Work Text:
I slipped into the bathroom the moment Liesel slid open the door at my one measly knock, the lock clicking shut behind me with a soft snick that, in my mind, rang louder than it should have in the muffled roar of the engines. The air inside was warm and humid, the faint hiss of the shower filling the cramped space. Liesel was already stepping back into the tiny cubicle, naked and glistening, her blonde hair darkened to gold and clinging to her shoulders. She voiced no surprise or protest, just fixed me with those sharp blue eyes, one eyebrow arching as if she'd been expecting me all along. I barely suppressed a flush of cheeky triumph—I'd done it, I'd followed her in, taking refuge in audacity—but beneath it, my stomach churned with the curdling awareness of rank hypocrisy.
I had to get her onside, right? To secure her help with Orion, with Dubai, with the whole bloody mess, because Liesel was always so frustratingly right, and I needed her brain. But all I'd told myself before finally leaving my seat was that I wanted to one-up her, catch her off-guard for once. And if I was honest, which I couldn't help being on account of realising all this against my better judgment, my chest ached for something to drown out the pain of Orion leaving me, again, for Ophelia's terrible maleficer clutches, his mother or not. Sleeping with Liesel to manipulate her hardly seemed like the high road, and I knew it—I knew it—but time was short, and bad solutions came oh-so-much easier than the true ones.
I shoved the thought down and stomped on it, focusing on the moment, letting the faint smirk playing on her infuriatingly full lips distract me from everything Mom taught me, before I self-sabotage and run away like a total moron.
"Are you going to stand there gawping forever, or are you joining me?" Liesel asked, her voice cutting through the steam, sharp and direct, with that faint German clip to her words. Her beauty was so overt, so aggressive—blue eyes like a clear sky, cheekbones that could slice, all that golden hair—but her brashness made it into a weapon she wielded, not a gift she shared.
This is absurd, I thought, the absurdity itself a flimsy shield, but a shield nonetheless.
"Wouldn't want to deprive you of the view," I shot back, and lost the fight with a scowl, annoyed at how effortlessly she could needle me. But I started peeling off my clothes anyway, the fabric sticking slightly to my skin in the humid air. Liesel declined to watch, merely stepping back into the shower, the glass door half-fogged to separate us, brief as it may be. I found myself grudgingly grateful for that small mercy—she could've made a show of it, taunted me with a look, but she didn't. It gave me a moment to gather myself, to dump my clothes into a half-arranged pile on the narrow bench, my heart thumping with trepidation too tangled for me to unpack.
When I waved her aside to duck under the water, our bodies discovered each other before I even meant them to, a thousand little intimacies compressed into one in a cubicle so cramped I suffered a thankfully short pang of doubt that the two of us would fit in there at all. She shifted without protest, her skin warm and slippery against mine. I reached out, my hands finding her waist, and the contact sent a jolt through me. We'd only done this once before, that brief stay in the airport lounge, but my fingers recognized the curve of her hips like I'd mapped them over decades. The familiarity of it startled me—it was disconcerting how easily our bodies slotted together, how her warmth under my palms brought instant and easy comfort. Liesel leaned into my touch, and the soft noise she made lodged somewhere behind my sternum—a rush of delight that sparked confusion as much as it exhilarated me. Just being this close to her, to another living person, skin to water-click skin, was a relief so deep it made my throat tight. I didn't need more than this—not yet—the solid reality of her against me already met all the requirements I could imagine, pushing back the ghosts in my head.
Liesel shifted in my arms, raising her face to capture my eyes, challenge—and something else—glinting in hers. "Is this it, then? A round of heavy petting?" Her tone evoked pure Liesel, dry, impatient, and demanding, as if I'd already disappointed her by not presenting a detailed plan.
My annoyance flared, the same spark that always ignited when she poked at me, reminding me of every time she'd been right when I'd wished her wrong. But it didn't douse the fire pooling in my belly—it only made it brighter. The heat of her under my palms, the way her breath hitched when my thumbs swept upward, left no room for retreat. I'd wanted to throw her off, take her for a spin for once, and the cheek that spurred me, the sheer whimsy of sneaking in here, made me bold. Before I could second-guess myself, I tilted my head, letting a playful note creep into my tone. "I was contemplating things that begin with the letter 'A' while sitting there all alone. Perhaps we could bear to be a bit more adventurous. Perhaps I could become more aware of your assets. Perhaps we could get around to places left thus far aside." Brilliant, El. Absolutely tactical. Now make another pun.
Liesel stilled. For a heartbeat, the only sound was the water pattering against the tiles. The proposal hung in the air, and for a glorious half-second, I saw it—her eyes widened, her lips parting just a fraction, her bewilderment on display. I'd succeeded, I'd unbalanced her. Then she faced me full-on, her expression unreadable save for the faint crease between her brows. "Anal?" she asked, clinical as if confirming a hypothesis.
My own words caught up with me, and I nearly choked on them. Had I really just suggested that!? My courage wavered, the color in my cheeks definitely no longer from the shower. I was half-ready to mumble an apology, to backtrack and admit defeat, when Liesel spoke.
"I've never tried that," she said, her voice matter-of-fact, though a flush overtook her, too—hard to tell if it was the steam or genuine self-consciousness. "I haven't prepped, and it's unlikely to be particularly enjoyable, let alone bring me to climax. Bodily functions are involved. It might be...unpleasant for you."
Paradoxically, her bluntness steadied me, even as my mind raced. I couldn't help but notice that she listed perfectly reasonable points, all undoubtedly true...but none of them were a no. I could almost taste the victory, the chance to finally get one over on her, and it made me reckless. "It wouldn't be. We're in a shower, aren't we? Cleanup's sorted. And what's this—is our valedictorian of fearsome affect with her arsenal of charm, afraid of a little... assistance? Mayhaps a subject to analyse?" Oh. My. God.
She huffed, and I thought I saw her flush deepen, though the orange-tinted plane light made it hard to be sure. "You are worse than a boy. If you're so keen on my assent, I assure you I can manage it perfectly well," she said, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "It's not my comfort zone I'm concerned with. You'll sulk for days if I let out so much as a troubled sigh."
I grumbled, because she wasn't wrong—I'd hate it if I'd hurt her, and she knew it. "We'll stop if it's rubbish," I muttered, cheeks now truly burning.
"We will," she agreed, and then, to my utter shock, she turned in my arms, leaning against the wet wall of the cubicle, the arch of her back both an invitation and a challenge—a dare I couldn't refuse. The curve of her spine, the way the water beaded on her skin, it was almost too much to take in.
I swallowed, my throat dry despite the humidity. "So, um... we're doing this, then," I said weakly, half to myself, scarcely believing my half-prank had got us this far.
Liesel didn't glance back, but her voice carried a peevish tinge, edged with her cutting insight. "You're so clearly enamored with the idea that no one with a pulse would say no at this point. Certainly not me. And we can use the liquid soap as lubricant—anal play, especially for a completely inexperienced receiving party like myself, calls for at least some sort of help, and we're not spoiled for options." She delivered it with such confidence, as if she'd researched it in a library, that I almost laughed.
I reached for the soap, my hands trembling slightly, and squirted a generous amount onto my fingers. My head spun—I was turned on, ridiculously so, and it hadn't even been the point. I'd proposed it to fluster her, not because I'd thought it through, or ever imagined she'd agree, and now here we were. It said a thing or two about me, stuff I steadfastly refused to examine, so I didn't. Liesel turned off the water with a quick twist, ensuring the soap wouldn't wash away too soon, and I slid my fingers down, down, down—to the cleft between her buttocks, and she inhaled sharply. The contact sparked electricity, a jolt that set our nerves alight, our bodies squeezed so close together in the cramped space that I could scarcely tell her shiver from my own.
"El," she said, her voice low and fraying at the edges.
I leaned in, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, the taste of her skin mingling with the faint chemical tang of the rinsed off lather. Liesel moved impatiently, cupping my face with one hand and turning over her shoulder to kiss me, deep and unapologetic, her lips urgent, capturing my mouth with a hunger that left no room for doubt. Her teeth grazed my lip, her hips rocking back against my hand, and the last shreds of hesitation tattered. When we broke apart, I was breathless, still stroking lightly, working her shamelessly. "Is this... really all right?" I asked, my voice unsteady, acutely aware of where my hand rested, of the intoxicating rhythm of her blood drumming through the muscle at my fingertips, of what was transpiring between us, even if we chose not to name it.
Liesel's eyes shone fierce. Her answer was to seize my free hand and drag it to her breast, her fingers interlacing with mine. "Well, we're not stopping now, Higgins," she breathed against my jaw. "Just move."
I nodded, heart pounding, and when I moved—slow, cautious circles, marveling at the pliant firmness of her—she let her head drop forward with a groan. With careful gentleness, I pressed a finger inside the pulsing ring, her resistance gave way under my touch, her body yielding softly. Heat enveloped me, tight and almost cloying. Liesel's deep moan startled me, a low, unguarded sound that vibrated through the cramped shower cubicle, and for a breathless moment, I froze—terrified I'd misjudged, that this would fracture the fragile trust between us.
But Liesel rolled her hips in counterpoint, urging me deeper in an ardent whisper: " More. " It sent a thrill down my spine—and there was no turning back now.
I kissed her shoulder again, my lips brushing the warm, wet curve of her skin, then trailed up to her neck, her jaw, as my finger moved with cautious deliberation. I curled my finger gently, exploring intimate terrain. Her breath hitched, sharp and stuttering, before dissolving into a moan that vibrated through her shoulders. The sensation of her—tight, searingly tender, so vulnerable it made my chest ache—overwhelmed rational thought. I mapped her slowly, following every subtle shift, every spongy ridge, every clench and release, as if I could memorize her from the inside out.
Liesel wasn't still. Her legs, honed to perfection from a year of Scholomance sprints, tensed and flexed, muscles standing out in sharp relief as she shifted her weight, rubbing against me in the tiny space. Her body molded into mine, slick and feverishly hot, and I felt every movement as if it were my own. She turned her head, catching my lips again, her kisses hard and hungry, and I lost myself in the beat of it—kissing her back, her neck, her shoulders, while my finger traveled with tenderness I'd never learned I possessed.
"There—there," she managed, one hand scrabbling for purchase against the tiles. "Slower. No, slower—oh, fuck—"
The vulgarity sent a current through me. My free hand splayed across her stomach, anchoring her as she sagged forward, her thighs trembling. "El"—she gasped, half plea, half command—"another. Add a second finger. Please . "
I hesitated, my instinct battling with the heat in her tone. "You sure?" I murmured against her skin, my lips brushing the nape of her neck.
"Yes," she chided, impatient. "I'm not fragile."
I obeyed, working a second digit in alongside the first, slow and tentative despite her urging, met with a stifled whimper. Her body resisted briefly, then eased, her head dropping between her shoulders. The tightness was exquisite, hot and delicate, singing on my fingers, and Liesel's reaction was immediate—a gasp, sharp and unguarded, that melted into another moan. "Yes," she breathed, " yes —but move —"
I did, working in shallow thrusts, my knuckles brushing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She relaxed around me with surprising ease, her body welcoming the intrusion, and it was intoxicating, the way she trusted me with this. Her moans grew louder, unselfconscious, each one stoking the fire in my belly. She was gorgeous—her blonde hair plastered to her back, her blue eyes half-closed when she glanced over her shoulder, her body a study in strength and surrender. Every shift of her hips, every choked-off cry reverberated through me. Her back arched, muscles taut as bowstrings, sweat and water mingling along the elegant lines of her spine.
"Faster," she demanded, her voice cutting through the haze. " Harder . You're too gentle."
"Don't want to hurt you," I confessed, my fingers still moving in a gradual, deliberate rhythm, savoring the way she felt, so tender and alive under my touch, slick and burning inside, all fragile membranes that gave way all too easily at but an errant twitch, and I didn't understand how this can ever be enough.
"You won't," she said, exasperation laced with thick arousal. "This—this is very good, El. Deeper. Please . Move. Like this." She pushed back against my hand once more, hesitant at first, then with building confidence, setting a pace that made our bodies rock together in the confined space. The motion was electric, her hips guiding me, and I matched her, letting her lead even as I kept my touch careful, steady, preventing the pace from turning rough. I couldn't—it wasn't in me, not with her, not with anyone else.
" Yes ," she exhaled, her voice throaty, her precision slipping. "Just...that angle. It's—good. Really good." She shifted again, her legs trembling slightly, and I felt the strain in her back, the way her muscles tensed as she chased the sensation. "I need... I need it deeper. ... Yes ! Like that!"
I pressed into her, my own breath coming in ragged sync with hers. The rhythm quickened, uneven at first, then smoothing out as her gasps and bitten-off curses guided me as they filled the air. "Like that," she panted, " exactly like— oh —" Her hand shot for mine again, crushing my fingers against her breast as she ground back onto me. "Don't—stop. Don't stop. "
I couldn't have even if I'd tried. Her openness, the way she told me exactly what she wanted, was as arousing as her painfully gorgeous body. I was lost in it, in her—the world narrowed to the slick heat of her, the salt-tang of her skin beneath my lips as I mouthed at her shoulder. Any shame I might have found within me was gone, burned away by the sheer reality of her pleasure. I explored her with a kind of reverence reserved for art created to be touched, my fingers tracing the internal contours of her, tight and hot and so fragile it made my heart seize. She pushed back harder, her movements growing more insistent, and I acquiesced, still careful but giving her the intensity she demanded.
"It's—bloody hell, it's amazing ," she said, her voice faltering. "Keep...keep going. Just...just like that . Don't—Don't stop." Her legs strained, her toes curling against the wet floor, and she clawed at the wall, her nails scraping faintly against the slick surface. Her body was a wonder, trembling against mine, and I could sense her excitement building, her breaths coming faster, her moans turning into gasps, and then they crescendoed, raw and unfiltered, each one a live wire against my nerves. When her legs buckled, I caught her weight effortlessly, our bodies fused in the humid.
I was completely engrossed, my world narrowed to the feel of her, the sound of her, the way our bodies moved together in a shared rhythm. I'd suggested this to throw her off, to win a point, but that notion no longer held sway over me, circled down the drain like water from our bodies. I wasn't thinking about anything, I didn't remember anything. I was just here, with Liesel, my heart pounding in step with hers. Her responsiveness, the way she accepted me without reservation, made something in me thrill. If I'd been anywhere else, I might have cried, the joy of it so sharp it hurt , but right here, right now, I could only pour it into her, into every tender touch, every wet kiss against her skin.
Liesel's movements grew frantic, her words crowding each other, tripping over one another, her usual composure riddled with a thousand cracks. "Fuck," she gasped, the word tumbling from her lips. "El, it's—keep going , harder —" She bounced on my fingers, her movement driving our rhythm fully now, and I followed, my touch still measured but firm, giving her what she sought. Her legs tensed, muscles locking rock-hard under her skin, her back arching as she danced on her toes, chasing the edge.
"El—" Her voice cracked, high and desperate. "I'm—I'm close—please—plea-a-ase...!"
It was the unbridled plea that undid me. My fingers crooked, searching, and she screamed , a sound that ricocheted off the tiles and lodged in my own throat. Her body clenched around me, once, twice, more, a relentless pulse as she came apart—back bowed, heels lifting, every muscle locked in ecstasy. " Fuck ," she sobbed, " fuck , I—I can't— El —"
When it hit, it was like a tide breaking. Her body seized, then shuddered, her climax cresting in waves—a powerful, quaking release that made her gasp and half-hiss, her nails scratching the wall in fruitless fervor. "Fuck!" she swore again, her voice raw. She trembled, her legs shaking as she rocked against my fingers, hips jerking erratically while she rode out the aftershocks. When she finally stilled, she was heaving, her body lax and boneless against mine, yet clenching around my fingers desperately as I withdrew with aching care.
"I just—I finished . From anal. My first time, and most people never do even if they enjoy it. How...? I've never even played — It was so diffe— That's not how it works!" Her tone was half-exasperated, half-amused, but there was a wonder in it, too, and this, we very much shared.
I pressed a kiss to her shoulder, my lips lingering, and she reached back, shamelessly pulling my head closer, her fingers tangling in my hair. I didn't speak, just breathed against her, my chest full of quiet, fierce happiness. A stray thought flickered through my mind— I'd won, hadn't I? Liesel, so composed, so in control, had come apart under my hands. I examined the notion, frowned at it, and dismissed it, intrusive and unpleasant as it was. It didn't belong here. This had ceased to be about winning long before she accepted me inside of her like no other before, and clung fast, desperate, trusting . That was what I would remember—that, and only that.
Liesel stirred. "Well," she said, her voice dry but affectionate, her sharpness returning in stages, "it's hardly surprising you're great in bed. It's always the quiet ones." She wriggled in my arms, turning to face me, her eyes glinting with intent. "Now, shall I return the favour? I have a grasp on your preferences." She probably noticed my cornered look since a laugh bubbled out of her chest, unmoored and giddy, "No experiments!"
I relaxed, blinked, some of my sense returning, and started to babble. "You don't have to—I mean, I wasn't—"
She silenced me with a kiss, fierce and claiming, her hands already mapping the planes of my body. Her lips were firm, her intent clear, and I melted into it. "I want to," she murmured against my mouth. "Unless you'd rather I stop?"
The realisation of what I'd done hit me then all at once, her question an accidental catalyst, and a flush of panic swelled in my chest. Had I really just—? But Liesel watched me expectantly, eyebrow raised and palms stilled to frame my face. When did she...? As if able to hear, she kissed me again, now unspeakably tender, and I leaned into it, frantically grateful for her unerring ability to yank me back into the moment, where nothing else mattered. Her offer hung between us, bright, commanding and inevitable, while her warmth grounded me and soothed me, telling me everything shall be well.
I swallowed, my pulse a wild staccato. "...No. Don't stop."
Her smile was all teeth. "Good."
She took charge with almost embarrassing ease, as though it hadn't been me initiating—and leading up until a moment ago. I should've been angry. I would've been angry if not for the bone-deep relief it brought me, firmly evicting all thought from my mind, and leaving only her touch.
The water hissed back on, and for a while longer, neither of us spoke.