Alphabet - Luke Hemmings Smut Fic

O.

For O, it was Olfactophilia and Ozolagnia . Luke read it out to you on the way to school again. Except both of you were dumbfounded as to what you would do for that. It was supposed to be about smells and powerful scents.

“Okay,” Luke said clicking his fingers as though it could potentially spark a fire in either of our brains, “are there any smells that turn you on?”

“Not really,” you sighed.

He thought for a moment and then agreed, “yeah, me either. Maybe we should just go somewhere where it does smell.”

“Yeah, but where’s that?”

“I dunno. Last night was nice when we were out in the open. Maybe after school we could go find a nice flower garden or some crap.”

During English lesson that day, everyone was supposed to be silently reading a chapter of the class novel. You, actually being interested in book, were doing that. But Luke, on the other hand, had his phone up behind the novel, trying to make it seem like he was reading, when really he was on Google. It wasn’t long before the teacher noticed, and tore the phone from him, however. For further embarrassment, she decided to real aloud to the whole class what he had been searching.

“Google Maps. Nearby flower gardens.”

The entire class erupted into laughter and Luke sunk slowly into his chair, trying to hold in his own chuckling. When you turned in your seat to look at him, he was already looking back at you, and the two of you just blushed and smiled.

Instead of going out anywhere later, Luke plainly told you to put perfume on and come over to his place.

Everything ran normally then. You were lying down on his bed, and he was hovering over the top of you, his head dug deeply into your neck as he thrashed himself into you with all the force he could manage. To get you off, he ran his hand down to centre and started pushing his thumb on and around your clit. It was like it was the little switch on a cigarette lighter he was trying to flick on. And after not long, he did manage to flick it in just the right spot and you were set off into absolute flames. Everything became a fuzz of emotion and pure bliss immediately.

Luke, who was yet to reach his high, but was already in a dazey state of complete paradise, continued to pound into you, and rub your clit at the same time. At first it just heightened the extent of your orgasm and let it run for longer, but soon, as he failed to remove his fingers, the feeling changed from pleasuring flames to the sensation of dry ice on skin. It was like a needle piercing you, and the burn in your organs was beyond a warm fire and was now burning you alive. He was over stimulating you, and it was painful. But he was in his own world, caught up in the pleasure of it all, and you, struggling to even breathe, couldn’t get a word out to tell him to stop. The only noise emitting from your mouth was strangled moans, which, from Luke’s point of view, just sounded like you were in pleasure.

Gratefully, Luke quickly hit his stop sign and gave one final grunt and push into you, his mouth open as cream shot from his cock inside of you, soothing the burns he didn’t even know he’d created. He took his hand away from your heat while sliding his cock out, but as he gazed down at your face, he saw your jaw and eyes clenched too tight, and what seemed to be a tiny tear spilling from behind your eyelashes.

“Fuck,” he gasped, “are you okay?”

You took in a few deep breaths, but before you could speak up, he talked again, “Y/N, what happened? Fuck, did I hurt you? I’m sorry. I didn’t know, I swear to God, I was just so-

“I know,” you spat hastily, putting your hands up like paws on his chest, “It’s okay. It was just a bit much.”

Luke’s face had gone from red and flushed with exertion to pale white, like he was a ghost. Or like he’d seen a ghost. When you opened your eyes and saw him, you felt bad, and reiterated you were fine, “Luke, I’m fine. Just give me a cuddle.”

He was stiff, like a bucket of guilt had washed over his whole body and then a cool breeze had snapped it frozen on him. You had to put your hands on his shoulders and push him down to lay beside you. As you wriggled into his armpit, he protectively swaddled you in his arms.

“Y/N,” he whispered, “Was I just going too hard or did I, like, hit you by accident or something? I’m so sorry.”

“No,” you shook your head, burying into the side of his ribcage, “If you keep touching my clit, aka. The most sensitive spot in the entire world, straight after I’ve already come, then it’s just a bit much and it starts to hurt, silly.”

He sighed, “I didn’t realise, I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re sorry,” you mumbled, “stop saying that. It’s okay.”

There was a break in conversation until he spoke up again, concerned, “are you still in pain?”

“No, I’ll probably be sore when I try to walk later though.”

“I’ll carry you home, baby. And anywhere else you need to go. And I’ll carry you to school tomorrow if you want. I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll be your slave to make it up to you.”

By dinner, you couldn’t feel any more soreness. But, nevertheless, you got Luke to bring you ice cream so you could watch a movie together before bed.