you're my last shot

more lactation kink*

"My tits are so fucking sore."

Harry chuckles gently, glancing over at Y/N as she cups her breasts through the soft fabric of her sweater. His smile quickly fades into a sympathetic pout, reaching over from the wheel to wrap a hand around her thigh, squeezing it gently.

"I'm sorry," he says genuinely, pulling into the parking lot of their destination, "You've been doing such a good job with pumping and feeding Clem, though. I'm so thankful for you."

It's hard to be grouchy and grumbly when Harry says sweet things like that. His gratitude quickly melts away the irritation sitting heavy in her chest so she purses her lips instead, breathing out through her nose in lieu of a response.

It's only their second time out without Clementine, and it's not even anything terribly exciting. They're just going to get lunch at a cafe they both like — they left their three month old off at Y/N's sister's place, but neither of them liked being away from her for too long (Harry in particular). The first time they left Clem with his parents, it was two weeks ago and it was just so they could go food shopping. They made it through two aisles before he started flexing his fingers nervously, asking Y/N if it was too early to call and ask about how Clem was doing.

(Y/N pretended like it was, but in reality, she'd been wanting to ring Harry's mom up for the past 20 minutes.)

But having a newborn and navigating a relatively new relationship was exhausting, and Harry was insistent that they spend time together outside of her place. (He'd apparently replaced his obsession with parenting books with relationship ones.)

And that's how they ended up sitting at their favorite sandwich spot, making quiet conversation about Y/N's maternity leave, Clementine's next doctor's appointment, and Harry needing to end the lease on his own apartment sometime soon.

Everything's going fine as they munch on their food, sharing a plate of French fries between them. And then Y/N feels it — the familiar sensation of milk dribbling from her swollen nipples, and she drops her sandwich to her plate, her eyes bulging with annoyance.

"Fuck me," she mutters, sighing out in frustration. Harry glances up with a concerned expression and she leans closer to him, "I'm leaking. I think I need to pump."

"Oh, shit," Harry mumbles, "You don't have a spare bottle or anything on you?"

She shakes her head. "No. I left all the pumping shit at home. I think I'm just gonna go to the bathroom and, like... I don't know. Try to clean up a bit."

"I'll come with you," Harry instantly volunteers, sliding out of the booth. Her eyebrows raise slightly. "I know you're in pain right now. It's the least I can do."

She doesn't fight him on the offer, instead following him to the single stall bathroom. With an annoyed expression, she locks the door behind him and hikes her sweater up over her nursing bra. There's already faint stains over where her nipples are, making her sigh.

She goes to reach for some toilet paper to clean off her breasts when Harry's hand wraps around her wrist, stopping her.

"Don't," he murmurs, glancing down at her covered breasts, "Can I?"

They haven't done this since she leaked for the first time, back when she was still pregnant. They hadn't even really spoken about it, but if Y/N was being honest, she thought about it frequently. It had been one of the hottest things she'd ever been on the receiving end of.

Parting her lips anxiously, she nods, straightening her posture and subconsciously pushing her chest out. He smirks and unhooks her bra, a low groan sounding from his mouth when his eyes meet her milky breasts. It's a mess he's dying to clean up.

"Fuck," he mumbles, "Let daddy have a taste, yeah?"

Maybe it's the heightened post-pregnancy hormones or maybe it's just Harry, but Y/N's eyes flutter shut at the honorific, nodding quickly. It's not a moment more before his lips latch around her nipple, sucking with an enthusiasm she'd only seen once before. Her fingers curl themselves into his hair, gripping roughly as she whimpers, her pussy instantly growing slick from the dirty sight.

"You're so fucking incredible," Harry mutters against her skin, nipping just below her nipple before switching over to the other one, "Feeding our perfect baby with this. You never let daddy have some though. Bit selfish, I think."

"Y-you can have it whenever you want," she mewls, tugging at his hair, "Fuck— touch me, please?"

She barely finishes her sentence before he's pushing his hand down her pants and underneath the cotton fabric of her panties. They haven't had sex since she gave birth, even though she's been cleared. Harry still knows her body like the back of his hand, though, deft fingertips rolling over her wet, swollen clit as he sucks every last bit of milk she has to offer.

She doesn't know what pushes her closer to her orgasm; if it's the sight of Harry drinking her milk or the sensation of him rubbing tight circles into her clit, but it doesn't take much for every muscle to clench itself, breathy whimpers falling from her lips as she comes all over his hand.

"There you fuckin' go, mama," he croons, glancing up to watch her fall apart. It's his favorite view, but maybe he's a bit more partial to the sight when her milk is dripping down his chin. "Cum for me, baby. Dirty girl, obsessed with daddy licking your milk up."

He works her though it like it's his job, her eyes only fluttering open when her peak has finally tapered off. The first thing she sees is Harry's smug smile, an involuntary, shocked laugh sounding between them.

"You're pretty kinky." She teases. He rolls his eyes, clipping her bra closed and fitting her breasts back inside.

"Right, like you didn't just come from all that."

"Shut up," she says, smacking his chest playfully. "I wanna finish that sandwich."