"Let's do one more," Harrison suggested as he, you, and Tom scrunched up your faces from your latest shot of the night burning down your throats. You were visiting them for the weekend and the three of you had decided to finish an exceptionally large bottle of vodka by testing how many shots all of you could handle. While you had just taken your eleventh shot, Tom had just taken his twelfth, and Harrison was at an impressive fourteen shots.
"Yeah okay," you managed to say, swallowing to try and get the burn out of your throat. It wasn't expensive vodka and the boys weren't sure where they'd acquired it, but they had it in their liquor cabinet and now all three of you were incredibly drunk.
"I think I'm out, mate," Tom waved his hands, turning to the fridge to grab a carton of orange juice and drinking straight before handing it to you to wash down the vodka. You handed it to Harrison, but he waved you off. Even after drinking the most, he was probably the least drunk of the threesome.
"Oh come on," Harrison said, lining up another round. "You don't want your girlfriend to be tied with you do you?" You smacked him on the shoulder, as hard as you could manage while drunk. He stumbled and nearly spilled the shot he was holding.
"We don't do toxic masculinity in this house," you warned him, words slurred slightly. He and Tom laughed because your feminism came out more when you were inebriated.
"I'll do another shot," Tom conceded, coming back to stand with you and Harrison. The three of you clinked glasses and poured the clear liquid down your throats.
You shifted uncomfortably as you watched Tom put away the glasses. You had been feeling a burning itch between your legs all day, and not the kind you wanted. You were actually dying to scratch at it, but felt like you couldn't in front of other people. A deep sigh from you sounded over the music from Harrison's speaker and Harrison looked at you sternly, his arms crossed.
"Listen, I know I'm at my limit here," he admitted. "So you two should just go upstairs and fuck already, I know you're going to anyway," he added.
You shared a look with Tom. It wasn't an incorrect assumption. You'd never had drunk sex before and had heard it could be incredibly fun, but he knew something was bothering you that you hadn't told him. You just felt a little skeptical that the itch may be something worse than just an annoyance. Anxiety had been flooding your mind all day, it could be an STD or a yeast infection, but you were horny and drunk, so you grabbed your boyfriend's hand and left Harrison in the kitchen, suggesting over your shoulder that Harrison employ the use of his noise-cancelling headphones.
You led the way into Tom's bedroom and flopped down onto his bed, still resisting the urge to scratch. Tom crawled on top of you and you tilted your chin up, accepting his familiar kiss as he held his body up above yours, not resting his weight on top of you yet. You placed your hands on his ribs and felt a shiver run through his body as you admired the soft fabric of his t-shirt with your fingers and his body underneath it. His arms shook from holding himself up and you chuckled into the kiss.
"You can lay on me," you told him. He dropped and you grunted slightly at the feeling of his weight on your chest as he tucked his chin to brush his lips over your collarbone. "I like feeling your body on mine," you sighed in ecstasy as he sucked on the skin at the base of your neck.
"You're so pretty," he murmured, still fairly drunk and you winced as he bit down on your sensitive skin a bit too hard. You clutched the back of his shirt, pulling it up so you could feel the warm skin on his back stretching and moving with his muscles as he gripped your ankle to pull your leg around his waist.
"Yes," you moaned as he ground his hips into yours, the friction providing some of the relief you craved from the itching. "Oh my god, yes." You threw your head back into the pillows before shoving him off of you and pulling off your shirt and bra, tossing them to the ground.
"You're very eager," Tom mused, leaning on his elbow to watch as you shoved your shorts and panties down your legs.
"Get undressed," you commanded as you untangled your shorts from around your feet, falling back onto the bed. "I want you inside me.
"Okay," Tom said, pulling his shirt off. You watched as he unbuttoned his jeans and bit your lip as he pulled them down, tossing them into his closet along with his boxers before crawling towards you again. He inserted two fingers into you and captured your gasp with a kiss as he lined up to enter you.
"Wait," you stopped him, pushing on his shoulders. He sat back on his knees and looked at you with a frown. "Can you wear a condom?" you asked hesitantly. The furrow between his eyebrows deepened.
"You haven't asked me to wear a condom in months," he said, his mouth hanging open a little while his drunk brain processed the thought. "Not since you got the IUD. I mean you're on birth control and we're monogamous right? You said–"
"No, no don't worry," you kissed him on the cheek and took his hand. "I'm not worried about STDs or pregnancy. I think I might have a yeast infection."
"Oh okay," he sighed and opened his nightstand drawer. The look of panic faded from his face as he rolled on the condom and pushed you back. His lips were set in a thin line as he pushed into you and you nearly screamed in ecstasy at the almost immediate relief.
"Yes, keep going," you told him breathlessly, your eyes shut tight as his hips met yours again and again. He wove his fingers into yours and held your hand, your bodies slick with sweat and sliding past each other.
"Tom, ah, that feels so good baby, yes please," you moaned, your voice gaining volume as Tom picked up the speed. "Yes, oh my god, YES!" you yelled and Tom clamped a hand over your mouth and looked at you with wide eyes.
"Y/N," he said in a concerned voice, "Harrison is right next door! He's going to think we're being obnoxious! What is your deal tonight?" he asked. "Are you too drunk to be having sex?"
"No baby," you mumbled into his hand and he pulled it away from your mouth, increasing the pace again.
"My vagina has been super itchy all day and this is the only relief I've gotten since I woke up this morning," you admitted sheepishly, digging your nails into his shoulders and groaning again.
"Well that's–" he tilted his head and shrugged, "–kind of a good explanation."
"I'm sorry," you told him. "I know that's probably not why you want me to be enthusiastic during sex." He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.
"It's hot when you're enthusiastic no matter what the reason is," he assured you and pressed his lips to yours again, his rhythm slowing a bit. You could feel his body shaking as he buried his face in your neck, breathing heavily as pleasure washed over his body.
"Yes baby," you whispered in his ear and pulled him tighter against you with your legs. "Keep going, I love you." Your encouragement pushed him over the edge and he slowed considerably. You bit his shoulder gently as he rode out his orgasm before pulling out of you gingerly. You sighed as the itch started to come back, but got up and followed Tom to the bathroom.
He dropped the condom and wrapper in the trash before handing you a washcloth. You wet it in the sink to clean yourself up. You looked at Tom, leaning on the counter with his arms crossed and a small smile on his face.
"You know, not that I'm complaining," he said, taking the washcloth from you. "But why not just use–I don't know–anti-itch cream?"
"It's a sensitive area," you shrugged. "I didn't want to make it worse." Tom laughed and wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. You sighed and breathed in the scent of his sweat and fading deodorant as you wrapped your arms around his back.
"Maybe next time you're loud enough to wake up my roommate it could be because I'm good in bed and not just scratching an itch?" he teased, a hint of hopefulness in his voice.
"I'll do my best."
