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Elevator High

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“This was a dope idea,” Bebe says, grinning at Louis. It’s wide and silly, all teeth, eyes blood shot to hell as she looks at him. She’s massively stoned. He’s concerned about passing back the pipe for about two seconds before she pouts and makes grabby hands. He can’t really resist that, so he lets her have it.

He’s pretty stoned himself. Usually when he smokes he gets a buzz and chills, but Bebe keeps packing bowls while they talk and he keeps taking them, like he’s got something to prove with it.

They’re supposed to be writing, but they got so much work done in the studio the day before, there’s no pressure to actually write. Smoking up and hypothetically working on the bridge seemed like a good idea at the time, but.

Now that’s Louis’s all fucked up, he can’t stop looking at Bebe.

He already knew he was into her. It’s those eyes. Big and guileless and deep enough to dive into. And then there’s the rest of her, curvy as hell and effortlessly beautiful. And the way she’s professional but not too professional, and a real laugh, and the way she can’t seem to filter her thoughts either.

But stoned, yeah. Hanging out with Bebe stoned is terrible. He really cannot stop looking. At her eyes, heavy lidded and bright, meeting his like they’re sharing a secret when all they’re really doing is sharing her stash. The corners of her mouth when she smiles -- he likes her mouth a lot, her lips, shit.

She smells really good. Something flowery that might stick to his clothes when he goes home if only he were closer. She’s in a little slip of a dress, silky with spaghetti straps. He noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra when she answered the door, and hasn’t let his eyes drift too far down ever since.

He’s trying to be professional. Semi-professional. A gentleman. She probably gets looked at all the time. The face, the body, the way her energy is so magnetic it’s hard to look anywhere else when she’s in a room.

He reckons he’s been good up until this point, and now he’s going to blow it because he’s so stoned he can’t focus on anything except the way her thighs look when she’s sitting down.

He’s trying, though. Damn, he’s trying.

Keeps his eyes up, but his attention wanders -- over her jaw, down her throat, the smooth rise of her collarbone. Tries not to smile too wide or let his flirtiness come through. Which is hard. She keeps goading him into it, teasing him about anything and everything, and he can’t stop himself from reciprocating.

She’s fun, is the thing. Fun and beautiful, and he’s so stoned he’s aching to touch her.

She makes the decision for him, coming back from the kitchen with bottles of water and sports drinks and, inexplicably, a Red Bull. Instead of sitting like a normal person, she reclines against the armrest, dropping her legs in his lap.

Not like, her ankles. Which would make sense. Probably. Like her legs. Like her knees are right there, and her thighs are right over his. Louis’ hand twitches as he counts backwards, trying not to not give away how startled he is.

She blinks her big doe eyes at him and smiles, “this cool?”

“Yeah, don’t mind being used as a foot rest, cheers,” he says sarcastically, hand on her knee so she knows he’s joking. She giggles, high and quiet, and wiggles like she’s settling in.

It takes a bit for him to relax, but they’re watching Bob’s Burgers and it’s easy to get lost in it. That comfy stoned that’s a little sleepy and a little floaty, just the right amount of buzzin’ for him to drift off and not think about anything.

“You good?” she asks, a handful of minutes later, pressing her leg down in a way that gets his attention.

He’d been tracing silly designs on her thighs with the tips of his fingers, he realizes now. Not real high, around her knee whatnot, but. He winces.

“Soz, get fidgety,” he says, tapping a quick beat out on her leg in a way he hopes is friendly. The look on her face is careful and considering, and Louis is probably lucky he’s too stoned to get properly worked up over it.

“It’s chill,” Bebe says, another easy smile. “You can keep doing it. If you want.”

“Uhm.” Louis shrugs at her and deliberately turns back to the TV, but he can’t seem to make himself watch. Too focused on the static of his pulse in his ears and the way Bebe’s leg is fidgeting now that he’s keeping his hands to himself. He doesn’t really think about it when he wraps his hand over her knee.

Her leg stops moving, relaxing into his hold. He rubs his thumb over the soft skin on the inside of her knee, pressing his thumb into the little divot there. There’s a giggle and her leg twitches away. Louis freezes.

“Ticklish,” Bebe says. “It was better before.” The grin she gives him is sharp and knowing, and it shocks him into clarity for a moment, she knows, before he sinks back into the weed fog of it all.

Louis starts drawing on her skin with the tips of his fingers with more purpose, eyes darting between the telly and her legs. He’s half hard without thinking about it, he’s not sure if he wants her to notice yet.

When he ventures a little higher, her legs relax more. Barely obvious, but her knees go soft, giving him more room to touch the smooth insides of her thighs. He traces shapes up and down, trying not to be too blatant, but his cheeks are scorching hot, and he’s properly hard, and all he can think about is shoving the skirt of her dress up and licking her out.

This is definitely the stopping point. He can squeeze her knee and go for a wee, sit away from her when he comes back. They can laugh it off, or not even mention it. They can totally keep their hands to themselves and go on with a working relationship, but --

Her right hand drifts down and rests on her hip, deliberately sliding her dress up. Not by much, but Louis fingertips follow like it’s a command, drifting higher. Fuck.

Bebe’s already looking at him when he glances up at her, question dying on his lips when he sees her plush bottom lip caught between her teeth and the pink flush to her cheeks. Their eyes meet and she smirks at him, cocky as hell, and he really can’t say no to that.

“What’re you thinking about?” she says, after a few moments of silence. His hand ended up on the outside of her thigh, hem of her dress brushing his second knuckle. If he moved up a couple inches, he could snag her knickers.

Louis hums, stalling. He could lie or downplay it, but he’s been sat on this couch for a long, far too aware of her body, and well. “Was wondering what you taste like,” Louis says, voice rough.

Bebe’s eyes widen, and, god, it would be real easy to get obsessed with the way she looks at him. “Oh,” she says. She sounds surprised. “Is that it?”

“Pretty much,” Louis says, with a shrug.

Bebe’s face screws up cutely, nose wrinkling as she looks him up and down obviously. She shifts her leg so it presses against his cock.

“What about that?” she asks cutely.

“Wasn’t thinking about that, love,” Louis says, tightening his grip on her leg, really trying not to think about it. He’s so hard, but he just really, really wants to get his mouth on her.

“Just me?” she asks. When he nods, “All you wanna do is eat me out, for real?”

“We should stop talking about it if you’re not going to let me,” Louis says, rolling his eyes, ready to shift her legs off his lap.

“No, I --” she reaches out and grabs his hand.

It’s weird. They’ve touched before. High fives, and fistbumps, and hugs. They’ve sat hip to hip while working on a song, leaned into each other whilst standing around the video shoot. Now, he has her thighs in his lap and she has his hand, and she’s staring at him as she takes his hand and slides it up -- up until his fingers brush the soft material of her knickers.

They’ve touched, but they haven’t touched like this.

“I’d be down,” she says, smile wide and mischievous, and that makes him laugh, makes him loosen the hell up.

“Should we do this here, or do you have a bed?” Louis asks, running his thumb under the waistband of her pants. He can hear the way her breath hitches, eyelashes fluttering.

“Bed’s good,” she says, sitting up fully. He lets his hand slide down her leg again, palms her knee. Before they move, she leans in and presses her mouth to his. Her lips are so soft his stomach flutters. She pulls back, looking nervous for the first time all afternoon. “Okay?”

Instead of answering, he grabs her waist and pulls her in, kissing her roughly. The noise she makes is gorgeous, high and breathy, tongue teasing against his lips before she pulls away.

“Bed,” she says, standing. She doesn’t help him up or wait for him before she goes into the other room.

He stands, hazy and turned on, dick aching in his jeans. He adjusts himself and follows, eyes on her thick bottom, her lush thighs, the way her hips swing with purpose.

“Like what you see?” she asks once she gets to the bed, voice high and put-on like she does in interviews when she’s being sweet. She does a little shimmy, hands on her thighs, dragging them up until her dress is bunched at her hips, giving him a flash of her pale blue knickers before she drops her skirt again.

She’s laughing as she runs her hands up her body, cups her tits and winks at him playfully, making him groan when she bites the tip of her finger in a way that’s too cute to be real.

He doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone like her.

“Yeah, do,” he says. He feels like an idiot, like he can’t form a sentence when she’s like this. When she falls onto the bed and blinks her big eyes at him, legs dropping open.

Perfect for him to fit between, so he does, crawls onto the mattress and pushes her back, kisses her roughly like he has any control over the situation. He’s sure he doesn’t, but it’s nice to pretend when he’s got her under him like this.

He doesn’t spend too long kissing her. He knows he won’t be able to stop if he keeps it up. It’s making him dizzy. He wants to get to the part where he shoves her skirt up and gets his mouth on her.

He presses kisses down her throat, over her collar, finally lets himself look at her chest -- so full, nearly spilling out of her flimsy dress. One of the straps is down her arm. She’s so sexy he can’t stand it.

He cups a tit through her dress, rubs hard to feel for her nipple. She inhales and gasps when he ducks down and pulls her top away to suck a nipple into his mouth, hand on her hip to keep her pinned as she arches up. He keeps at it until her nipple is tight and swollen, pink as her lips.

“Fuck,” she groans, hand twisting in his hair tightly as he does the same to her other nipple, biting gently as she cusses at him. He leaves her like that, chest heaving, straps off her shoulders completely, top of her dress pulled down, and slinks down her body, shoving her dress up her hips properly so that all it’s really covering is her middle, fabric bunched tight.

There’s a pretty wet spot darkening the middle of her knickers, knees closing around his sides like she wants to shut her legs, but when he glances at her face, she’s propped up on her elbows, watching him expectantly.

“Alright?” he asks.

“Fuck yes,” she says, falling back with a squeak as he gets his mouth on her. The fabric’s soft and her clit’s hard under his tongue as he licks her again and again until she’s squirming, dragging his lips lower to press a kiss to where she’s damp.

His mouth is buzzing as he pulls back, sits up enough to get her knickers off. She’s shaved smooth, pussy flushed pink and rosy, peek of slick on the inside of her lips. He leaves open mouthed kisses and nips up her thighs, feels them shake around him.

She giggling and huffing, like she doesn’t know whether to stay still or demand he get on with it, but he’s too impatient to tease her, kisses her hip before he runs his thumb down her center, feeling how wet she is.

Just, soaking fucking wet.

He shoulders one of her legs and grips her thighs, getting settled. It’s probably weird as hell that he loves the musky scent of pussy when he gets between a girl’s legs, but he does, and Bebe smells good. The kind of good that makes his mouth water and his jaw ache.

He licks over her swollen clit first, hears her relieved sigh. The way she arches is lovely, hips twitching as she reaches up to palm her tits and pinch her nipples. He moans against her, so into the way rocks her hips down, pushing against his mouth like she can’t help herself.

The noises coming out of her are amazing, so damn loud, little whines and panting and groaning. One of her hands slides into his hair, pushing down with a shaky little, “please.”

He can’t say no to that.

She nearly shouts when he licks into her. She tastes so fucking good, slick thick on his tongue. She keeps her hand in his hair, holds him close to her cunt even though he definitely wasn’t planning on moving away anytime soon.

He can feel her flutter around his tongue as he gets deeper, like she’s desperate for something to fill her. He’s going to get her off with his fingers, but not yet. He wants to draw it out a bit, until she’s shaking and desperate.

He kind of loses himself in it. Figuring out what she likes, sucking and licking, over her folds and her lips, dipping into her pussy when she’s least expecting it so she groans and twitches against him, and she’s so fucking responsive -- loud as hell and moaning his name, making the crown of his head numb from the way she’s tugging his hair.

It doesn’t take long for his jaw to start aching, but he ignores it, focuses on her, the way her thighs draw up when he hits a particularly good spot, squeezing around his head. It should be uncomfortable, but he reckons it means he’s doing a good job.

Her hips lift off the bed when he gets her mouth around her clit, he grabs her arse and tilts her towards him, getting a better angle so he can lick lower, fuck into her with his tongue easier.

She’s shaking -- stomach, legs, head thrown back as she groans. It’s the best thing he’s seen all year. She keeps a hand on his head, but her other one -- she touches her chest, runs it through her hair, grabs the sheets as he moves his tongue against her quicker.

When he sinks his fingers into her, she yelps his name, hips grinding down. She’s so wet, clenching down around him. He immediately curls his fingers up, sucks on her clit as she says his name again, softer this time, shaky.

He makes her come like that, thighs trembling around his head, pussy fluttering around his fingers. He licks over her some more after he pulls his fingers out, dipping down into her to hear the way she gasps, squirming.

“Geez, fuck, Lou,” she groans, kicking at him a bit.

He pulls back with a grin, feeling fucking accomplished.

“You’re a fucking mess,” Bebe giggles, sitting up. She pulls her dress off over her head so she’s naked, beautiful and sex flushed flush, looking at him with her big eyes. She tosses it at him and he wipes his face with it.

She’s right there when he throws it aside, leaning into kiss him with a groan, chasing her own taste. His mouth is pretty numb from licking her out, his lips feel swollen, but he kisses her back, sliding his hands up her sides to grip her waist. She’s so curvy, soft, warm.

Her hand on his dick reminds him of how hard he is. He’s been really fucking distracted, but all his focus goes to his cock as she slides her hand into his trackies and palms him.

“Fuck,” he moans, trying not to do something stupid like come in his pants.

“You’re so hard,” she purrs, teeth biting into her bottom lip as she looks up at him from under her lashes. She kisses him again before tugged his shirt over his head, dragging her hands down his chest, looking him over appreciatively. “C’mere.” Bebe pulls him down, arranges them so he’s flat on his back before rolling over to the other side of the bed and leaning over the edge.

Her arse is up in the air so he grabs it, laughing out loud when she lets out a little squeak, pout on her face when she rolls back. It doesn't really last, though. She lies on her side next to him, holds a condom up.

“What do you think?” she asks.

“I’m alright,” he says. Even though his dick is absolutely fucking throbbing from how badly he wants to feel her around him. “Just said I wanted to taste you, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Bebe says, propping herself up on her elbow to look at him. “And you did so well, I think you should get to come too.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, taking the bait. “How do you want it?”

“I want you to lie back,” she says, straddling his hips, up far enough to avoid his cock. Her thighs and pussy are still all wet from his mouth and her slick, and it smears all on his stomach as she settles and leans down to kiss him. He kisses back eagerly, touches her all over because he can. Her back, her sides, palms her tits and tugs on her nipples the way she had done to herself earlier. She moans prettily, grinds down against him. It’s messy, somehow impossibly sexy. He’s so fucking hard.

“Bebes,” he says, voice rough and pleading. She seems to get the hint. Leaves a sweet kiss on his lips before moving down and tugging off his trackies. She tears the condom open and rolls it on him, giving the base of his prick a nice hard squeeze.

It takes everything in him not to come when she sinks down on him. She’s so wet. She feels amazing around him.

“Fuck,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut, grabbing her arse as she rolls her hips and finds a good angle.

She falls forward so their chests are pressed together, rocking her hips as they kiss hotly. He holds her close, clinging to her back as he plants his feet and thrusts into her hard, making her gasp loudly against his mouth.

It’s so intense like this -- all her loud noises, his name on her pretty lips, quick breathing in his ear, hands sliding into his hair. It’s hot where they’re pressed together, sweat gathering on his chest and on her back under his palms.

He just holds on tight, fucks her harder, panting into her neck as he tries to hold out. She’s getting louder, moans high and needy like she can’t help herself, fingers twisted tight in his hair. He bites at her neck, sucking a bruise into the skin just to give himself a distraction.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” she moans. She’s so fucking loud. “I’m going to come again, Louis. Keep going, fuck.” And that’s all he needs. He keeps his pace, keeps thrusting as she clenches down around him and gasps, whole body shuddering.

He finally focuses on his dick, how badly he needs to come, thrusts twice and comes inside her with a grunt.

Bebe goes heavy so he rolls them onto their side, keeping her close, face still buried in her sweaty neck.

“Really only meant to eat you out,” he mumbles. It feels like his whole body is humming, hot and exhausted and satisfied.

She laughs, loud and bright. It makes her cunt go tight around him, he tightens his grip so she stays still. “Really only meant to get eaten out,” she says, with the worst English accent he’s heard in ages.

“Christ, don’t,” he groans, untangling himself so he can pull out, tie up the condom and drop it over the side of the bed. When he turns back she’s watching him with a soft expression. He kind of wishes he didn’t fuck away the high, doesn't know what to do with the look on her face.

“Wanna crash?” she asks.

“It’s 3pm,” he says, eyebrows jumping.

“It’s called a fuckin’ nap,” she giggles, stretching with a little moan. He watches her body. He just had her and he still wants her so badly. She seems to know, with the way she’s smirking at him. “When we wake up we can do that again.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding, tongue thick. He really wants her so much, he wonders if this might be a good start. “Yeah, sounds ace.”

“Good,” she says, and shoves down the duvet so she can wiggle underneath. She makes grabby hands at him so he lies down close, lets her arrange him so that she’s on his chest, leg hooked over his hips. She’s still all wet between her legs, he can feel it on his thigh as she adjusts her hips.

She snuggles down, looking up at him with her big, ridiculous eyes. “Do I taste good?” she asks, with that put-on, extra sweet voice.

He laughs and presses a kiss to her hair. She smells like flowers. He’s going to smell like her when they get up. “Yeah, you do.”