't you?" Louis's voice is low, her tone confident without being aggressive, like she's testing the waters. "Filthy girl."
Harry's so aroused she's literally rendered speechless, so wet she's already making a mess of her inner thighs, and she has no response but to duck down and lick over Louis's little hole.
Louis's grasp on Harry's head loosens immediately and she falls forward a little onto the altar, pushing her ass back towards Harry. Harry spreads her cheeks with both hands and licks over her again slowly. Louis makes these soft sounds while Harry swirls her tongue around her hole that fall all the sweeter on her ears because this isn't the way Louis usually is with people, and this isn't a thing she usually lets people do to her, and that makes Harry even more eager, pushing her tongue as far as she can inside Louis just to see what kind of sound she can draw out of her. She teases Louis's rim with her teeth and Louis slams her fist down on the altar before reaching her own hand between her legs. Harry makes a loud hum of disapproval—it's finally her turn to make Louis come. The vibrations of her mouth while her tongue works over Louis's rim are enough to make Louis clench hard, and when she throws out her other hand to grip on the edge of the altar, she nearly unbalances one of the candle holders, which seems to snap her out of something because a second later she's spinning around, the panties snapping audibly back into place on her ass as she looks down with shaking thighs at Harry on her knees, her face all messy with spit.
"All right," Louis says unsteadily. "All right." She kneels down and stares at Harry's lips for a moment before kissing them softly. She tastes like prison, generic toothpaste and red Kool-Aid lip stains, and before Harry can open her mouth to share more of what she tastes like, Louis's maneuvering her onto her hands and knees, facing away from Louis. "Let's see what the fuss is all about, then."
Fuss about what, Harry almost says, because she can't believe—but, oh god, that's Louis licking over her asshole once, like she's just tasting, then again, then she digs in and swirls her tongue around Harry's rim like a pro and Louis wins, Harry decides immediately. Louis is the ultimate stud. Louis is the lesbian sex champion of the prison, or possibly the world, Harry's willing to sign whatever surrender documents Louis wants as long as she doesn't stop doing that.
"Hnnn," is all Harry can express out loud, and she leans her head on her forearms even though it feels like all her blood is rushing to her head. She shoves her ass back against Louis's face, only for Louis to pull back and smack her hard across the cheek.
"Let me take my time, baby."
Harry squawks quietly and squirms again as Louis's mouth settles back against her hole. Louis circles her rim once more with her tongue before giving Harry another hard slap on the ass, pulling a strangled moan out of Harry.
"Oh." Louis rubs her hand over where she's just slapped Harry, and Harry keens, pressing back into it. "Oh, you like that." Harry can practically hear Louis's wicked smile and she buries her face in her forearms while Louis kneads her ass with both hands and licks over her hole again. "Want me to spank you, baby?"
Harry keens, but Louis just keeps kneading her ass, like she's actually waiting for an answer. Harry swallows, tries to find words in the scattered mess of wet hot more yes clouding her brain. "There's no—hnnngh—" Louis licks her hole again. "No points for that."
Louis hums and smacks Harry again, harder, so that a thrill goes up her spine and she arches her back, pushing her ass up at Louis pathetically. "We'll just call it me being nice, then."
Harry's face is already red from being pressed to the floor for the last few minutes, but she actually feels it heat up further when Louis starts laying smacks onto her ass without stopping to sooth her between every one, the sting and heat of each slap making Harry's ears ring. It feels like all the blood in her body is rushing to her head and her cunt, dripping untouched between her legs, her clit throbbing so hard that Harry thinks she might actually come, might come just from presenting her ass to Louis like this and Louis just taking it, like Harry hasn't been taken in longer than she can remember, maybe ever. Louis's handprints are going to be all over her ass and Louis's spit is between her ass cheeks and inside her, while Harry's face is still wet from eating her out, Harry feels so claimed she might pass out if she could stop squirming while Louis pauses and licks over her hole again, fucking her just long enough to make her beg wordlessly for more with her whines before Louis goes back to spanking her.
"Like that?" Louis asks roughly after what feels like the hardest smack yet.
"Yes—fuck, please." It stings like hell and Harry had forgotten how good this could be, feeling so close to the edge that she might break and she wants to break, so badly. "D-Daddy, more."
Harry honestly expects Louis to give her a little shit for Daddy, but she's too far gone to care, she just wants. Louis doesn't give her shit, though. Instead, she starts mixing in praises between the slaps.
"Wish you could see your ass." Smack. "'S gone all—" Smack. "Pretty and red." Smack. "Won't be able to sit down tomorrow—" smack "—without thinking of me." Harry bites down on her forearm and sobs. Louis finally seems to have decided she's had enough, going back to kneading her ass tenderly, pressing wet kisses to the reddened flesh and finally, finally reaching forward to give some relief to Harry's aching clit.
"Daddy." Harry hasn't been this wet in her entire life, feels aching and open and empty. "Fuck me, please, fuck."
Louis keeps stroking over Harry's slit, trailing her finger down to tease at Harry's hole while she squirms on her knees. "Even if you'll lose, baby? Want me to fuck you that bad?"
"Yes." Is that even right, Harry thinks, but— "Don't care, fuck, just—"
Louis sinks two fingers into her without warning and Harry chokes on her words, her hands flying out to try to grip on something, clawing at the carpet and arching her back. Louis knees closer to her, so that Harry can feel her body heat against her thighs as Louis rakes one hand down her back and twists the other inside her, finding her spot immediately and leaving Harry gasping and rocking back onto her hand desperately.
"Look so good for me, kitten," Louis says, and Harry keens, stumbling to spread her legs wider for Louis while Louis presses another wet kiss to the red skin of her ass. "You bend over like this for all the girls?"
"N-no." There's nothing wrong with it, Harry thinks in the small corner of her brain that isn't totally lost in this sensation, with liking how Louis is making her feel small but important and wanted, but—but it's not like this, usually. Harry feels so naked while Louis gropes her breast with one hand, rolling her nipple between her fingers while she fucks Harry deep, constantly teasing the spot that has Harry spiraling towards coming faster than she'd like, but she still whines out, "Harder—please—"
Harry's bucking back onto Louis's hand when suddenly it's gone, and Harry clenches her fists and almost cries. Louis pets her ass and says, "Flip over."
Harry whines as she rolls over onto her back, but she can't even think of disagreeing with Louis now. The carpet feels rough against the bruised flesh of her ass, but Harry doesn't take much note of anything except Louis coming to kneel between her spread legs.
"You look so good like this," Louis mutters. She fucks her fingers back into Harry, three this time, as she kisses up the fine hair of her stomach. She gropes one of Harry's breasts and her tongue laves over the nipple of the other while her fingers work up to their previous rhythm inside Harry. Harry's thighs tremble from the greater stretch. Louis starts teasing her spot again and she's about to whine out Daddy when Louis pulls her fingers out of Harry again suddenly and this time Harry does sob, throwing her arm over her face and struggling to keep her breathing under control.
Louis moves up Harry's body, then trails a finger along Harry's lower lip. "Shame to put your pretty mouth to waste, though." Harry licks out and tastes herself on her lip and moans, jutting her chin up until Louis offers up her wet fingers for Harry to suck into her mouth. She relishes the taste and the warmth of Louis solid inside her until she's in slightly less danger of hyperventilating.
Then Louis flips around and straddles her face and Harry's lost her cool again. There's a damp spot seeping through the panties (Harry's panties, she thinks dizzily) just over the spot Harry most desperately wants to get her mouth on, but she can't pull the panties aside with Louis on top of her like this and before she knows it she finds herself begging, "please, please, let me taste you, let me—oh."
Harry bites her lip so hard she tastes blood as Louis leans down and sucks on her clit, with no preamble. Louis's cunt is an inch from her face, the scent of her wetness overpowering Harry, and she wants it, wants it so much, but with her head so closely bracketed by Louis's thighs and Louis licking all around her own drenched pussy, just processing all the sensation is taking more energy than she has to give.
"Lou—" Louis goes back and sucks Harry's clit hard between her lips for a minute. She keens into Louis's cunt, "Daddy, please—"
Louis pulls away from Harry's pussy and fuck whatever guard might be lurking just outside, Harry very nearly screams. "Eat me out good, baby." Louis smooths her hands over Harry's trembling thighs, before teasing Harry's clit with her middle finger for a minute. Harry's heels scrabble for purchase. "So I can give you your reward."
Louis nibbles on the lips of Harry's pussy, licks up her slit again, and thrusts her hips down so that the tip of Harry's nose brushes the wet spot of her panties, and that's all Harry needs to start eating her out—at least, as much as she can, with her hands trapped to her sides so all she has to work with is the leverage of her head, which isn't much, but Louis still pauses the steady rhythm of her own tongue and shudders when Harry first licks broadly over her slit through the silk. It's sweaty and slightly salty and wet. The panties are so wet that they're molded over Louis's lips, and the fabric is so silky that Harry can almost imagine it's really Louis's actual lips that she's sucking into her mouth, Louis's skin smooth and warm and wet under the ministrations of her tongue. It's more than worth the crick in her neck, to feel the panties get more and more drenched with Harry's spit and the wetness pouring out of Louis as she grinds back minutely against Harry's face, but Louis's not letting up at all on Harry's own cunt—in fact, she's pushing two fingers inside Harry again, fucking up against her spot while sucking on her clit and the pressure building inside Harry is on a whole other level. Harry mouths weakly at the sopping fabric of Louis's panties but she can't even focus, it feels like she might—
"Louis," Harry whines, voice muffled by her cunt, and then Harry's bearing down hard on Louis's fingers and coming, an unfamiliar gush between her legs, while Louis's lips are still latched onto her pussy.
When Louis turns to face her, her face is shiny wet and she's licking her fingers—licking Harry's come, Harry just squirted, oh god. She's so blissed out she can't even hold her head upright to watch Louis's eyes flutter shut as she tastes Harry's come on her lips. Harry's head falling back to the floor with a thunk.
Let Louis take Niall's fucking dildo. Even if she never uses it on Harry (Harry cringes at the thought), she's won it, fair and square.
When Harry glances back up at Louis, she is (finally) peeling off the panties and crawling up Harry's body. She swings her knee across Harry's torso and scoots up to straddle her neck.
"Gonna ride your face," Louis says. She smoothes a bit of hair off of Harry's face. "Okay?"
Harry's breath catches and she nods quickly, licking her lips and squirming a little. Her ass burns a little as it rubs against the carpet, but that actually grounds her, pulls her out of her blissful haze and makes her want to focus on giving something back to Louis. Louis hesitates for a moment, watching Harry's face carefully.
Harry pulls herself together enough to tease a little. "Even if it means you lose?" She gives Louis a sidewise smile.
Louis shoots back one of her own. "I'm going to shut you up now."
This time, when Louis sits on Harry's face, there's no barrier between Harry and the sopping, glorious heat of Louis's cunt. Harry groans immediately on contact, burying her face in it without even thinking for a moment if it feels good to Louis, just to feel her, slippery and warm against Harry's skin, everything she can see and hear and taste. Louis lowers herself farther down and Harry rests her head back against the carpet, letting Louis smother her with her cunt while Harry starts licking into it and scratching her nails down the backs of Louis's thighs. She works her tongue in zigzags over Louis's slit as Louis rocks back and forth over her face, teasing her entrance and sucking her clit while Louis's breathing grows increasingly labored on top of her and she starts clenching her thighs around Harry's head.
Louis pulls up for a second to let Harry breathe and stare down at her wet face, pawing over her own breasts. Harry moans, squeezing Louis's ass and pulling Louis's cunt back over her lips. Next time, she thinks as she wraps her lips around Louis's clit, Harry's going to run her hands up Louis's torso while she's doing this and fondle Louis's breasts herself. When Louis comes with a shout, rutting up against Harry's face so hard she can't breathe, Harry feels more fucked-out than ever, and all she can think is next time, next time.
Louis crawls off Harry's face and collapses next to her on the carpet. Harry licks the come off her lips and pants until Louis slings an arm around her middle, when she stops breathing again.
So… that happened.
"Fuck," Louis swears. Harry turns to peek at Louis's face and finds her smiling wider than she's ever seen her, and she instantly relaxes into what she's sure is a goofy grin of her own.
"I can't believe you made me squirt." Harry pokes Louis's cheek and giggles a little. "You're—"
"The best?" Louis supplies. She sounds more blissed-out than smug.
"You win." Harry sighs, pulling her arm around Louis tighter. "As long as we get to do that again, you definitely win."
Louis hums in satisfaction. Then moment later, she stiffens a minute and punches Harry's shoulder. "No fucking way. You win."
Harry pulls away a little and frowns at her. Louis flicks some of the hair out of her eyes and continues. "I'm definitely worth more points than you."
"Don't even." Harry laughs even louder than she came and tucks her head against Louis's chest. She might agree, secretly, but she won't let Louis have that that easily. Louis then tips Harry's chin up and kisses her.
That, Harry will let Louis have easily.
"Hey, sweetheart, what's your name?"
The girls whose elbow Louis is reaching for pulls away quickly. "You're not pulling me into this," she says sternly. She's been around a few days, but she's still clad in orange and acts like it, angry and jittery and a little sad.
Harry's really just interested in soothing her, is all. "Into what, darling?" she says, patting the girl's other elbow before pulling away quickly, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.
The girl bites her lip. "Grimmy warned me about you two."
"And what did Grimmy say?" Louis tucks her hair behind her ear and Harry almost wants to push Louis up against a wall herself, but that's not what they're doing here. (At least, not right now.)
"That you'd… compete over me, like. For sex." The girl huffs, then clenches her fists. "I'm engaged, you know."
"So was I," Harry says with a shrug. "Couple times."
"To a man?" The girl's words still sound harsh, but her expression softens as she takes in Harry's soft smile and Louis's hard smirk. "This is exactly what Grimmy said you'd do, talk me into lesbianism with your, like, dumb eyelashes."
Louis frowns. "Would you really trust someone who calls herself Grimmy over this beautiful face?" She strokes Harry's cheek lightly and Harry almost forgets what they're doing for a moment, closing her eyes and smiling into Louis's touch, before the new girl makes a soft sound.
"You do seem kind of…" The girl waved her hand around noncommittally. "Cuddly. For sexual predators."
"Y'know, we're all just trying to make the best of our time here." Louis keeps stroking Harry's face with the back of her knuckle, but she's looking at the girl. "And we're pretty sure we could show you a good time."
The girl takes a tiny step back, her shoulders dropping further. "Both of you?"
Harry nods. "Package deal." She kisses Louis on the cheek sweetly. "Two dykes for the emotional baggage of none. Interested?" She puts one hand on the small of Louis's back and extends her other hand.
The girl stares at Harry's outstretched hand and shakes her head. "I told you, I'm engaged." Her voice wavers just a tiny bit, but Harry hears. Harry and Louis always hear.
"Well, if anything changes…" Louis sighs and wraps her around Harry's waist. "We're in town all week."
Harry ducks out of Louis's grip for a moment to kiss the girl on the cheek. "Welcome to the hellmouth, babe. Keep your chin up."
The girl blinks at them before stumbling away without another word, looking over her shoulder at the two of them with something a little softer than alarm. "I give her a week," Louis says, probably a moment before she's out of earshot.
"Maybe a week and a half." Harry tucks Louis back against her side again. "How will we pass the time until then?"
Louis smirks. "Got a few ideas."
Harry smiles broadly, her thoughts turning to the thick purple strap-on they have hidden away in the library ceiling, the leather straps of the harness they still can't get to fit quite right but that make Louis's ass look fucking incredible while she fucks Harry long and hard (or rough or sweet or slow, but most importantly, often). They may never stop bickering over who ended the game with the most points, but at least they'll both be reaping the benefits for a long time.