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Pure Seduction

Liam Payne

You check yourself in the side mirror of your car, making it the twentieth time you’ve examined your own reflection since you left the house. There’s no lipstick to wipe off your teeth, no wrinkles left in your dress to straighten out, no visible bra or pantylines, nor is there a wayward hair ruining your look. You waver for a long moment, panicking a little now that you have no reason not to go into the building you’re parked behind where the sounds of muted music and revelry are filtering from. You’re being ridiculous, you know it, but you can’t help but consider getting back into the driver’s seat and peeling out of the parking lot, telling them you came down with something and couldn’t make it. They were your friends, they’d understand. Just as your hands twitch towards the door handle, your phone buzzes and you check it.
you still coming?? it’s almost 9 and I really wanna see you before I go :(
You gulp and feel utterly ashamed of yourself. The text comes from your friend Nadia, the one being honored at tonight’s gathering before she’s off to Spain for over a month with her husband for his job. She had invited you and many other people, several of them were mutual friends or acquaintances, others you only know by name, and still others you don’t know at all. But it isn’t the idea of being in a large group of people that’s making you shake in your boots, it’s really only one of those people, a man by the name of Liam. He’s tall and curly haired, green eyed and goofy, with one of the best smiles you’ve ever seen. In the handful of times you’ve been around him, he’s always been nothing short of completely sweet and nice and likable to you, but you can never help turning into a mute ball of insecurity.


Whenever you find yourself on the receiving end of his disarming gaze and trademark charm, you wilt, turning into a stammering mess of insecurity, trying to hide yourself from his piercing eyes. Each time you’d interacted with Liam, you’d gone home utterly frustrated, both sexually and with yourself. You’d finally come to a point where you could run your hands over the soft, rounded flesh of your belly, hips, and thighs without revulsion, had stopped putting off your entire life until you lose 25 pounds and fit into those ‘goal jeans’ in the back of your closet. You could get dressed on a warm day in shorts and a cute top, look in the mirror, and not feel tears prick the backs of your eyes. You were…content.
But all that self confidence was for naught the second you shook Liam’s hand and saw his brilliant smile and smelled his cologne, because while you at last felt as if you were good enough to your own eyes, there was not a chance in hell you were good enough for him. You couldn’t even begin to deny the sharp thrill that shot down your spine that first time his lips rounded around the vowels of your name, or how intensely aware of his presence you were whenever he was around. Liam was beautiful, he was sweet and witty and charismatic, and you wanted him, bad. More than you can remember wanting anyone in a very, very long time, if ever. But according to your experience, guys like him didn’t go for girls like you, no matter how nice they were, no matter how much self esteem you had. And, it was okay, you told yourself, you’d had your fair share of heartbreak and knew you’d live to see another day, but it didn’t stop you from thinking about him more than you’d like to admit, or wondering how it would feel to have your fingers tangled up with his, or guiltily think about his soft, pink lips and the promising bulge in his pants in the middle of the night when your hand is down your underwear. It certainly didn’t help you from trying everything in your power to avoid being in the same room with him.
So now here you are, standing outside of a benign looking bar but feeling as if you’re hovering on the edge of an abyss, with Nadia’s texts still buzzing in your purse. You gulp hard and remind yourself that you’re here for your friend and it’s not like you to bail on someone like that, and with a shaky hand you reach for the door.
The smell of beer and smoke hits you first, and you hover by the doorway of the unfamiliar bar for a few moments, trying to get your bearings. You’re just about to get your phone out and text her to let her know you’ve arrived and to ask where the group is when you hear a shout of your name from across the spacious room. Your head whips in the direction of whoever is calling you, just in time to see several people you know waving you over. As you make your way over, you realize that one of them is Liam and you almost trip over your own feet. Your gaze goes to the floor, unable to deal with meeting his even by accident even as you’re bombarded with hugs and greetings and Nadia, clearly already on her way to drunk, wraps her arms around you and drags you to the smattering of tables pushed together in the corner. Your eyes scan the crowd uneasily, looking for an empty chair, when a deep voice rises above the din.
“Got a seat for you right here, love.” Your insides shake along with your knees as Liam gives you an easy grin and waves a large hand at the chair he’s just stolen from another table. You can’t very well turn him down seeing as there are no other available seats and you have no suitable excuse, so on wooden legs you make your way around to him, giving him the least wobbly smile you can muster as you gingerly remove your coat. You purposely keep your eyes away from him, because despite having put on one of your very best outfits for the evening, you don’t think you could withstand whatever you might see in his face once your form is on display without your jacket hiding parts of it from view.
You sit with a rigid spine in your chair, careful not to come into any contact with his body, and you’re soon swept up in conversation. You know you have to drive but you allow yourself a drink to try and ease your nerves, and although your right side is tingling with the electricity of his presence, you’re able to laugh and chat along with the others. You even inwardly congratulate yourself on speaking directly to Liam a couple of times without falling all over your words, and you think that perhaps you might actually be able to get through the night without bursting into embarrassed, lustful flame.
You find, however, that you shouldn’t have spoken so soon.
Just as you’re relaxing into yourself, pushing to the back of your mind the heat Liam’s throwing off from his place beside you, Nadia drags her husband towards the appointed dancefloor and starts up a chain reaction in which people begin to couple up and follow her lead. You find yourself all too soon one of only a few left at the table, including Liam, and without the distraction of everyone else’s chatter around you, it’s almost impossible to stop yourself from feeling self conscious. The man himself swigs down the last of his drink, a fruity cocktail he’d been harassed about when he ordered, and then you find yourself locked under his gaze.
“I’m really glad you came tonight. You look really pretty.”You stare at him, wide eyed, just barely stopping yourself from looking behind you to check that he isn’t speaking to someone else. Eventually your brain kicks into gear, as do the blood vessels in your cheeks making them turn a bashful dark pink, and you avert your eyes to the table, fiddling with the coaster that holds your drink as you mutter a quiet ‘thank you’.
His fingers tap on his empty glass, not six inches from where your hand lies, and you can’t help but admire his long, agile fingers, the elegant lines and ridges and visible veins of his hand that you long to trace and feel on your skin.
“Do you draw?” The words fly out of your mouth before you even realize they’re in your head, and you want to bash your head into the table. Liam gives you a slightly bewildered look, but his pretty lips stretch into an attractive smile nonetheless.
“A bit, yeah.” His eyes squint at you a little. “How’d you know?” Realizing you’ve dug yourself into a hole you can’t get out of, you swallow hard and focus on not making even more of a fool of yourself than you already have.
“…your hands.”
“My hands? What about ‘em?” he lifts them off the table and gives them a critical look, as if they’ll suddenly be covered with the answers to the universe, before he glances back at you.
“They’re….well, they’re very…artistic. You have artistic hands.” By now the words coming out of your mouth sound like the ramblings of a moron, and you want nothing more than to slide out of your chair and into a black hole which will swallow you up. So much for making it out of here unscathed.
“Thank you.” Liam's voice doesn’t sound mocking, and although he gives his hands another curious look, he seems to be taking in what you’ve said with a seriousness you wouldn’t have imagined. You risk a glance at his face to find he’s studying you like an artwork in a museum, one corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Would you mind letting me and my artistic hands take you for a spin around the dancefloor?” You know your eyes go wide like saucers, your mouth falls open, and everything in your body screams at you to say no, but you can’t force the word out of your mouth. When his hand envelops yours and he pulls you to your feet and towards the other dancers, you feel like you’re watching yourself from outside of your body, watching yourself be tugged closer to Liam’s warm and solid body, watching him grin down at you as he starts to move himself in a silly but endearing way. A quirky, fun song with a good beat is playing, and despite your writhing nerves it’s relatively easy to fall into step with him. Someone behind you shimmies a little too close and bumps into you, sending you up against Liam’s chest. You gasp, looking up at him in mild horror while you try to right yourself, but Liam slides his hands up your sides and cups the sides of your ribcage, and he laughs softly down at you, mouthing ‘it’s okay’.
You’re not quite comfortable with his hands there, worried about what he’ll think of the soft pudge that remains there that you’ve never been able to work off. But he grips onto you and tugs you just close enough that your feet bump together, and in his face and smile and touch there’s neither reluctance nor repulsion. You shiver, and allow yourself to place your own hands on his upper arms. His skin is hot and smooth beneath your fingertips.
He’s holding onto you, leading you and guiding you to move with him, being silly enough to make you laugh. He mouths the words of the song to you, lyrics that speak of a man yearning for the attention of the object of his affections, wanting to treat her with the love and unconditional devotion she deserves. It’s a song you’ve heard before, distantly, on the radio, but never paid attention to until now when Liam is sliding along the dancefloor with you and grinning down at you with his hair flopping into his face and looking so beautiful and carefree. You can’t help smiling along with him, heart fluttering as you allow yourself to be swept up into the fantasy that Liam means those words to you, that his hands are on you out of his own desire to feel you and keep you close to him.
Encased in your little bubble with Liam, where your heart doesn’t hurt with want for him and you’re not constantly worried about how you look in his eyes, you let him coax you into dancing with him through two more songs. One of them is a slow, pulsing tune, meant for lovers to dance to, and when Liam presses his hand to the small of your back to pull you nearer and prompts you to put your arms around his neck as you sway with him, you truly wonder for a moment if you’re dreaming.
After the third song fades away, you finally pull yourself away from him and excuse yourself to the bathroom. The restroom is mercifully vacant when you enter and begin giggling like a schoolgirl, hands clasped over your mouth and staring up at the ceiling in wonderment. Is this really happening? You couldn’t really have been dancing with Liam, laughing with Liam, touching Liam even? It has to be a dream, it has to be. But when you step up to the mirror and touch the reflection of your flushed, exhilarated face, the glass is cold on your shaking fingertips. It’s real, Liam is really outside that door to your right, presumably waiting for you to come out and meet him. You step back a little, running your eyes and hands down your form. You don’t see what you saw in the side mirror of your car an hour or so earlier, you no longer see yourself fearful and shrinking into yourself, hiding away. You see the curves of your body in a new way, your hair falling attractively over your shoulders and against your face; you press your fingers into the sides of your ribs, right where Liam’s hands had been, and you imagine what he had felt. You, soft and warm and alive, vibrant and even inviting. You smile at yourself, at your bright eyes, and longing to be in Liam's presence one more you rush out of the restroom, eyes searching for a head of curly hair.
You find it rather easily, sitting by the bar and you head straight for him, wondering if he wants to dance again, but as you get closer to him your feet freeze underneath you. Liam isn’t alone; a friend of a friend is perched on a barstool next to him, very close to him actually, her knee bumping against his as she giggles at something he’s said. You don’t have to see Liam’s face to know the way he must look; eyes fixated on her, tongue darting out to lick slightly smirking lips, charm written all over his face. The intoxicated and hopeful gaze she’s giving him says it all. It’s the same one you know you’ve given him a hundred times. Your feet start and stop again, should you approach him again? And what would you say? It’s clear that he’s flirting with her, it’s clear that her petite and delicate features, so opposite of your own, are appealing to him. It’s clear that in the short time you were away, you had been easily replaced with someone more suited to him.
You love Nadia, truly you do. She’s been a true friend to you on many occasions, but you can’t stay another minute. You feel like you could be sick, or burst into tears at any moment, perhaps both. She’s very tipsy when you approach her to tell her you have an early day tomorrow and should really go, and although she expresses genuine sadness, she hugs you tightly (swaying a little) and tells you she’ll send you postcards from Spain. You hug her back and wonder if you could possibly go with her. Leaving the country sounds like a marvelous alternative to going home and crying into a wine bottle over something that you knew all along in the back of your mind.
You grab your purse and jacket and wave to whoever you see on your way out from your group, deliberately keeping your face turned away from where Liam and the girl (you can’t place her name and frankly don’t care to) are no doubt still engaged in a conversation full of sexual tension, and burst out in the night air. You take in lungfuls of it before you curse yourself for parking so far away from the door. Your shoes make loud, echoing signals of your retreat with every step, and it becomes increasingly hard to locate your keys in your purse, what with your hands shaking and your eyes filling with tears.
“Wait!” You whip around at the sound of your name and a plea to stop, and for a second you’re too shocked by the sight of Liam jogging across the lot towards you to even move. “What…where are you going? You’re leaving?” He comes up to you, his face looking a bit distressed.
“I…” your mouth works like a goldfish for a moment, your voice cracking. You clear your throat and shift your gaze to the ground, where his shoes are inches from yours. “Yeah, I’m leaving. I’m going home.” Before he can say anything you turn and start towards your car again, your pace quicker this time. You hear his footsteps before he appears at your side, easily matching your pace with his long legs.
“That’s a shame. You’d only just got here.” You press your lips together and don’t say anything, instead still trying in vain to find your keys. Your fingers feel cool metal and cause a jingle, and you finally triumphantly pull them out of your purse only to, of course, drop them to the ground. You curse louder than you mean to and lean down to grab them, but Liam’s hand scoops them up before you can. When you glance up at him, his eyes are wide and open and questioning and for some reason it makes you angry. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”
“I didn’t think you’d notice. You had company.” The words are curt and dry and carry enough heavy accusation to make Liam look taken aback and for you to feel an immediate flash of shame. Liam was never yours, and yet you’re acting like he’s betrayed you. There’s a wild desire to hit him, to make him hurt because of the hurt he unknowingly caused you, but looking up into his face, his mouth parted in surprised and brows pushed together in a gentle crease, you can’t bring yourself to do it. You turn from him.
“Are you talking about Sophia?” Yes, that was her name. Sophia. The sound of it and the picture of them in your head makes your fist clench. “Hey, wait, listen.” His fingers wrap softly around your wrist and turn you towards him again, preventing you from just jumping in your car and speeding away. He runs his free hand through his hair and sighs. “Her and I used to date…sort of, a while ago.” Your thoughts turn even grimmer at the notion of them having a history together. “But it’s been over for a long time and there’s nothing there. I was just talking to her, that’s all.”
“Look, it doesn’t matter,” you tell him, shaking your head and shaking him off while telling the biggest lie you’ve told in a long time. “It doesn’t matter to me what you do or who you’re with. You’re allowed to be with whoever you want.”
“But that’s you.” You stop, staring at him. You must have heard him incorrectly.
“I’m sorry, what?” Liam looks very unsure for a second before his mouth sets in a determined line and he steps closer to you, towering over you and looking down at you with softness in his eyes.
“It’s you…you’re the one that I want to be with.” You’re positive that your brain is short circuiting. “I thought you didn’t like me at first,” he continues, a little smile resurfacing while you stare in shock. “You never really seemed to want to be around me, but I wanted to be around you.” His hand reaches out tentatively and the backs of his fingers brush your cheek, and your eyelids flutter.
“But…but…” You want to say ‘but I’m not skinny’ or ‘but I’m not good enough’ or ‘but you can’t be serious’, but how can you throw his declaration, his obvious sincerity, back into his face? There’s nothing in his eyes that hints to deception, only a wondering fondness that has your insides swirling around each other.
“There aren’t any ‘buts’.” His whole hand is cupping the side of your face now, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. “I didn’t wanna push you, but you were so damn adorable talkin’ about my hands earlier that I just thought ‘to hell with it’.” He drops his hand back to his side, tucks it along with the other into his jean pockets, and shrugs a little, looking much younger than he is as he looks down at his feet. “And, I dunno, I thought we had a pretty good time dancing together, didn’t we?”
“We did.” Your voice is barely a breath, you’re certain he wouldn’t hear it if he wasn’t so close. Liam glances up at you and you realize all at once that he’s trying to plead his case to you, pouring his heart out as if he needed to do anything at all to woo you. You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of you, but you regret it when a resigned look of hurt flashes across his face. “No, no, Liam, I’m not laughing at you.” You reach out and touch his arm. “Well, I guess I am. But I’m laughing at me, too. At both of us.”
“Why?” He looks confused but takes your hand in his anyway, as if it brings him comfort.
“Because,” you shake your head, laughing again, “we managed to both have feelings for each other but both not do anything about it because you thought I didn’t like you and I thought you were out of my league.” You sober up and bite your lip, look at the hope spreading across his face. “That’s…that’s why I guess I gave you the impression I didn’t like you. I was just…nervous.”
“So,” Liam begins, his thumb stroking over your knuckles and making you shiver. “I like you and you like me, and we’ve come to the conclusion that we were both really dumb about it.” You try t laugh but you’re too distracted by the way Liam seems to be closing in on you, crowding into your space. “Where do we go from here, do you reckon?” You know where you want to go from here. His body heat is seeping into you and you feel like you’re floating at what he’s revealed to you, and he keeps glancing down at your mouth.
“I…well, I mean…” Liam grins at you, his hands fitting around your waist the way they did before, but firmer now, with more possessiveness, and you just about let yourself melt into him right there. “Whatever you want to do.”
“Right now, what I want to do is kiss you.” You swallow hard.
“Then do it.” And he does, he kisses you like you always imagined he’d kiss, but better. Liam kisses you like your mouth is his savior, and your keys slip from your lax fingers again in favor of sliding them into his silky hair. Just as your back touches the side of your car, his tongue runs along the curve of your bottom lip, and when you grant him entrance he seizes it like he’s been waiting to do it his entire life. You can’t help the moan that you let out, or the way you tighten your arms around him and yank him to you, not with the way you’ve been starving for him. His mouth is hot and wet and skilled against yours, and his hands reach around to span your back and sweep dangerously low until he’s almost cupping your ass, and you feel yourself throbbing for him already.
“We should, mm, slow down…” Liam gasps as he pulls away from you for air, licking the taste of your lips from his. His eyes are dark on your face, fingers bunching in the fabric of your dress.
“No, we shouldn’t,” you almost whimper, pulling him to you again by his shirt. You forget for a moment that you’re in a public space and wrap your leg around his, bucking your hips against his in wanton invitation, and Liam responds with a low, rumbling sound and rolling his hips against yours. He separates from you only to lavish open mouthed kisses to your neck, one hand sliding up under your dress and along the sensitive skin of your thigh-
A loud peal of laughter shatters the air, and you and Liam jump apart as a loud drunken group of bar-goers stumble from the bar. The two of you glance at each other, and you take in Liam’s kiss-swollen lips and dilated eyes. You should feel embarrassed that you’re grinding against him out in the open, but his hand is still on your thigh and you’ve dreamt about this moment for far too long to care.
Quickly, you stoop down and grab your fallen keys and purse, and once you’re straightened and trying to get the key in the lock Liam is against your back immediately. You moan softly, eyes drifting shut as he paws at you and moves your hair to kiss along your neck and shoulder. Turning the key proves to be the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life, what with Liam’s hands roaming your body from your thighs, past your hips and belly and cupping your breasts firmly, but at last the locks on all four doors pop up and you open the backseat to scramble in. He follows you and shuts the door, takes your belongings from your hands and tosses them into the front seat, and then he’s on you again. Your car has a good amount of space considering it’s compact, but Liam is tall and long limbed and you’re not exactly waifish, so it’s a bit of a struggle to find your way onto your back and accommodate him on top of you. He can’t be comfortable and yet he kisses and gropes and ruts against you, as if that’s all he cares about, and you allow yourself to be swept up into it.
You run your hands up his shirt to feel the smooth skin underneath it, spread your legs as wide as you can for him to slot his hips against yours and press his hardness against your damp center. With your tongues entangled, Liam pulls gently until your dress is high enough for him to get his hand between your legs, and the first touch of his fingers, even through your panties, is electric. You gasp and arch your back, aware of nothing but the searching pressure on your clit, the way he strokes you in teasing, languid motions. Liam watches your face intensely, watching your reaction to him sliding his hand into your underwear and letting his middle finger find the perfect pattern on your clit to make you call out his name and clutch at him like a lifeline.
“Jesus, you’re so beautiful.” He praises you as he bows over you and attaches his lips to your pulsepoint, sucking a mark that you know you’ll proudly wear for days to come. You writhe your hips for more of him, feeling yourself throbbing and practically drenched, and he lets one finger circle your entrance. He nibbles on your neck and along your jawline and you keen, digging your nails into his back. “I wanna taste you,” he breathes, pleads against your skin. “Can I?” You find yourself nodding mindlessly, despite the fact that you normally have misgivings about that. At this point you feel as if you’d agree to anything he wanted as long as he didn’t stop.
Liam gives you one more shivering, thorough kiss while he helps you to get your panties off, and then you’re scooting up to lean back against the door and watching Liam show himself to be surprisingly flexible as he positions himself halfway on the floor of the car and between your legs. He gives you a glance full of heat and appreciation, licking his lips before he spreads your thighs further apart and kisses a blazing path from the inside of your knee to where his fingers were just moments before. Curls tickling the inside of your thighs, he continues to press wet, ardent kisses around your core, until your fingers are buried in his hair and the only thing keeping you still is the grip of his hands around your hips. At last, he seems to take your whimpers and whines as a sign that he’s teased you enough, and he opens you up to him, taking a moment to see your most intimate place in all its glory before he nuzzles his way in and gives your clit a firm lick. Your body jolts, and you reach out for things to hold onto so you won’t tear his hair out, squeezing your eyes shut as he proceeds to eat you out with careful persistence. He sucks your clit, traces patterns over your clit with the tip of his tongue, guides it along the edges of your folds and outer lips, testing your reactions. You moan his name over and over, the only word you can think to form while he’s licking his way up into you and letting out little pleased hums and pressing his thumb against your clit.
Your chest heaves and your moans increase in frequency and pitch, Liam lets you press your hips up against his face, only striving to drive his tongue further inside you. His thumb moves faster over your clit, his mouth and tongue doing sinful things to your soaking pussy, and before you can warn him you’re cumming powerfully against his face. You don’t have the mental capacity to care if others can hear you crying out your pleasure from outside of the car, or to feel bad that Liam’s strong hand is the only thing keeping your thighs from crushing his head. Your body goes lax long before you actually open your eyes, trying to catch your breath and taking hazy note of how your legs feel a bit numb, and when your eyes finally blink open you see him wiping your cum from his face.
“Liam…” You find the strength to reach for him, and he crawls up into your arms. You don’t care that you taste yourself on his mouth, you just wrap your arms around him and never ever want to let go. “That was incredible,” you give him bliss-induced praise, kissing along his jaw to his ear, your hands wandering over him.
“Mm, it was my pleasure.” You can feel his satisfied grin, both at your accolades and his pun, but when you lower your hand to cup the hard, so far neglected bulge in his pants, he stops you and pulls away. “I think we should go back to my place for that,” he murmurs, laughing at your disappointed sound and kissing away your pout.
“Why?”
“Because,” he neatly pulls your dress back down and smooths his hands over your thighs, giving you a look that lets you know he’s not even close to finished with you yet. “There isn’t enough space in here for any of the things I have planned for us.” Your breath rushes out of you, your core clenching at the raspy promise in his voice. “And don’t bother putting your panties back on.”

Notes

Syn Roze

Sorry its late!!

Comments

HOW THE HELL DO YOU VOTE

I'VE BEEN TRYING TO FIGURE THAT OUT FOR WEEKS NOW! I CAN SUBSCRIBE, RATE AND COMMENT BUT I STILL DON'T KNOW HOW TO FRICKIN VOTE!!!!! ARGH!

THE STRUGGLE IS REAL!

Great Sequal!!! XD

Plz do a foursome with all the guys

KayLovesNiall KayLovesNiall
8/5/16

Please write some more soon. Your a great writer

Padaleki Padaleki
6/13/16

@Anon
P would love to help!

Mixedthoughtz Mixedthoughtz
6/4/16