#jean and andrew are like two cats that don’t like each other. they tip toe around each other ig

[d4rkshad0w]

i need Andreil and Jerejean in the same room playing exy or whatever because i feel like Jeremy would try to talk to Andrew but Andrew wouldn’t like it and Neil and Jean would be on the court being weird and kind to each other yet mean yk

[harryandmolly]

Complicit // 4

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW (good & rough, babies), my self control has truly gone up in smoke

WC: 6.8k

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Shawn shifts, his eyelids tightening against the morning sun even through the drawn gauzy curtains. He’s aware now, but barely. He’d rather not be. The sleep he gets after a night with her is maybe even more addictive than the date itself. He’s sure it’s because she wears him out so thoroughly.

He’s lying on his stomach, his cheek turned, pressed into the silk sheets provided by the little Malibu beachside inn the agency booked for them. If he keeps his eyes shut he can concentrate on the sound of waves lapping at the shore of Point Dume. 

He grumbles. He can’t hear them. He can hear her shuffling around instead. He slowly opens his cloudy dark eyes to assess, lifting his head to find her.

Penny has a pretty strict policy about mornings after dates. Sticking around sets a dangerous precedent. The morning after, it’s all messy hair and morning breath and sleepy eyes and sore, tired muscles -- vulnerability at its most beautiful and most human. It’s not professional, so it’s not safe. That time, that kind of exposure, is to be minimized.

Penny’s already in leggings and a sports bra, typing on her phone with one hand and holding an Outdoor Voices hoodie in the other. She hears him and looks over with a sleepy smile.

“Hi there,” she whispers. Her voice is smooth. It makes his eyes flutter as he thinks about how her skin felt last night.

He just smiles in response.

Her lips curl in a wry grin. “That’s a very happy face you’re making.”

He wonders if he’s really beyond embarrassment with her now. He stretches like a cat and feels his body resist, then give in. He groans deeply, heavily. It’s music to her ears.

“That’s cause you’re a fucking miracle worker.”

When he says shit like this, Penny wants to crawl back on top of him and make him come a few more times. But she knows he’s tired. He worked hard for her. She perches beside him, ankles crossed delicately, and runs a hand down his naked back, admiring.

“You make it easy, baby,” she assures him. Her smile is placid. It turns a little devilish when she cups his ass cheek through the sheet and gives it a squeeze. Shawn squirms gently and smiles.

“I have to go. Gus will be by in half an hour to pick you up and bring you back to your car.”

Beneath her hand, Shawn rolls over. His cheeks have pillow marks and sport a hearty morning flush. His curls are wild from her fingers and his own. She swallows and leaves her hand where it’s fallen, brushing his lower ribs.

He closes his eyes. “I’m leaving for the festival run.”

She nods and keeps her eyes on his chest hair, waiting for him to give the little break up speech she’s used to.

It’s not really a break up, of course. It’s more like an awkward firing. A “hey… you’ve been great but your services are no longer required, thanks!” It’s ok. It means she’s done some good. She can see in every move of his soft, sore muscles that she’s eased most of his tension away. He’ll go into a long, hot, busy summer fresh and rejuvenated because of her. She can live with that.

“I…” He gets flustered and rakes a hand through his hair, cupping his other hand around her wrist, “I don’t know how to ask… I mean, I don’t even know if you’d be interested and it’s kind of--”

“Shawn, what do you need?”

It’s simple, she wants to remind him, I’ll give you everything you need.

Shawn’s eyes shut again. He gently, absently massages the tendons in her wrist. “I… was wondering if I could fly you out to Vegas to be there the weekend of my first festival. I think having you there would really help. But I don’t know if you’re busy or if it’s too soon, y’know, I know I haven’t been seeing you very long and I don’t want to be that guy or--”

She quiets his yammering by dragging her hand up to curl around the back of his neck, drawing his eyes to hers.

“That could be arranged,” she murmurs. It makes his toes curl. The tips of his ears go as pink as his cheeks. He grins.

“Yeah?”

She nods smugly. He still needs her. There’s no better feeling. “Call Colette with the details. She can arrange my travel and my room. I have to go home and feed Pammy.”

She stands, looking down at him fondly. Her body tenses and she leans her weight into front foot like she’s going to crouch to kiss him. Instead she swallows, reaches for her suitcase handle and waves with a couple free fingers before she steps out into the humid Malibu morning.

+

Penny doesn’t relish flying commercial, but she doesn’t have much of an excuse to charter a flight just to get to Vegas from LA, especially if she won’t be joined on the flight by a client.

So, first class then.

Colette has her on the United 6 PM into McCarran. She’s getting in just as the city is warming up, coming alive for the night. Flying into Vegas at sunset is especially romantic to Penny. She has visions of Frank at the Sands, of cocktails at the Carnival Lounge, of cruising past the famous ‘Welcome to Las Vegas’ sign in a topless red Thunderbird. Penny always has had a fondness for vintage, and especially to Vegas, with its close links to the Rat Pack. 

Shawn has already reimbursed the agency for her weekend expenses including travel and accommodation, plus her hefty three-day weekend price tag, so Gus is not along for the ride. Instead, a driver will meet her at the airport to shepherd her over to the Bellagio, her preferred Vegas lodging. Her suite is on the floor above Shawn’s.

Penny is used to the glamour. This is not the first time she’s been flown out to meet a client in an exciting city. It’s not even the first time she’s been flown to Vegas to fuck for a weekend in the Bellagio.

But this… she’s excited about.

Shawn must have called Colette as soon as she got in her car because she got the confirmation of the booking when she was crawling back to Studio City on the 101. Two days, three nights, $12,000. He’s playing the inaugural iHeart Summer festival, headlining the first of three nights with names like Cardi B, Miley Cyrus, Dua Lipa, Sam Smith and, of course, Bex.

Not that Penny minds. She’s not attending the festival. His team doesn’t know about her and he intends to keep it that way. She’s not there to be his arm candy, she’s there to take the pressure off behind closed doors. She doesn’t mind behind the dirty little secret. She’s good at it.

The fountain at the Bellagio is surrounded by tourists when she arrives in her hired Tesla. She watches the spray of the impressive water display shimmer in the nighttime lights of the Vegas strip until her driver politely calls for her attention. Her luggage, absolutely excessive for a three day trip, is loaded onto a cart. She reaches for her phone as she’s guided past check-in and up to her fountain view king suite.

Silver Fox: Arrived safely? Xx

Petey Pie: hiiiiii pls slay in vegas you absolute queen, miss you 🖤

She shoots off a quick series of hearts and mushy love words to each before switching to her work phone to dial the agency, impatiently tapping the toe of her pointy black patent leather Brian Atwood stilettos on the hardwood floor.

“Hiya, Pen,” Colette greets, much more casually and without the put-upon accent she sports for client calls, “Everything good there?”

“Just got in. Great room. Can you let him know I’m here?” Penny asks breezily.

“He just called, actually. He says he’s sorry but he can’t see you tonight. He said he has to do “a Bex thing” and that you’d know what that meant.”

Penny looks up from her shoes. Her vision is blurred, unfocused as she looks past the lights of the strip. After a beat too long, she answers.

“Sure, no problem. Thank you, Colette.”

She hangs up and tosses the gold cased phone to the bed. Her slender hands fall to her hips. She continues staring, willing her brain to quiet as her hands begin to wander -- one up to tease her collarbones where they lay bare beneath her oversized men’s dress shirt, the other slipping between her thighs, pressing against the rough denim of her J Brand jeans. She sighs, tilts her head and closes her eyes.

Slowly, she strips out of her clothes, including the pale peach satin lingerie set underneath, leaving them lying on the floor in front of the window. She collapses into the luxurious bedspread, lips mashing together as she sets to work, fingers trembling when she muffles her desperate moans of release into the ornate cushion by her head.

After a few minutes enjoying the afterglow, she bundles up in a fluffy white hotel robe and calls for room service.

+

Shawn stares at the ceiling, twiddling his St. Christopher medal between his fingers as he thinks.

He doubts her room is, like, directly above his. He doubts the footsteps he hears padding around above him are hers. He’d kind of like to imagine they are, though. He wonders what she’s doing.

He’s been wondering since he stood outside her hotel room door last night after 3am, wanting her so bad he couldn’t fucking breathe. He stopped himself from knocking, though. Thank god.

He arrived in Vegas a few hours before Penny did. Upon checking in, Andrew announced that Bex’s flight was moved up to facilitate a staged night out before festival rehearsals. It made sense. Shawn had already mentally accounted for having to spend public time with her on this trip, given they were playing the same festival lineup. He just didn’t know he’d basically be stepping off the plane into a paparazzi circus to hold the hand of a girl whose middle name he doesn’t know, only to be seen slinking away with her back to their hotel.

His stomach rolled at the idea until Penny’s words in her somehow comfortingly stern voice play in his head: this relationship stunt doesn’t define you as a man or as an artist.

He still feels bad, though. He expected to spend the night with Penny. He flew her out here to be with him and now he has to toss her aside for work. It doesn’t seem fair.

He runs a hand through his curls and grunts. Maybe she’s relieved. Maybe it feels like a paid night off in Vegas. Maybe she hasn’t thought about him at all.

He hopes he’s wrong.

+

Penny takes a bubble bath the next morning with too many bubbles and a mimosa after a grueling start at the gym -- 3 miles on the treadmill and 45 minutes of free weights. It felt incredible, almost as incredible as the gardenia-scented bath and the fresh citrus blend of juice that had her lighter than air as the rest of the city began to stir.

She doesn’t expect to hear from Shawn until this evening, at least. It’s his first day of rehearsals at the MGM Grand and he has promo and photoshoots -- all this according to Colette, to whom he gave his schedule when he made the booking.

So Penny takes herself shopping.

Brunch at Bellagio Patisserie is followed by a short walk over to the Grand Canal Shoppes at the Venetian. It’s one of her favorite spots, not despite its kitschiness, but because of it -- the false blue sky overhead and the overflowing flower boxes beneath lit windows in a long neighborhood of Italian storefronts, the men in striped shirts and flat hats singing Italian folk songs as they steer gondolas full of tourists down the indoor river.

It’s all a little too much, just like Vegas is supposed to be. She adores it.

She has an arm full of bags by early afternoon -- Fendi, Barney’s, Louis Vuitton, and those are just for her. She snagged a cute new pair of Vilebrequin swim trunks for Peter and a pair of sky blue Ferragamo slides for Silver. She plans on having a quick salad for lunch before spending the rest of the day at the Cypress pool. 

She’s striding through the airy, unusually quiet lobby of the Bellagio trailed by a bellhop toting her bags when she stops short.

In the window of Cartier, something sparkles. Well, not just one thing, but one thing in particular catches her eye. It’s a ring from the Étincelle de Cartier collection, a looped, overlapping band of rose gold, studded with diamonds. She’s seen the design before, has admired it online, in magazines, even on the fingers of other women. But it’s never called to her like this before. She narrows her eyes, tilts her head and glances down at her naked, plum-painted fingers. 

She decides they look lonely. With a nod to her wide-eyed and very attentive bellhop, she steps inside. 

25 minutes later, humming “I Love Vegas” by Dean Martin, a few thousand dollars poorer, Penny comes strutting out of Cartier with the little red ring box stuffed in her purse and its contents catching the afternoon light on the middle finger of her left hand.

+

Shawn clears his throat again. His eyes are angled down at the toes of his boots as they scuff the stage. He drums his fingers, clasped together around the mic, bobbing his head.

He looks up. Cez and Andrew stand a few yards away in the midst of crowds of roadies setting up the Grand Garden Arena for the festival. They’re talking and nodding and Shawn is trying not to imagine that they’re discussing how fucking edgy and nervous he’s been all morning.

He thinks bitterly he’d be a lot better if he’d gotten to see Penny last night. He closes his eyes and lets himself imagine it -- slipping her out of a shimmery gold dress, tangling his fingers in her hair while her lips course over his chest, lying beneath her as she rides him hard into an expensive mattress while the fountain show is visible through the window.

God, he fucking craves it. He wants to beg for her, to get on his knees for her, to follow her instructions so exactly that she can’t help but smile, call him “baby” in that sweet, breathless voice and, finally, when she’s ready, when he knows he’s earned it, make him come so spectacularly that he can’t remember his own fucking name, much less all that comes attached to it.

He’s going insane without it. That’s what this is, he’s sure. It’s not Bex or the other names on the bill or his name in the biggest lettering he’s ever seen outside the goddamned MGM Grand or the millions of people that will be watching on the TV broadcast. It’s withdrawal. It’s been six days since Malibu, he’s jonesing. That’s all.

He grunts gently and tilts his head forward, gliding into a vocal run as the band plays through LIJ. He needs what Penny and Penny alone can give him to get through his first headlining festival. No matter what, he’s seeing her tonight. No one will fight him. He’s been rehearsing all day and his show is tomorrow. He’ll eat with the team and turn in early, solemn and responsible.

And he’ll go straight to her room and let her fuck him stupid.

Andrew looks up at him. Shawn’s head lifts.

“Sounding great, dude. How do you feel?”

Shawn doesn’t hesitate. “We’re going to run through it again.”

+

She’s topless, facedown on a chaise lounge by the exclusive Cypress pool running through agency numbers on her laptop. It’s almost time to turn over again and reapply sunscreen. Her bellini is fresh and cool, just replaced by the cute poolside waitress who’s been especially attentive. 

Her phone buzzes.

Colette: The client will meet you in your room at 9pm.

Penny wets her lips and sets her phone down. She stretches, tightening every muscle from the tips of her fingers to her toes, and slackens against the cushions, feeling pooling warmth below her belly.

+

Her scalp tingles at the gentle knock on the door. In the dimly lit room, she pads barefoot to the door, glass of champagne fizzing in her newly decorated hand. She checks the peephole, sweeps some hair off the shoulder of her black satin robe and opens the door.

His head snaps up like he wasn’t expecting her. He looks distracted and very tired. He smiles, guilty, like he knows how easily she can see his tension all over him. She has her work cut out for her tonight.

“Hi,” he murmurs, sounding just about as depleted as he feels. He reaches up and brushes some loose curls out of his eyes. They’re still a little wet from his post-rehearsal shower. He knows she doesn’t mind.

Penny takes his hand and it’s almost enough to bring tears to his eyes. She leads him wordlessly into her room. The lamp by her bed is on and the curtains on her floor-to-ceiling windows are drawn open, allowing the only light in the room. Her phone is plugged into the stereo, playing Sinatra’s In the Wee Small Hours album. He follows her to the sofa and sits, hearing his knees creak, feeling his back ache. She perches beside him and lifts her legs over his lap. He settles, curling one hand around her ankle and using the other to rub circles into her knee.

He looks up at her timidly. She fights a concerned frown.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he whispers, looking a little distraught, “I feel… kinda weird about it.”

“Why weird?” she asks, handing him a glass of champagne. He reluctantly pries a hand off her silky skin to take it and sip.

“Because… because you’re here for me and I ditched you. I mean, you know I didn’t want to, right? God, fuck, I really didn’t want to. I would’ve given anything to be here with you last night. But--”

“It’s ok, Shawn,” she assures him, widening her eyes to underline her sincerity, “This is your job. I understand that and I respect that. It deserves your time and attention more than I do.”

“But still, I flew you out here. I… I’d never want you to feel like just because I’m paying to see you that that means I can do whatever I want with you or your time. Because I respect you, too.”

Penny is quiet for a few very long seconds. “I know you do. It’s one of the reasons I like spending time with you. But we wouldn’t be here together if you weren’t in this position with your job.”

His skin prickles. He swallows another sip, a slightly larger one. “I guess it’s still weird for me. Being out with her, seeing the headlines and what people think.”

She brings in the ringer -- she scoops a hand up into the curls at the back of his neck and scrunches them, massaging her fingers against his nape. His eyes slide shut. He purrs.

“It’s all for a good cause,” she reminds him gently.

He nods and sips again, keeping his eyes shut.

“How was your day?” he whispers after a few quiet moments, fluttering his eyes back open.

“Good,” she chuckles, “I went to the gym, I took a bubble bath, I shopped, I laid out by the pool.”

He can tell. She’s all shimmery and warm in a way a woman only can be when she’s soaked up some natural sun. He nods admiringly, letting his fingers wander up her bare leg.

“Did you buy anything?”

She goes a little bashful. Shawn’s eyebrows lift.

“A few things,” she admits, untangling her fingers from his hair and holding her hand out in front of him, “This is my favorite.”

Shawn cups her hand in his broad palm and examines the ring with a grin. “It’s pretty. Why are you making that face?”

She purses her lips around a smile. “It’s a splurge. I walked into Cartier downstairs on a whim. I saw it in the window and needed it immediately.”

There’s something undeniably sexy to Shawn about a woman who knows what she wants and goes for it. He bites into his lower lip and brushes the pad of his thumb over the glinting stones.

“You deserve it, Pen.”

She slips her hand from his and slowly curls it under his jaw. “I know.”

His breath catches in his throat. He chokes on a stammering laugh. “I know you know. I guess I just like reminding you.”

She wets her unpainted lips. “Because you’re my good boy.”

Air whistles out of Shawn’s nose as he exhales. He nods in her hand.

Penny leans in. His lips are warm and a little rough, but they taste like champagne. She sighs into him, lets him trace his fingers up the outside of her thigh, brushing where the short robe lies against her sun-kissed skin. The tension in his jaw abates when she slips her tongue between his lips, exploring the way he softens just for her.

He pulls away first, out of breath. He presses his cheek to hers, nuzzling.

“Fuck, you have no idea how much I needed that.”

Penny places her flute of champagne beside his on the end table and reaches for him. They stand, Penny up on her toes to meet him from several inches below. With her hands secured around his neck, she continues kissing him -- she’s found it’s the best way to get him totally present with her, the fastest and sweetest way to relax him until he’s warm and pliant in her hands.

Her eyes are shut. The lights from the fountain show cast a glow against her eyelids but she’s too into him to notice. They explore different rhythms -- soft, sweet kisses, skating hands, gentle noises and rough, passionate moans, grabbing, taking, feeling.

She presses him back into the window, watching the colored lights of the strip surround his head like a halo as he pants down at her. For a moment, she just takes him in, breathing heavily, eyes wide, swallowing him in gulps. His hands twitch against her waist. She feels the tremble and lets it ground her.

She plants a hand against his chest. It rises and falls with his breath. She watches it, watches him beneath it, the way his eyes sparkle at her now that he’s all here, all hers.

“Shawn,” she beckons, guiding him with her voice, “Strip.”

He blinks, and it’s the only moment of pause he takes before he starts to obey. She steps back to give him room to kick off his boots, shove at his jeans and boxers, wriggle out of his fitted tee. He stands before her like the statue of David, but better -- flushed and full of life, hardening cock stirring against his thigh, brushed with soft hair all over his warm body.

“God, you’re fucking magnificent.”

Her eyes flash after she says it, locking onto his. He goes absolutely magenta, swallowing roughly and turning his face when the eye contact becomes too much. She makes a disapproving noise from the back of her throat and cups his cheek to turn him back to her. 

“Look at me,” she urges, but it’s warm and, underneath, a little pleading. She holds his gaze. This time, he preens a little, lifting his chin, smiling, even flexing. She releases a wet growl and nods.

“I got myself off thinking about you last night,” she confesses hotly, reaching for the sash of her robe. His abs tense this time in shock, not to peacock for her.

“Really?” he stammers, eyes going comically wide.

She nods eagerly, slipping the robe off her shoulders. On her bronzed skin she wears a gold lace lingerie set -- a balconette bra she’s positively spilling from and a barely there v-string. His fingers curl into his palms and his head falls back into the window with a thud.

“I thought about you on your knees for me,” she pants, “Begging, pleading for a taste. God, you were ravenous. Fucking devouring me. So good for me, baby, just like always.”

Shawn whines impatiently, eyes falling shut as he imagines it too, cock bobbing against his thigh as he shivers.

“And then --” she purrs, causing him to snap his eyes back open because she sounds closer than she was, and she is, she’s standing so close that her feet are between his and her breasts are a hair’s breadth from his chest.

“--then, I let you fuck me.”

Shawn gasps a breath because he forgot he needed oxygen until his body forcibly reminded him.

“Yeah?” he croaks.

Penny nods, smirking. She rests her palms against his chest and hears him deflate like a balloon. She cocks her head, admiring her ring in this new light. The rose gold looks pretty against his skin. She hums thoughtfully, nudges it with her thumb to watch it sparkle.

Her eyes lift to his. He was already watching her closely.

“You like my ring, Shawn?”

He nods, certain, but unsure of where she’s going with this. She spreads her fingers and starts gliding her hand up over his collarbone, wrapping delicately around his throat. He stops breathing like she’s restricting his airway, but it’s just in anticipation. After a heated moment, she continues her hand’s path under his chin and up until her fingertips rest against his mouth.

“Open,” she commands softly.

Shawn’s jaw drops enough for her to slip her index and middle finger into his mouth, resting against his perfect wet tongue. He grunts, closes his mouth around them, starting to suck gently to gauge her reaction.

She watches him hungrily as he tastes her fingers, swirling his tongue along the length of them, between them, paying special attention to the ring she’s so fond of. He groans as he watches her face, lips parted like she, too, can’t believe how fucking hot this is.

Slowly, carefully, he lifts his hands to rest in the dips of her waist, anchoring her close to him as he lavishes her fingers, admiring their slender strength in his mouth. She curls them teasingly, he nips at her knuckles to watch her squirm. The lights and sounds of the city behind them are totally lost. Or maybe they’re the ones that are lost.

Shawn keeps sucking and licking far past the point of vulgarity. The noises his mouth makes against her fingers are filthy and he hopes (he’s pretty confident) that it’s doing a good job of getting her wet for him. She’s not stopping him, though. She’s rapt, amazed at his attention, waiting -- for what, he’s not sure. But he won’t stop until she tells him to.

Maybe it’s her wriggling impatience that finally has her tugging her fingers away from his swollen lips with a pop. He flicks his head back to free his sweaty forehead from some stray curls. He breathes hard, mouth open, waiting for whatever she wants next.

Penny brushes her tongue against her lower lip. She skims her wet fingers down her stomach, dipping into the front of her panties with a sigh. In her periphery, Shawn’s chest rises and falls a little faster. She curls her fingers against her pussy with a groan, shoulders softening, head lolling sideways when she releases a soft breath.

“Penny,” Shawn hisses weakly, “Please.”

Her eyelids are heavy as she stares up at him. He doesn’t know what he’s asking for, she can tell. It’s ok. She always knows what he wants even when he doesn’t.

Slowly, a little reluctantly, she pulls her hand from between her legs and slips her fingertips into the cup of her bra, holding a condom up for him to take. He heaves a relieved sigh and lifts a corner of his wet mouth. 

She takes his free hand and pulls him off the window, taking his place against it. She settles back for a moment, staring up at his face as he concentrates on steadying his shaky fingers enough to roll the condom on. He blinks hard when he finishes and sees her watching him.

“Wh-what do you want, Penny?”

She turns her back to him, shifts her hands up until they’re pressing into the glass above her head. Shawn’s breath shudders hard in his chest as he admires the shape of her, fully illuminated by the city lights. He takes a mental picture, begs his frazzled brain to hold onto this image as long as he can.

She glances over her shoulder and nods at him. Wordlessly, reverently, he peels her out of her pretty bra and panties, tossing them behind him toward the bed. She chuckles at his eagerness. He smiles back, caught, but comfortable  basking in how much he wants her. 

She turns. Shawn inhales sharply and staggers, planting a hand up on the window beside her to remain steady. She gathers him up into her arms and, as they both lock eyes and inhale, he lifts her, wrapping her legs around his torso, angling the head of his cock against her entrance.

He chokes on a breath, “Fuck-- oh fuck, you’re so wet.”

Penny nods, a little frantic, thrusting her fingers into his curls as if to steer him. “Listen to me. I need you to fuck me as hard as you can. Don’t hold back, baby. I wanna feel you. I wanna feel everything.”

Shawn’s eyes fall shut. He hears the volume of the groan he releases but he doesn’t remember allowing himself to make it. He shifts her in his arms until he slides in an inch or two. Her eyes close just as his reopen.

He follows the stroke through until he’s buried, brushing his nose against hers. She feels him, understands what he wants. She nods again, clenching her arms tighter around his shoulders.

With a loud gasp, Shawn tilts his hips, sliding all the way back as he holds her flat against the window, and presses back in harder. He hangs his head against her shoulder, establishing a slow, deep rhythm, flinching every time he hears her body squeezing around him greedily.

“Holy… shit,” he coughs, letting his tongue brush her collarbone as he picks up his pace, egged on by her bare heels digging into his ass.

Penny can’t fucking breathe. Her head bumps back against the window with each powerful stroke. Every row of his hips stretches her further. It’s like every thrust fills her so completely, there isn’t even room for oxygen in her lungs. She doesn’t care. She doesn’t think she needs it right now. She needs this.

“So… good,” she grunts, the sound throaty and weak. 

He’s not holding back, she can tell. She wasn’t sure if he could get here with her, if he trusted her, and himself, enough to let himself have this. But she knows he needs it. She thinks maybe they both do.

“Penny,” he sighs. His hips work faster. She scrunches her fingers in his hair.

“More,” she demands, but the whine in her voice gives it away as a plea.

“Fuck,” he swears, shaking his head in disbelief. He hitches her up in his arms as their sweaty bodies slip, and it changes the angle. Her fingers scrabble on his back, sinking in and dragging, leaving livid red marks as she clings to him against his mighty swings.

Her eyes glaze over, roll back slightly. “Oh god, yes!” she cries, turning her face to bury her nose in his hair and bite sharply at the shell of his ear.

He growls in a way she hasn’t heard from him. It’s rough, all animal, and she knows there’s nothing left in him that’s uncertain or anxious or self-conscious or scared. He holds her hips steady and pounds hard, relishing the slick squelch of their bodies and the protest of the window against her skin.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” she chants, holding on for dear life. It’s all she can do. She has no leverage to fuck back against him. He’s the one driving into her and, when he does, pressing her back to reach even deeper. She sobs for breath, soaking him as he ruts hard against her clit with every perfect, reckless stroke.

“Penny, shit,” Shawn moans, “Please, please, you have to come. I can’t fucking hold on.”

With a whine in her throat, she yanks at his hair to bring his eyes up to hers. The pupils are so dilated she can’t see any brown left. She focuses on the blackness and feels her walls spasm, so close she can taste it.

“Harder,” she hisses, daring him, keeping his head pinned between her hands.

His brow furrows. His tensed hands clench hard enough to bruise. He doesn’t have anymore to give, but she wants it, so he’s going to fucking give it to her. He groans, ass clenching as he forces himself deeper into her desperate, willing body until she gasps and breaks.

He’s never felt anything like it. She goes solid in his arms, every well-trained muscle hard as a rock, but her pussy trembles around him, holding him in. She massages his throbbing cock so thoroughly that Shawn loses his hold and comes right behind her, spilling into the condom with a scream. His hips keep thrusting shallowly, the rhythm holding steady long past when it usually does after he comes. It takes them both longer than usual to come down. 

When they do, even Shawn’s impressive strength is nearly gone. His knees tremble as he scoops her off the window and stumbles toward the bed, using his last bit of self-control to lay her down gently, his cock still nestled inside her pulsing walls.

She loosens her grip on his shoulders and hair, stroking instead of scraping. Her breathing steadies from gasps to perfect, mindless whimpers. He doesn’t think he’s breathing at all until she shifts beneath him and he hears himself whine, loud and unabashed.

He lifts his heavy head from her shoulder to look down at her. She’s smiling gently, still panting through her overfull lips. He barely stops himself from kissing her. He grins like a moron instead.

“Are you… ok?” he asks, his voice shaky. She nods.

He starts to pull his hips back. One of her legs, still slung around him, presses into his ass cheek as she makes a weak noise.

“Slowly,” she groans, brow furrowing. He bobs his head sheepishly and eases out, feeling the way her body resists the loss. It gives him a full body shiver.

He ties off the condom and lobs it into a trashcan by the bed. He reaches for her hip, cupping where his hands held her so tight.

“Are you… sure you’re ok?”

She makes a warm purring noise and closes her eyes. “You were so good, so perfect for me. I’ve never been fucked that hard before.”

This perks him up a bit. He smiles to himself and nudges closer to her on top of the bedspread, shutting his eyes.

“I’m gonna take a nap,” he whispers. 

She threads her fingers into his hair and pets his scalp until they’re both asleep, curled up beside each other.

+

He wants to hold her hand.

It’s a pretty sudden realization as she walks him back to his room. He’s pretty sure it’s because he’s never had a sexual experience like this in his life and he’s still fucking high from it, but it’s disconcerting, too. 

So he doesn’t hold her hand. He just glances over at her again, amazed she’s up and walking, especially after they went at it again (much less aggressively) after their nap. She smirks at him.

“I’m not a china doll, Shawn,” she assures him. He flushes a little.

“Yeah, no, I… sorry.”

She chuckles through her nose and glances up the long hallway to the door of his room. 

“I probably should’ve let you sleep,” she sighs, glancing down at her work phone, frowning at the time -- 6:11 AM.

Shawn shrugs. “I think I needed that more than sleep.”

They stop outside his door. He reaches for her, unsure of what he’s after, when the door next to his swings open.

Cez is looking down at his phone, dressed in gym wear, ready to go. He glances up and freezes, staring at Shawn and Penny.

Shawn’s mouth goes dry. His stomach lurches. He opens his mouth to speak.

“... anyway, I know I’m an asshole, it’s like, 6 AM and I’m definitely still super fucking drunk, but my friends will, like, murder me if I don’t get a selfie with you.”

Shawn stares at Penny for almost a beat too long. Her eyes are wide and manic. Her grin is toothy. Her voice doesn’t sound like hers at all. She even stumbles a little for effect. He swallows and nods.

“Yeah, ok.”

She slings an arm around him and holds up her phone, snapping the photo with a squeal.

“Okie! Byeeeee!”

Without a glance back at either of them, Penny hustles away, almost losing her balance even just in flip flops. Shawn’s sure she put it on as part of her little impromptu show.

He glances back at Cez, who snorts and shakes his head, seemingly unbothered.

“Went for another dawn walk?” Cez guesses.

Shawn blinks and nods, catching up. “Yeah. Gonna get changed and hit the gym, too.”

Cez nods and walks off, busy on his phone. Shawn lets himself into his room and doesn’t let himself exhale until the door clicks behind him.

+

Shawn Mendes SLAYS Night One of iHeart Summer Fest -- E!News

Shawn Mendes Surprises Vegas Fans With Bex Duet! -- The Hollywood Reporter

Shawn Mendes Commands Night One, Highlight of Inaugural iHeart Summer Festival -- Rolling Stone

+

His heart skips a beat like it does whenever La Splendeur calls, but this time it thuds even a little harder. He’s not sure why they’re calling him. He hasn’t made another booking yet. Hell, he hasn’t even left Vegas yet.

“Hello?”

“Hello, may I have your verbal password, please?”

“Ireland,” Shawn grunts, closing the door behind him as he steps onto his hotel room balcony.

“Excellent, thank you, Mr. Mendes. Miss Penny has requested that I leave you with her cell number for future bookings.”

His face is blank. “... She did?”

“Yes. It’s not uncommon practice. After a period of time, our employees often transition to arranging directly with preferred clients.”

Preferred clients. He really shouldn’t be blushing at that, but…

He puts the phone on speaker so he can type in her number, saving it under the name “Orthodontist” -- just in case.

+

Pamela thwaps her tail against the entryway carpet impatiently, but stays put when Penny opens the door for the delivery that the mysterious auction house called to arrange the previous day. Behind the door stands a tall gentleman in a well tailored suit, wearing a flat, polite grin.

“Miss Penny?”

Penny nods. “Yes.”

He gestures to the credenza beside her. She lets him in, clearing her throat uncertainly as she shuts the door behind him.

With his back to her, he lifts a briefcase onto the surface and pops it open. A familiar red leather box, much larger than the one she brought home from Vegas, sits inside.

He lifts it out and turns to her, presenting it as if for her inspection. She squares her shoulders and nods.

He lifts the lid. Penny’s knees turn to jello. Her eyes go wide as saucers. Her breath catches.

“Oh… my god.”

“Spectacular, isn’t it?” the man agrees enthusiastically. 

Inside the box is a diamond tennis necklace in a white gold setting with graduated stones. It has to be at least 12 carats total. And Penny’s no jeweler but she bets, especially given the way in which it was delivered, that the diamonds in the settings are nearly flawless.

“The certificate of authenticity is in this folder. As I’m sure you’ve already been told, the necklace is 1949 Cartier, handmade in France, designed by Frank Sinatra for Ava Gardner.”

She swears she’s going to pass out. She lifts a hand to her forehead and focuses on her breath so she doesn’t swallow her fucking tongue.

“I’m-- is there a note? Who sent this?”

The man looks startled, like he was quite certain Penny knew all about this gift. He hands her a piece of cardstock in a creamy envelope and packs his briefcase back up, leaving the red box on the credenza. Penny is scared to touch it.

She holds the card behind her in her twitching fingers. She cocks her head, staring at the necklace. Pamela settles beside her, brushing her leg with her big, furry head.

When Penny thinks she’s regained enough sense to read, she slides the card from the envelope.

‘Thank you

x, Shawn’

----------

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod @magcon7280 @bensbuttercup @shawnsmusical @paigeasourous @tell-me-when-ur-ready @softmendesss @tnhmblive @greedydevil @tamegray @meltingicequeen @havethetimeeofyourlifee @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o @hannahlouiseee @sarahlauramendes @shawnsmoose

[whatmack]

UR MATTNEIL....... I MSOBBING

!!!!! AHHH had to post this rn bc it was really getting too long for how I’m formatting this series (why doth my fingers write with such long winds): have some loving neil hours in this house

——————————————-

“You’re going to be a hot mess,” Allison promises over the phone.“Thanks,” Neil says sardonically, juggling the phone to his other shoulder sohe can fit another piece into the puzzle spread over the coffee table. Andrewhas made a game of finding the most psychedelic, difficult to look at puzzleshe can and spreading them over useful surfaces. He gets bored with themquickly, so they remain half-finished unless Neil makes an effort to completethem.“You know I love you,” says Allison. “But you’ve been dating one person, sincelike, forever. You’re like a little baby bird again.”Neil’s fairly certain that’s another insult. He squints at a swirl of glitterypink and tries to see if the shape matches any of the loose pieces he’sarranged in front of him. “It’s Matt.”“Exactly,” Allison coos. “I was there when he won Dan. You have no idea whatyou’re in for, chickadee. No, Parker, down!”Rustling and barking come through the other end. Renee and Allison arefostering hypoallergenic seeing eye dogs, because Renee is a good person andAllison gets hives around anything with fur. Allison pretends she hates the work.Neil sees through her. He’s had practice.“But we already know each other,” Neil says, pushing sternly down on theanxiety rising in his chest. He tries a piece against the edge of the pinkswirl. Nope. “It’s not like we have to make a good impression.”“Just you wait,” Allison says ominously, which doesn’t help Neil’s anxiety atall.Thankfully Neil is too tired to be nervous when he gets off the plane,stumbling from the baggage claim into Dan and Matt’s waiting arms. Checkingbaggage is old hat by now, and he spares a thought to wonder at it as he letsDan sling the case protecting his Exy stick over her back and Matt take overhis carry-on. He falls asleep on Matt’s shoulder in the back seat.

He gets set up in the guest bedroom, same as usual, and it’s not until the nextmorning that Neil thinks to wonder if he should’ve expected to stay in themaster with Matt (and Dan). He flips over onto his back and stares up at thestippled ceiling. It’s not like he’s never slept beside them before, during Foxsleepovers or accidental naps on the couch. Thinking about doing the same thingnow, in this context, gives rise to a squirmy feeling that isn’t quitecomfortable. Not bad, but not good, either. He decides he’s glad he slept inthe guest bedroom this time.The smell of coffee and frying butter beckons him from the kitchen. Neil wrapshimself in a blanket (Matt likes the apartment so cold, he and Dan agree it’s terrible) and makes his way into theopen. Dan is flipping pancakes on the stove, Matt reading from his phone at thetable. Matt’s eyes light up when he sees Neil.“I was hoping I would catch you before I had to leave today! Good morning,” headds as an afterthought, scooting his chair over to leave room for Neil. Neilgrabs the open seat and sits in it crosslegged, drawing the blanket up over hishead. He makes eyes at the three mugs waiting by the coffee maker.“I’m hungry,” Matt whines, leaning back to nuzzle his face into Dan’s back. Shepokes him with the butt of the spatula, shooting Neil a look that says can you believe this guy?“You rush pancakes, you get shit pancakes,” she says. “I know how to cook onething and I’m gonna do it right. Morning, Neil. Coffee?”“Yes.”Matt has practice for most of the day (he’s apologetic, which Neil finds silly,because he’s the last person to think that’s a bad excuse), but it’s a schoolholiday so Dan stays at the apartment with Neil and her playbook. Shegravitates from the table to the couch to the floor to the table again,watching replays on her laptop and taking copious notes. There are fivedifferent pens in her hair before she starts running out of space.With the nonstop rush Neil’s life usually is, Neil is happy to take upresidence spread-eagle in the middle of the rug. He rambles on to Dan about histeammates. He flips through channels until he finds a sepia-steeped Westernmovie and decides it’s good enough. He texts Andrew, and gets back a picture ofthe new cat (whom Matt has finally decided to name “Thunderkick 3000;” Neil andAndrew usually just call him “Teddy”) hanging from a claw snagged in Andrew’sarmband. Dan calls him over for his opinion on her players, and Neil advisesher happily. Though she does keep reminding him that these are freshmen, nothis professional colleagues. Neil keeps reminding her that they’ve got to learn sometime.He doesn’t remember to be nervous until Dan points to the threadbare shirt andpair of (Andrew’s) sweatpants he’s been wearing all day and asks, “Matt’salmost home. Is that really what you’re going out in tonight?”A swift kick to the gut would make him less suddenly nauseous. Neil knows fromexperience. “I don’t know where we’re going.”“He didn’t say to dress fancy,” Dan says, propping her hands on her hips andscanning Neil from head to toe. Neil’s skin prickles. “You’ll probably be goodwith jeans. As long as they’re not fifty years old or ripped. My man’s a classyone.”“Since when?” Dan sticks out her tongue and implies something rude about Neil’s parentage,which all things considered might even be true.She is Neil’s family, though, so she cuddles him on the couch after he getschanged until Matt comes home. The rush of warm air from outside and Matt’sheavy footsteps announce him plainly, but neither of them move until Matt tipshis head over the back of the couch, shaking his sweaty headband onto Dan’sstomach. Dan picks it up and snaps it back into his face. “Ewww,” she says, grinning.“I kinda like coming home to my two favorite people,” Matt says, and whileNeil’s face goes hot he leans down to kiss Dan hello. Neil’s instinct is tolook at his feet, but their faces are in the way and so that would becounterproductive. Well, why should he? Didn’t he and Matt agree that they were going to kiss whenthey saw each other again? Habit makes Neil stop before reaching up, tucking his hands behind his back.“Do I get one too?”“Wh—oh,” Matt says, hand flying up to cover his face. “I. Not yet? Is thatokay?” His voice gets squeakier, so at the end he sounds like a cartooncharacter.“Okay,” says Neil. He starts to ask where they’re going, but Matt stops himwith a hand on his arm.“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he says. “Like. I’m totally still down withkissing. Kissing’s great!” The last time Neil saw Matt bouncing around on his feet that much, it wasbecause he had to go to the bathroom; that doesn’t fit, here.“You’re just a romantic,” Dan teases,and there’s the gut-kick again. Neil’s arms tighten around Dan. She pats him.“You good?”“Mmhm,” Neil says into the pens sticking out of her head.“We don’t have to go out tonight,” Matt says, concerned. 

 That sounds awful.“I’m good. I promise!” 

“Really? Because—”

“Shut up. Where are we going?” Neil says, quickly, before any more argumentscan come through. “Is this okay? What I’m wearing.” Dan shifts to the side soMatt can get the full view. 

“Perfect,” Matt says, all bright white teeth, and oh, Neil wants Matt to lookat him like that and say nice things about him forever. 

After a shower and change himself (“He looks hot in his uniform, doesn’t he?”Dan says to Neil, winking, and Neil feels a quiet thrill when he answers, “Yeah”),Matt slings a jacket over his shoulder and offers Neil his hand. Neil takes it,comforted by the familiar gesture. Matt smells like hair gel and soap andcologne, and Neil presses his face into Matt’s shirt in appreciation.“Drive safe,” Dan says, opening the door for them. She pecks them both on thecheek, stretching up for Matt and leaning down for Neil. “Have fun, you two.”“Don’t blow up the house when I’m not here to see,” Matt responds, and they’reoff, carried down the stairs to the parking garage on Dan’s laugh.