Category: Real Person Fic, Femmeslash
Characters: Dee Plume, Julian Barratt, Noel Fielding, Other
Pairing: Femmeslash, Julian Barratt/Dee Plume, Julian Barratt/Other, Noel Fielding/Dee Plume, Noel Fielding/Other
Genre: PWP (porn without plot)
Warning: Smut (graphic sex scenes)
Length: <1k words
Notes: Initially written as a sloppy tumblr ficlet in the wake of a spare dirty thought, I thought I’d clean it up and post it properly. Because THERE CAN NEVER BE ENOUGH DEE/JULIAN. And also Melvis. There is no fic at all about Melvis, and I have such a big gay crush on her and there should be.
The night this is meant to take place on, if you want a visual aid, is this one
Into Trouble by Culumacilinte
Julian and Dee don’t usually have sex without Noel there as well. It’s not something they’ve discussed, really, it just seems good form, if nothing else, but Julian is such a drunk fuck right now, and it makes him wicked and sloppy and loose and cuddly where he usually isn’t, and Dee always gets horny when she’s had a bit to drink, and well. Julian ought to be unattractive, that plastered, but he totally isn’t, and his stupid shiny shirt just makes her want to play with it, and Noel’s off somewhere else, and fuck it, Julian’s grinning at her like a wolf and Dee wants his cock in her, and that’s that.
And that’s how they end up on the floor with Julian’s jeans off, ridiculous fucking stripper shirt half open because it’s got poppers instead of proper buttons, Dee riding him like a bloody rodeo queen. Her tights got ripped between the two of them when they fumbled them off, but she’s not fussed, holding one of his hands to her tit (he doesn’t need too much encouragement, those long blunt fingers twisting her nipple through her vest, and that just goes right to her cunt and it’s hot as fuck) and bracing the other one on his shoulder as she fucks herself down on his cock. They’ve both got good rhythm, thank fuck, otherwise they’d never manage.
Julian gets gobby when he’s this drunk, too, and even though his inexplicable dirty talk is totally hot (at one point, he slurrily refers to her tits as lemons, and proceeds to follow that down a whole bizarrely obscene citrus-themed train of thought), it also keeps distracting Dee into keeling over him with helpless, drunken giggling. Which is great, but also she wants to get off, and she’s got her priorities.
So when she spots Melvis stumbling past, she straightens up and shouts, ‘Oi, Melvis, c’mere! Barratt needs another cunt to shut him up.’
And Melvis laughs and complies happily enough.
Julian has a harder time talking with Melvis riding his face, but he doesn’t seem to be complaining. Quite the contrary, he sets to with a will, groaning way deep down in his chest as he gets a grip of Melvis’s thighs, lifting his chin up to mouth and lick and suck like he’s starving for it, all soft lips and the not-quite-scrape of his beard, and Melvis laughs and gasps and shudders, rocking forward to knock foreheads with Dee.
‘Christ, he’s good, innee?’
Dee’s face is screwed up around concentration as she grinds her hips down against Julian’s, breaking for a moment to smile wide and wicked over at Melvis, breathless and open-mouthed. ‘He’s a slut for cunt. Or cock, come to that.’ And then she cackles, high-pitched and cracking with her breaths. ‘Secret slut! Under all that grump and Russian literature. Best fucking secret in the world.’
And then Melvis laughs too, tilting forward again to catch Dee in a sloppy snog, open mouths bumping, half missing each other and tongues reaching, half-catching the edge of a tooth or the slight fuzz of cheek before they sort themselves out. Melvis tastes of cigarettes and vodka cranberries. They kiss like that, deep and hungry until Dee tenses up and shouts into Melvis’s mouth, bearing down hard with her orgasm.
She slips off Julian after that, leaning down to coo filthy encouragement into his ear as he eats Melvis out, lazily jerking him off with one hand, and letting the other wander over Melvis’s thigh, up under her t-shirt, down to rub at her clit, knuckles clumsily bumping against Julian’s chin, until they both come as well. Julian’s eyes are bleary, his mouth and nose and beard shiny and sticky, his hair an astonishing mess. It’s a good look, and Melvis laughs until she’s hacking for breath, falling sideways to kiss the taste of herself off Julian’s face.
Noel catches Dee later in a corridor and plucks wickedly at the torn tights she’s still wearing, an impish, provoking grin on his face. His fringe is all sweaty, messily shoved halfway off his forehead. ‘What’s this, Delia? You been getting into trouble?’
‘Had Julian earlier.’ She says it like a taunt, grinning, and Noel’s eyes lid faintly.
‘Aw, without me?’
‘You were busy with more important things; I had to rope Melvis in to help me out.’
And she crowds him into a corner and tells him all about it, breathing in the BO-and-booze smell of his neck as she murmurs dirtily about how pretty and desperate Julian looked, how she had a good feel of Melvis’s tits while they both rode him and how that made Melvis groan, how nice Julian’s cock felt in her, how Melvis’s come had got all over his face, rubbing Noel through his jeans until he’s trembling and panting. And then, because she’s feeling generous, instead of making him come in his pants, she drops to her knees and sucks him quick through his orgasm.
Noel’s bright-eyed and grinning and shaky afterwards, and Dee feels remarkably accomplished.