T-Minus 3

The phone camera was already rolling, propped up just right on the nightstand, angled to capture everything. The dim glow of candlelight flickered around the room, casting golden shadows over your body and Liam’s, the phone on the stand recording steadily—immortalizing this moment.

Three days left. That was all you had before everything might change.

Would you forget? Would reality reset and forget any of this happened? Would all these whispered confessions, tangled sheets, nights where Liam held you close and fucked you deep—would it all be erased like it never happened? You didn’t know. Maybe you’d wake up as strangers again, just best friends with lingering echoes of something neither of you could place. And if that was the case, then this video wouldn’t even matter.

But if you couldn't make that happen?

Well. At least Liam would have something to jerk off to.

The phone’s lens caught everything—the way your body curved beneath him, the way Liam’s hands spread over your hips, strong and possessive. The slow, steady motion of your bodies moving together, your lace-clad frame taking him from behind, thighs trembling, lips parted as moans spilled out freely.

Your lingerie was made for this—the camera loved it. Delicate black lace wrapped around your frame, clinging to every curve. The bottom half was practically nothing, just a thin, scalloped band of lace that dipped between your cheeks, barely there, doing nothing to hide the way Liam was buried inside you.

And God, he looked good too—shirtless, muscles flexing as he thrust into you, the contrast of his rough grip against your delicate lingerie so utterly filthy.

"Mmmf, fuck, babe… You’re gonna love watching this back," you purred, pushing back against him, making sure the camera caught the way your ass rippled with every deep thrust. "Look at me, Liam. Look at how fucking good I take you."

Liam growled low in his throat, one hand trailing up your spine before gripping the back of your neck. "You love this, don’t you?" His palm skimmed down, down, before coming down hard against your ass with a sharp slap.

You gasped, arching under his touch, eyes locking onto the lens. "Mmm—harder," you purred, voice dripping with wicked delight. "Come on, babe. Make me feel it tomorrow."

Liam smirked. "Oh, you are," he muttered, bringing his palm down again, watching the way your skin turned pink beneath his touch, the way you moaned for it. "Fuck, you’re so goddamn sexy. You were made for this."

"Damn right," you breathed, tossing your hair over your shoulder, knowing full well the camera was catching everything. The way your body bounced, the way your lingerie barely clung to you anymore, straps slipping, lace shifting with every thrust.

Liam’s grip tightened on your waist, his rhythm growing rougher, more deliberate. "Gonna give me a show, baby? Say something for the camera," he rasped, voice thick with heat.

You grinned, tilting your head just enough for the phone to catch your flushed, pleasure-drunk expression. "Mmm, you like watching me take it, don’t you? Look at you, fucking me so deep, stretching me so good. You’re ruining me, babe—"

"Fuck," Liam groaned, his pace stuttering for a second before he slammed back into you, making you cry out. "God, you sound so _fucking perfect _when you talk like that."

"Mmm, then keep fucking me like this, baby, don’t stop— just like that, just like that," you gasped, fingers gripping the sheets as pleasure curled hot and tight in your belly.

Liam’s breathing turned ragged, his thrusts growing erratic, his grip bruising against your hips. "Shit—gonna—fuck— babe—"

His whole body tensed, his groan rough and deep as he finally spilled inside you, hips pressing flush against your ass, fingers digging into your skin as he emptied himself.

The sensation made you shudder, your own body trembling as you let out a breathless moan, feeling every pulse, every warm, sticky drop filling you up.

The phone was still recording, capturing it all—the way you both stayed tangled together, panting, skin damp with sweat, bodies flush.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was your breathing, the faint hum of the camera still rolling, the distant crackle of candlelight in the background.

Then, finally, Liam let out a spent, satisfied chuckle, pressing a lazy kiss to the back of your shoulder. "Damn…" he muttered, voice hoarse. "We should’ve done this sooner."

You smirked, shifting just enough to glance at the camera before giving him a knowing look. "Oh, babe, we still have two more nights left."

Liam exhaled a laugh, reaching over to grab the phone, flipping it around to check the recording.

The screen was still filled with the image of the two of you, bodies tangled, skin glistening, eyes dark with heat.

And just like that, the moment was saved, locked away in digital memory. Whether reality would erase it in three days? That was another question entirely.

Your body hums with warmth, still trembling from the aftershocks as you push forward, feeling Liam slip out of you with a slow, wet drag. You let out a breathless sigh, collapsing onto your back, the sheets sticking faintly to your damp skin as your body melts into the mattress. The air is thick with heat, heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, the lingering traces of Liam all over you—_i_nside you.

Liam is still looming above, chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths, his body glistening in the dim light. His eyes, hooded and hazy, stay locked onto you—watching. Always watching, even now, even in the lull after the storm. There's something about the way he looks at you like this, dazed and satisfied but still wanting, that makes a slow smirk tug at your lips.

You feel it. The heat pooling between your thighs, the lazy trickle of his release slipping out of you, making a mess of your skin. It’s instinct at this point—your fingers drift down, gliding through the slickness, teasing over yourself with a slow, deliberate touch. It’s dirty, it’s intimate, but more than anything—it’s his.

Liam exhales a slow breath through his nose, his gaze darkening as he watches you, sees the way your fingers gather the mixture of your pleasure and his, sees the way you lift them to your lips. You don’t break eye contact as you part your lips, sucking your fingers clean with a slow, indulgent motion, letting your tongue flick over them before pulling them free with a soft, satisfied hum.

It had become tradition over these last three weeks. You liked tasting him—only him. Because it was Liam. And Liam? He fucking loved watching you do it.

His lips part, something unspoken flickering behind his eyes—half amusement, half raw, lingering hunger. "Still obsessed with yourself, huh?" His voice is lazy, teasing, but there's that familiar edge beneath it, the one that tells you he likes this, even if he’s pretending to roll his eyes at you.

You smirk, dragging your fingers down your stomach before turning your head to look at him properly. "Nah. Just obsessed with you."

Liam lets out a breathy chuckle, finally shifting to collapse beside you with a satisfied grunt. His arm flops lazily across his stomach, his skin still flushed, glowing in the afterglow, muscles slack and spent. He tilts his head toward you, his gaze warm, heavy-lidded. "Yeah, yeah. You just like putting on a show."

You lick your lips, shifting onto your side so you can trail a slow hand down his chest, fingertips tracing over the faint ridges of his abs. "Only for you."

Liam hums, head tipping back slightly, letting his eyes flutter shut for a moment. "Lucky me."

You grin, dragging your fingers lower just to watch his stomach twitch. "Yeah. You are."

For a moment, the room is quiet—just the sound of your slowed breathing, the occasional shift of sheets, the soft crackle of candlelight flickering somewhere in the background. The air smells like you and him and this, and you love it. You love this—the laziness of it, the warmth, the ease of just lying here, tangled together in the aftermath of something that shouldn't feel this right but does.

Liam turns his head slightly, cracking one eye open, lips curling into a smirk. "So, if we forget all this in three days, does that mean I'm never gonna remember the best sex of my life?"

You laugh, nudging him with your elbow. "Best sex of your life? You really love it."

"Do I?" He lifts a brow, tilting his head with mock curiosity. "I don't know. Maybe I'll come out of this curse thing all innocent and pure."

You snort, rolling your eyes before propping yourself up on one elbow, your fingers continuing their slow, teasing exploration of his stomach. "Oh, please. If you saw this version of me after the curse, you'd probably still want to bend her over a table the second you laid eyes on her."

Liam grins, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear before resting his palm against the side of your face. "Fair point."

Your smirk softens—just a little—as you nuzzle briefly into his touch before playfully biting at his thumb. His laughter rumbles through his chest, warm and low, as he lets his hand drop back onto the bed.

The conversation continues, easy and teasing, a mix of flirtation and banter, of playful jabs and underlying something—something that makes your chest ache in a way you don’t want to think about.

Because the thought lingers at the edge of your mind—if the curse really does erase all of this, if the memories are wiped clean… would you want to remember this?

Would you want to remember him the way you do now?

Would he want to remember you?

No, you were going to go back to being Lucas, obviously. So, the answer is obviously no.

But right now, there’s only this—this warmth, this laughter, the way Liam’s hand lazily drifts down your back, fingers teasing at your hip. And the way he shifts just slightly beneath the sheets, the subtle twitch of muscle, the unmistakable press against your thigh.

Your lips curl into a knowing smile. You had a very fruitful two days ahead of you, surely.

Liam shifts beside you, his arm draping lazily over your stomach as he settles in, the heat of his body seeping into yours. He’s still catching his breath, though the edges of his exhaustion are giving way to something softer—something playful. His fingers trace idle circles on your hip, a slow, absentminded motion, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

You smirk, letting your fingers trail up his stomach in return, teasing over the dips and ridges of muscle, and then dragging lightly over his ribs just to feel him twitch. "You know," you muse, shifting slightly closer, "for someone who was supposedly going to be ‘scandalized’ by all of this once the curse is over, you sure don’t act like a guy who wants to forget it."

Liam snorts, tipping his head back against the pillow. "Yeah, well… I think present-me and future-me are gonna have some differences in opinion." His lips quirk, and his hand drifts lower, squeezing at your waist. "But hey, if I do forget, at least I’ll still have a vague subconscious urge to bend girls over something. That’s comforting."

You let out a breathy laugh, rolling your eyes. "How romantic."

"Oh, sorry," he says, grinning. "Was that not heartfelt enough for my temporary girlfriend?"

"Temporary," you echo, wrinkling your nose at the word. It shouldn’t sting. But somehow, in this moment, it does.

Liam seems to catch the shift in your tone, because his grin softens. "Hey, you know what I meant. I like this. I like us. You know that, right?"

You swallow, forcing a smirk back onto your lips. "Yeah, yeah. You’re obsessed with me. It’s okay, you don’t have to keep saying it."

"Damn right I’m obsessed with you," he says easily, like it’s just a fact. His hand slides up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. His voice is quieter now, the teasing gone, replaced by something warmer. "I love you, you know."

The words settle between you like a slow, creeping heat. It’s not the first time he’s said it. It’s not the first time you’ve said it. But something about it feels heavier now.

So you swallow down the lump in your throat and **** your voice to stay light. "Pfft. I knew that already." You grin, nudging his nose with yours. "You’re obsessed, remember?"

"Oh, absolutely." Liam smirks, rolling onto his side and slinging a leg over yours, trapping you beneath him. "I love you so much, I might just have to keep you as my little sex pet forever."

You snort, shoving at his chest. "Ew. You’re ruining the moment."

"No, no, hold on," he says, shifting his voice into something deeper, something overly dramatic. "I love you more than words can say. More than life itself. I would die for you, my darling. I would—"

"—shut the fuck up," you cut in, laughing.

Liam grins down at you, eyes crinkling at the edges, and something about it makes your heart clench in a way you really don’t want to analyze. You reach up, brushing a stray curl out of his face, your fingers lingering in his hair. "I love you too," you say, quieter now, softer. "Even if you are an idiot."

"Yeah?" he murmurs, leaning into your touch. "How much?"

You pretend to think about it, biting your lip. "Mmm… enough that I might consider keeping you as my sex pet forever."

Liam barks out a laugh. "Oh, so now it’s not gross?"

"Double standards. Deal with it."

His lips curl, and for a moment, there’s nothing but warmth between you. But then—then the reality of it sneaks in, sinking beneath your ribs like a slow ache. Three days. Three days and then… what? You won’t have this anymore. You won’t have him. Maybe you’ll remember. Maybe you won’t. Maybe this will all just… stop existing.

Your smile falters.

Liam notices. Of course he does. His fingers tighten slightly on your waist, his brows drawing together. "Hey. What’s wrong?"

You take a slow breath, trying to keep your voice even. "I just…" You shake your head, suddenly feeling so fucking stupid. "I don’t like the uncertainty, Liam."

His expression shifts, something in his face tightening. "I know."

You swallow hard, looking away, staring at the ceiling like it might have answers. "What if we do forget? What if everything just—poofs? And we go back to normal and we don’t remember any of this?" You blink rapidly, hating the way your throat tightens. "I just want to know. I don’t want the awkwardness of remembering this and being just… just friends."

Liam exhales slowly, shifting so that he can press his forehead against yours. "Hey," he murmurs. "Look at me."

You do.

His hands cup your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones, and his eyes are warm, steady, the kind of grounding you desperately need right now. "Even if we forget," he says, voice quiet but firm, "I don’t think we’ll ever stop being us."

Your breath shudders out of you. "But what if it's awkward and we stop being friends?"

"Then we find a way," he says simply. "Because it’s still me, and it’s still you. And if you think for a second that I wouldn’t wanna be your friend despite all this shit, you’re dumber than I thought."

You let out a shaky laugh, swiping at your eyes. "Wow. You sure know how to flatter a girl."

"It’s a gift," he says, grinning, but the warmth in his gaze doesn’t fade. "Look. Maybe in three days, we’ll wake up and everything will be different. Maybe we’ll forget. But right now, we’re here. And I love you. And that’s real, okay?"

You bite your lip, nodding. "Okay."

"Good." Liam presses a kiss to your forehead, then another to your nose, and then—then he kisses you properly, deep and slow, something that tastes like reassurance, like a promise you don’t quite have the words for.

When he finally pulls back, his lips twitch into something teasing. "Now, are you done being a crybaby, or do I have to keep comforting you all night?"

You scoff, swatting at his chest. "Fuck off, you love me when I’m a crybaby."

"Damn right I do," he murmurs, pulling you closer. "I love all of you."

And just like that, you’re melting all over again.