Breaking Points

Part Three of Sophie Miller's Stockholm Syndrome Sophie Miller is no stranger to kidnapping. Getting kidnapped four times in the span of nearly three years practically makes her an expert on the matter. Anne Miller though, Sophie's newly found sister and first time kidnapee, knows one thing her sister doesn't: never let Stockholm Syndrome into your head. It's easier said than done when the One Direction boys prove to not only to have sick, perverted sides, but also worried and loving ones. Will Sophie succomb to the boys' charming attitude once and for all, or will Anne manage to get herself and her sister out before she too is stuck with Stockholm Syndrome? After all, Harry, Niall, Louis, Zayn and Liam have proven repeatedly that their breaking points are right around the corner...

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16. Two Truths and a Lie

I sit up a little straighter as he begins.

“I have 7 siblings, I have already dyed my hair blue for charity and my first pet was a dog called Ted,” he smiles, leaning in the couch. “Which of these three facts is The Lie sweetheart?”

I frown.

“How exactly am I supposed to know these things?”

“You don’t. Ah and I forgot to tell you, if you guess wrong, you’re the one that has to take a piece of clothes off,” he adds cheekily.

“You’re not playing fair!”

“I’m making it interesting; it’s not the same thing. Now tell me Anne, which one isn’t true?”

I shut my eyes briefly, pondering. I have no idea about the pet, but I’m pretty sure Louis would be bold enough to dye his hair blue... He doesn’t have seven siblings, that’s unreal these days...

“You don’t really have seven siblings, do you?” I enquire, unsure.

He beams.

“As a matter of fact, I do. Take off your shirt babe,” he chuckles.

“What?!”

“Yup.”

“But then what was your lie?!”

“I already did dye my hair red for charity, not blue.”

“That’s not even half a lie!”

“It’s a lie nonetheless... Come on Anne take off the shirt―”

“No. I get to choose what piece I remove,” I scoff, bending down. I take one of my socks off.

“Seriously?”

“You gave me a shitty lie; I’m giving you a shitty article,” I counter.

“Fair enough... I’ll get you naked in the end anyways. It’s your turn,” he sighs. I think of my facts for a few seconds.

“I can’t surf, I set fire to an orphanage when I was eight and I already was so drunk I mistook a random man for my dad and hugged him for several minutes,” I say.

Louis cocks his eyebrow upwards.

“I’m pretty sure you aren’t lying when you say you can’t surf, but I don’t believe you when you say you set fire to an orphanage.”

“Well I did,” I declare, smirking. “Remove a sock.”

“No I’m taking off my shirt... Oppositely to you, I don’t mind getting undressed,” he pauses, lifting his shirt over his head. “Why would you set fire to an orphanage? That’s just so.... cruel,” he asks, frowning.

“Nobody was harmed,” I reply, my gaze averting from his bare, tattooed chest.

“But why?”

“I hated the place... It made me feel like shit. So one day, while everyone was outside for the noon recess, I lit a match and threw it on my bed. I ran as soon as I was sure every single bed had caught on fire,” I say, playing with my fingers. I wasn’t exactly proud of that part of my past... yet I was relieved I had done it because when the authorities found me, they sent me to an orphanage that was a much better place to live. We didn’t eat on the floor for one thing, and the washrooms weren’t crawling with cockroaches 24/7.

“Wow. You’re suddenly a little more intimidating...” The Doncaster boy remarks, scooting backwards a little bit. “Well if you did burn an orphanage, what was your lie?”

“I never got drunk once. Therefore, I never hugged a random man,” I shrug.

“You serious? Never got drunk?”

“I’ve never tasted alcohol,” I nod. Louis’s jaw drops.

“You’re so strange Anne,” he murmurs, almost in wonder.

“Pfft and you’re not?” I scoff. “Your name is basically my definition of strange, as well as pervert, cocky and immature.”

“Well I’ll take that as a compliment,” he winks. “But you forgot charming, attractive and kind-hearted to your definition.”

“You wish.”

“Oh no I know,” he chuckles. “Still I personally think you’re stranger than me. But to continue with our little game, my three next statements are: Australia is one of my top 5 most favourite countries so far, I’ve played a role in a movie and I helped to write 5 songs in our last album.”

I look at him, squinting as I try to figure out which was his lie. His face didn’t falter but it seemed absurd Australia would be one of his most favourite countries.

“You visited so many countries, Australia certainly can’t be in your top 5,” I sigh.

“Well it is. My top three even. The lie was that I helped to write at least ten songs in our last album, not five,” he states, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“Your lies are so unfair!” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Nobody’s stopping you from making them just as tricky as mine...” he points out, snickering. “Come on Anne, remove your other sock.”

Grumbling, I do as asked before pursuing the game.

“I hate pineapples, I love mangoes and I despise honeydew. Which one is the lie Tomlinson?” I snap.

“You seem like a honeydew eater. I think that’s your Lie,” Louis says without hesitation. Fuck something must’ve shown in my face. “I’m right aren’t I?” He smirks.

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“What if I am...? It’s the whole point of the game no?”

“Aww don’t be like that sweetheart, we’re just having fun―”

“Talk for yourself.”

I gasp as his body suddenly towers over mine.

“You’re not giving fun its chance to act its magic, Anne,” Louis murmurs softly, his eyes piercing mine. His body heat radiates off his naked chest and I gulp. “Let’s make a deal alright? I’ll play my turn, and if you guess right, we can try your idea of fun, and do whatever you please. If you don’t guess right though, your clothes come off. All of them,” he says, smiling. “And you and I we’ll get to know each other a bit more... intimately.”

“I’m not risking that. What if you lie?” I grimace.

“Honey it’s the goal of the game...”

“But what if you lie about your lie!” I huff, rolling my eyes.

“I’ll make sure to pick statements that can be proven to you.”

“And what if I don’t want to seal this deal?” I enquire, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Then I guess you don’t get your phone call.”

“I have a phone call?” I frown.

“Oh I didn't tell you? You are allowed to have a two minute phone call with your father to make sure he's okay,” Louis says casually.

My heart skips a beat. “Really?” I whisper.

“Yes really. We gave one to Sophie last September, I can’t see why you wouldn’t be allowed,” he reasons. “But you have to accept the deal babe or you're not gonna get it,” Louis sing-songs. “And I meant that in both ways.”

Talk to Dad... Make sure he's okay... I'm sure it's worth Louis game. It'll give me a chance to tell him where I am exactly. But if I don't get it right... damn it Louis'll probably want us to do more than some innocent kissing.

“All right,” I consent. “But you better be able to prove your truths.”

“Don’t worry,” he smiles cheekily. “So here are the facts: My boxers are grey, I have over twenty five but under thirty tattoos and I’ve got a scar on my hip due to a ski accident I had a couple years ago with my friend Stan. Which one isn’t true, Anne?”

“Seriously? These are your three statements?”

“Seriously.”

I gaze at his chest. About 15 tattoos are visible, but maybe he has more on his legs or feet...If he removes his pants, I might be able to see more and confirm his boxer’s color, and if he does have a scar on his hip...

“Can you remove your pants?”

Louis laughs.

“That’d be way too easy love...”

I frown.

“But if you think it’s necessary, you’re the one removing them,” he states coyly, lying lazily on the sofa with a daring look in his eyes.

Fuck. You. Louis.

“I’d do it but I’m not allowed to stand,” I respond nonchalantly as I motion my knee, hoping he’d just do it himself.

“Prove it.” He retorts, standing up and off the couch. I watch in dismay as he walks in front of me, placing himself between my legs. “Take my trousers off,” he taunts.

 I swallow nervously, looking up at him.

 “Knew you were bluffing,” he says mockingly. “You’re not brave enough to undress someone else for the sake of―”

He stops in mid-sentence as I reach over to him and tug his trousers downwards, exposing grey boxers and a couple new tattoos.

“You were saying?” I reply, giving him a goading look. “So clearly you weren’t lying about the boxers...”

“Indeed but you don’t know about the scar and you haven’t counted all my tattoos yet.”

“I don’t see a scar,” I counter.

“It may or may not be under my boxers...After all it’s supposed to be on my hip,” Louis answers, winking.

There was no way I’d remove his boxers willingly, so I started counting his tattoos one by one.

“Does this count as one or two tattoos?” I ask, motioning the stickman and the skateboard.

“One.”

“And the stag and heart?” I probe, pointing his upper right arm.

“Also one.”

“Turn around,” I ask, once I’m done counting everything I could see on his front. He does as asked.

I smile once I’m done. I counted 25 tattoos exactly, nothing present on his back. “There’s your lie Tomlinson... You said over twenty five but you have exactly twenty five,” I declare proudly. Ha. He thought he’d get me again with his tricky statements.

“You guessed wrong sweetheart.”

“What?” I have to replay the sentence again in my head.

“I have twenty eight tattoos love,” he smiles. The Doncaster boy bends down, and rolls his socks down his ankles, exposing three more tattoos: two screws and a group of letters on his ankles spelling ‘The Rogue’. “I won. Clothes off Anne,” Louis states, a naughty grin on his face.

Fear starts building inside me at the realisation.

“But―”

“We made a deal... are you going to go back on it?”

“Louis I don’t like it! I can―”

“I promise you’ll get your phone call afterwards okay? And I promise I won’t hurt you purposefully...I just want to make your second time better than your first,” he gets out rapidly, kneeling in front of me. “Please I’m really only doing this to put you more at ease with yourself...”

“Louis I have a wounded knee. If anything, having sex will be awkward!” I protest.

“Trust me,” he whispers heatedly, his body getting closer to mine.

“No.”

“Anne....Trust me.”

“Noooo―”

I whimper and shut my eyes in mid sentence, a pleasurable feeling spreading through me as his hand brushes over my nether regions.

“Trust me, and take off your clothes,” he persists, his hand cupping my sex as he moves so his naked chest is hovering over my clothed one, placing himself in between my legs. “Unless you’d like it if you stayed dressed...” he proposes innocently.

I unintentionally imagine him shoving himself into me, with all the difficulties clothing implied. He wouldn’t see all of me... My skin tingles inexplicably and I can’t help feeling aroused by the thought. “Louis,” I moan involuntarily, my eyes tightly shut.

“Fuck, I think I found another one of your kinks Anne,” Louis groans, pressing his crotch into mine. “I think you’re into clothed sex. And I bet you’d love sensation play...You’re perfect.” His lips meet mine in a passionate kiss.

 I find myself responding to it, grabbing his right bicep for support. My lips move with his easily.

“You’re practically a shy little fuck bunny...”

“No I don’t like sex,” I deny, panting as I break the kiss. This has to stop...

“You will.”

I whimper loudly as Louis’s head digs into my neck, leaving intense open-mouthed kisses everywhere he can while his hand slides under my shirt and cups my right breast, his thumb rubbing my tender skin. My head tilts back, leaving him more space to continue kissing me.

 I jump in surprise as he suddenly grabs my arse, squeezing hard.

“Fuck you’re mine Anne,” he gasps before joining our lips once more. The kiss’s passion makes me dizzy with arousal. “Say it Anne,” he utters, his hand moving to grope my left breast.

I blink a couple times, caught off guard by his demand.

“Say it Anne!” Louis repeats, grinding slowly but forcefully on me. “Say you’re mine!” He orders, his hand rapidly moving down my shirt and through my sweats to rub my clit.

“Fuck Louis,” I whine, lifting my hips up a bit to give him better access.

“Anne!” His digit enters me and I gasp.

“I’m yours Louis! All yours!” I stammer, pleasure overwhelming my senses and making me forget how it was totally wrong to agree to all this.

“Yeah you’re mine,” he grunts, relaxing slightly. His mouth connects with mine for another kiss, his tongue fighting to make its way inside me. Another one of his fingers slips inside me easily. “Jesus Anne... You’re so wet... So wet for me,” Louis utters, clearly having difficulty expressing himself. “You like this, don’t you?” He pursues, rubbing slow circles.

I nod and he stops, making me whimper in protest.

“Words Anne.”

“Yes I love it,” I moan out.

“Good girl,” he purrs, resuming his previous actions.

Both my hands reach for him, one of them slowly sliding the length of his torso while the other tugged him down for another kiss. Somehow, I can’t get enough of his tantalizing lips.

I feel him remove his digits, moving them so he could knead my thighs softly under my sweats.

“So pretty,” he murmurs. Louis shifts again and this time, his hands completely detach themselves from my body. I watch as he places them in his boxers, pulling his throbbing member out. Uneasy, I shut my eyes and turn my head, apprehensive.

“Love look at me,” the British boy urges, his face mere inches from mine. “Remember what we did in the bus two days ago?”

I nod, recalling when he had blindfolded me.

“It’s much more arousing when you look, therefore much more painless,” he explains, lust clouding his blue eyes. He pauses, smiling faintly. “Kiss me,” he asks unexpectedly, pressing his forehead against mine. “Please.”

I lift my head up and latch our mouths together, my digits intertwining in his brown locks as I tug him closer to me. Still kissing me, Louis moves around. I feel his hand on my hip, trailing down until it’s pulling the hem of the sweats downwards with my underwear.

“Ready?” he breathes, his tip rubbing against my lower lips.

“Ready...” I murmur, doubt lacing my voice. Louis kisses me yet again, his left hand cupping the back of my head while the right one led his cock inside me, moving to cup my arse cheek once he is fully sheathed in.

I focus on breathing, hugging Louis tightly while I try to get used to him inside me.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he instructs after a minute or so, feeling me rut slightly against him.

“I can’t, one of them is wounded remember?” I groan.

“The wrap the right one,” he responds, lifting it himself so it enclosed around his body. Immediately, he shifts in me, the position allowing him to push in deeper than I thought possible. I moan loudly.

Steadily, Louis pulls in and out of me, keeping a firm hold on my leg around his waist.

I whimper softly in delight every time he thrusts to the hilt. Our sounds mingle as he starts chasing his release.

“Fuck Annnne,” he groans, harshly shoving his hips against mine.

“Louiiss!” My breath hitches as his hand moves to play with my clit.

“Gooooddd!”

My vision blurs as I tip over the edge, whining in pure bliss. Louis thrusts another couple of times, before he’s emptying himself inside me.

“Annneee fucking hell!”

As soon as I’m back to thinking clearly though, I urge him off me, realising something.

“Aww come on Anne it was fun―”

“Louis you didn’t use any protection, did you?” I cut him off swiftly.

He frowns.

“I’m guessing you’re not on the pill huh?” He counters.

I shake my head negatively and he sighs, removing himself from me and tucking himself back into his boxers. He pulls out his phone.

“I’ll text Harry to stop at the pharmacy to get the Day-After pill,” he huffs tiredly, typing away on his phone.

“You better,” I reply. My eyes are glued to his phone. “And I get a phone call no?”

“Yeah,” he nods, handing me his phone without a care in the world. He still appeared to be in post-orgasm bliss. “Your two minutes starts the second you start dialing and it has to be put on speakerphone,” he adds.

“But―”

“No buts Anne... I don’t even need to let you call.”

“Grrrr. Fine,” I grumble, before dialing Dad’s cell phone number.

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