Mature. Viewer Discretion is advised.
*The people inside of this work are FACE-CLAIMS. This has no correlation to any IRL individual.*
*This is messy plot. Made when I was a teen. Beware.*
The story of a young woman who finds her style, self worth...
"In my youth, I pray to keep. Heaven send Hell away. No one sings like you anymore." ♫ Black hole sun by Soundgarden.
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"No, no... you owe me over $150 dollars. You never paid me for the sleepover! Not to mention, the time I'm spending time with you right now-"
"Uh, no you said your hourly rate was fifteen dollars! We've only been in here for an hour."
"Yeah, well, it doubles the more you complain, missy." Harlow said from below me with a stank face as his hands smoothed up and down the back of my thighs soothingly, "Keep running your mouth and it'll be thirty." His voice lowered to a cocky whisper and his lips transformed into a small smile.
"Not fair." I whispered back, lowering my head slightly by my arms; which I was holding myself up on.
"Life's not fair." Harlow countered, flicking his eyes down somewhere on my face.
I rolled my eyes, but froze and sat up straight when the lights flickered again, "Shit. We should probably go back down now and light candles or something, huh? I mean, it is your birthday party."
"Yeah, but that also means since it's my birthday, I get to do what I want, so I stay we stay.." Harlow sat up too and then hugged around my waist tight enough to squeeze my tits to his chest, "Play with m'hair again too, would you? Feels so good..." He buried his face into my neck with a soft groan.
"Does it really?"
"Oh, yeah, mhm.." Harlow hummed into me, "But you know what doesn't feel good? This fucking shirt, it's scratchy and your nipples are pokin' me through the fabric."
"Naomi wanted to dress nice, sorry. It's a bit much, I know, but I like it." I consoled him through the discomfort, tangling my fingers through his soft curls and scratching my nails against his scalp.
Harlow melted into me from the feeling and I thought for a second he might fall asleep right then, but I felt his eyes blink open against my neck after a few seconds, "Wait..." His voice trailed off and he peeled his head back from my neck, "What is-" He suddenly grabbed my face and turned it to the left, examining me, "What the fuck is that? Do you have a fucking hickey on your neck?"
"Huh?" I looked down at him with confusion, and then at my neck, as if I was gonna be able to see the mark that Naomi left, "Oh. Uh... yeah. The makeup must've smudged off when we started cuddling. Sorry. Forgot. Just ignore it-"
"From who?"
"Uh, Naomi. We kinda-fucked around before we got here, and actually that ones probably from last night." I laughed awkwardly, running my fingers through my hair, "Why do you ask? You knew I was doing something before I got here and it's not like it's gonna affect your cuddle whorish behavior. It's just a hickey."
"Well, no shit it's just a hickey, but I have to fucking look at it and it's ugly. Why would you let her do that?" Harlow looked genuinely offended, and peeled his arms off of me to put them in his lap like I was getting a scolding or I was being put in timeout from his affection.
