Long chapter ayeeee
***
Ladies leave your man at home
The club is full of ballers and their pockets full grown
And all you fellas leave your girl with her friends
'Cause it's eleven thirty and the club is jumpin', jumpin'

___

"Welcome back."

Rory smirks as Desirée returns to their table in the pub, her fingers hooked loosely through Luke's.

"Well," Kezie looks up from whatever Calum had whispered in her ear. She's grinning broadly, "look who it is."

Desi narrows her eyes as she slides beside her in the booth. "Say. Nothing."

Rory laughs. "I'm just glad you're back," she jerks her thumb towards Ashton, "We're tired of being third and fourth wheels to those two."

He nods. "So fucking annoying."

"Them," grins Rory. "They're annoying," she points to Kezie and Calum. "Not me."

Ashton grins, smiling fondly at her. "What she said."

Luke side-eyes Ashton. "Seems like someone made a friend."

He chuckles an adorable high-pitched chuckle.

"Eew," Desirée wrinkles her nose. "Another person like Rory? I don't think I can handle that."

"Too bad, bitch," she replies, to which the entire table laughs. "Too fuckin' bad."

"So..." Kezie claps her hands together, "I've been thinking..."

Calum throws his arm around her shoulder. "Thinking...Okay, yes."

She laughs, elbowing him. "Shut up."

Rory looks up from her phone, her thumbs flying as she texts Asmaa.

GAG ME BItCH KEZIE AND CALUM EW

"Since we don't work tonight," Kezie continues, "and we haven't had a Friday off in like, ages..."

"Yes." Desi nods, "True."

"Let's go out tonight!" She exclaims. "Asmaa's working so our baby can't come but...?" She looks around at the table, "I'm sitting here with like, all the friends I've ever had and I think we should go out," she smirks, "Get drunk. Have a time, yeah?"

Luke squeezes Desirée's hand beneath the table, as if no one else can see, "You wanna go?"

"I mean..." She shrugs, "It's been a long time since we went out like, for us."

"So...?" Kezie leans against the table, "that's a yes?"

"I haven't been to a club since Phoenix," Ashton grins, "So it's a yes for me, mate."

Rory snorts, "Obviously I'm down."

"Me too," Calum reaches across the table to high-five her, "S'a yes for me too, babe."

"Yay!" Kezie claps her hands together again, bouncing excitedly.

"Hey," Luke begins, "you think we can invite some of the other lads tonight? Like, some other friends?"

"Oh yeah," Calum nods, "I know Ni's free. So is Michael."

"And Haz," Luke nods too. He looks between the girls, "Can they come too?"

Chikezie, Desi, and Rory all shrug.

"More the merrier and shit," Rory replies.

"Y'all know I don't give a fuck."

And Luke laughs softly in Desi's ear. He whispers as if no one else can hear, "That's my girl..."

"Yay!" Kezie bounces excitedly again. "Yay to not giving a fuck!"

And Rory can't help but giggle.

"Okay, where we going?" Desirée grabs for her phone, despite the color rising up her cheeks and the way she's fighting her obvious affection for this boy holding her hand beneath the table, "What even is going on tonight?"

"Since I'm a professional," Rory grins, "I've got an idea."

There's a party tonight.

One thing about working at Phoenix was that the girls were almost always aware of the London party scene.

They met so many people and promoters and deejay's and club owners and club frequents that they always had a plug; they could always call a favor, and people would always respond. And because they were blessed with 'pretty privilege,' nine times out of ten, they were blessed with tables and bottle service and rarely, if ever, had to pay.

On a Friday or Saturday night, nearly all of the city was clamoring to be at Fabric, a huge, legendary nightclub in Farringdon that often housed some of the most popular deejay's in the music industry. Tonight was no exception, and Calvin Harris was the header so why not go, right?

Especially if they were getting in for free.

And it's hella crowded inside when they're led, that night, into the club.

"The guys'll meet us later," says Luke, because apparently, their friends were on their way or something.

"Tell them to say my name at the door," she calls over the music, "and they'll get in free."

Luke grins, his dimples popping. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

She liked Luke.

She liked Calum, too.

And Ashton.

Honestly, she heavily fucked with the guys who liked her girls, and she was really trying to find something to dislike. Now, though? She wanted Desi to open up. She wanted Calum to get over Phoenix. Based on the things she'd heard about both couples, she was pulling for both of them to move forward. The boys were sweet and funny and had welcomed her into this circle. It was like their crew had expanded in ways, and she was fucking with it.

She was fucking with them.

And they were having fun at Fabric. Her plug; a promoter, has hooked them all up with bottles tonight, so there's plenty to drink. Not to mention, she's lit from the drinks at the pub and now, she's drinking more and laughing loudly and dancing to the beat because they're playing Top Hits in honor of Calvin Harris instead of the house music she hated. It's shaping up to be a good night. Ashton is cute and single and cute. And he's funny and he's got an accent too and he's pouring drinks for her and he's not flinching each time she backs her ass up against him and starts dancing to the beat.

The only thing that could make this night better was Asmaa.

But, her baby keeps texting her from the library, so Rory does her best to keep her bestie in the loop.

And it's about an hour and a half into the night when Calvin comes on and Luke taps Rory.

"They're here."

She's nodding drunkenly, assuming that Luke means his other friends coming to join them.

"I'll go get 'em."

"I'll come," adds Desi. And Ashton goes too as Rory's plug, whose name is Victor, approaches.

He points to the empty bottles as her friends leave her at their makeshift table. It's so crowded that they're really up against a thin bar along the side wall of the warehouse.

"Empty?"

She nods. "And we've got more coming."

"Say less," he nods. "I've got you."

And he comes back with more bottles.

By the time her friends come back with their friends, Victor has come back with more drinks and thirty minutes into Calvin's set, Rory realizes that the world is really really fucking small and that she is really fucking drunk.

Correction: Rory is drunk off her ass.

So drunk that faces are blurry and lights are dancing and the music is making her feel some type of way. It's later in the night, and she finds herself crowded, dancing, sandwiched between a stranger and one of the boys' friends who has decided to stay back with her and the bottles as the rest of everyone else has gone off to dance in the center of the crowds.

She sways to 'Feel So Close,' and receives a smile from the tall...what's his name? She definitely knew but names are escaping her and his face is swimming in her eyes.

She nods at him.

Whatever his name is.

He grins, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

It's a turn-on, she can't lie.

"You," she says.

"Hey," he replies.

And out of nowhere he leans forward; he kisses her.

And damn Rory and damn her fucking horny ass, she kisses him back. She leans into him, thankful that it's super crowded and they weren't the only ones making out to Calvin Harris in the club.

How the fuck did this happen, though?

The question is in and out of her mind. He slides towards her, pushing himself against her, pressing her back against the wall, allowing her to place her hands upon his shoulders and rest her weight upon him as she sways drunkenly to the beat.

This man lifts his left hand to her jaw, caressing her cheek gently.

He bites his lip, almost as if trying to contain a smile.

The music is loud, so Rory barely makes out his words.

"...can't believe this is happening."

She catches enough of them to grin. She's drunk as hell, it's dark, the music is loud, she's hella horny, and she's drunk as fuck, so lights are flashing in her eyes and her alcohol goggles are magnified by like, a million, so whoever this man is, he looks like someone she's about to take home tonight.

He kisses her hungrily.

"So beautiful," he murmurs against her lips, and Rory moans, those words of his turning her all the way on. "...s'more than I imagined..."

"Your place or mine?"

This question is what makes her take a cab with this borderline stranger and head to her flat.

Damn, she hoped Asmaa was with Zayn.

She struggles from the cab to her place; she's always leaving her car places, damn. But, it's taking a long time for them to get inside and into the elevator and down the hall towards her place because of this man she's brought home who has giant hands feeling up her body and giant hands he cannot keep off of her.

He's got her pushed against the wall beside the elevator in her apartment building when the thing finally dings and the doors open.

And the doors open and they nearly close again before Rory snaps out of it and pulls him inside.

...and the doors close behind them and he pushes her back against the elevator wall and presses his mouth back to hers.

This is how the night has gone. Since she's first kissed this man in the club, he's been unable to keep his hands—or his lips—off of her.

"Stop," she giggles--she's so fucking drunk, wriggling in his arms as the elevator goes up and people walk past, staring at the two inside. "Let's get inside first."

He hums; this tall man groaning.

He reaches again for her, pulling her so her back collides with his chest.

He places his hands gently on her jaw, tipping her head and ducking his own. Rory sighs, her heartbeat accelerating, her eyes closing, a low moan in her throat as he nips her neck, pressing his lips to the sting and sucking.

He swirls his tongue on that spot when she whines again.

"Stop," she says, but she's not moving and her eyelids haven't opened.

He continues; those lips of his sucking and kissing on different spots beneath her jaw and along her neck.

One long arm reaches around, his hand running up her thigh, pushing up her dress. His long fingers feel up the front of her lace panties and runs three fingers in slow circles around her clit.

And she's super drunk but, "Wait," she moans, stumbling forward, away from him.

He chuckles, holding out his hands to steady her as she trips into the railing along the walls of the elevator.

"Alright, love?"

"Yeah, just," she tugs on her short dress, pulling it down as the elevator stops on a new floor and new people join them in the small space. "Wait until we get to mine."

And he sighs, but he raises both hands in surrender.

"Whatever you say," he grins cheekily, a dimple popping as his head falls back against the mirrored wall in the elevator and he fights a smile, clamping his teeth on his bottom lip and grinning, staring at her through lidded eyelids.

He runs a hand under his jaw, his rings glinting under the lights dancing in her drunken vision.

Blame it on the alcohol, but the sight alone is making her wet.

Wetter.

They finally get inside and Rory doesn't even care if Asmaa is home because there's nothing stopping her from leading this man to her bedroom.

The two barely make it to the room, because hands and lips are everywhere and clothes start coming off in the doorway and by the time Rory's closed the door to her own room she's in a bra and panties and he's showing off the hard lines of his tattooed chest as he turns, lifting her into his arms.

Rory wraps her legs around his waist, and he backs her against the door.

His lips are back, attached to her neck, his tongue swirling from her collarbone to the valley between her breasts.

"So fucking perfect," he murmurs, kissing her, worshipping her body. "So fucking—"

Rory takes his face between her fingers, eyes clouded in this haze. She turns this man's face to her own, watching his eyes widen in the darkness. She grins.

And she kisses him.

She slips her tongue into his mouth to let him know exactly where she wants this to go—what she wants him to do to her.

Because Rory is impatient. It's time for clothes to be completely off. It's time for him to be inside of her. It's been too damn long and she's too damn wet for them to keep playing these games.

The message is received.

His groans vibrate through her, the sound of his evident arousal made even more clear by this searing kiss.

And he walks her from the door, his hands gripping her ass tightly before tosses her onto the bed, a low growl escaping his throat as he stares at her, splayed on the bed.

He pulls off his belt, kneeling between her legs.

He licks his lips, running his hands up and down her bare legs before dipping his head, his eyes on hers as he drops his lips to her skin. He kisses up the inside of her leg, stopping as she shudders, his lips pressed against her inner thigh.

Rory props herself on her elbows. "I need you," she groans. "Now."

"Impatient are we," he chuckles deeply. He strokes the outside of her legs, nipping softly beside her knee—Rory is throbbing.

"Stop. Playing," she grabs his waistband, "Games."

He chuckles again, taking her hand from his pants and linking their fingers. He falls forward, chest against her chest, raising her hands above her head.

"We've got plenty of time for that," he says and kisses her deeply.

When his lips leave hers, Rory is gasping for oxygen to fill her lungs. "But—"

"Let me make you feel good first."

He's biting his lip with that dark smirk, so Rory can't help but nod.

He pecks her lips, his hands leaving hers only to trail down her body and feel her curves and feel the smooth skin of her thighs. His rings have warmed with friction, and his fingers hook around the band of her panties and slowly, he pulls them off, tossing them over his shoulder, across the room.

His eyes are on hers, and again does he slowly push her legs apart.

Rory gulps, shuddering as the cool air hits her exposed flower.

He lays down, situating himself between her legs.

Rory gulps again, watching this man lick his lips, his lidded eyes staring at the throbbing flesh before him.

He grins, "So wet..." and Rory can't tell if he's telling her or himself—she doesn't exactly have time to dwell on the thought. One of his hands hooks around her leg, the other rests on her stomach before he pushes apart her lips and inserts his tongue.

She groans, arching her back to his touch.

He moves slowly at first, licking the outside of her folds, teasing her entrance.

His gaze darts to hers.

"How's that?"

She wriggles impatiently, "You," she moans, bucking her lips against his mouth. "You play too much."

"Alright," he grins, planting a kiss on her inner thigh. "But, don't come yet," and he re-enters his tongue between her folds.

Rory gasps audibly now, the pleasure building quickly as his tongue licks hungrily between her folds. He grips her tightly as he laps her growing wetness, alternating between her folds and her clit, sucking the juices around her throbbing bud in a way that has her muscles clenching, her hands gripping his hair, her moans growing louder, her hips bucking against his mouth as her breaths grow short and her eyes screw shut and her thighs clench around his face.

And he stops.

And he kisses up her stomach and unclasps her bra and her eyes fly open and his face is in her face and she pouts.

"I want you to taste," he says huskily, and his fingers pinch her nipples as he drops his lips back to hers and gives her another scorching kiss.

Rory hooks her legs around his waist, her fingers still gripped in his hair. The alternation of stimulation is killing her. The sensations of pleasure are killing her. They're only on oral and this man is driving her crazy—he's leading her so close to the brink of an orgasm that her head is spinning and her pussy is slippery with wetness.

And when they break apart her lips suction from his and she gasps—she keeps gasping for breath—her pout re-forming on her face because why does he keep stopping?

"But...?"

"Told you," he bites his lip again, "don't come."

"But—"

"Selfishly, love," he pecks her lips, "I wanna be inside you first."

And Rory starts throbbing again because that was just too much.

He pushes himself from her, standing before her to slip out of his pants.

He's hard—he's really hard, and he's got that lidded, sexy smirk as he thumbs his dick, which bounces, thudding heavily against his tattooed stomach.

Rory gulps hungrily, watching through hooded eyelids as he walks back to the bed, repositioning himself between her legs.

She sits up, taking his dick in her hand and feeling for herself, exactly what she was working with.

She's surprised to feel this thickness—she's also surprised to find just how hard he is because he's really really hard.

Her expression must relay her thoughts because he chuckles deeply, "Been thinking about this night a while," he admits, confusing her, making her open her mouth to ask what exactly he could mean, although her mind clouds as his large hand completely covers hers. He moves her hand, squeezing it gently up and down his shaft.

"God..." he mutters, eyes shut tightly as she dips her head, swirling her tongue around the tip of his penis, tasting his precum.

He hisses out a curse as her lips pop with their release from his skin.

And he places his fingers beneath her chin and kisses her gently.

He whispers, "I'll come if you keep that up," and Rory's head is getting big.

She matches his sultry tone, "Get a condom then."

He fights that grin again, pushing from the bed to do as she says. He grabs a condom from his pant pocket and dives back onto the bed beside her.

Rory watches him roll onto his back, effortlessly slipping it on.

He grins up at her lazily, tongue slowly wetting his bottom lip as both large hands slowly stroke the condom down to the base of his dick.

His grin grows, "C'mere, love."

Don't have to tell Rory twice.

She pushes herself up, throwing her leg across his waist and straddling his lap.

His hands rest behind his head as Rory takes over. She grabs this man's dick and lifts her hips, watching his face as she pushes onto his tip and fits him slowly inside of her.

He fills her completely.

And he lets out a slow, "Unfff..." that has Rory sending him a smirk.

"Like that?" She purrs.

He grins cheekily. "Maybe."

She laughs, wriggling slowly on his lap, adjusting to his size.

His hands fly to her waist, positioning her on top of him.

"...so perfect," he murmurs, kissing her bent knee, and Rory can't help but send him a sly smile.

He bends his knees behind her.

And he thrusts.

She rocks to his rhythm. The sound of skin slapping skin grows loud in her ears; she's deaf to her own moans. Heat rises in her bedroom and moisture beads across her skin.

He's hitting her spot, and it's almost so good that she almost doesn't have to reach around and play with her clit.

Almost.

But just as she begins to play with herself, just as her fingers slip against her wetness, his hand comes down hard on her ass, and she throws her head backward, breathing out a whole, "Yes..." that makes him slap her ass again.

His voice is dark and deeper and husky, "Like that?"

She laughs again, tightly, sensations building again within her core. "Maybe."

She rolls her hips, riding him, leaning forward so she can bounce more effortlessly on his dick and so she can feel up the hard contours of his chest. Her breasts press against him, and his eyes are devouring her, the sight alone of his evident arousal building that sensation in her core.

"Oh my...f—god..." He musters, simultaneously rubbing out the sting of that slap, gripping and grabbing her ass.

God, she loves that.

She's getting closer, stomach fluttering.

And Rory blinks in surprise as he sits up at once, gripping her back, pulling her to his chest and flipping them over.

She blinks, surprised as he slips out of her completely. "You good?"

"Sorry," he chuckles, and Rory is surprised more by this apology. Beads of sweat are forming along his hairline, "Was getting close, y'know?"

And Rory grins again, her soft giggles becoming gasps as he grabs her legs and pushes her knees to the mattress. He positions himself at her entrance and keeps his gaze on her gaze before pushing himself deep, deeper inside of her.

His eye contact is driving her wild, and he leans forward, his hands grabbing her hands, his fingers linking her fingers as he captures her lips again in his and rocks his hips.

Rory is reeling from euphoria. She welcomes the ache, the sound, the heat.

"Faster."

His skin collides with hers, his hips rocking in response, fingers flexing between hers; he obliges.

"Harder."

And he holds her gaze, nipping her lips, the pain sending her over and over and pushing her to the brink of an edge she can't quite see the bottom of. She's ready to spill now. Her eyes are glazing, this heat rising, their glistening bodies pressed together and these green eyes never wavering from her own.

"Oh my fucking g--"

"Come for me," he hits harder, faster, "Come for me, baby."

And she does.

Her wall breaks; she cries out--her muscles tightening around him, her breathing ragged and shallow, her chest heaving against his.

"Fuckin' hell, Rory, I'm..."

And he buries his head against her neck and she feels him pulse violently inside of her, his hair tickling her chin, his grip tightening on her hands, his shudders rocking her against the bed.

They ride their orgasms until the end, and with shallow breaths, this man pushes himself off of her, slowly releasing her hands from his own to roll from the bed and pulls off his condom and walks across the room to toss the filled balloon in the trash.

And Rory watches him cross the room; she's sweat out the alcohol now--she's tipsy, but not drunk anymore, and she can't believe how her goggles have cleared and this man comes into focus and she's staring at the one dude who she'd never ever ever expect to find herself in bed with.

Holy shit.  

Holy fucking shit.

Does he even know that he's fucked up her whole entire life in one night?

How did she let him do that?

Rory doesn't even have time to articulate her thoughts, because, in a minute, he's back, lying beside her in bed, draping his arm around her.

Rory doesn't think. She slides next to him, pressing her body against his, laying her head against his chest and feeling his hands play in the hair she hasn't wrapped because she's lulled by soft kisses to her forehead and a muffled, "...g'nite love," that makes her warm and comfortable and in moments, she's fast asleep.

__

UPDATED BECAUSE IT'S A HOLIDAY THAT I DON'T REALLY CELEBRATE SO I'VE BEEN WRITING AYYEEEE

Y'all better comment because...

ADDED THAT SEX SCENE FOR Y'ALL YOU'RE WELCOME LOLLL

also yep I've been reading a lot of comments about asmaa and her faith and yeah, that's a big part of this story so just wait on it guys just waiiiittttttt. <3

i love how invested you guys are in this because so am i

polarize is getting updated next for y'all who read it i know you've been waiting a thousand years me too lol