Late Night Talking

The day had dragged on, filled with the droning voices of professors and the endless scribble of notes, but none of it really mattered now.

Because now, you were exactly where you wanted to be.

Your blue knit sweater lay forgotten on the floor, tangled somewhere near your discarded jeans. The air-conditioned chill of the room should have had you shivering in your bra and panties, but you felt nothing but heat.

Heat from the way your body was bent on all fours on the couch. Heat from the way Liam’s hands gripped your hips. Heat from the way every powerful thrust rocked your body forward, your ass bouncing back against his pelvis, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room.

CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!

Every collision sent a sharp, wet, delicious vibration through you, forcing your back into a deeper arch, forcing your thighs to tremble, forcing you to lose yourself in the rhythm of his body crashing into yours.

Your mind was a haze.

Not even a real collection of thoughts anymore, just fragments, sensations—Liam’s cock filling you, stretching you, hitting deep, your walls tightening and fluttering, responding to him on pure primal instinct.

And the release? Oh my god, it was incredible.

“AHH—FUCK!”

Your body had convulsed as you came, a sharp wave of pleasure crashing through you. Your limbs shook, your muscles tensed, your breath hitched in rapid, uncontrollable gasps. Every nerve in your body overloaded at once, a white-hot pleasure exploding from between your thighs and radiating outward.

But now, Liam growled behind you, feeling your pussy clench down on him, but he wasn’t stopping—not yet. He just kept thrusting through your orgasm, prolonging it, fucking you senseless, dragging you past the brink until you were whimpering.

Your eyes were half-lidded but wide awake. Your mind was seizing but electrified. Your pussy was clenching but stretching. A dizzying blend of contradictions, all culminating in the feminine pleasure of being fucked.

“Oh fuck—Luna, I’m gonna fucking cum.”

Liam’s voice came out ragged, ****.

You barely even had time to think before your mouth was already forming words, the hunger in your voice raw and immediate.

“Paint my fucking face, babe.”

Liam groaned—a low, primal sound—before you slipped forward off his cock, twisting around onto your knees on the couch, looking up at him with a wicked grin.

His hand wrapped tight around his slick cock, stroking fast, and then—

The first thick rope shot across your mascara-coated lashes, making you reflexively blink as it splattered across your cheekbone.

The second streak landed messily across your nose and brow.

The third and final shot landed against your lips and cheek, the warmth of it clinging to your flushed skin.

You could still feel the pulsing heat of his release on you as you stared up at him, your eyelashes sticking together, your lips parting to inhale the heavy musk of sweat and sex.

Liam panted hard, still gripping the base of his cock, staring down at you with half-lidded, reverent eyes.

“Holy fuck,” he finally exhaled. “You are—kinky as hell, and goddamn, do you look sexy right now.”

A slow, satisfied smirk curled on your lips.

“Then take a picture of me, babe.”

Liam blinked, still catching his breath. “What?”

“I mean it.” You tilted your head slightly, watching his bemused expression. “Take it on your snap—My Eyes Only, if you don’t want it in your camera roll.”

Liam huffed out a short, disbelieving laugh, reaching for his phone on the coffee table. “Damn, alright babe."

As he angled the phone, you arched your back slightly, shifting onto your hands and knees in the perfect pose—ass lifted, torso dipped, chin tilted just right. And just for the extra cute touch, you raised your fingers into a casual peace sign.

Liam clicked the picture, chuckling.

And then, impulsively, you murmured, “You can take a video.”

Liam paused, brows rising. “Damn, babe. What’s with the pornstar energy?”

You hesitated, suddenly a little shy. “I don’t know… validation? Memories? It just feels like—something we could keep.”

Liam studied you for a moment, then shrugged. “Not against it. But I guess this means my phone gets incinerated after the trial.”

“You have sixteen days to jerk off to this as much as you can.”

Liam smirked, thumbing open his camera. “Won’t even need to. If you’re around, why would I bother?”

You just rolled your eyes. “Shut up and take the damn picture.”

As the video started, you closed your eyes, swayed your hips a little, and threw up another peace sign—all playful, flirty.

But then—a better idea struck.

You opened your eyes, meeting the camera lens with a slow, sultry gaze, and let your finger trail across each and every splattered streak of cum on your face.

One by one, you gathered the warm, sticky ropes on your fingertip, collecting them from your lashes, your cheeks, your lips.

And then—you licked it all up.

You didn’t break eye contact.

Didn’t flinch.

Just opened your mouth, swirled your tongue over your finger, and let the thick, salty heat dissolve on your taste buds.

The last drop was the hardest—the one clinging stubbornly to your lashes. You had to blink a few times, your vision blurry, before finally swiping it away and sucking it clean.

And then, for the finishing touch, you opened wide, stuck your tongue out, and showed Liam exactly how clean you were.

The heat in his eyes turned ravenous.

“Jesus fuck, Luna.” His voice was hoarse.

You just smirked. “Thanks, Liam. I love you.”

And with that, you blew a sultry, messy kiss to the camera.

The only sounds were the faint hum of the outside world, the soft rustling of clothes as you scooped them up from the floor, and Liam’s barefoot steps behind you as you took his hand and led him toward the bedroom.

He followed easily, his fingers laced with yours, his grip firm but relaxed. Every so often, as you moved, he gave your hand a playful squeeze, his thumb idly stroking your knuckles, like he just liked the feel of you.

As you reached the bedroom, you tossed the bundle of clothes onto your own bed—the one you never used. It was really just there for decoration at this point.

Because your real bed?

Liam’s bed.

Or, rather—your shared bed.

You slipped under the covers, feeling the familiar comfort of his sheets, his scent, the slight warmth still lingering from this morning.

Liam joined you immediately, sliding in close, wrapping an arm around your waist. His body pressed against yours, his warmth settling against your back as you melted into him, your legs tangling together, your bodies slotting into their usual perfect fit.

For a moment, there was nothing but the soft rhythm of your breaths, the quiet sound of skin against fabric as you shifted closer, the little murmurs of contentment escaping between you.

And then—

“Hey,” you mumbled, tilting your head back slightly. “Show me the picture.”

Liam chuckled. “Jesus, you don’t waste time, huh?”

“Absolutely not.” You smirked, reaching over him, grabbing his phone from the nightstand. “C’mon, lemme see my masterpiece.”

He snorted but unlocked the screen, flipping open Snapchat.

And there it was.

The photo.

You. On your knees, on the couch, cum-splattered and grinning like the proudest little slut in the world.

Your eyes were half-lidded, makeup slightly smudged, your peace sign adding a ridiculous yet insanely hot contrast to the absolute filth of the image.

You grinned. “Oh my god. I look so fucking good.”

Liam huffed a laugh. “No arguments there.”

You nudged him. “And the video?”

He scrolled down and tapped the play button, the familiar sultry movements unfolding on the screen—the slow, deliberate way you had gathered his cum with your fingers, licked it all up, and then opened your mouth to show it was all gone.

Liam watched in silence, his expression unreadable, until the final frame played.

Then he exhaled deeply.

“Yeah, that’s gotta be illegal or something.”

You smirked. “What, my sheer excellence?”

“No, your absolute menace energy.”

You laughed, stretching slightly, tilting your head to press your lips to his jaw. “I dunno, I just got the idea. It’s like—what girlfriends do, right?”

Liam snorted. “Oh, totally. All girlfriends just casually record cum-covered thirst traps for their boyfriends.”

“Well, they should.” You shrugged. “We’re ahead of the curve.”

He chuckled, tucking the phone away and wrapping his arms back around you. His palm slid over your hip, resting just beneath your ribs, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles.

Then, after a pause—

“You’re not gonna wipe your face?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“There’s still, y’know… a little bit left.” His voice was amused, but his fingers lifted, ghosting over your cheek, rubbing at a small dried streak. “And your makeup, too. Figured you’d wanna clean up before bed.”

You tilted your head, giving him a cheeky grin.

“…Nah. I think I’ll leave it on.”

Liam raised a brow. “Yeah? Why?”

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice just enough to make your words drip with suggestion.

“Because,” you murmured, “it’s kinda hot.”

Liam blinked.

“…What.”

You grinned. “I mean, think about it—your cum, on my face, sinking into my skin, getting absorbed.” You batted your lashes, voice dropping into a teasing lilt. “Your essence just… becoming a part of me.”

Liam stared at you.

Then he blinked again.

And then, very slowly, he exhaled through his nose.

“Jesus Christ, Luna.”

You giggled. “What?”

“I would kiss you right now,” he said, grinning, “but you’ve got literal dried nut residue on your face.”

You gasped in mock offense. “Wow, okay, disrespectful.”

“Not my fault you’re walking around with a fucking kiss-shield.”

Your jaw dropped. “Kiss-shield?!”

“Yes.” Liam smirked. “A 100% effective, scientifically proven deterrent against excessive making out.”

You gaped at him, then narrowed your eyes in playful suspicion.

“Wait a minute.” You sat up slightly, propping yourself on one elbow. “Are you saying—if I keep making you cum on my face, we won’t spend six hours a day making out?”

Liam’s grin widened. “Exactly.”

“Oh my god.” You squinted. “I have cracked the fucking code.”

Liam burst out laughing, rolling onto his back as you dramatically flopped onto his chest.

“This is it,” you declared. “I have found the loophole. The ultimate anti-makeout strategy.”

Liam wrapped an arm around you, shaking his head. “You are so fucking unhinged, I swear to god.”

You smirked, lifting a brow. “And yet—you love it.”

Liam exhaled, tightening his arms around you, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.

“…Yeah.” His voice was softer now. More serious. “I really fucking do.”

Your heart did a stupid little flip.

You pressed your face into his chest, hiding your smile.

For a few moments, the laughter faded into something gentler. The room dimmed, the air settled, and the warmth of his body lulled you into comfort.

The night wasn’t over yet.

But for now, you just wanted to bask in this.

The room was warm, wrapped in the kind of quiet that only came after laughter.

Liam’s arms were still snug around you, the weight of him steady and comforting, his fingers tracing absent-minded circles against the small of your back. The warmth of his skin against yours, the way your body fit perfectly against his—none of it felt temporary.

But it was.

You both knew it.

Just over two weeks. That was all the time left before this entire thing—the sex, the closeness, the relationship, him—was supposed to just… end.

Liam broke the silence first.

“Hey.” His voice was quiet, hesitant. “…You been talking to Richard?”

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift.

Then, after a pause, you nodded. “Yeah. We’ve been texting.”

Liam hummed, his fingers slowing. “…And the last one?”

You hesitated. Just for a second.

Then you exhaled. “I was thinking about going to the sorority house.”

That got his attention.

“You’re just gonna—what?” Liam tilted his head. “Knock on the door and be like, ‘hey, ladies, who wants to raw me for a good cause?’”

You laughed. “No, dumbass. I’ll figure something out. Maybe go to one of their parties, see if anyone’s interested.”

Liam didn’t say anything at first.

And that was bad.

Because Liam was a talker. If he wasn’t immediately hitting you with some sarcastic quip, it meant he was thinking. And if he was thinking, that meant he was about to start asking questions.

Questions you didn’t really feel like answering.

Like—why you still hadn’t made a solid plan. Or why you’d been so hesitant to actually get this last one over with. Or why, after weeks of jumping through hoops to finish the trials, you were suddenly acting so weird about it now.

So, before he could say anything, you changed the subject.

“God,” you exhaled, flopping onto your back. “Just over two weeks left, huh?”

Liam let you redirect him.

“…Yeah.” He stared up at the ceiling, his thumb still idly stroking your hip. “And then we’re supposed to just—forget everything.”

There was a pause.

Then you smirked. “We really fucking hope we forget.”

Liam snorted. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“Like—we don’t have a plan.” You turned your head to look at him. “No ritual, no spell, nothing. What happens if we don’t forget?”

Liam groaned. “Then we are going to be the most awkward best friends of all fucking time.”

You grinned. “Seriously. Imagine just hanging out, watching a movie, and suddenly—oh, shit, we both remember that one time you came on my face and took a video of it.”

Liam covered his face. “God.”

“Or, like, trying to go on dates.” You waved a hand. “And then mid-date, you just have a flashback of me sucking your dick.”

Liam wheezed.

“Fuck, no,” he groaned. “That would be awful. Imagine you're fucking some girl and then—FLASHBACK—you remember taking dick instead of giving it.”

You rolled onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. “I might have to… y’know.”

Liam raised a brow. “What?”

“…Become a femboy.”

Liam stared at you.

You nodded solemnly. “Or, y’know, be your sexy little trans girl.”

There was a pause.

Then Liam burst out laughing.

“Ohhh, that’s what you’re saying now,” he said between chuckles. “But after this is over, you’ll have your guy thoughts back.”

Your mouth opened. Then shut.

…Shit. He was right.

The moment you switched back, your perspective would shift with it. This whole… relationship with Liam, the things you did, the things you felt—they’d all be from your original mindset again.

And maybe—maybe that was what scared you. Maybe that was why you kept dodging the truth. Because deep down, a part of you was terrified that when this was over, when you switched back.

And so, instead of responding—instead of lying—you just slipped out of bed.

Liam frowned, confused. “Uh—where are you—”

You grabbed a makeup wipe. You wiped your face. Quickly. Deliberately.

And then, before he could process what was happening, you climbed back into bed, grabbed his face, and kissed him.

Deeply. Desperately. Like you were drowning in thought, and he was the only thing keeping you above water.

Liam didn’t hesitate. His hands slid into your hair, his body pressing closer, his lips moving against yours like he belonged there. Like kissing you was the most natural fucking thing in the world.

When you finally pulled away, you didn’t give him a chance to speak. You just met his gaze, half-lidded, breathless, hazy. And you smirked.

“…That’s the only way I know how to make you shut up.”

Liam blinked.

Then huffed a laugh. “Cheater.”

The silence between you stretched longer than it should have.

Liam’s arms were still around you, his body still close, still warm. You could hear the faint sound of his breathing, steady, calm. Like he had already settled in for the night.

You hadn’t. Your mind was too loud. And the more you thought about it, the more restless you became.

“…Liam.”

You felt him hum in response, the vibrations soft against your skin. You hesitated.

Then, quietly—seriously—

“What’s the point of all this?”

Liam stiffened. “…What?”

“This.” You swallowed, suddenly aware of how fragile your own voice sounded. “What’s the point? If this is all just gonna disappear in two weeks—why are we doing this?”

Liam pulled back slightly, enough to look down at you. “Luna—”

“I mean, think about it.” You exhaled. “We’re going to forget everything, right? That’s the plan? Some divine intervention, some memory wipe, and then—poof. We’re back to being bros. Back to normal. Back to just friends.”

Liam was quiet. You kept going.

“And, like—it’s not that I don't want that,” you added quickly. “I definitely do. When I go back to being a guy, obviously I’m not gonna wanna—” You waved a hand between the two of you. “This.”

Liam snorted. “Yeah, no shit.”

“But that’s my point,” you said. “Why are we doing this at all if it doesn’t even matter? If it’s not gonna last?”

Liam didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he stared at you, his brows furrowed like he was choosing his words carefully.

Then, after a moment—

“…Why does it have to last to matter?”

You blinked.

Liam sighed. “Look, I get what you’re saying. Really. But—not everything has to be permanent to be real.” He ran a hand through his hair. “People break up. People have flings, one-night stands, summer romances—all that shit. They don’t last forever, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t mean something while they were happening.”

You bit your lip.

Liam turned onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I dunno, man. Maybe it’s just human nature.” His voice was softer now. “Knowing something won’t last doesn’t stop us from wanting it.”

You exhaled. “Yeah, but… we won’t even remember it.”

Liam went quiet.

That was different. A breakup, a fling, a summer romance—at least you get to keep the memories. But this?

It was like it never even happened. And that was what scared you in this moment. Liam must’ve seen it on your face, because after a second, he turned his head to look at you again. His eyes searched yours.

Then, voice softer—gentler— “…Would you rather forget?”

You opened your mouth. Then closed it. Because you didn’t know.

If you forgot, then—well. It wouldn’t hurt. You wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness, the regret, the complicated emotions that came with knowing you had been in a relationship with your best friend.

But if you remembered… You swallowed.

“…I don’t know.”

Liam exhaled. Then, after a beat— “…Me neither.”

Silence. Then—like he could sense the conversation getting too heavy—Liam grinned.

“God, this is depressing.”

You laughed. “A little bit.”

“You sure you don’t wanna just fuck again?”

You shoved him. “Shut up.”

Liam chuckled, rolling back onto his side and wrapping his arms around you again. “I’m just saying.”

You rolled your eyes, but you let yourself relax into his warmth, closing your eyes for a moment.

The weight of his arms, the way he pulled you closer—it felt safe.

It felt real. And maybe that was enough. For now.

You tilted your head up, catching his lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

Liam sighed into it, his fingers pressing into your waist as he deepened it, his body molding against yours with a familiarity that made your stomach flip.

For a second, neither of you pulled away. But then—

Liam groaned against your lips. “We have to stop.”

You smirked. “Why?”

“Because if we keep going, we’re gonna keep going.”

You huffed a laugh but pulled back, reluctantly.

Liam exhaled. “Jesus.”

You chuckled, rolling onto your back and stretching. “I should change.”

You started to shimmy out of bed, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra—

But before you could get up—Liam caught your wrist.

You paused.

“…What are you doing?” he asked, voice small.

You blinked. “Uh. Changing?”

Liam frowned. “Don’t leave.”

Your heart skipped.

“…Liam.”

“I mean—” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I dunno. Just...don't go.”

You gave him a look. “I am coming back.”

“Yeah, but you’re about to go for a second.”

You blinked. “I can’t sleep in a bra, babe.”

Liam’s lips twitched. “Then sleep topless.”

You scoffed. “That’s not exactly comfortable either.”

Liam shrugged. “So you can sleep in a bra?”

You raised a brow. “You want me to sleep in a bra?”

Liam smirked. “Seeing you in that in the morning might make me wanna fuck you.”

You laughed. “Okay, fine, I’ll sleep in the bra for you, my man.”

Liam grinned.

“…With the added side bonus that if we wake up horny, I might get fucked.” You smirked.

Liam groaned. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You both laughed, the sound easy, warm. Then, after a moment—

Liam leaned in. You met him halfway, kissing him slow, deep. When you pulled back, your voice was soft.

“…Love you.”

Liam’s fingers brushed your cheek.

“Love you too.”

And this time, when you curled up against him, feeling the warmth of his body, the rhythm of his breathing—

You let yourself believe it.