Achilles Heel


Five minutes. Three Hundred Seconds. Three Hundred Milliseconds.

I’ve been standing outside of Red Room three for five minutes. At this point, I’ve memorised every little detail of the engraved number on the door. From how the paint was slightly chipped on the zero to how the paint on the three looked like a completely different shade of red. Surely someone else has noticed this and it wasn’t just me, or maybe my brain was playing tricks on me. I wouldn’t be surprised.

My hand made contact with the cold metal of the door handle, turning it slightly before the door gave away and opened before me. The first thing I noticed was the deep red lights in the room, obscuring my view of everything. There was a pole in the middle, lifted upon a foundation. A bed was behind the pole—a few feet away but behind it nonetheless. Two couches lined either side of the walls, making an area for people to watch whoever performs on the pole.

My eyes roamed off to the side just briefly, checking to make sure that the camera was recording but to my surprise, the red dot wasn’t flashing. A heavy ball of nerves filled my tummy upon the realisation that this wouldn’t be recorded, however, when I turned my head a bit to the left I could see two men sitting on the couch—which caught me by surprise. Realisation dawned upon me whenever I got a good look at them. No wonder the cameras weren’t recording. Tony would do whatever he could to please Harry Styles and his precious little gang. That didn’t ease my nerves any though.

“I paid good money for you to put a show on for us, darling.” A rather deep voice spoke, breaking me out of my stupor. My eyes blinked a few times before landing on Harry, realising that he was the one speaking to me.

My legs moved before my mind caught up, stepping up onto the platform and grasping the pole without a second thought. It was crazy what a pretty man could get you to do with just a few words. The deep sultry bass filled the room at once the second I stepped onto the platform. The chosen song was ‘wicked games’ by the Weeknd. Through-out my entire performance, I could feel eyes burning into me, assessing my every move as if I was out on display just for them. In a way, I was.

They were completely silent as they watched me move, obscenely arching my back against the pole as I slowly sunk to my knees before falling forward on the platform, resting my hands on it as my eyes met Harry’s. His long, ring clad pointer finger beckoned me towards him the second I made eye contact with him and who was I to disobey him?

The feeling of the carpet was rough under my knees as I crawled towards the man, keeping my eyes locked on his just to see if his gaze would waver. Most people would stray from direct eye contact because it was intimate, yet he held my gaze the entire time like it was a game for both of us. I quickly decided that two could play this game as I sat between his spread legs, moving to lay my cheek on the inside of his thigh like I had done previously to Zayn.

The other man was radio silent beside Harry yet his gaze was red hot on me. Harry’s fingers came to grasp my jaw, roughly forcing me to look up at him and tearing me from my thoughts. I made sure to make direct eye contact once more with the man, my hazel ones boring into the green of Harry’s.

The silence between us quickly became uncomfortable so I placed my other hand on his thigh, using my weight to push myself up so that we were face to face before slipping into his lap with ease. Not once did I break the eye contact that we had.

“Do I make you nervous?” I breathed out softly, placing my manicured hand on his chest, directly over his heart before tilting my head to the side a bit, feeling a wicked grin take over my red lips.

“If anyone should be nervous it would be you, darling.” He drawled out, voice deep as it always was. Like he had honey mixed with thick molasses dripping from his lips as he spoke.

“Oh.” A soft breath of air fell from my lips before I moved my head to the other side, eyes looking over his features slowly before I met his eyes once more.

“If I don’t make you nervous then why is your heart beating so fast, darling?” I questioned, knowing it was a bit bold of me to use the same pet name that he was using but something about the way it fell from his lips just rubbed the part of my brain that I didn’t like. It seemed like he was saying it in a demeaning manner and not the good kind of demeaning.

Harry’s gaze seemed to harden at the nickname, his hands coming to rest on my hips. A soft tsk left my lips as I clicked my tongue up against the roof of my mouth as I brought my hands down to grasp onto his hands, pushing them off of my waist. “Sorry, darling. You can’t touch me but I can touch you.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the uptilt of Zayn’s mouth, a soft snicker leaving his lips. It hit me then that the man I was currently on top of wasn’t used to the word ‘no’ or being denied, however, that would be changing tonight.

My hips began to move to their own accord, slowly rolling them down against his lap to the beat of the song. The song had since changed into one I didn’t know but it was the same rhythm as the last. Something caught my attention from behind Harry’s ear and without much thought I reached up and grabbed it, a pleased grin growing on my face once I noticed that it was a perfect pre-rolled joint. I placed it between my lips, immediately holding one of my hands out to ask for a lighter since I wanted to light it.

Zayn was the one to put the lighter in my hand but once I noticed that it was a white lighter I was quick to give it right back to him. This time it was Harry who let out a chuckle and I decided that he looked pretty when he laughed. His eyes would crinkle at the side and he gave a little shake of his head like I was ridiculous and maybe I was.

Harry then lifted his hips, bringing me with him before he felt around his back pocket and pulled out a lighter only to put it in my outstretched and waiting hand. This lighter was better than the cursed one Zayn had tried to hand me.

It said ‘best buds’ on it with two marijuana leaves with hooded, red eyes. This was the last thing I had expected him to own. I flicked my thumb against the lighter to ignite it before I brought it up to the joint, inhaling deeply once it was lit. Harry took the lighter from me once the joint was lit. I took two deep hits, holding the smoke in my lungs for a few moments before I slowly exhaled right into Harry’s face as I held eye contact with him. I then passed it off to Zayn who happily took it, a lopsided grin on his face as he took a hit and then proceeded to blow ‘o’ rings which I found obnoxiously attractive.

Both of these men were obnoxiously attractive and it had yet to dawn on me that this was probably a bad idea because I got more than horny when I smoked.

The next ten minutes consisted of the three of us passing the joint around like we were best friends. My eyelids were progressively getting heavier. I wondered if Harry grew his own weed or if he had a dealer. My mind was filled with thoughts and it felt like I had a foggy gaze.

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion and that’s when I knew that I was high. A soft giggle fell from my lips as I placed my hands on Harry’s shoulders, rolling my hips down slowly against him to catch him off guard. Judging by the look on his face, he hadn’t been expecting it whatsoever. I could only imagine how he’d look if I were on my knees for him.

He’d probably look so pretty with parted lips and a flushed face. My head was now filled with the dirtiest of images of both of the boys, wondering if their hands would feel different on my body. I imagined Harry’s hands were rough, callused but greedy. Just taking what he wanted without much thought.

Zayn on the other hand looked like he liked to take his time, tease and prod. He looked like he would trace every line on my body and leave me quivering under his touch. He’d spend time getting to know every little thing that would leave me quivering in his wake.

I quickly pulled myself from my thoughts, feeling the familiar heat grow on the apples of my cheeks. It was a bad idea to get high with two attractive men but what could go wrong? A lot could go wrong. Hot breath fanned my ear as I tilted my head to the side, the hair on the back of my neck standing up as I heard Harry’s deep voice feel my ear.

“I can feel how turned on you are right now, darling.” He breathed out, taking the crest of my ear between his teeth and lightly tugging at it.

“Where’d that bratty mouth of yours go?” He added a few moments later before his hand grabbed my jaw once again, forcing me to look up at him and the look on his face was anything but kind.

“When I’m speaking to you, you answer me. Do I make myself clear?” He glared, his eyelids having become droopy from the weed which I thought was pretty funny. So the only thing I could do in response was giggle but that was the wrong answer because his grip only tightened on my jaw. If he gripped any harder I was sure there would be bruises by this time tomorrow.

“Only if you say pretty please,” I spoke, slowly letting my tongue dart out to wet my lips, my eyes watching as he followed the movement with his own eyes. If I looked up I could see the smoke that had filled the room, creating a small fog in the red lights.

The tension was so thick I felt like I would suffocate on it. How long had it been? Thirty minutes? An hour? An hour and a half? Surely this wasn’t all Harry wanted to do for three hours. Have a cheeky little dance, smoke a spliff and then tease each other until we’re gagging for it?

“I don’t beg.” He spoke as if it was a well-known fact.

I was determined to prove him wrong. There was a side to Harry Styles that was unexplored, one that was begging to be let out and maybe I’d ignore my bosses orders for once and give in. First, though I wanted to see how far I could get with teasing before he had enough.

His rough hands finally dropped from my jaw, placing them on top of my thighs instead which flooded me with relief--short-lived relief. His fingers ghosted right over the edge of my red lace panties, breath hitching ever so slightly.

I secretly hoped he hadn’t heard it over the sound of the music but judging by the smirk on his face that was proved to be a dumb thought. Two of his fingers slowly trailed along the seam of my panties, right beside the inside of my thigh. Goosebumps quickly grew on my skin, taking my lower lip between my teeth as I tried to process exactly what was happening.

Zayn then carded his fingers through my hair gently, taking a handful of it before he gripped it fiercely and tugged me to the side, feeling his breath against my other ear.

“Why don’t you show us what a little devil you can be.” He whispered over the music, his voice reminding me of smooth butter if that made sense. It was like silk, flowed nicely and slightly seductive or maybe that was just the weed.

Be careful what you wish for, Malik.

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