A/N: So I got bored and decided to write a oneshot lemon fic between Lys and Skye (OC). Fit it in the Tongue Tied storyline wherever you like!
Folding clothes was not his thing.
It was Leigh's thing.
But Leigh was his brother.
So I guess that indirectly made it his thing too?
No, that didn't make sense and Lysander knew it. He would much rather be home curled up with a book and a cup of tea, reading glasses perched on his nose and an open notebook at arms reach from him. Instead, he was rearranging the pieces of clothing that had been rummaged through by customers, reinserting hangers, buttoning up the unbuttoned, and so on. To top it off, Leigh had fallen asleep at the counter as if this wasn't his establishment in the first place.
The only thing that made this cumbersome arrangement a bit more bearable with Skylar Whitman. She sat on one of the shelves, leaning back with her choppy short black hair and her curious brown eyes. Her skinny legs hung off the ground by at least a foot, reminding Lysander of her petite frame. It wasn't that she was so terribly short—her sister had it even worse. 5"2 wasn't a bad height for her.
But it wasn't the height that made her seem petite. It was her doll-like, skinny and small body proportions. She had slim legs, a small face, rounds eyes and cute lips, a cinched waist and flowing hips. Her breasts were Bs-he had seen her pick out bras from Leigh's store a couple of times-just the right size to give her a silhouette of a woman. The girl couldn't have weighed any more than 95 pounds.
Not that he was complaining. Her size was on the long list of the many things he found adorable about her.
A satin blouse hung off the tabletop, to which Skye hurriedly grabbed then tossed over to him. She would've helped fold too if Lysander hadn't begged her to stop and just watch. Truth be told, she couldn't fold clothes to save her life.
But what she could do was watch Lysander Ainsworth and his skilful fingers do what they could. She wasn't clumsy with her hands, she just lacked the patience that he did. He swept off some unkempt silver hair that had fallen over his eyelids before laying the blouse down flat and grabbing another piece of fabric for organization.
"You've been doing the same thing for the past two hours." Skye commented.
"Yes, I have been." Lysander hadn't even the time to look her way, instead already moving to another crumpled piece of cloth. If only Leigh hadn't made his designs so complicated, then he would have this done thirty minutes ago and folded them all like t-shirts.
"Don't you feel like taking a break?" Skye continued to kick her legs in the air, swinging them like a child. She watched him with genuine interest but even he felt her patience begin to wean. He couldn't blame her. Lysander Callixto folding clothes wasn't the most intriguing sight.
"A break from all this? To do what?" Lysander asked, waving around the mess that was still left. He was nearly finished already, and if he kept going now, it would be over in around twenty minutes.
"Nothing!" Skye shrugged her shoulders, cocking her head to the side. "That's the point of the break. You just don't do anything."
"I must be boring you." He sighed, ignoring her suggestion. "It's my fault for dragging you down here with me anyway."
"I came here on my own account, Lys. You didn't make me do anything I didn't want to."
Nodding contentedly, Lysander had to agree. Skye wouldn't have done anything out of her own approval so it was a sign she at least chose to be here. Unlike him, who rarely had a choice against his older brother.
"Maybe you should be the one taking a break and cracking open a book to pass the time." Lysander suggested.
"No, I don't feel like it." she stated. Not in a rude way or anything. She talked like she was mentioning a fact.
"Alright…" Lysander nodded again, unsure this time. "Then what do you feel like doing?"
Skye bit her lip, tapping her fingers on her chin. She hadn't actually thought that far. Getting Lysander to even discuss anything with her about taking a break was already the most she had achieved this afternoon. Looking over her shoulder, Leigh was still fast asleep on the other side of the shop, legs splayed out over the table and mouth hanging open.
"Oh! I know." She hopped off the shelf, her feet barely making a sound as she hit the floor. Lysander didn't even have time to ask exactly what she had figured out. She had trotted off somewhere behind him, and he guessed that she was about to wear some of Leigh's new designs. It wouldn't have surprised him. She saw the sketches and instantly fell in love, so the sight of Skye walking out in one of the outfits wouldn't have surprised him.
But he was wrong.
Skylar hadn't disappeared off towards the back of the shop. She was so silent that he had barely heard her right behind him. And she was so fast that he found her arms around his torso and her cheek pressed against his shoulder blades before he could speak.
But instead of keeping the two of them in the comfortable embrace they were in, Skye had other plans. Plans that even Lysander hadn't expected from her.
Her soft hands gently slid down the fabric of his stomach, moving even lower, lower than he thought. She had her touch now right below his navel, slowly inching downwards even more.
Skye went slowly, waiting for Lysander to stop her. She didn't want to do anything out of his consent, but he seemed to be consenting with the lack of reaction. It was the hitch of his breath that told her this was getting somewhere, and she was right. When her slow movements finally reached his crotch, a heat had already begun to spread from his hips downwards.
"S-Skylar…"
It wasn't even a protest. It was a weak whine that sounded pathetic to his ears.
Leave it to her to constantly surprise the hell out of him. In the best, craziest, sometimes most obscene way possible.
"Do you like the idea of a break now?" She asked innocently. She wondered if he heard the smirk in her tone or if she had been successful in concealing it. Either way, she was just content to have him like this.
But God, for Lysander, it was antagonising. He wished she would just drop the innocent act and do exactly what she intended to. Exactly what she was making him want her to do.
On the inside though, this was a whole new conflict. His mind told him he should get back to work, continue this later and just get the job done so that he didn't have to spend any more time in the store.
But there was a more pressing matter at hand both literally and figuratively. It was impossible to ignore now. His mind might have tried to argue one thing, but the sweat that had formed at the back of his neck, the dampness of his palms, and his erection were speaking for themselves.
Skye didn't want to give in just yet. She was a stubborn girl with much more self-control than anyone thought when it came to sexual matters. Sure, she didn't have much of that discipline when it came to her vices, but this was a different kind. This required discipline. It was a skill she had honed well, and it was only to Lysander's disadvantage.
What she really wanted was for Lysander to drop what he was doing and say she was right, that he needed a break, that he needed her. And she saw this as a challenge. Lysander could be just as stubborn too, and could hold out for much longer. She wondered to what extent though.
Lysander hoped that the inward groan that rumbled at the base of his throat was inaudible. It would only have encouraged her further that he was giving in to her touch. He was, but he knew the game she was playing. And if anything, Lysander liked to play in her field as well.
Luckily for him, Skye hadn't heard it. But even worse, she was doing something that could make him react even more. She was busy rotating the heel of her palm agonisingly slow against the hard bump in his pants, right where the head was. The nerves on it seemed to twitch and ache with her motions, upping his heartbeat by tenfold.
When Lysander looked down, he had gone from completely flaccid and unknowing five minutes ago to this. And unlike when he was alone with Skye reading a book, or even in class and caught himself staring at her, this was already impossible to fight. Getting hard with his thoughts was one thing, but her actually initiating it herself was a whole other story.
Still, Skye sighed and murmured something that he had trouble hearing himself. She was talking about school, how she was glad that it was almost the weekend, how she was thinking about getting a job to fund herself, other things that went in one ear then escaped the other. Funny how her touch muted his sense of sound, and basically every other one of his senses at this point. All the while, she continued to rub the fabric of his pants while Lysander, completely against his own bodily needs, decided to continue folding. Had she not been touching him like this though, he would've been finished with at least six skirts by now. Instead, he was stuck on his second. Every time she added just a bit more pressure with her thumb against the tip of the head, Lysander felt his knees nearly give in and his hips involuntarily jerk.
Then, Skye had switched from the rotations to gentle tugging. His length had grown enough by now that she could take it into her grip and pull.
Now he was sweating, and now he couldn't stand it.
She was playing at his last straw and pushing all the right buttons. She knew exactly what she was doing to him, and Lysander couldn't care less anymore about the clothes he was supposed to fold, or that his brother was sleeping just on the other side of the store. He didn't care that he probably had homework to do when he got home or that he was losing this game to no one other than Skye Whitman.
"Skylar." He interrupted whatever she had been saying.
"Hmm?" She turned her head, resting her chin on his back as she looked up at the back of his neck.
He didn't answer with a follow-up. Instead, he turned around and tugged her to him, holding her waist and the back of her neck as his lips met her parted, surprised ones. Slowly, she sank deeper in the kiss and responded with the same passion he greeted her with. Her eyes slid shut as the massaging of Lysander's lips lulled her into sweet, ecstatic trance. The distance between them closed as Lysander took a step forward, sealing their bodies against each other as he trapped her between him and the door to the dressing room.
Skye was enjoying this much more than she thought. Whenever Lysander took control, it sent more than just a thrill down her spine. It made her wet and wanting to see how much he really wanted to let go and stop fighting his own inhibitions. She kissed him back to match his intensity, but there was no ignoring the prodding against her own stomach.
He hadn't thought it stupid before, but now he felt as if his dick was jealous of his very own mouth. He wanted the wetness he was kissing, the tongue he felt on his own. And God, he was so god damn wanton for her.
As if Skylar could read his mind, she pulled away from the kiss and opened her eyes. She searched his bright ones for a sign, a signal for her to go on, but they were bloodshot and wide, almost like he wasn't sure what to do next. All he was actually sure of was that his pants felt too tight and that he wanted her to do something about it. He wouldn't have been able to say it out loud, god forbid, but he hoped and prayed that she knew.
And she did. In a swift motion, there was the silent tug to unbutton him and the swift sound of a zipper. Almost immediately, his pants gave way to what was sticking upright in the middle. Feeling slightly embarrassed—though really more turned on and aroused more than anything else—Lysander stiffened and tried to look for something, anything to hold onto. Skye seemed to have been thinking the same thing, and it was better to be safe than sorry anyway. She turned and motioned her head towards the dressing room he had her pressed against. In a short amount of time, barely even a second, they found themselves in the small space with a full-length mirror and a single ceiling light.
This only made anymore embarrassing feelings become more amplified. Not only was his body practically begging for release and being evident about it, there was a mirror for him to watch it happen too.
Skye, on the other hand, didn't seem to even consider any of these things. She was already prepping herself for what was to happen. Pressing a quick, chaste peck on Lysander's lips, she began to sink down to her knees in front of him, her eyes still trained all the while on his own.
Lysander's throat felt tight. He attempted to gulp the feeling down, but the sight of her kneeling on the ground in front of his erection and with her wide eyes looking at him like that, it was getting impossible for him to swallow down anything.
Gently, she inserted her fingers into the band of his underwear, pulling downwards to finally let out his shaft. Skye had already seen it before, she wasn't about to murmur something about its size like she had before, but she couldn't help but stifle a gasp when she saw it full-blown, rigid, thick and pulsing in anticipation for her. Lysander was just happy that the tightness had been relieved and now came the best part.
Skye started off wetting her palm with her saliva, coating her hand with it before taking a hold of his length. He inhaled sharply when he first felt her touch, and her grip, and just the right pressure she held him at. Then, she began to stroke.
She continued on to milk him for a couple of seconds, then proceeded to wet her other hand and use both, eliciting a more audible groan from Lysander as her pace picked up.
"Love, thats…" He nearly tripped on his words and completely abandoned any hope of even remembering what he was about to say. If he was even intending to say anything at all.
She twisted her wrists as she worked him, creating a tantalizing mix of sensations. Lysander had begun to pant steadily. He had to look away and focus on the wall across him, knowing that if he kept his eyes back on Skylar, he was sure to finish soon. But he wanted this to last. He had a long day, and she was willing to give him release. He was not about to let it end so quickly.
Still, his intentions of holding out for longer were overridden by a new sensation that made him nearly cough on his breathing. When his eyes lowered to her, what he saw turned him on to no end. Her hand had been replaced by the soft touch of her mouth. Skye was dragging her tongue on the underside of his length, lapping at the taut skin and pulsing veins. All the while, she had one hand drawing him closer to her in smooth motions while the other hand gently cupped his balls.
"Y-You're…you're really good at this…" Lysander managed to speak though his focus was more centered on his trembling legs. Skye pulled away to reply, getting him to curse and regret saying anything at all. Conversation could wait but the urgent throbbing matter barely could.
"Oh, I think you're just saying that." She said, sighing. Her cheeks were flushed from the work she had been doing, and all she hoped was for her jaw not to cramp and lock. "I want to get really good at it for you. So it's great that you're letting me practice right now."
Lysander swallowed. None of this felt like practice nor like a game. It was too intense, too fast-paced, too excruciating to be called just an exercise. But any thoughts or any replies that he would've mustered up to say vanished into the back of his head. All while she spoke, she didn't stop completely. Her hand had moved away from cupping his balls and now was jerking him again at a teasing pace. Her hands were tantalizing, but now that he felt her mouth, he only missed it more.
"…Plus," Skye went on, completely oblivious to the torment she was putting him through by delaying his orgasm as she stroked slowly. "I don't know what that means if you actually think I'm really good—"
"Skye…"
"—That kind of implies I've done it a lot of times before, which I haven't. Not that often, I promise—"
"Skye."
"—So I can't accept your compliment so easily, you know? It would—"
"Skylar." Lysander was louder now, firmer, more urgent.
Skye raised an eyebrow at him, looking up from the ground to meet his gaze. "Yes?"
"I need your mouth." He said. Hell, he didn't care how needy and wanton he sounded anymore. He wanted it. Craved it. "Please."
Skye's eyes widened in shock, lips falling slightly open at Lysander's request. But she was not about to question it. Who was she kidding? This turned her on so much, she was regretting wearing a jumper to the store and restricting any possible access for Lysander.
When her mouth returned to suckle at his cock, Lysander shuddered and squirmed. He couldn't help it. His whole body seemed to have tilted forward, his hands holding on to the wall opposite of him only three feet away while his hips began to gradually rock into the hot touch of her tongue. Skylar watched as she experimented, waited for Lysander's reaction. She amped up her pace and the pressure of which she was sucking on him, drawing out one incoherent moan after another. Lysander was sweating now all over, his clothes felt too hot, the dressing room felt too small, his hair felt too thick, his legs felt to shaky. He was panting, mouth parted and groaning to the overwhelming pleasure Skye was inflicting on him. With one hand still propped against the wall to steady himself, he began to use his free one to tangle his fingers in her short dark hair. It was just the right length for him to grasp and tighten his grip on, flexing his hold on her just as she was with him.
It was getting too much to handle. He was already leaking pre-cum.
Lysander's eyes squeezed shut as he let Skye's mouth and her hands take him closer and closer to the edge. She bobbed her head back and forth to draw him in and out, in and out, and with every single time he felt himself squirm and hear himself moan, neither of which he could control by now. He was no match either from her quick grip on him, jerking all the while. Lysander was close, so close, and he could already feel everything rush and push at his walls. A few more strokes, a few more licks and just one more look at her and he knew he would be gone. And he was right. When he opened his eyes, seeing Skye with her flushed cheeks and her dark brown eyes, her rosy lips wrapped around his pink, swollen member throbbing in her mouth, Lysander halted.
Another moan followed by much louder panting and cursing escaped him.
Just like that, he felt every muscle inside of him contract and pull at his nerves on his shaft. His fingers gripped harder in her hair, holding her still and right there, right at the base of his cock.
"Skylar—" He choked.
Hot, thick semen spurted out from inside of him as he buckled his hips and rocked into her. He held on more firmly to the wall, his palm flat against the surface to keep him from convulsing as he continued to ejaculate onto her mouth. And Skye continued to ride him out of it, nearly choking but calming herself, the muscles of her throat so give him as much as she could. Even with his cock filling her up, she attempted to slowly move her tongue around where she could, using the salty liquid as a means of lubrication.
When Lysander was finished, he drew himself out. His vision was filled with static and bright stars, his breathing erratic and heavy. His cock was still twitching slightly from the aftermath, but already felt like he was ready to slump down on the ground.
Skye swallowed then got to her feet. Her hair was a mess from his grip and stuck to her face from both her own sweat and Lysander's hand. She smoothed it down with ease, and put her hand on his shoulder to calm him down.
"Hey." She said, smiling sweetly. Her calm demeanour gave nothing away on what she had just done to him. But then again, there was the case of her flushed face and light panting from exhaustion. "Are you okay?"
Lysander turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow with whatever energy he had left.
"Okay is such an understatement for what I'm feeling right now." He replied, taking in a long breath to try and compose himself. His heart was still pumping in his chest like crazy, but at least now he was sure he could stand without wobbling.
"See? I told you that would be a good idea."
"This was a special case." He shook his head, smiling.
When Lysander unlocked the door though to step out, Leigh's voice was nearby. Too nearby.
In fact, he was standing right by the shelf that Lysander was working on earlier.
"Look, Lys, sorry for passing out there for a second." He said, holding a tangerine-colored garment on his hand. "I didn't mean to fall asl…Oh, hey Skye."
The pair both blinked at the owner of the store. There was no time for either of them to blush. Their faces were already red from thirty seconds ago.
"I didn't know you were here." Leigh continued naively. "You must really love my brother if you're actually willing to fold clothes with him."
"Y-Yeah, you could say that." Skye sheepishly replied.
"Oh, I think you have some yogurt on your mou…"
Then it was Leigh's turn to stop. His eyebrows raised and his eyes widened. Lysander had his hands on his hips, hoping, swearing to god if Leigh figured it out he would have to move to Kenya and never return, ever, but of course—
Leigh noticed every detail. Especially in clothes. And that Lysander's zipper was undone.
His face twisted into something more mischievous, something more knowing and sly. Skye looked at him in horror. She knew that look. "Well, maybe I should leave you two to close up shop."
"N-No, I should really go." She stammered, fumbling for her back. God, she was beginning to forget where she even set it down.
"Alright, alright." Leigh chuckled. "I'm sure Lysie won't stop you. You made sure he finished anyway, from what I can tell."
Lysander hissed and nearly died of internal embarrassment. Turning around and going back to live in the dressing room for the rest of his life did not sound like a bad idea at all.