Afatallovesong_

Ashton Irwin

Drive

Off Stage

This Ends Here

Babe

Dear Diary

Calum Hood

2:00am

364

Unbelievable

Wicked

Unbearable

Early Grave

Purely Transactional

At Your Convenience

Michael Clifford

You Call Me Up

Luke Hemmings

In The Backseat

Not Yours (Part 1)

Its crisp and cold out. The early signs of winter were rolling into the city. The leaves were now lacking existence. Fallen branches scattering pavements, cracked under leather docs. Breaths were seen in the air as well as heard. Cheeks and noses were rosy with the bite of a harsh incoming wind. The sun was beginning to set just a little before 6pm. The darkness befalling the streets of California. Calum had often liked a walk at sunset. There was something oddly calming about it. Watching the world carry on as the day was meeting its end. It’s not that he’d even see much of the sun’s disappearance with all the buildings and lights and the busy billboards, but he’d known it was there. He’d known it was leaving him.

He liked walking home in the dark too. The city was so vastly different like that. The stores, the staff that changed over, the people you found wandering through. People were teaming and seemingly bustling with character, not all good, in some circumstances maybe even foul but certainly more outgoing than the daylight crowd. Some were tired and rushed off home from work. Often moving so fast he’d nearly been trampled down into the pavement twice. For the most part, the characters could only be described as friendly, interesting, and easy to watch going by. None could have captivated him quite as much as you though. He’d soon find that out. His friends and family would never describe him as particularly observant, this ought to prove them wrong.

He’d been across the street, a little over 10 feet away maybe when his eyes set upon your figure. It seemed as if the building encasing you hadn’t been there at all. Like you were just stood there on the street corner exposed to winter air as much as he was. The concrete cage above and around you, merely an afterthought. He’d spotted you with an impressively keen eye. He could pin point any detail about you from the style of your hair to the colour of each stripe on your shirt. He may even go as far as to say he’d memorised the order they appeared in. Light blue, dark blue, off white, and black, and repeat and repeat. You weren’t doing anything spectacular to catch his attention in the way that you did. He just knew that you had and now he was stuck watching you on a loop. Stood restocking shelves by the window, a couple of bags in each hand. Despite the averageness of it all, he’d felt the world stand still, calling him inside, calling him to you. The girl in the window.

He went completely unnoticed by you at first. He was thankful for that. You’d had a delivery that morning and spent most of the day painstakingly unboxing and replacing items running low around the store. You were at the last one, placing individual packets of chips on the shelf and the rack beside it. You decided to organise them into rainbow order, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. You had a little song about it, so you knew. You’d been foolish to assume you’d had the whole colour palette. You try to invent a flavour for indigo and violet to rectify that. You could send a strongly worded sales pitch to Lays. For now, though, you were stood atop a step ladder to reach the highest shelf. You weren’t exactly short, but the additional height did come in handy when you couldn’t find the energy to stretch higher than what was natural. Its only as the sun tucks itself away, do you finally brave peering out of the window again for some form of escape.

He catches your eye as you hover there, throwing the cardboard box, now empty, down on the ground behind you. In the space it took you to finish the task and turn back around, he’d crossed the street now looking at you from the corner. He hoped he didn’t look weird. He definitely looked weird. You don’t think much of the exchange at first. But as the seconds escalate you find yourself partaking in a little staring contest. You’d felt that burning sensation in your eyes again after a short while. Just as you go to blink it away, he’d gone. You half wondered if you’d hallucinated his appearance in the first place. Stranger things had happened after a long day after all. Whether real or not, you’d lost the contest. You knew that much. You took your loss and patted down your thighs in defeat. 

The door opened with a collection of high pitched tones from your butterfly wind chime above it. It’s just as alarming as it was when you’d first started working there. You thought you would have acclimatised by now but a mixture of tiredness and a slow moving day in store had you beat. So instead, you found yourself jumping out of your skin. You were lucky you didn’t fall. It might have been a more exciting day if you had. You may return to the idea if the day dragged out any longer.

You managed to get back on the ground safely. Your ladders were folded and slotted back against the window where you’d retrieved them from. Your cardboard box now back in your hands to flatten for the recycling bin out back. For now, you’d rest it near the ladders, but you may as well complete half the job while you’re at it to save you doing more than necessary later on. Judging by your exhaustion now, it would be the last thing on your agenda at 10pm. Plus you were never one to leave a customer unsupervised in store. You may have been tired, but you weren’t stupid. 

He stepped inside, warmth flooding around him, engulfing him in a large hug. It was a California summer amongst the shelves and aisles. At least that’s how pleasant it had felt. Now that he thought about it, that was a horrible way to describe somewhere that sold fresh food. It’d be a nightmare for food hygiene and longevity. He might have been a touch hasty in his earlier description. It was undeniably cosy though, that was a better fit for it. It was a pleasure to be shielded from the cold.

His eyes easily floated back to you now that he’d entered your space. That was probably just as creepy as it sounded. He didn’t have any sort of plan in mind for entering the store, he never usually did. He’d just made it inside and assumed that that would be enough but of course it wasn’t. It would never have satiated his need to meet you. But he couldn’t just stand in the doorway with his hands in his pockets watching you like some sort of weirdo. Which admittedly, was exactly what he was currently doing. Until he snapped out of it and shuffled himself down the next aisle. He had to approach you somehow though. He’d made it this far; he should follow through.

He could see you through the shelving. There were gaps between produce and items without height, quite similarly to bookshelves in a library. The more he looked the more he could make that comparison. Were these second hand shelves? The shop wasn’t as tiny as it looked from outside either. There were at least 5 short aisles which considering the location, was impressive. The old convenience store seemed no larger than a matchbox from out there. Now he’d stepped inside he’d argue it was more of a healthy apartment, or maybe a doctors waiting room. Yes, those really were the best locations he could think of.

He couldn’t help but notice how the light still caught you as he peered through the confectionary to the place where you stood. The light was illuminating your striped shirt and little blue waistcoat resting in coordination on top. It also bounced off the shiny, scribbled out name badge hooked into the left pocket. He wondered why you hadn’t gotten your name printed. Perhaps you were new here. He’d never seen you in here before. He’d like to think he’d remember you if he had. Not that he was the biggest or most loyal customer to ‘Convenience Corner,’ but he had made it inside once or twice before. It was mostly while drunk, just picking up extra supplies for a party or so but it was enough for him to know. No, he’s certain he’d not seen you before. He ought to find out your name before he forgets to.

“Can I help you?” He jumped at the sound of your voice. It was melodical and cheerful, sweeter than he’d expected. He’d not been prepared to feel even more intrigued by you so soon and in a situation like this no less. You’d caught him staring hadn’t you? He could never show his face in here again if you had. He’d have to leave immediately; God forbid pretend to buy something to make the interaction less awkward. That’s if that was even possible at this point. He wasn’t that sure that it was. His fight or flight had to kick in sooner or later. He looked up from the pack of pistachios his hands seemed to instinctively land on. “Sure, the freezer’s in the back.” He lifts his head to follow your voice with an eyebrow arched. He hadn’t asked for anything in the freezer section. You weren’t speaking to him at all. He’s not sure which was more embarrassing, the fact he was self-centred enough to believe he’d been caught or the fact he was now too aware that he hadn’t been. 

“Guess I’m buying the damn pistachios,” he muttered under his breath before grabbing one packet off the shelf, heading in the direction of check out. He was about to make it there too, before he changed his mind, turning back to grab another just to be safe. Surely it was weirder to buy one packet. Or was that just him? He made his way to the counter for good this time. It was adjacent to the entrance as one might expect, easy escape route if things went south. He hovered in place, occasionally stretching onto the tip of his toes and then back down again as he waited patiently for you or another employee to aid him. Though he hoped, deep down in his soul that it would be you.

During his wait he noticed the green chair behind the register. The chair clad in worn leather, looking about as old as the building itself, tucked away neatly. The next items he spotted were the locked cabinets with indication to liquor and tobacco from the warning labels and age restrictions printed on the doors. The little bronze bell atop the counter was next. Then it was the vintage green radio buzzing to the left of it, sputtering out some classical tune he’d never for the life of him be able to recognise. Then it was the cup of what he assumed was coffee, in a branded cardboard cup he also didn’t recognise.

The more he looked the more he found. The walls were patterned with blue and white vertical stripes. The floor shared the same colour scheme with checker tiles. Suddenly the blue uniform was making sense. The décor reminded him of the 80’s, bright, in your face and yet comforting and familiar. His favourite piece of décor in the whole store had to be the painted sign that read ‘please don’t fucking steal.’ He wondered if it worked much as a deterrent or if he was gullible. His second favourite was the collage of confiscated fake id’s with various graffiti vandalising the faces. He laughed at those harder than he thought he would. The Marlboro’s in rainbow order weren’t far behind.

It was cluttered and unorganised, certainly had an eclectic vibe, but he felt strangely at home in his surroundings. He’d liked that. He’d also liked that the price labels on everything were the same shade of green as the chair and radio, some kind of extreme case of colour coordination. Perhaps there was an ongoing discussion about replacing the walls and flooring. It seemed like the favoured shade in the establishment in its current state, was green. It would look pretty green. He really was dull today.

“Hey, sorry I took so long.” You had appeared behind the counter slightly out of breath, hair swept over one shoulder, slipping down your back in an untidy fashion. You were rubbing the back pockets of your blue jeans, looking from left to right and all around for something, he couldn’t quite fathom what. You’d moved so fast he barely registered your arrival there at all. Let alone be able to guess what you were doing there now. You’d startled him in the best way, rushing in to save him just as he feared he was losing grip on reality.

You’d smelt so sweet, next to the dust heavy, 80’s vibe of the shop floor. You had this fresh aroma of apples mixed with mint or something similar, and he liked it. He really liked it. He could have bottled that up. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you scrambled around. He watched you in awe like he’d never seen a retail worker before in his life. You’d seemed so colourful and lively against the drab old signs pinned behind you and it was absolutely mesmerising to him. What was a girl as bright as you doing in a place as drab as this?

Another customer entered with a gust of wind following shortly after. Trickling that breeze across the back of both your necks. Both your eyes floated over to the doorway and back simultaneously. A shiver had shot up his spine when your eyes had met his for the first time, well second actually. He quite enjoyed the feeling of your gaze on him. “Just those?” You asked sweetly. It took most of the energy you had left to lay it on thick for him.

You never enjoyed taking your tiredness out on customers. Not just because it was unprofessional but because you quite liked other humans. You liked them a lot. They were the sole reason you were employed, sure but you also just liked the experience of your fleeting moments with the rest of the human race. You didn’t need to know their life stories. You didn’t need to chit chat and ask about their day because it was simply polite to do so. Any conversation carried between you and the passers-by, the window shoppers, and the regulars, was a part of your day that you enjoyed and often craved. Somewhere, not so deep down, very clearly found instead, you hoped this new customer would allow you more than just a fleeting moment.

You eyed him with large, soft eyes. A genuine glimmer of happiness was lit within them. Despite the bags beneath them which made his heart ache for you, he thought you had the prettiest eyes he’d seen. So much so that it took him a while to return to you, remembering exactly where he was. Buying something. He watched you peering down to the items he’d handed over, fascinated by literally anything that you did as if it were his first day on earth. And for the love of God, how could someone so tired be so devastatingly beautiful?

“Uh, yeah, that’s it.” He really took over a minute to pause and then came out with that. Pathetic. He’d kick himself for his lack of conversational skills later. For now, he just glanced down to your name tag with curiosity but not enough guts to back it up. You caught him, addressing it immediately. It seemed you were paying just as much attention to him as he was to you. Funny he hadn’t noticed it, since he clearly saw everything else that you did.

“Printing error, would you believe it?” He shook his head, he’s not sure why. “You’d think I wouldn’t need one at all, owning the place.” He was quite impressed by that; he hadn’t shown it as well as he’d have liked to, but he was. He wouldn’t have guessed it. You started shuffling around, just like before. Your eyes dart beneath the counter, then above, to the side, even to the ground. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen some keys on a lanyard?” You eye him hopefully, anxiously gnawing on your bottom lip. Stay strong Calum. You rushed a hand through your hair as your panic set in. He had a feeling this wasn’t the first time you’d lost them.

Ever the hero, he glanced around to where you were stood before. He remembered your position exactly. He might have been a serial killer. He’d have to book himself a therapy session later that evening. These were early signs for sure. There kicked beneath the bottom shelf, a slither of silver caught his eye. Before you could clear the counter yourself, he’d already grabbed them, wrapping the sunflower printed material around his hand.

The smile you greeted him with was similar to that of a damsel who’d been delivered from distress. He knew he wasn’t worthy of such praise, but he so enjoyed the sight of it as it was presented to him. “Thank you.” You gestured a prayer as you said it, bringing the keys to your chest, your breasts squishing together significantly. He wished he hadn’t noticed that. “I swear that’s the 6th time I’ve done that.” You sink the key into the cash register, springing it to life, opening the drawer beneath it.

“Just today?” He dug at you, earning a blush, he felt blessed to have seen it let alone to be the one to cause it. “Well, that’s 2.75 then.” You said happily, hands flattening atop the wooden countertop as if you were smoothing out a piece of fabric. He hands money over the with a “keep the change” and a smile that flashed his perfect pearly whites. You placed the 5 he gave you in the cash register, eyeing him sceptically as did so. “See you around big spender.” His breath escaped him at the nickname, the possibility of seeing you again too. That was the most fun either of you had, had all day. 

-

“I should give you a job since you’re in here so often.” He doesn’t fight the smile that braces his face when he enters the place this time. “Then you’d have to finally tell me your name.” He knows he’s got you there. “On second thoughts, you’re my best customer and you’re so, so welcome here any time honestly.” You slam your magazine down on the counter for emphasis, resting your face in both your palms, elbows on the wood. “Oh yeah? Don’t get a lot of pistachio fiends?” He wanted to be embarrassed; he had no legs to stand on. He’d been coming in every Thursday for the past 5 weeks, buying a pack of pistachios each and every time. His car was just about overflowing with them at this point. The shells, bags, full pistachios he couldn’t quite toss and catch in his mouth in less than a minute. It was an addiction to most, you included. 

“What brings you in today?” You held your hand out to stop him answering you, only he never began to speak in the first place. He was proud to say he was used to you doing that. “Let me guess.” He flipped you off before responding light heartedly. “Maybe I’m just checking in to see how your name tag is coming along.” You thought for a moment before responding. “You know, it’s taking a whole lot longer than I thought, guess labels aren’t on trend right now.” The sarcasm was dripping. He nodded as he headed down the aisle, fighting heart palpitations as he went. He didn’t have to get the same thing. There was no reason to now. He wasn’t in a hurry. He wasn’t panicking only grabbing the first thing he found. Yet, he still grabbed a bag like clockwork as if it would ever be impressive to you.

“I never thought anyone liked pistachios.” He jumped about 3 feet as you appeared beside him. This was the closest you’d ever gotten to him. “Jesus fucking Christ.” You sniggered a laugh at his expense, thoroughly. “No, that’s not my name but it’s a good guess.” You patted him lightly on the shoulder. He felt like he’d been shocked by electricity. “As I was saying, scaredy cat, I thought it was just something adults lied about enjoying to seem more mature or something.” Every bone in his body had him wanting to agree with you. They tasted like dog shit, but he couldn’t resist them.

“Rude of you to give me another nickname without so much as a whiff to your own name.” He raises you. You didn’t think he had it in him. “Would it please you if I let you provide me with a nickname?” Its patronising as fuck but he’d already been glad to accept your offer regardless. “You sure you’re ready for that?” You shrugged it off, there was no way he’d think of one on the spot. He was so painfully awkward and flustered around you at all times, the tiny burst of wit he pushed out a few seconds ago was probably all he had left this week. You could let him do his worst with full confidence. Knowing he’d never conjure one good enough to knock you down.

“Stripe.” Your eyes widened to the point where he feared they might pop out of your skull. “Fucking Stripe?” You half yelled, repeating the word far too many times in disbelief. He was fully aware of how awful it was, really, he fucking knew. But your reaction made it all the more worth it. “I’ve never seen you in anything other than a stripey top and that blue fucking waistcoat, it was the best I could do.” If that was the best, you’d hate to see his worst. “I’m not mad, just disappointed.” You then rubbed his back so platonically he thought he might scream.

“But uh, they’re great yeah, yummy.” He shook his head at his own awkwardness. “Yeah, must be, you’re the only reason we replaced the stock you know.” You pointed at the tiny marking slammed on the shelf just below the item up for debate. An “out of stock” label was scrawled out messily in black marker. “Shit really?” There was that laugh again. He could record that and sell it as a cure for depression, it was the happiest sound he’d ever heard. You could cure all ailments with a laugh as cute and dorky as yours.

“Nope, but it did make you panic for a second huh?” You were facing him, arms behind your back, chest pushed out proudly as you smiled at your own mischievousness. You tended to do that a lot. You weren’t ever aware of the way your breasts pushed forwards like an offer he couldn’t refuse. But he had so hoped that he was right in assuming it was accidental. Although, if that was just how sexy you were even without trying, he could only melt at the thought of a real attempt. Pull yourself together man, you’re not 14, not every pair of tits has to destroy you. Even if yours were perfect. “Do I really come in here that much?” He's white knuckling his way through that question until you finally relax your shoulders, the tension also leaving his own.

“Yeah you do.” You said it with sympathy and a kindness as if that was the making of an intervention. “I could lie.” You offered. He thought about it. Then he thought about the way he could recognise every single note your wind charm had been able to make. The way he knew the floor creaked in the centre of every aisle but never the edges. How the lights only flickered above the freezer section and buzzed like a swarm of bees when they did. How there’s always an excess of toilet roll stacked the near the door because you’d accidentally ordered too much. How you’d tripped over it most days despite you being the only reason it was there. How you’d told him you’d done it only once, but he knew for a fact it was 5 times just in his presence because he laughed every single time. Yeah, he might come here a little too often.

“Would you please lie?” His face heated in several different shades of red, one after the other coordinating with your striped shirt of the day. A blush brown, red, and orange. You were yet to repeat an outfit. The horizontal stripe was the same, but the colour was not. That wasn’t really saying much in the grand scheme of things. He had only met you 5 times so far. But 5 different stripey tops was still arguably hard to come by. “You just really love your nuts.” You dragged out your s.’ He hit his head on the shelf before him with a thud. “That’s even worse.” He mumbles while continuing his downward trajectory into self-loathing. 

“Yeah, maybe you should go with your dignity still intact.” You nodded, brushing off laughter. “You’re right. Though I think that would require having any in the first place.” He made a lot of jokes at his own expense, more so than anyone else you’d ever met. You hoped he didn’t really feel like that about himself. “Yeah, no I was lying to make you feel better.” You nodded repeatedly. “Didn’t really try it before, now I did. I don’t really like it.” You shrugged. He smirked.

“So, same time tomorrow?” He did the same old thing with his feet, standing on his toes, slotting back down, his tell-tale sign that he was waiting for something. “Maybe.” He left it open for interpretation. You leaned in close, your face not far from his, like the counter had disappeared altogether. “Oh, a maybe huh, that’s how we’re playing this now?” You’re so close to him he can now identify the exact kind of mint you carried on your breath. It wasn’t peppermint like he’d assumed at first. It was spearmint. You were spearmint and spiced apple rolled into one. It should never have worked but on you, it was perfection. 

“Can’t bear to see me twice in one week Cal?” He thought he might combust as you shortened his name. It took every ounce of energy he had left not to melt at your feet. “I am getting too predictable, do need to keep it fresh. Can’t have you sitting there all day just expecting me to arrive.” He was proud of himself for keeping up. There may be hope for him yet. “Oh, but it’s such a crucial part of my existence.” Your hand slid across countertop, and he thought he imagined it even as his own lifted involuntarily, aiming to meet it.

“Very funny. So witty.” He was reduced to two word sentences and sarcasm, brilliant. “I know, I know, keep going, talk dirty to me.” You were definitely a dork; you both knew it. One of you found it endearing. Your hand touched his, he was almost certain it wasn’t an accident by now. His heart still didn’t believe him. “I will see you, eventually.” Your fingers pried his open, hands joining, fingers bumping knuckles, fumbling around in a beautiful whirl. He didn’t know when your relationship got to the point where you’d been able to touch like this. He also didn’t know what it meant. He just knew he enjoyed it, and you could touch him wherever you desired.

“Eventually?” You say it slowly, breathing it out to see if he’d like it. His eyes couldn’t avoid your glittery lip gloss any longer. It was all he’d thought about for the last 45 seconds since he’d noticed it. He wished he never noticed it. Now he can’t do anything but notice it. He also thought about the possibility of wearing it himself. Not because he wanted to go out and buy the same one but because he so desperate to feel your kiss, he wouldn’t mind the transfer. Those thoughts weren’t helping anyone.

“Mmhmm, sometime, somewhere.” Did his voice go up an octave? “Probably here.” You corrected him, thumb smoothing over his. “Definitely here.” He confirmed, he’d not taken a new breath since you’d touched him, and he might have started going purple because of it. “But sometime.” You poked with a smirk. “Exactly.” He said inching closer. As much as you liked it, you panicked. You released his hand in a flash and stepped back, legs knocking into the chair behind the counter. He’s gutted to lose your touch but chooses not to hold it against you. You must have had your reasons.

You pretended it didn’t make you want to yell out every curse word under the sun under the scrutiny of his stare. The way your chair dug into your calves was dire. You cut your flirtation short and hoped that masked it adequately enough. It didn’t. “Get out of my store.” You bossed him around with a smirk. He felt relieved by it. At least he hadn’t fucked anything up. You smiled away at him as he did as he was told. Holding it right until he’d disappeared, not only from the shop, but the view of the exterior too. You sank into your chair safely this time and let out a deep sigh. Was it hot in here or was it just you?

-

“I get off at 10.” You rush, bringing your hands back down to your sides. You didn’t smile, you didn’t wave, you didn’t breathe. You just blurted it out. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards but didn’t react more than that. “You do?” He isn’t really sure what to say, he never is. He wants to ask if you mean what he thinks you mean, and what he thinks you mean is that you’d like to see him when you finish. He’s not sure if he has the courage to do something about it. He still needed to work on communication, if you had taught him anything, it’s that his verbal skills were lacking.

“I get off at 10 and I think you should come hang out.” Your spare hand floated to your hip; you hoped it appeared as casual as you intended it to. But truth be told your grasp on it was nothing close to gentle. The silence growing between you was painful. “I’ll see you then.” He said, just as quietly, just as unsure.

“Fuck, you will?” You stepped in closer to him, absolutely relieved. He reached out to you; you’re attempting the same. “I uh, yeah.” This is the only time you’ve been tongue tied around him and you’re not enjoying a single second of it. “Now please leave before I have a meltdown over this.” He didn’t budge. He still wanted to touch you, hold your hand, your hip, your scissors that you were previously using to cut open packaging, anything he could. “Seriously oh my God.” You’re laughing but you need it, you wouldn’t think straight again until he left. “I’m gone, I’m going, I’ll see you at 10.” Fuck yeah you will.

-

“What can I help you with today?” You asked as softly as you always did. You leant right over the counter already cutting the distance. It was 10:02pm. There was no more wasting time. He started to lean in a little too. You wet your lip in anticipation. The way you often did when you saw him. Because you couldn’t keep it together for even a minute, needed that sensation across your lip to prevent you from finding another. Under the watchful gaze of those fucking browneyes, you’re helpless. “I actually panicked when you didn’t come in at 6 today.” Distracting yourself with conversation was something you’d always done; may it help you now.

“I didn’t think you’d miss me too much.” He was happy you did. He was selfishly ecstatic if he was being completely honest. “Well, I did.” He nodded at the information, letting it sink in. He also let it go straight to his head. It wasn’t his fault. When a girl like you says she misses you, you’re living the fucking dream as far as he was concerned. He leaned in, elbows nudging yours on the counter, a parallel to a couple of weeks back when you’d held hands in the very same spot for the first time.

It felt much more natural this time. Hands gravitating towards each other without a care in the world. Nothing but the brushing of fingertips against knuckles and blushes being hidden with large smiles. You supposed without the worry of any other customers entering the store, you could finally relax into this. You weren’t being unprofessional by seeing to your urges. It felt so incredibly good. You’d like it like this more often. Probably not in this exact location. You think you’d seen enough of the inside of this place for a lifetime.

“I can tell you what I’m not here for.” You nodded along intrigued. “Fucking pistachios.” You snorted a pretty hearty laugh. “I knew you didn’t like them.” You raised your voice accusingly. He was shaking his head in disagreement but the way he laughed wasn’t fooling you. “No one likes them that much I don’t care who you are.” You’re determined to receive his admittance. He’s gone beet red in the face, willing to pull his beanie down over it to save him further humiliation. That should have been enough for you, it wasn’t. You had to hear it.

He’s shaking your hands in his to grab your attention back and your heart is just bursting at the action. You wouldn’t mind holding his hands all day. “No, I do like them, I do, stop shaking your head, I do. Just yeah, not that much, I don’t know what I was doing.” He’s looking at your hands as a source of comfort, fiddling with them while he reflected on his past decisions regretfully. “Think I just really wanted to impress you, clearly did that. Shows I’m committed though right?” He lets one of your hands slip free. You lift it into the air and draw an invisible tick. “Oh yeah, honestly there’s nothing sexier than getting 2.75 from a hot stranger every week, ticking that right off my bucket list. And yes I like your level of commitment, I will consider it heavily in your application.”

His brows arch. “Hot stranger huh?” You’re not surprised he’d only listened to the part with the compliment; you’d be the same. “You’re kind of hot I guess.” It was your turn to blush, coyly looking anywhere but at him as if you’d save yourself that way. It didn’t stop him looking at you like you thought it might. He was still peering down at you, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks, your hair falling down into your face like curtains ready to close on him. He didn’t want to be closed out. He needed more access in fact. He just needed to be subtle about it as not to spook you, or him for that matter.

He was careful when he pulled his left hand from yours. It was so cautious and polite you didn’t even miss it when it was gone. He just reached forward, touching you elsewhere. Tucking his thumb beneath your chin, lifting your face so you’re back looking at him. He could look at you for hours. You’re like a piece of art that had come alive, and he needed to appreciate you for that. He was equally as pretty, his eyes big and beautiful, with a softness you wanted surrounding in. You wouldn’t ever get used to a stare like his.

You combed some of your hair behind your ears to give him a better look at you. You’re not sure why but you felt it was important for him to see you like this. With more vulnerability. He may have seen you every week, but your time was so fleeting. You’d been working a million miles a minute. Your head was often fuzzy. Not to mention your hair was a constant tangled mess. You rarely wore makeup either, sweat too much stocking shelves which you did pretty much every single Thursday, his day. It was absolutely crucial to you now, for him to see you and really seeyou.

Not you that wore the uniform. Not you that lived and breathed this shop or this job. Not you that made witty remarks about other customers because that was your only form of entertainment during a shift. You needed him to see you in a way that he couldn’t associate you with this place. You wanted him to like you separately. You had other interests. You had other clothes. You had a whole other personality. If you let him look at you like this, perhaps he just might find it.

“I might be wrong.” His voice had gone unintentionally gravely allowing his accent to shine through. “But I think you might like to kiss me.” He says it barely above a whisper, but you heard it in the deepest parts of you. You tried your best to remain composed as he’d read your mind exactly. All these weeks of flirting with no result, building and building tension with no real end game in sight. But now, finally, there was opportunity. “It’ll cost ya.” You whispered. He grinned back down at you affectionately; he hadn’t moved an inch yet. “I’ll tip you generously” he goes to say more but you’d already shot forward. Everything he could possibly have said was now well and truly out of the window, gone and completely forgotten. You had erased his mind and it felt wonderful.

“You’ve been on my mind for fucking weeks you know that.” He’s taken aback, from the kiss, your hand clutching his, your confession. He was flattered to say the least. “I watch the damn clock every day, even though I know you only come in on Thursdays.” You retreated your hands away from him and he’d have been offended by it if he weren’t still pining for your lips back on his. He could settle for hearing your truth first. He was a patient man when it came to you. “Why do you only come in on Thursdays?” He wonders if you were actually asking or not and then he realises it’s just a stepping stone in your monologue, so he kept it zipped and watched you with a bemused smile.

“I was scared, did I tell you I was scared? Thought I’d never see you again Calum, I mean fuck I was about to mark down pistachios to 1 cent if it would bring you back in here, what the fuck were you playing at?” He’d say he was shocked at the way you’d overreacted, but he’d been wracking his brain just as heavily. The entire day, he watched the time flying by, his leg tapping, his riffs never sounding right, his vocals never hitting the right note, his lyrics not carrying into verses with fluidity and synchronicity, every second he spent away from this God damn store was an additional second of insanity he couldn’t bear. 

“Promise I’ll never ditch you again.” You tugged him in close. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep Calum.” You breathed out grabbing hold of the collar on his fleece. “I would never do such a thing.” He tipped his head down at you, thumbs reaching out to stroke adoringly over your cheeks, your aggression dissolved as quickly as it came. “Shit, kissing you is like, I can’t even think of a word for it.” 

“That’s awfully romantic, wow Calum.” You said between kisses. “Shut up.” He bit back. “Trying to but you keep pulling your lips away.” You’re mumbling into his mouth. “Feels weird kissing here, like some other customer is gonna pop outta nowhere.” You rolled your eyes at the mention of it, biggest turn off of the century. “Would you like me to put the shutters down so you can feel safer hmm?” He smirked down at you. “That’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Swoon.

His hands squeezed where he now held your hips fondly. His eyes were shining, even in the dim light. His brows were furrowed with concern, you couldn’t be sure what for. There were so many things either of you could have been thinking at that moment. You were checking his deep eyes for signs of distress or regret, a hint of regret would certainly destroy you now you’d gotten to this stage, but you’d still wished to know if he was okay with all of this. “Are you okay?” You weren’t sure why you said it so quietly. If anyone were to break from a loud and startling voice, it would have been you more so than him. 

He nodded his head into the palm of your hand. You’re heart fluttered but you still wondered. “Promise me?” He nodded again but it wasn’t enough truth for you. “Need to hear it.” You nudged. “I’m more than fine.” It sounded calmer than either of you had expected. You were eyeing him with your lips tucked neatly between your teeth and he swore he’d lay down his life to feel you do that to him instead. “Gonna kiss you now.” You said it as if it was the first ever time. It was at least the third, maybe fourth or fifth but felt just as fresh. Somehow more important than the others. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t messy. It was planned and it was delicate, and it had mattered.

He leaned into your mouth; plush lips gently caressed yours. You knew he was more eager than he let on, felt it in the way he clutched at your belt loops like he himself was the one to hold up your jeans instead. “You don’t have to be so gentle.” You muttered through fluttered lashes. “Wanna treat you like you deserve.” You didn’t expect such a response, never being taken care of before. You were glad to receive it. “Kiss me sweetly later, I want the good stuff.” His lips didn’t miss the opportunity to send a smirk your way before he swooped in, arms wrapping around your middle, lips plummeting down onto yours. A moan teared from your throat sending his stomach churning and flipping with delight. 

It’s a tender kiss still, even if he weighed down heavy on your lips. His cushiony mouth took the fall. Your arms were thrown messily around his shoulders, finding a home there, your fingers combing the hair at the base of his neck. He gave you his tongue, offering it like a gift. He wrapped it in your lips, sliding between them, teasing your own tongue with it. There it is, your signature scent, apple and mint, a taste so distinctively yours. He tasted of tobacco and coca cola, and you hadn’t a single complaint about it. You’d happily keep that recipe locked in your mind to associate him with forever. He retracted his lips and you found yourself chasing him, rising onto the tips of your toes, nearly toppling the both of you over in the process. He grinned wide from ear to ear, and you just stood there with your eyes big, gawping at him like a goldfish.

“You might be the sweetest thing I ever tasted.” He tucked your hair behind your ear, caressing your heated cheek with a precise and carefully crafted technique. “Can’t really trust your tastebuds though.” He would never live down them pistachios. “I’m gonna make you forget all about that.” You knew he wasn’t really embarrassed about it, but if he really wanted to offer a mind altering experience, you wouldn’t dare decline. “Is that right?”

“There’s only one room in this entire building without security cameras you know.” It’s far too detailed to be a hint but you hope he took it like that anyway. “What would we need that for?” He pecked you over and over, your body squirmed in is grip. “I think you know what.” He did, he loved idea of it too, it was unique and adventurous and sure maybe there wasn’t much risk of getting caught but that didn’t make the location any less scandalous and out of the ordinary. Calum needed you somewhere private around yesterday. “Care to enlighten me?” He saw the cogs turning and ticking away in your pretty little head. He had a rough idea of where you’d take him, but it didn’t make it any less fun to ask. He needed to hear you say it. 

“How sexy is the idea of making out in the stockroom?” You just came out and said it. “How sturdy are the shelves?” You shoved him. “Shut up.” He snickered. “Keep that up and you’ll be banned for life Mr.” He leaned down to kiss that thought from your mind. “You know I can’t survive without this place, it’s just so- “ he paused purposefully, he knew exactly the words he needed but chose not to speak them, “convenient?” you finished for him, to which he nodded along happily. “Convenience corner where all your needs are at your convenience.” You cheerfully recited your slogan, it was adorable to him, nostalgic and cringey to you.

“What else in here is at my convenience?” He pushed the boat out a little. “What would you like?” You played along too, enjoying the way his blush didn’t end with his cheeks but fell down towards his neck as well. “To speak to the manager of this establishment.” You wanted to roll your eyes so badly, but he was just too charming to ridicule. “Think she’s a little busy right now, you’ll have to come back later.” You pulled him back down to kiss you and he relaxed into you within an instant. “Mm, I’d like to ask her something.” He kissed you again. “Oh yeah?” He took a little bit longer to respond that time, your tongue sinking into his mouth, making it pretty difficult for him. “Want her to check something in the back for you?” You encouraged. He nodded down at you eagerly. “Right this way sir.”

You grabbed onto the sleeve of his jacket, tugging his body close to you. He’s about to trip and fall right into your arms for the remainder of the evening but you had other plans. You were leading him elsewhere. In reality, you hadn’t even needed to touch him, he was like a lost puppy in unfamiliar surroundings, only latching onto the one figure he knew, he’d have followed you anywhere. He was whipped. He stumbled along in your path, you may have been short, but you were awfully fast. His vans scuffed across the tiles, squeaking as he walked. It was a step up from his docs but just as irritating. If you weren’t so set on becoming a cliché snogging in the back room, you’d curse him for it. Nevertheless, you lead him to the door just right of the freezer section, you weaved through a sharp right hand turn and kicked open the stockroom door. He wasn’t sure what to expect from it. He’d never really had the need for a job anywhere like this. He didn’t know the ins and outs of what a stockroom could provide. The answer being not a fat lot.

There’s towers of shelves in 3 aisles. Boxes both filled and emptied are spaced out throughout the room. Its colder back here than it was in the main section of the store. It made sense when storing products and trying to preserve them, but it was awfully uninviting. “So, this is kinda the break room too.” You let out. He felt nothing but sympathy for you. There was barely enough room for the 2 of you, let alone any other employees coming and going. He followed you through the aisles toward the back door. Hanging above was the inevitable gleaming green exit sign that glowed more than it should have, casting a faint green light over that portion of the room. His eyes then followed you, stepping on without him, gesturing to a green leather couch he was surprised he hadn’t clocked yet.

“You want a beer or something?” You awkwardly fiddle with a stray, loose strand on your jeans. He shook his head slowly, stepping closer to you. Your legs were already open to straddle the arm of the couch making it easy for him to find himself between them, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You let your arms encase his waist, pushing you face into the fleece he was adorning. Your hair smelt so nice he had to force himself not to take a deep inhale of its fragrance. It wasn’t the weirdest thought that had ever occurred to him in your presence but that just made it worse.

“You’re like a fuckin siren or something.” He blurted out. He expected the way you pulled back, biting your tongue as an attempt not to snigger at him for his comment. “You know what I mean.” He barely defended himself. He started to talk with his hands, and you huffed at the lack of his touch while he did it. “You drag me in here every week. You’re always on my mind. I literally don’t even know your name yet I’m falling over myself trying to be here. I’m back in here like clockwork.” You really ought to tell him, put him out of his misery once and for all. 

“It’s Y/n.” You said gently. You should have said more after he’d rambled on like that, but you were struggling on what you could say. You were far worse for expressing your feelings than he was and that was a great feat. “Y/n.” He repeated it a few times, testing it out, deciding he quite liked the sound of it in his mouth. “Yup, not a siren, just Y/n.” You giggled, like a schoolgirl you actually giggled. “Really stepping up our relationship here Cal, what’s next you want my last name too?”

He was already letting his hands cup your chin, deciding he’d been lacking your intoxicating lips for far too long. “I have a couple of ideas in mind stripe.” Before you could protest the foul nickname his lips were back against yours. They slot against your own so neatly you’d argue they were a piece to your puzzle, finally settling into place. You moaned against the tongue swiping across your bottom lip and his knees nearly buckled under the heat of it. “When you moan like that pretty girl,” he can only pull back for a second or two, “makes me weak.” You’re pushing him back; he stumbled about as gracefully as you could imagine in a moment like that, little to 0%. “I like you weak.” You toy with him, stepping towards him, sparking him to back his way up against a shelf. 

The wood creaked under the force of him. It dug deep into his spine, but you hadn’t given him a moment to complain before you tangled yourselves together again. “I think your nicknames are getting better.” You praised, looking up at him through your long, curled lashes. The sight had him thinking sinfully. You also took the time to admire him. His curls were messy, framing his face in every which way beneath the pressure of his woolly hat. You needed to see his hair without that god damn beanie on or you might explode. You tugged it off him slowly, grateful he didn’t object. He only squinted at you now that he was aware of just how wild his curls had actually become. They’d sprung out in every direction, you weren’t prepared for the volume, not that you’d even minded. “Fuck.” You sighed. He wished he knew what the context was behind that hot little expression of yours. “I love your hair.” Your eyes were so focused on it as you tangled your fingers briefly, catching a couple of curls accidentally. He let out a puff of air as you caught him like that. “Shit, sorry, couldn’t resist.” He shook the comment away, he knew he was in for it with you. 

“So, you’ve lured me back here, now what will you do?” You felt his eyes watching you expectantly, you tried to remain as calm as you could in responding but his gaze burning into you had you tripping over every word before they even threatened to come out. “Have my filthy way with you.” You were dripping with a false confidence; one you hoped he didn’t catch onto. He didn’t. He was heavily convinced you were the filthy minx he’d been dreaming about none stop since he first saw you across the road. Might as well live up to those expectations somehow.

His hands were no longer soft and sweet, barely caressing your frame. His fingers were digging into the flesh of your hips, scooting your body forward till you lined up just right with him, just enough to make him pant with those peachy plush lips. Your own fingertips were buried in the curls at the nape of his neck, and he urged you to tug them in his mind. The guttural moan that escaped him when you finally did it, had you dying to hear it again and again. “Jeez take me to dinner first.” You managed before he’s tucking your bottom lip between his own teeth. “I think you owe me more than one.” You continued in a sudden array of nerves he wasn’t quite used to you having. “Do you ever run out of things to say?” That was his polite and desperate way of asking you to shut the fuck up. You might have done it too. 

His hand slipped dangerously onto your throat, light pressure building when he introduced you to the idea of his hand sitting there, capturing you. “I could, but I’d rather not.” He had to smile proudly when you pouted up at him, nails digging into his shoulders when he blocked your airways, little gasps the only sound running from your delicious, fuchsia stained mouth. He leaned in close to your ear, lips brushing the lobe, your eyes were sent rolling back. He’d found one of your weaknesses and you’d only just begun. “Think you should try and stay quiet for a little while.” As much as you loathed being the quiet, obedient woman, if he asked you to jump off a bridge, you were certain you’d do it. 

His fingertips pulled back and you surged forwards, lips crashing into his own. You whined a breathless moan into his lips, and he still wasn’t happy with the amount of fuss you were making for him but if you rocked into him the way that you were for much longer, he’d be the one struggling with the silence. As if you were reading his mind, always one step ahead of the game. You were tugging at the green, oversized fleece you’d hoped he’d worn for you. 

It hurt to be away from his lips even if it were to rid himself of the many layers that concealed him away from you. “Come on now stripe, wanna see what’s under them.” You wanted to send a snarky comment his way, but you were so breathless at the vision of him stood there without a shirt on and in your fucking stock room no less. “Fucking hell.” Your hands were forgetting every instruction he’d given you. You had a childlike curiosity that needed fulfilment, you’d always wandered about his tattoos. Sometimes for days at a time. Not always at the most convenient of times either, you just couldn’t help yourself. When they graced the back of his hands like that it was only natural to consider how they’d look in situations like- well situations like this one.

“I’ll give you a tattoo tour later.” His forehead was fitted against yours, fingers combing through your hair as his lips ghosted over yours. You closed the gap momentarily, enjoying him before his other hand flushed across your stomach beneath your shirt. Your stomach flipped at the contact. His hands edged over the pudgy skin that was a source of anxiety for you, it always had been. You’d wondered how much he’d actually like you underneath those stripes. “Can I get this off you?” He was trying to connect with you, sensing your hesitation. “You don’t have to.” He promised. “Just really want to see you.” You appreciated his honesty and his kind encouragement. You lifted your top yourself, grateful you couldn’t see his face when it was pulled over your head revealing your upper half to him. The strong urge to suck in a breath hit you like a freight train.

He nearly growled at the sight of your breasts spilling over the cups of your bra. He’d always agreed with women when they said they hated the claustrophobic item of clothing. But seeing your boobs bunched up like that, toppling out of them, he thought he might like bras for the first time in his life. You avoided his gaze. Even going as far as to closing your eyes to avoid the scrutiny. It doesn’t come. His lips were on you so fast, he doesn’t even bother unclipping the thing. He yanked down the cups, bending down at the knees, stuffing your nipples into his mouth like a starved man. You choked out a cry when his teeth tugged at the hardening skin of your nipple. His hips bucked helplessly into yours while he continued his assault. Any fear you’d had was now out of sight and out of mind because the boy before you didn’t care if you were fat or thin, you were his pretty, witty, annoying girl and he wanted to love on every part of you that you’d let him get near which was honestly, all of you. 

“Jesus Calum, leave some for the rest of us.” His eyes opened, blinking a couple times as he pulled away, a trail of spit formed between you, connecting his lips to your breast. His cheeks flushed crimson, lips about the same shade, pupils blown out entirely. He was love drunk and as dazed as ever. He caught your eye like the very first time, an accidental staring contest forming from a glance he just could not stop taking. You’d been more than willing to participate this time around. 

“Best tits I’ve ever fucking tasted.” You stroked under his chin; he leaned into your palm as you offered him the much appreciated affection. “Anyone would think they’re the first.” Had he really gone that nuts? (Pardon the pun). “Weeks’ worth of pining make you go a little crazy?” He furrowed his brows at the mock hidden poorly in your question. “Wait, wait, wait, you knew?” He was dumfounded. “That you were buying pistachios left right and centre to keep coming back in here?” He nodded along like he was amazed you’d caught on. As if he had even a shred of subtlety. “Doesn’t take much genius.” You tapped your temple symbolically. “So, this whole time you let me buy you out of stock, and didn’t say a damn thing?” You gave him your brightest smile. “You’re so cute when you think you’re undetectable.” Your finger prodded his cheek and he huffed against it. 

“I didn’t know you wanted to pound me in the break room or anything, but I caught onto the crush pretty early on.” He was truly mortified. He may have gotten the girl, even had you whining for him tonight, but his pride was certainly damaged. “And you-“ he asked before he wondered if he even wanted to know the answer. “Was hooked day 4 when you tripped on your way in.” He leaned back, eyes closing, hands coming to cover his face, sadly leaving your body. You’re giggling before him, and it feels incredible to witness the joy of hearing it, but his embarrassment was a much stronger sensation. 

“It was very cute how you then proceeded to shuffle every step just in case you did it again, even if your damn docs left track marks across my floors.” He was sheepish about that part; he’d find a way to apologise for it at some stage. He’d clean it with a toothbrush if he had to. “This might be super unprofessional of me,” you said as if your entire relationship thus far had been anywhere near adhering to your code of conduct working here. “But the part apart pounding the in the breakroom-“ he was already cutting you off “yes fucking please.” His lips were on yours like they’d never left. Arms wrapped round you so tight you could scarcely breathe. Hadn’t even wanted to. 

“You know, I was hoping you weren’t all talk,” he beamed with pride, taking in the sight of your bite swollen lips and chest heaving with ragged breaths, his trail of saliva still glistening across your breasts. He placed a hand on either side of your hips, his head dropped to mouth hungrily at your neck while he’d fastened you in place, a sort of retaliation for your comment just before. Sure, you could talk but he could take action. He could mark a sweet and tender bruise into your collarbone to prove just how much he could back up those words.

“Been wanting to mark you up since we met,” he sighed deeply into the hollow of your throat, you can feel the air leaving your lungs, “what if I’d been wanting that just as bad?” You responded, he didn’t even mind that you did, he may not have been able to shut you up completely but the hint of whining and tiny noises just beneath each word was certainly a victory for him. He had been the only cause. “Oh yeah?” His words vibrates as he dragged his lips across your neck. “What else have you been wanting pretty girl?”

You leave him with nothing for a few seconds. Just weighing up the options in your head. There wasn’t much that you didn’t want him to do. You’d allow just about anything at this point. The lack of an answer was slowly destroying him. He could go ahead and try something he’d wanted but for him, sex wasn’t about that. He needed to tend to your needs. He needed to make you feel good. “Come on baby, don’t hold out on me now.” It’s impatient and desperate and it had you gripping onto him for dear life, a very clear image flashed into your mind of just what you’d wanted from him.

“Your fingers. I need your fingers.” He was already letting his hands slip down your bare tummy before sentence could dare meet its end. Just as quickly as those fingers began drifting, he was retreating. Hands fluttering in the opposite direction, much to your dismay. You barely pout before he’s focusing his gaze on you. He has half the mind to scold your battiness but he’s just so keen to give you what you need, he couldn’t deprive you, not when you looked so sweet. “Do me a favour real quick pretty girl,” you needed a second to recover from the pet name, “suck my finger real slow for me.” You needed several hundred to recover from that. “That’s it, good girl.” It’s extremely condescending and under any other circumstances, you’d be sure to give him a piece of your mind, but this wasn’t a casual scenario. The roles were well and truly reversed and you were throbbing from the realisation that he just might be as fucked up as you were in the bedroom. 

“Never been this quiet for me.” You hum sweetly around the second finger he’s pushing into your mouth. You do as you’re told initially, just sucking the digits plainly. Its only when you notice the jagged breaths he’s taking while watching you, that you decide to show off. Just sweet little licks, swirling your tongue around the tips of his rough fingers, admiring the salty taste of his skin across your tongue. When you take him to the knuckle you know he’s fighting all the restraint he has not to ram his fingers right down your throat. “I wish that was my dick so fucking bad.”

Although you don’t expect the blunt and brazen confession, you’re not at all alarmed at the content of it. You knew the tricks to captivate your audience. It was no secret that the two of you would never be anywhere close to each other’s first time but that hadn’t taken any of the excitement and uncertainty away that kept the air heavy with tension. You could never have anticipated just how successful your performance would be with him. “Gotta give me my fingers back now.” 

He makes no effort to retract them from the vice grip of your lips despite the contrasting command and his genuine eagerness to hurry this along. “Come on.” He’s grunting, tapping his feet with urgency. You released them with a wet pop that near echoes throughout the room. He’s sliding his now glistening fingers, back down between you both. He’d not noticed, too distracted by your tongue no doubt, you’d already made quick work of unbuttoning your jeans and pushing them down along with your underwear. All he had to do was slip a finger or two daringly over your pussy. A slow stroke through the soft, sweet heaven. It was so inviting, so pretty. He’d not needed to see it at all to know it was perfect. Not in the sense that it was the most attractive or most neat in terms of aesthetic but simply because it was yours, and he wouldn’t dare dream of a better haven than the little mountain peak between the valley of your thighs. 

You both let out a rushed sigh. He captured your lips as they invite him to meet. His fingers are met with a soft, supple, soaking welcome. “Baby.” He was about to lose his mind over the sweet wave of wetness that washed over the digits of his fingers as he barely pushes inside. “You’re so fucking wet.” He’s thanking and begging whatever deity above for more of the pleasure of your touch and the ability to make you feel as sticky and sweet as you do across his fingertips. He’d done something very right and wonderful to deserve you in this state and he couldn’t fathom what on earth it may have been, but he’d be sure to repeat it once he did. 

All for him, this was all for him. Oh, if only he knew. All his, you were never for anyone else. From the second he walked into your life you were his. He was hoping that too. You thought your eyes were telling him too much, showing him too easily the depths of your affection but they weren’t even close to letting that secret out. He had no idea how you’d wanted him until this moment. This wasn’t even the first occasion you’d been damp at the idea of him. This was just the only situation in which you’d actually be able to do something about it without carrying a backbreaking amount of guilt. He must know this is how it’s been for you.

His fingers don’t dive into you like you may have needed them too, and you did, really. They simply explored you. They were slow to enter but were keen to twist and turn and stretch. He was learning the gateway to your paradise. He was finding the secrets you had hidden. “Fuck.” You were sighing so sweetly for him at each given breath, he might just have figured you out. “Oh, that’s it.” His smile was hard to miss, hard not to mirror too. “Yeah.” You try with all your might to compose yourself, not fall to pieces from the brush of his thumb to your clit while his fingers flickered a beat to the soft and sweet space inside of you. “God yeah that’s it.” You rolled your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers. He’d barely twitched his wrist to aid you, hadn’t needed to. It was far too hypnotising to watch you take it for yourself. “So, fucking pretty baby.” He’s watching with a childlike curiosity, eyes wide, lips parted, brow’s quirking upward with inquisitiveness. “Finally shut you up.” He couldn’t resist the dig. You don’t resist the harsh shove you give his chest. Sending him backwards but never letting his fingers escape you. No, you needed to be filled, you would be filled. 

“Gonna get all bratty on me now?” You opened your eyes, a panic washed through them, and he spotted it because he’s not taken his own eyes away from your face from the moment he tucked his fingers inside your damp little pussy. “Not gonna punish you, don’t worry.” You weren’t really worried. It was more of a muscle memory. It was an instinctive reaction to the response you were used to receiving. Even if you hadn’t gotten anything it was nice to know it might have been something he was into, once again checking off an invisible tick list of activities you might enjoy together if you ever did this again and God you hoped you would do this again.

He stroked your hair then, the side of your cheek just after. Your eyes hadn’t opened for the last few minutes, maybe even longer. So difficult to keep them anywhere near open when he’s plunging his fingers inside you like that. It’s not precise, it’s not clean. You wouldn’t say it was particularly clumsy, but it was far from perfect, and yet, you had so enjoyed it. He filled you in a way that there was room for improvement but not enough to avoid the urge to clamp down on his fingers when he’d curled them inside you. He certainly had a handle on that little trick. “Shh, you’re getting so loud sweetheart.” His grin wasn’t seen but it was certainly heard. “Gonna keep it down for me?” You knew he wanted to hear you, couldn’t want anything more actually but the prospect of teasing you and having one over on you where he usually couldn’t, well that was far more tempting to toy with. You knew damn well no one was close enough to hear a peep from either of you even if you screamed and honestly, you just might have.

“Fuck Calum,” he picked up his pace, his lips ghosted over your neck as he reached a new depth inside you. Your pussy clenched on his fingers. Your own nails scraped into his shoulders, biting into his skin, slipping a hiss through his teeth. “Come on baby.” Your eyes fluttered open to catch the look of concentration on his face, his eyes met yours with a twinkle of knowing. He can feel that you’re about to cum. He just knew it. Without your confirmation he knew. Your eyes rolled back, your head too, dropping far enough that your hair dripped down your back like water. He caught the back of your neck to support you. As if he’d really thought of everything. Knew to rescue you from that deep dull ache you might have gotten if he hadn’t bothered. “You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” His words had you squeezing him again, so hard he felt his pulse throbbing in his fingers, as well as your own beating deep in your cunt. “Come on sweetie don’t you wanna cum for me, know I’ve thought of little else.” It was like he’d been reborn the second you moaned his name. He was a different person here, he was remarkable. There was a burning passion within him that you’d only hoped he might have but seeing it in practice, confirming your fantasy of how good it could be, God that was enough. You were coming undone.

“So fucking pretty when you cum, you know that?” His fingers left you. You protested with a whimper and the rutting of desperate hips, but it was too late, his fingers were sinking between his lips. You were eyeing him like a tiger watching its prey as he tasted you, devouring your cum slicking his fingers. The noise of satisfaction and crude slurping is pornographic, and you simply can’t bear to be without his touch any longer. If he didn’t bury his stupid cock inside you, you’d never shut up ever again so long as you shall live. You’d make his every visit here his personal hell until he gave in and gave you what you needed. “You taste fucking delicious.” That tiny restraint you’d mustered in the past five seconds. Instantly disposed of. 

Your hands flew to the zipper of his jeans, slinking inside them, hands coming down to grope the bulge concealed by his underwear. His lips parted as you kissed him, curiously gathering your own taste wrapped around his tongue. His back slammed roughly against the shelf and his only retaliation was to bite down hard on your bottom lip, fingers pulling on your hair to make you back up and add some space between you. “Jesus Calum, I know you want me to shut my mouth but biting off my bottom lip won’t do it.” He was apologetic in his mind but only in his mind. “Couch.” Is all he said. You shook your head. “No?” He took a daring step towards you unhappy with your defiance. Just as he’d tamed you, you go and act out again. It would never be enough, you only needed more. You shook your head, holding a breath as he looked around the room for other possible locations. He was sure he’d fuck you on the floor if it came to it. He hoped it wouldn’t come to it. 

“I’ve never fucked standing up.” Is what you offered him, shoulders shrugging as you come out with it. He’s amused for sure. Not exactly the way he’d imagined his first time with you going but then again, he also didn’t imagine it being in the break room or this shop at all really. “Okay.” His calming smile settled the tension in the pits of your stomach. “Okay?” You asked him quietly. At first he thought you were just mimicking him in efforts to gain control but then he heard the way it wavered and pitched higher at the end. He broke his tough act and cupped your face in his hands. He adored the way you looked back at him, not a rain cloud or single storm in your sky. “Gonna need you to turn around for me.” He made no effort to let you move just yet, awaiting your willingness to comply before he set you free. He kissed you briefly before you did as he wanted without question, turning 180 degrees to face the shelves pressed to the wall. 

He took both of your wrists from behind. You allowed his grip to guide you, first assuming he’d be crossing them behind your back, a flurry of excitement tingling within you. But instead, you found he’d lifted them forwards, your hands slipping onto the shelf in front of you as he’d wanted, holding onto it instinctively, realising now that he’d been offering you stability instead. Your body burned even brighter than before. You’d be needing something to grip because he wasn’t going to take you lightly, you needed to hold onto something if you were going to cope with him. 

He knew you couldn’t possibly break. You’d proven to him already that you could handle it. You were so prepared to take him. Until you’d noticed the one little error of your ways. You’d not had the chance to see him, to wonder if your assumptions had been correct. You’d not known how big or how thick he was or how it’d curve and which direction it would curve in if it even curved at all. You may have felt your arousal trickling down your thighs. You may have been holding your breath and white knuckling the shelves before he even attempted to prick you but oh my. You were not even remotely prepared for the fullness. 

Calum’s hands rested heavy on your hips. You expected to feel the nudge of his hand grazing your backside as he touched himself in preparation to graze your cunt, but he does no such thing. He simply thrusted himself between the hot, wet mess of your lips and cunt with no attempt to enter you at all. He didn’t dare stop until he was satisfied with the coating of your dampness now slicking his cock ready to take you. He leaned forward, chest embracing your back. He flipped your hair over your shoulder, his chin resting in the now empty space he’d created on the other side. You felt a slight drag of stubble close to your neck before he’s uttering his instructions for you. “Take my cock in your hand.” You shuddered under the breath he fanned across your ear. “Come on baby, just for me.” He kissed your neck in encouragement. His arms wrapped around your middle. Your left hand released the shelf with a crack at the knuckle, finding a new home now between your legs. You leant down, back arching, ass pushing out, bumping him as you refrained from hunching to complete your task. 

You didn’t miss the way his hips bucked, and his cock jumped when your fingers found him. You didn’t miss how only your middle and ring finger could span the entirety of his thickness. You didn’t miss how one hand wasn’t nearly enough to capture his full length at once. And you certainly didn’t miss the amount of exposed skin going untouched when you glided your hand up and down him just to gather a better picture in your mind of what he might look like. You knew that in fact, it may take two. Two of your palms and even the addition of your lips at his tip to fully encase him. He was big. He was mouth-wateringly, cunt achingly big. You tugged him inside of you and braced the for the heat of the fever it brought upon your body. “Jesus fucking Christ.” A groan ripped from his throat.  

He expected to give you a moment. He expected you to need adjusting like those he’d had before. He expected you to cry that it was too much and all too soon and that you couldn’t possibly take him completely. He expected his ego to be boosted so high he wondered how we was ever nervous of being with you in the first place. It never came. You didn’t dare wait to accept the intrusion of his thick cock. You didn’t dare to linger and wonder if it would ever start to feel better than a stretch. You just pushed your hips back onto him, your ass flush against his pelvis, cock sheathing itself inside you as far as it could go and then some. And then some because you’re not just taking him whole, swallowing him up till he couldn’t reach any further. No, you’re wiggling your ass, skin recoiling and wobbling against him with the quickness of your movement. You’re taking his cock so deep he’s feeling claustrophobia from the way your cervix is blocking his path, walls closing in on him preventing him from travelling deeper. And it excited you to think about the delicious specks of pain his hot cock was pricking your insides with. 

It took every ounce of his strength not to flood you with his cum that very second. He could have done it. He wouldn’t have been embarrassed, not when it felt that good just to be inside you. Not when you really were made to engulf him in your flames. If he finished, who could blame him? To be hugged like that. To be warm and snug and held so tight. It would be cruel for anyone to tease a premature finish from a predicament like that.

“Baby, baby please.” Your voice was shaky, breathy, and so quiet. No wonder he hadn’t heard you over his own thoughts. How was it that you were the one stuttering when it was you that had felt so transcendent, not him? You had no fucking idea how well you took him. Even when he’d been standing there in bliss so long he’d forgotten he was supposed to be moving and enjoying you in the first place. It slipped right by you.

He kissed your neck, sucking sweet bruises beside those already scattered there previously. His hips pulled back, cock barely leaving you before surging back forwards. He pulled back further each time, pulling more of him away only to force it back in again with the echo of your wet cunt bouncing around the room. You gripped the shelves so hard you feared you may dent them, as he drove his cock into you. His hips pulsed into yours, balls slamming into you whenever his pelvis made contact. His one hand dug into the flesh of your waist, bunching your skin in his fingers, gripping so tight you worried he might pull the chunk clean off of you. Every now and then he bit down on your shoulder when you convulsed around him. “Keep squeezing me like that and I’m gonna fucking lose it.” You took it as an invitation to grip him again. He felt good because of you. You felt good because of him. Might as well enjoy it.

You threw your head back, resting it against his shoulder, exposing more of your throat to him as you started to fuck yourself onto his cock. He was losing it, not sure he ever had it to begin with actually, not around you. With every second passing by. Every time you made a fucking sound you drove him to madness. You were absolutely feral. You had all of the power. You met his every thrust. You angled him towards you, to your liking, even standing on the tips of your toes to feel him rub your sweet spot the way you’d needed. How was it that you’d ended up back in charge? Even when he’d been so convinced he’d gotten you where he wanted. Your pussy was so damn distracting, that’s how.

“Oh Calum.” He was revving himself up to regain control of you. His spare hand trapped your throat, his fingers and thumb adding little to no pressure around your neck just yet. “Please, God please fucking choke me.” His lips grunted heavily into your ear. Of course, you wanted it before he’d really thought about it. Always one step ahead of him even now. “This what you like?” He was beginning to constrict you, knowing full well you couldn’t communicate effectively now that he had but this time, he’d actually force you to. 

“Come on, tell me.” Despite the steadiness of his tone, his lower half was anything but steady. He was pounding into you. It was so hard for you to focus and feel the structure of your own body as well as the shelf before you rattling away violently. You were trembling at his thrusts. Your back arched involuntarily. You pushed back to meet his hips whenever you could, and he certainly didn’t let you slip away far enough to make it easier on you. You were so overwhelmed you couldn’t tell which way was up, down, left, or right. He’d fucked you completely dumb, no thoughts swirling around your pretty little head anymore and yet, he needed the conversation. Why would he dare to make your life easier now? 

“Tell me you like it; tell me you like my hand on your throat. Tell me how you like my cock fucking your pussy. Tell me this cunt is mine baby come on.” He was pushing you; he was forcing a response you’re too embarrassed to give and he was desperately hanging on the edge waiting to hear your confirmation. “Tell me baby!” He was the one crumbling to pieces now. His fingers loosened around your throat in an attempt to draw the words from it but it’s not his hand that was the problem. The problem was that you couldn’t dare speak because if you did, if you even attempted to produce a sound he’d know what you were doing. He’d know that you were so needy and gagging for it that you’d been cumming all over his cock just from the way he spoke to you. “I- love-.” You just couldn’t say it. You couldn’t catch your breath, you just moaned hard. “Fuck, did you just, did you just cum?” 

You were so embarrassed. You knew he wasn’t upset; how could he be? He’d made you finish not once but twice in one night; your first night together might he add. Your embarrassment was lying in the fact you weren’t even close to being finished with him. You needed more. You had to get more. You’d had a taste of his addictive drug and you were not going to relinquish it now. “Good fucking girl.” He rasped. “Fuck you’re so good, unbelievable, unreal.” He was a mess of praises and curses. He was mind blown at the response he received from you. He knew it was good, knew you were feeling good but if he’d known you’d fall for him like this, he’d have made a move a lot sooner.

“More Cal, I need more.” His eyes nearly bulged from his skull. “What’s fucking wrong with you?” You snorted out a laugh to his question. You wish you fucking knew. Your body was way out of your control now. “Just fucking me so good.” You knew he wasn’t buying it. “Please baby.” He scoffed at your level of greed. You’re not playing it up to make him cum, you’re doing it because you want to another orgasm for yourself. 

“You’re such a slut, you know that?” You did, you really did. “You’ve been holding out on me hmm, standing all sweet and precious behind that counter. Made me think that glitter lip gloss smile was sent from heaven above. You’re just another whore though aren’t you?” You were nodding furiously. “Been wanting this the whole tine haven’t you?” 

His hips were more erratic and aggressive now. He was fucking into you so hard it actually started to hurt him as well as you. It was so hard your feet didn’t stay in the same spot for long, his thrusts forcing your form forward each and every time no matter how much you fought to remain still. “Fuck fuck.” You weren’t sure who it came from. You were reduced to nothing. No words, nothing coherent anyway, I mean fuck, you couldn’t even breathe properly, couldn’t stand properly. You were getting fucked rougher than you ever could have imagined and your whole body ached in pain but just to feel him you stood there and took it. You took it all. 

“Cum already.” He half demanded half begged. He was on the cusp and would be damned if you didn’t finish before him even if it was your third time. “Or I finish without you.” A very empty threat. If he’d held it this long, he had the patience of a saint and he could wait a bit longer for it. His hips snapped into yours, cock so sharp inside you, spearing into you, ramming inside your cunt like it was the last thing he would ever do. He chased and chased the euphoric feeling, suddenly neglecting to check if you had found your own, so ready to take you for real, to give you all he had. “Fuck, where should I?” He tried to string the thought together before it was already too late. 

You wanted it inside, more than anything you want it inside you, flooding your pussy, filling you up so much you overflow. You couldn’t be so irresponsible. Not this time. “Pull out, cum on me, come anywhere on me.” He pressed sweet kisses atop your spine while his cock still rocked into you milking your tight cunt for all it was worth right up until he couldn’t bare it any more, cock slipping out, his hands gripping it, pulling on the wet flesh before he jerked off, his release dripping hot beads of cum to coat the roundness of your ass. He gasped and grunted as he emptied himself, forehead pushing into your spine, sweat sliding down it. His left hand clutched yours pulling it down from the shelf to interlock with his. Once his breath was less short he brought it to his lips for a sweet kiss so unlike your treatment a moment ago. 

The two of you stood there with your legs shaking and your breath ragged. “Jesus fucking Christ.” You broke the silence with a croaky voice, a surprise to neither of you with the amount of screaming you’d done. Calum sighed deeply, and you thought he might tell you to shut the fuck up, wouldn’t even blame him for it actually, but it never came. He instead pulled away from you, slinking down to his knees to grab your jeans and the panties crumpled inside them, sliding them back up your legs.

He used his discarded shirt to wipe the mess he’d made of your back, before tossing it to the ground, making a move to grab your striped top. He prodded your hips to get you to turn around, gasping at the blood trickling down your lower lip. “Oh sweetheart.” His thumb dipped to gather it away, lifting to show it to you briefly before suckling it into his mouth like some kind of vampire. You simply couldn’t avoid the way your lips whined at it. “Oh no, no way, you’re not getting turned on again, you’re banned.” He pecked your nose to lessen the threat before pulling your shirt over your head. He was hoping you might lift your arms to slip inside the material but not he wasn’t upset or surprised when he’d had to really commit to dressing you by himself. 

When your head poked back through the material, a pout was coating your lips. “No seriously, what’s wrong with you?” He tried to deadpan the question, but you knew he wasn’t the slightest bit concerned for you. He enjoyed your neediness, it had him unashamed of the throbbing sensation returning to his cock at the vision of you bloodstained lips. The lips you’d bitten cause his cock was too fucking much for you, he adored that thought.

“You’re pretty mean.” You commented with lack lustre intensity. “And you’re pretty.” He responded, he didn’t even cringe, neither did you, thankfully. He continued to dress you till there were none of your clothes left lying around. He guided you over to the sofa, letting you rest before he even  considered throwing his fleece back on. It wasn’t as if he was cold enough for it anyway, your comfort was more his concern right now. If that was the state of your lip, he can only imagine the damage to the rest of you. 

“Can we cuddle?” You didn’t really think about how possible that would be on the tatty couch you now sat upon. The one you’d gotten from a thrift store a couple months back, painstakingly dragging it through the fire exit singlehandedly. Once he’d gathered his belongings he sat beside you, the couch dipping where his body sank down. He grabbed you with ease, bringing you into him. You cuddled into his side, your head first on his shoulder before dropping lower with your fatigue. You were now resting somewhere across his chest, low enough for him to rest his head atop yours. He stroked over your back absentmindedly but soothingly enough to have your eyes closing in relaxation. He caught your head drifting, twitching as you stumbled into slumber, the peace of being in his arms just carrying you far away. 

You asked everyone you knew. The neighbour, the neighbour’s neighbour. His cousin from out of town, his cousin from out of town’s neighbour. Every single one of your friends and only one of them gave you something or more, someone to work with. “Why don’t you ask Calum?” You’re slouching on his sofa, sinking into the leather as he strums away at his guitar a joint hanging  dangerously from his mouth. “I don’t know him.” You say it like it’s obvious, kicking your feet up. “Which is exactly why you should.” You catch his drift, but you don’t want to. It wasn’t as ideal as he thought it was. “I’m gonna get asked questions.” You deadpan. “So, make some notecards.” You tug the joint from his mouth, bringing it to your own. “Yes you may have that.” You flick him. “Rude.” You take a drag before slotting it back gently between his lips, returning to your seat.

“He won’t do it.” Ashton doesn’t respond. “I know he won’t, he doesn’t like me.” He huffs. ‘You hadn’t given him a chance to’ is what he says in his mind. “Has he told you that?” He quit playing, giving you more of his attention. He really did want to help. “Not exactly, no.” He leaned over his guitar, placing the joint down in his hand painted ash tray on the coffee table. The one you made for him for Christmas the year before. The one that he loved and guarded with his life. “Ask him.” You shake your head. “Ask him.” He says again, the guitar now being rested carefully against the table alerting you that he meant business. “No. Way.” You continue. He moves over to you; you slot your legs across his lap, and he leans back into his seat comfortably under the weight of them. “I’m gonna ask him.” You think he’s joking. You hoped he was joking. He wasn’t joking.

-

“Calum, we don’t know each other that well so I thought you’d be perfect plus you’re kinda the only other single one left, so it had to be you.” There were no lies told. You were the only ones; it might have been the only thing you actually had in common in your little inner circle of friends. You weren’t close but you also weren’t complete strangers. You were a little more than acquaintances, but not really friends. He was your only shot at this, that much you did know. “I resent that.” You roll your eyes, ‘you would,’ you think. You’re running out of options, he was your last chance, you had a week to prepare, this had to be it. You considered throwing in the towel moments before he arrived at your place. Half an hour late. It should have been enough of a sign not to go through with it but then he did arrive. Meaning that somewhere deep down inside him, he was interested. You could work with interested.

“I’ll pay you.” You can’t imagine anything worse; you were desperate sure, not desperate enough to actually pay him but desperate all the same. He seemed reasonable enough though. He had more money than he knew what to do with and he was close with Ashton. Ashton was good people; he’d turn your offer down, you were sure of it. “How much?” He perks up, stroking his chin now his attention was caught. “You weren’t actually supposed to want payment.” You panicked, feet shuffling, hands tapping your thighs relentlessly. He was smirking. “Isn’t that how this is supposed to work?” He steps in close, a couple feet between you, not enough. “Want me to act like an escort? You’re gonna have to pay me like one.” If you hadn’t ever had a conversation with him, you might have found that attractive. He was tall, dark, and handsome. His jawline so picturesque you may have thought about kissing it once or twice. You also liked his eyes, even if he was cold and callous beneath them, only out for himself. But he wasn’t that attractive, and he didn’t intimidate you like he thought he did. Much.

“Like you don’t have more money than my entire family combined.” You dig. This was never going to happen. You don’t know why he even entertained it this far. There wasn’t a single helpful bone in his body, no matter how much you wished there were. “How bad do you need a boyfriend sweetheart?” He shortens the space between you even more. Your chest feels tight, the confidence dripping from his tongue was actually working on you, you were out of your depth. The way he looked at you too. Eyes flicking down to your lips and back, head tilting slightly, almost robotically, like he was sizing you up. Seeing if he could make it work. Make you work for him. You felt a heat on the back of your neck. You felt gross.

“100 bucks if they believe it, 50 if they don’t.” You couldn’t believe you were even saying it. You’d have to make him forget you agreed to any of that. “For how long?” He quipped back. “You’re so greedy. I’m gonna have to make a note of that in our very public lovers spat.” You lace it with venom as well as humour, standing your ground. The corner of his lips begins to curl. He fights it. “How long?” He repeats again, just as steady in tone. “A weekend.” You breathe. “Like Saturday and Sunday.” He asks. “Like Friday to Monday,” you respond just as deadpan. “200.” He takes a dangerous step closer. You don’t flinch. “150 and no black eye.” His brows furrow, forehead creasing in confusion. He kind of reminded you of a neanderthal. Dumb little boy.

“Why would I have a black eye?” You raise your fist. “OKAY PUT YOUR FIST DOWN. Jesus woman, I’ll do it.” He admits defeat. “Perfect. I made some note cards, things about me you may get asked about, read them, memorise them, guard them with your life.” You tug the notes from your back pocket, pushing them into his chest abruptly. He looks down at them quizzically. “What if they ask about me?” You shrug your shoulders. “I’m sure you’re not that complex.” He doesn’t attempt to hide how insulted he is by that.

“When is it?” You point to the cards. “All the information you need is in the notes.” He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again, “how are we-“ you go to open your front door, you’d had the entire conversation in the hallway, not wanting him to go any further into your home than that. “In the notes Calum.” He takes a look down at the cards in his hands, he hated reading other people’s handwriting, made him feel dumb when he couldn’t understand it as well as he’d liked. You joined your letters all curly too which didn’t help. He actually half expected you to dot the I’s with hearts, you seemed like that kind of girl. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed that you hadn’t.

You’re ushering him out the door, waving your hand to make him move faster. He pauses in your doorframe. You were so close. You could just kick him; he’d be off your property in no time. You wouldn’t have to think about him for another week then. You could pack your bags in peace. “You spelt my name wrong.” He points to the card; you’d done it on purpose. “No, I think your parents did.” He frowns. Before he can respond again you give him that much needed shove out the door. “BYE CALUM!” You slam it behind him, leaning your back against it as if that would prevent him from getting back inside and on top of your nerves again. He found the whole ordeal just as unpleasant as you had but he still finds himself on the other side of that door with a smile on his face. He read every single card you wrote for him. You were way more annoying than he thought. 

-

“What part are you guys having trouble understanding?” You ask the table, leaning over, reaching for your cocktail to distract your mouth before you can step your foot in it. You were being tested way harder than you ever anticipated you would. You really never imagined they’d care let alone put you on trial for the crime of getting a boyfriend without their prior knowledge or approval. It’s nice to know how friendly and welcoming they really are when push comes to shove. You’d have to keep that in mind for the real thing, whenever that might be.

You’d laugh the nerves away, but you were afraid you might never stop laughing. You’d just manically laugh until you sank under the table, down into the ground, right to centre of the earth, burning up at the core before passing away painfully. You wished you could laugh. Instead, you just took the longest sip, looking to your left and right as subtly as you could muster under the immense pressure placed upon your shoulders by your sister and her fiancé. Deep breaths, it’ll all be over soon. 

“I don’t buy it.” She states matter of factly. “You go from a single dog mom to suddenly in love with the perfect guy.” You open your mouth to speak but you daren't even try, she’s not finished yet. “It’s a little conveniently timed don’t you think?” She waves her hands to illustrate her point in that annoying fashion that only she could. Waving her fresh manicure right in your face, whether accidental or on purpose, still ridiculously annoying and yet another reminder that she had her life together and you didn’t. She turned to her fiancé before glancing towards the rest of the table for back up, all nodding along with her instantly as if she were a puppet master stringing them along. Cowards. 

Your gaze remains steady and ice cold, colder than the slushy cocktail in your hands. The only thing that made the weekend worth it were the free bar and the adorable outdoor beer garden. You release the straw after a long sip with an “Ahh.” You try not to enjoy the twitch of your sister’s right eye at the sound. She’d always loathed when people did that. Anyone who made a noise of satisfaction after a drink no matter how delicious or refreshing it may be, was a colossal pain in her ass. You think she just despises other people’s enjoyment. She thinks it’s an unnecessary sound that people tend to use to exaggerate how nice something is as a performance for other people rather than for themselves. She also thinks it’s incredibly unladylike, which gives you a bigger kick to try it out every single time.

“Why would I lie?” You place your drink down harder than you intend to, wincing as the glass clangs on the table so hard you thought it may shatter. “You know I love you sis, but I don’t think I’d go to the length of faking a relationship just because you’re getting engaged.” Which would be such a wonderful sentence to throw out into the universe if that weren’t exactly what you were doing. “I just met the right guy.” You try not to grimace at the cheesiness of it all, that, and the fact you still hadn’t decided if you’d even liked him more than just a piece of eye candy. Because there was no denying that he was attractive, from the start he’d had that going at least. You’d only been admitting it because of the influence of alcohol too. It was just the rest of the package that gave you a headache.

“But he’s-“ You scowl before she continues that sentence, you almost will her to continue. “He’s what?” You push. If anyone were going to come for Calum they had better make it good because that was an area you excelled in and would absolutely love to be a part of even if you did have to defend him right now. You could always use any good material at a later date when left to your own devices though, a pen and paper would be wonderful.

“He’s not your type.” You don’t believe that’s what she planned to say, it came out far too polite to be something she’d actually thought of. “What is my type then?” You probably shouldn’t have asked her this, but your curiosity trumps all reason. She flails her hand around in her lap, trying to think of the correct way to phrase it. You had no doubt your past relationships were displaying in her mind, enough horrendous options for her to choose from right out of a hat. 

“Nerds,” she begins to list on her fingers, which is quite alarming because you really didn’t think you had that much of a track record. “Gamer boys,” which basically comes under ‘nerds.’ “Skinny guys,” that was absolutely not exclusive, “Gamer boy nerds.” She throws 3 fingers up. That’s if she was classing ‘boy’ as a type which you assume she was. You had to hand it to her, she wasn’t entirely wrong about your past dating pool, but Calum wasn’t exactly far off that. “Calum just, doesn’t seem much of a nerd.” You’re certain that’s not what she intended to say, and you thought she might stop herself there, but she doesn’t, why would she? “He’s, well I hate to say it,” you bet she doesn’t though, “he’s out of your league.” Ahh, there it is. That’s more like it. She even says it with an apologetic expression to make you consider it for a millisecond. If only he were here. Oh, how he’d love this.

Calum was the lucky one in this scenario, whether it was fake or not, you were a catch. One that no one had ever caught and kept hold of but a catch, nonetheless. Your mom would agree, probably not the best argument but it’s there and it counted. You reached for your drink once again and prayed he returned soon; you were drowning out here and you weren’t even out of the shallows. “Then lucky me.” You sip as aggressively as one can with a shitty paper straw wedged between their teeth. You were so glad the sea turtles were safer at the hands of recycled paper straws, but you so missed being able to drink a cocktail without the added ingredient of paper mache sinking at the bottom of each glass.

“Why are we in luck?” His voice swings in joining the conversation as he walks back over to your table. His hearing was impeccable, you wonder what else had slipped by him on his way over. You’d honestly never felt so relieved to hear his voice either, even if his steps closer bought the smell of cheap cigarettes and your early twenties. You’d have loved him back then. Back in college, your first taste of freedom, the option to date whoever you liked, to experiment a little. You’d have eaten up that bad boy, leather jacket, cigarette smoking musician act he had going for him. Quiet and brooding too, oh yeah, your knickers would have never left the floor. Good thing you grew up since then. 

He grabbed his chair, pushing it right next to yours, as close as he could get without sitting directly on top of you and for a second you ponder about why he bothered with his chair at all. His eyes burned into the side of your face, and you plastered a smile wide enough to match his as you leant into him. “What took you so long?” You whispered while maintaining that sickeningly sweet smile that hurt your face to pull. “You miss me that much?” He licked across his bottom lip, and you mentally scold yourself for looking at it. “I’m getting eaten alive out here.” He grinned wider. “Must be because you’re so damn delicious.” Your stomach fluttered. What the fuck? 

He pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. You felt yourself relax into him, like his lips had sucked all of the tension from your body. You may not like him very much but you sure were glad he was here right now. Even without the facade, it was hard being in environments where you had to face your entire family alone. It’s not that you weren’t close with them, or didn’t love them, it was just difficult standing your own ground sometimes. You needed that extra shield for the invasive questions and high expectations, the anchor to keep you firmly in place, sure of yourself. It was a tough act to balance. 

He couldn’t deny that he’d gained some respect for you for how well you’d handled things. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d manage a family dynamic like this alone, even if he were part of it. He was kind of developing a soft spot for you, probably more than you were anyway. Okay, definitely more than you were. He wasn’t sure when it started. He’d had the message exchanges throughout the last week. He had the detailed notes about your life from start to finish to divulge. The 3 hour car journey where you refused to play music, instead forcing him to answer questions about you in preparation for the event. It was somewhere amongst there. Maybe even when you’d shared a room the past two nights without killing each other. In seeing a vulnerable side of you that made you appear a little more human. He’d also seen a larger portion of you without clothing, that certainly helped.

Yes. Perhaps somewhere around there he’d liked you. All he knew now was that in watching your interactions with your family, it made him want to stick to you like glue and support you the best he could for however long you would let him. You had it covered, and you’d tell him that too, afraid of showing any weaknesses, but that’s exactly why he felt like he should support you, he didn’t want you to feel so alone, you didn’t have to be so alone. 

He didn’t even have to force himself to kiss your cheek that time, he’d just wanted to rid your face of the frown that threatened to grace it, even if he found it adorable. His issue now was that he had trouble moving away. His lips lingering, breath tickling your cheek, until you coughed under your breath for him to shift away. For a moment he’d wished it weren’t all play pretend. That he could stay there and have it not feel so strange. He couldn’t pin point when his eyes started to soften at the sight of you. All he knew was that they had. It was getting increasingly easier to act enamoured by you, because, well, he might have been.

“So, what did I miss?” He tilts his head towards the rest of the table, it felt like such a difficult task to withdraw his attention from you. You yourself took the opportunity to catch a much needed breath. You also needed to pat your stomach to hold off the swarm of butterflies scrambling around in there. There was this dizzying, uneasiness in the pit of your tummy, like you were fighting the emotions within yourself. Those damn love bugs were wasting their time going crazy for this situation. It wasn’t real, not worth the energy. Surely you didn’t need to be convinced of that, it was clear as day. You didn’t need this unnecessary nausea. “We were just talking about what a wonderful couple you are.” Your brother in law speaks, directing his attention towards the man at your side. You really thought you’d liked that man, he betrayed you. You kept a special scowl just for him. He felt hot under the collar when he felt the intensity of it. Good, you thought. Traitor. 

Calum dipped his hand down onto your thigh where he’d noticed your hand was already resting, slipping his fingers between yours, resting atop your knuckles effortlessly for all to see. You’d felt your breath hitching in your throat. The simplicity of the action shouldn’t have caused such a stir, but it was just so easy for him. He was so touchy feely like it was the most natural thing in the world. He loved to touch. It was one of the main reasons that made it so hard to remain sure that this was all an act. Was he like this with everyone? You’d half hoped he wasn’t, even if your other half screamed at you for that naivety. It wasn’t exactly your love language, but you’d wished it were, you wanted to touch him. Too many drinks maybe.

“Why do I feel like that’s sarcasm?” He threw back with nothing but charm, sweet like honey dripping from his tongue. If he weren’t in a band you could certainly picture him as an actor with some of the crap he pulled. Sometimes he even had you believing this whole thing, lines blurring like no other. Especially when nuzzled his nose into your neck eliciting a squeal from your lips. All before deciding to stay there, sitting with his chin resting on your shoulder happily. Like the most casual position in the world.

Your heart pounded against your chest. His arm slunk around your waist. His mouth opened for you, signalling you to bring his cocktail and straw between his lips to take a sip. A ridiculously over the top public display of affection you swore you’d never partake in. Yet for some reason your hands were ignoring every judgment your mind was making, allowing you to feed him his drink like some kind of mother to a parched child. It was interesting to you how fast you’d been able to communicate with him like that without it ever needing to be said or asked for. “You owe me.” You whisper. “Not how this transaction really works.” He says between sips rather impressively. It might even be considered cute if it wasn’t such a threat. Your cheeks burned.

“It just seems so sudden.” Your sister just can’t bite back her tongue for more than two seconds huh. You’re literally sat there with giant, red, beaming heart eyes for each other. So, close your personal space would never be described as such for as long as you shall live, ever again. Literally feeding each other. Squeezing each other’s hands. Hating every second you’re apart. Feeling like you may break without the other. Whispering sweet nothings (more like threats but no one else had spotted that) into each other’s ears. You’re both so over the top, overwhelmingly infatuated (although falsely) with each other you may as well claim this engagement party as your own and YET, no one believed you for a second. Hell, even you thought you might be falling. Thank you vodka.

“When you know, you know.” You say, lifting your hand to pat his cheek after putting his drink back on the table. He squeezes your other hand instinctively. He’d almost forgotten he was holding it in the first place, it felt so nice and soft, like it belonged in his. It could belong there. “What will it take to convince you?” He offers. You squeeze his hand even harder, this time hoping to pump the breaks on this one. As much as you appreciated him sticking up for the relationship. You weren’t up for a quick fire round of questions that you weren’t prepared in the slightest. Especially since he refused to learn the answers to any potential enquiries a day prior. Deeming the impromptu quiz session in the car ‘enough learning for a lifetime.’

“Cal,” is all you warn while you beg him to shut up with your mind instead. “No, no sweetie, we can answer all the questions they have.” He grinned at you so menacingly; you wanted to wipe that smirk right off his adorably smug little face. Woah. When did he become adorable? Scratch that. Shush. You’re so pissed you don’t even fawn over the pet name, much. You may as well pack your bags now and return home though, you were done for, the hoax was over. The end.

“What’s her favourite band?” Okay, we’re actually doing this. “Or singer, if that’s easier.” Ryan, your least favourite brother in law and your only brother in law, fires out. He only knew the answer himself because he tried to impress you one Christmas by buying you a limited edition vinyl. Of all the people at this table, you thought at least he wouldn’t be sceptical of you. Unbelievable.

“There isn’t just one, its multiple, depends what mood she’s in.” You’re intrigued already on where this is going. Your sister jeered at the response, already less than impressed. Calum turns his head, lifting his hand to silence her before she can say anything. You almost pat him on the back for it. “But, if I had to choose.” Which he did. He really did. “Queen, Black Sabbath, The 1975, Taylor Swift, Harry Styles and I’m going to add 5SOS in there because she’s our number one groupie, aint that right babe.” You allow yourself to roll your eyes at the last part, even if you were dating you doubt you’d let him describe you as a groupie, dick.

“That’s easy, they’re pretty generic choices minus sabbath.” You had to give them that one, it wasn’t the most cut throat list of indie artists you could only associate with your taste and yours only. You’d been a bit of a basic music lover your whole life and there was no shame in that. You liked what you liked and that was okay. You were still impressed he knew any of your list though. Maybe he actually had read your notes, lying shit. Definitely not adorable. “Favourite food?” Okay, still going. You lean back, may as well get comfortable since you’re going to be here for a while. 

He snorted before answering that one and you wondered what was so insanely funny that could make him move his hand away from your thigh to explain it properly. You missed his touch the second you were without it. Gag. “Bread.” He giggled just saying it, the kind of giggle where the creases beside his eyes really stood out and his cheeks bunched up all precious and pudgy underneath them. You can’t help but smile.

“But not just plain bread right,” he looked to you before continuing as if to say ‘hey, watch this, look at me.’ He thinks he has you down. You indulge him. “So, bread in its many forms,” he lifted his fingers to start listing, “sandwiches, toast, brioche, fried bread, french toast, pizza dough, the list goes on right but at the height of it all,” he really gestured above his head to signify the detailed tier system of bread options. He added a small and useless breather to gain anticipation, it wasn’t working. “Garlic bread.” 

You snorted a laugh yourself this time. Not because he was wrong either, because he was 100% correct in fact. You were mortified that, that was your own answer. He locked eyes with you in a way that he hadn’t done before, with genuine affection, maybe even a glimmer of hope that he’d done you justice. He was captivated by you, your cheeks bursting with redness, your smile tight, starting to hurt you in fighting it. You looked so pretty right now. The glow of the lamps out in this beer garden just added to the radiance he already thought you had. He couldn’t believe a girl as pretty as you considered bread your favourite food.

He also found the noise you made to be one of the cutest things he’d ever heard, and he wished he could make you do it again someday. He really didn’t consider himself that funny though. He might have to get some drinks down you for another laugh like that. “I thought your favourite were sour patch kids?” Your sister argued, using her nails again to assist her point. Calum chimed in before you could go to correct her.

“Actually, that was her hyper fixation for a little while, ate every flavour except lemon. Which are my favourite, so it works out pretty well.” Your jaw may as well have hit the floor. He’d only known that from the car ride up here. You were about to throw the packet out before he stopped you, complaining you were wasting money and food since you left all the yellow ones. You were shocked he remembered. If you were impressed by him right now, surely everyone else had to be too, right? Wrong.

“Celebrity crush?” He answered this quicker than you or he would like to admit. You also just didn’t  know how he came to the conclusion he did and how he was so correct with it, suspicious. “Joseph Quinn hands down, can’t even knock it, he’s a handsome man.” The next question went swimmingly too. “Favourite hobby?” He gave it a thought for a second, glancing to you and back, “painting, she’ll say she’s no good at it but actually she’s got a gift. I’ve never seen anyone use colour the way she does. Actually, considered using some of your work for album art.”  He turned to you towards the end, and you struggled to decipher whether it was bullshit or not. Your heart actually ached at the thought of it being true. 

“Favourite movie?” Your brother in law’s turn to ask. You threw your head back in exasperation. “What is this, the Spanish inquisition? Is this really necessary?” You looked to your sister and her future husband. “Yes!” They admitted in unison. Calum’s hand returned to your thigh, patting it softly, his thumb rubbing soothing shapes into your bare skin. It was working. God it was working. He was like ice against your fire, the way he cooled you.

“I’ve got this.” He assured you. “Yeah, you kind of do, that’s why it’s so fucking weird.” You admitted quietly but not enough as to hide it from anyone else, deeming it safe for public consumption. He smirked. “Scared I know too much about you?” You were. You were terrified. This time you do lower your voice. “Just didn’t know you could actually read. Guess my notes were a great help after all.” You stuck your tongue out. For a second he thought about taking it in his mouth, probably some other filthier thoughts floated around his brain too. It was something about the proximity and the cocktails you’d shared, you could always blame those.

“The Harry Potter franchise but her favourite would have to be the second one,” he knows he has it right, but he just can’t think of the name, turning to you momentarily for help, you mouthed “the chamber of secrets” before he nodded and repeated it. He then paused, not for dramatic effect but so he could smile to himself as he thought about why that was your favourite. “It’s the first time we as the audience,” he gestured to his chest, “visit the Weasley house,” ‘the burrow,’ you say in your head, but it was close enough.

“The Weasley’s are the best family in the wizarding world, not up for discussion.” You leant in, your lips close to his ear. “If we were really dating, you’d be getting your dick sucked so hard tonight.” It took every bone in his body not shut the evening down and carry you back to your hotel room with that false promise in mind. He instead tried to ignore the now throbbing sensation in his trousers. Had you always done that to him?

“Ok those are fairly standard.” In what world was his last answer not specifically catered to you? “How about a random trivia round?…” The suggestions just kept going. If this were the only worthy form of entertainment they could find, married life was going to be abysmal. “Or.” He began and this is when you really, really started to panic, like exponentially. There was nothing that could have helped him out now. Your notes only consisted of the likes, dislikes, and the fake scenario in which you first met. There was nothing else. That was the end of the script. He couldn’t be that good at improvisation. You didn’t want the opportunity to find out either. You were no casting director. He no longer had to impress you or anyone else. If they were still at odds with the situation then so be it. You couldn’t please everyone. It really shouldn’t have taken you that long to realise it. Huh. The more you know.

“I can tell you about how she makes me feel.” You really, truly would rather you didn’t know. If it’s the truth, it would hurt. If it was a lie, well that might hurt even more. You begged the universe to keep him quiet. Whatever he had to say was going to blow your cover and throw this whole shit show up in flames. Your sister seemed so keen and intrigued enough to let him continue. You however, said your final goodbyes to any future you had where you weren’t a laughing stock for the entire family. A future where Calum couldn’t reject and discard you publicly. Now it was a very real possibility, you were far more upset than you ever thought you would be. Calum glances at you briefly, bucking up the courage to put on the biggest and most detrimental show of his entire life. 

He doesn’t face your sister when the words come tumbling from his mouth. He faced you, addressing you like he needed you to hear this and fuck, maybe he did. You actually felt touched about it until he opened his mouth. “You’re kind of a fucking weirdo.” You went to shut him up as the embarrassment crept in, but he spoke louder as he often did. “You are, you’re a freak- and it’s so, it’s refreshing.” Your mouth closed but oh, so slowly. You began to listen to him, decided to trust him. “You’re fucking nuts.” You rolled your eyes. How many ways were there, to describe you as crazy? Why did he feel the need to use all of them? “But I like it. I do. I feel like I can be myself around you.” He talked with his hands a lot as he scrambled the words. You reached for them, settling them in your lap and he silently thanked you for it. Everything got a whole lot easier when you held his hand. 

“You make it feel okay to be a bit crazy. You don’t have to be so straight or basic, you can just, be.” Just as you started to smile, you saw that you weren’t the only one. It was working, his little speech was actually working. “I like who I am around you. Even if sometimes you don’t. I like that you tell me when I piss you off. I like that you act like you hate me when you don’t. I like that you’re so fucking stubborn and headstrong you’d never rely on anyone else and that pisses me off.” You felt tingling racing across your chest. “I love that no moment with you feels forced. That, that smile, right there could make flowers bloom.” He gestured to your face with both of your hands linked together. “That your glare could cause a fucking storm or something.” You tried not to get swept up in the fact he’d stopped saying ‘like.’ 

“I love that everything feels okay when your hand is in mine, even when you try and say you don’t like holding hands, you’re too good at it to hate it. You know exactly the right moments.” He shook his head with a disbelief. It started to feel so real. “I think I’d miss you even if I’d never met you.” His hand tightened around yours when he said his last sentence. “And I’m glad I met you. I hope one day you’ll be glad you met me too.” The rest of his speech hadn’t mattered when he uttered those words. The words that knocked the breath out of you, leaving you fighting for your life in the seat next to him. You don’t think anyone had ever referred to you so kindly in your life, even if he did call you fucking mental at least 5 times throughout. 

He couldn’t even breathe. He’d said it. He’d let it all out and now he just saw the look of shock on your face and couldn’t take a single breath, not knowing how you’d react. It was news to him too though. He could play it off as a lie, say he saw it in a movie, some chick flick or something. He’d copied it because of course he had. But then again, on the off chance you weren’t horrified, he wasn’t sure if he had any more guts left to tell you it was true. He just knew that he needed to do something. He had to fill this painful silence somehow and thankfully, he didn’t have to do it alone. 

You kissed him. You scraped your jaw off the floor, and you kissed him. You’d not kissed him like this before. Like your life depended on it. Like he was the very air you needed to breathe. Like he’d meant every word he’d just said, and you’d believed it. God you might have even felt the same.     You were also slightly ashamed to say it had your panties soaking between your thighs. Not to mention your heart thundering in your chest.

Calum kissed you as if he were tattooing his words across your lips for eternity. Because for the first time throughout this whole charade, he was actually allowed to mean every word he had said, whether he knew this was how he was feeling at the start of the evening or not. Neither of you could have predicted a confession like this. Even after giving one, he wasn’t quite believing it himself. But fuck, there was freedom in it. There was a lovely form of permanence. Him knowing his words were out there for the universe to take and make with what it will. He felt weightless. It wasn’t the cocktails. Something just clicked in his brain, and he knew it. You were everything.

You melted into each other when his lips found yours. It was sweet and slow but confident, with purpose. Each stroke of his lips against yours carefully considered and carried out like clockwork. You’d felt a rush from this kiss. It was hungrier than any other you’d shared. Quite frankly it was starved. You’d pressed up against him so hard and he’d done just the same to you. His hands coming up to tilt your chin up towards him for more. As if you hadn’t been close enough already. Its only when you gasped at his touch did he slip his tongue into your mouth. You knew he’d had so much practice kissing women like this, but you couldn’t care. You allowed him inside, welcomed the way he licked into your mouth delicately. Blissfully enjoying the taste of his last cigarette on his breath, shocked that it’s not even a put off for you right now.

His words had gotten you drunker than the cocktails you’d been knocking back all evening. You almost whined when he dragged himself away from you. It was way too premature for your liking. Your eyes remained on him and only him as your hands fell back from their place atop his shoulders. You weren’t even sure when they’d gotten there in the first place, just swept away with nothing but him to guide you. 

He smiled at you; a smile you know he hadn’t been pretending. You were about to lean back in, sealing that gap between you, before you were reminded of exactly where you were. In public. Very much in public. You sank back into your seat sheepishly, heat rising to your cheeks, burning hot like lava ready to erupt. Calum threw his arm around you, and you seized the opportunity to hide your face in the crook of his neck out of embarrassment. He thought it might be the cutest thing you could possibly have done. He even struggled to wipe the blush off his own cheeks. He felt like a school boy again. “Okay, fine, we believe you.” Your sister threw her hands up in defeat. You’d forgotten what you were even aiming to prove, your head was so flooded with hormones. It remained that way until you were back inside the hotel.

-

Back in the safety of your room, deep in the darkness, the only light being from the glowing orange streetlights outside, you found yourself nervous for what would come next. You needed a moment to think. “I’m going to take a shower.” You said softly. “Do you mind?” He shook his head, unable to speak. You’d think that after he’d already lay everything down on the table, that he’d find it easier to approach you, but he resorted back to silence. “Go ahead.” He offered. You wanted to ask him to join you. You didn’t. You just thought about it while you locked the bathroom door behind you. When you wiped off your makeup. When you turned the water on and waited for it to heat up before stripping and stepping inside. You thought about it even under the water, arm stretched out to reach you shampoo. You still didn’t.

He’s already tucked away under the sheets, while you’re in there. He thought about falling asleep, willing himself into a trance before you could return, he couldn’t. His mind was swimming with thoughts. He instead insured that the wall of cushions you’d built on night one, was as high as it ever was. There to wedge a distance between you once more. Which is what you wanted, right? It was your main housekeeping rule for sharing a bed.

“Hey." He breathed, as you returned from the bathroom, steam seeping out after you. He was nervous. You ignored it. He lay flat, facing the ceiling, his arms fastened at his sides above the covers. You shouldn’t let your eyes wander but the light had given you a clear path to follow, leading you to the tattooed feather of his collarbone. You wanted to touch it, you’re not sure why. You slipped silently into bed beside him, only you turned your back on him, willing the conversation to end. But you didn’t actually want it to be over. 

He rolled over without so much as a creak being made on the old bed. He barely even tugged the cover from you. It’s like a move too sudden would spook you and send you running, it might have, he couldn’t be certain. “Do you think the great wall of prevention might be ready to come down?” He nudged it into your back for emphasis. He didn’t want the night to end. You didn’t either. And yet, your stomach twisted to think of an excuse, a reason for it to stay very much where it was. Only you didn’t find one. “Okay.” You spoke softly. “Okay.” He repeats just as low, just making sure. You hardly felt him moving them. It was so unlike him to be so gentle, so light handed, treading carefully. He was so cautious and calculated, you never thought he had it in him. The cushions were gone. Now what?

“I’m gonna ask you something, you don’t have to say yes, but I really need to ask it so please just hear me out.” There were a million different things he could have asked you; you’d never have enough time to predict it or rehearse the correct answer, you could only breathe as you anticipated it. “Can I hold you?” It felt good to say it, even if his breath was shaky and his heart felt like it might just pack in. He really wanted to touch you. That was before he even saw you there, lay in the warm glow of the light, hair still a little damp, loose over your shoulder, your t-shirt clinging to your body.

The sheets weren’t covering your lower half as well as you’d thought they were, not now the barrier between you was down. Now he could see the lace band of your panties peeking bellow your sleep shorts. He was about to abandon the whole ordeal. Just a peek shouldn’t have been enough to stir him between his legs and maybe it wasn’t, not on its own. But if he’d counted every other occasion tonight where you’d looked too pretty, sounded too sweet, it all added up and he guessed it contributed to the problem. 

He started to worry when you didn’t answer him. You obviously weren’t asleep. You were clearly fiddling with the sheets, your fingers tugged at the material anxiously. He’d completely overstepped, he should have expected that. You weren’t together. You wouldn’t ever be together. That was all this entire weekend was supposed to be after all. Just an opportunity to fake it. How could he be so stupid? “Come here.” He looks down to see you half turned back to him, the duvet lifted, giving him even more of a view of your shorts, but he tried not to look at you too much. To just see the invitation, which was what mattered the most. 

He wasn’t sure how to approach, you couldn’t help him either. You would spoon, that was a given, you hadn’t budged your position, left him no choice but to mould his body around yours. He shuffled closer, awkwardly trying to stretch his right arm underneath your pillow without lifting your head, hurting your neck. He curled around your back, leaving inches between you, like he couldn’t quite make himself grow any closer. His left arm rested on his own hip, too afraid to reach out and touch yours. He’d asked to hold you. Why can’t he hold you? 

You took matters into your own hands. You blindly reached behind you, hands finding his. Your one superpower. You interlock your fingers with his and bring his arm around your waist, the heat of his body coming with it. You could probably feel his heart pounding chest now he allowed it to press against your back. You definitely felt the goosebumps climbing his arms when you pressed a feather light kiss to his knuckle. His heart leapt in his chest.

“What was that for?” He lifted his head, you don’t know it, but he can see enough of your face from this angle to catch the blush on your cheeks and the smile that crept onto it. He’s reassured by it. “Just felt like it.” You shrugged. Only he doesn’t buy it, but he won’t push his luck. His head hit the pillow, only this time, he’s closer to you. His nose is nearly buried in your apple scented locks. You were so sweet smelling at all times, but that apple was just so incredibly you. He knew you’d only used the stuff because it came in a green bottle too. Because only you would map your product selection on the colour alone. It was one of the first facts in your note cards, that your favourite colour was green.

Fuck. He thinks. He really fucking liked you. He wouldn’t even curse himself for it. You weren’t what he expected, and he liked that. He liked that this didn’t go to plan. He liked that he couldn’t pretend any longer. He was grinning to himself, chuckling even. He boldly buried his head in the crook of your neck like he’d done a couple of times that night but more invasively now there wasn’t much space between you. 

“What’s so funny?” You shook his hand in yours. “Hmm?” You fought a laugh yourself; his laughter was infectious; it was just stupid and cute. “Ash was right.” He said. You turned your head back slightly, unable to see anything really, before giving up and leaning into the pillow again. “Bout what?” He leaned his head on your shoulder, lips nearing your ear. “Told me this wouldn’t work.” Interesting really, since he ushered you into asking him into this at the start. You’re suitably confused. He’s holding you, giggling in your ear, body warm against yours in this stupidly large bed that he’d made feel tiny, after convincing your family how in love you are, and he said it wasn’t working. That Ash, your biggest influencer, had also predicted it. Well, you’d have said the opposite. 

“This isn’t working.” You have a questioning tone. “Didn’t seem like that downstairs.” You were defensive, rightly so. “No, not like that.” He started. Your grip on his hand loosened and he panicked. ‘Just say what you mean, say what you mean,’ he tells himself. “Turn over.” He leant himself up, still firmly on his side. “Why?” He rolled his eyes. “Please turn over.” He pleaded. “Whyy?” You say again. “Fuck, would you just-“ he shook his hand free from yours, placing it firmly on your hip and he twisted you, so you were flat on your back, facing up at him with surprise. He didn’t expect that to work as well as it did.

“You’re so fucking annoying.” He huffed. “Thanks.” Your arms crossed over your stomach, you tried to avoid his gaze, but he manoeuvred himself so that he was directly above you. He decided you couldn’t be trusted to keep you gaze anywhere but on him. You had to give him a shot. Your expression had softened at the sight of him. Just like he’d hoped. His stupid round cheeks. The dumb smile. Why was he always smiling? 

“I wanna kiss you.” He said. You thought he was childish. “Is holding not enough?” He shook his head. “Never enough.” He leaned in close, but he doesn’t kiss you, not yet. His forehead just pressed against yours, his lips hovered, breath tickling your own mouth. “Can I?” He begged for it. “Yes.” You breathed. He does. His lips brush yours and it’s just as nice as every other kiss he’d given you. You’re not sure why you expected it to be different all of a sudden. You just had the idea that maybe it would be. Now that you, well now that you actually liked it.

But it wasn’t different, it was exactly the same. “Calum.” You whined. “Yeah?” He was upset that you’d interrupted such a crucial moment. “It doesn’t feel like I thought it would.” Your fingers stroked over his cheek; he arched a brow to question you. “We have kissed before; you remember that right?” He teased. You couldn’t have been that drunk. “Yes. Shut up. That’s not what I meant.” He’s still not on the same page although relieved somewhat that you were in fact sober like he thought.

In his mind that kiss was perfect, electrifying, mind blowing, the best kiss yet, you’d have known it too if you didn’t stop him so quickly. “What’s it feel like?” He tried to understand. You thought for a moment. What did it feel like? Warm, soft, sweet, he was one of the sweetest tastes. Where most men would taste of mint, Calum didn’t. He tasted like cigarettes and the kiwi and strawberry gum he chewed to mask the scent of them on his breath. It didn’t work completely, it more meshed together into its own unique flavour.

It felt nice. “Feels normal.” You said it like it was a bad thing and he can’t understand why. “What’s so wrong with that?” You tried to shake your head. Shake some sense into yourself. You were blowing it. “Kiss me again.” You didn’t have to ask him twice. He pushed his lips against yours, harder than the first time, much harder. Barely leaving a gap between you. Suffocating you with his kiss. He feels like this time he has to try harder; he needed to give you his all. There had to be more. 

His lips glided over yours, his lips rough but still careful. His tongue poking out slowly, licking gently over your bottom lip. You part it instinctively and the second his tongue slithered across your teeth, you finally felt it. You don’t know why it took you till the second try. You’re so grateful you felt it at all, but you were panicking for a second, thinking you’d made this huge mistake because how could you let yourself fall for him after all this nonsense? Then you felt it, that spark kicking you to life. That fire in your belly, burning you up inside, begging for his coolness to dampen it down. You fucking needed him.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails tucking into them just a little. He’s feeling the heat radiating from you, your energy pouring into him. He’s smiling against your mouth as your tongue meets his briefly. He just knows that this time, he’s got you. “You had me worried there for a second.” He panted, not wanting to pull away but needing to say something. You kissed him over and over, distracting him. Now you’d started, you couldn’t stop. “I know, I’m so cruel.” He smirked, kissing you back just as vigorously, hand coming to your throat, resting gently on it before tilting your chin up towards him.

You captured his eyes, so dark, nearing black in the dim light. If it weren’t for the golden flecks you’d be convinced they really were that dark. “Had to be sure.” He pecked your lips. “Yeah?” You did the same. “Yeah.” He’s so close that every time his eyes closed and reopened, you felt his lashes fanning your cheeks. “And now?” He asked so hopefully, heart on the line as he waited on your answer. You wanted to make him wait, torture him a little, not tonight, tonight you were kind enough to put him out of his misery. “Now I want you.” You said. He could have punched the air with excitement. 

You’re kissing again. Scrambling around, his body lowered on top of you, one hand resting on your cheek, the other grazing your hip bone. His body shuddered when you whimpered under the weight of him. You let your legs widen as he slipped between them, all before he lifted your thigh, depositing it safely around his waist. You prayed that he didn’t immediately feel the dampness in your shorts but you’re not the only one struggling.

His hard on rubbed into you, your lips parting with surprise. “Fuck.” He muttered, momentarily halting your make out session, the heat between your thighs overwhelming him. You sensed his embarrassment, his cheeks burning with it. “Me too.” You breathed. Lips pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose as your hand slipped between you, coming down to cup his bulge boldly through his shorts. 

The groan he released is sinful, maybe even painful. He felt big. He felt impossibly big. He wouldn’t fit in your hand, maybe not even in the two of them. He thrust into your hand when he felt you touch him. It was his first instinct; he couldn’t fight it. “Shit, sorry.” You caught his lips, tugging his bottom one between your teeth, releasing it slowly. “Gonna move my hand, want you to do it again.” If he thought he was embarrassed at his neediness before, it was about to get a whole lot more mortifying. 

Your hand moved away, he was grinding his hips down into you as you’d asked, and you felt the way his cock jumped into action. “Baby.” You panted. He’s sure his heart is going to explode, maybe his cock too, probably that first. “Say it again.” He needed it. “Baby.” You kissed him. He’s rocking his hips into you, you started rotating your own, rubbing yourself over his cock, hand moving out of the way. “Baby, baby, fuck.” He’s covered your lips with his, nose mashed up against you, you can’t breathe, you don’t even want to, you wouldn’t miss the feeling. All of this felt so much more important. “Feel so good.” You whine. He never would have thought you’d be so vocal. You didn’t seem like the type. Thought you’d be a bit of a brat maybe but not this, not confident and sexy and so sure of what you wanted. He could love that; he could love you. 

“More, need more.” You’re eyes rolled back when he’s lifting your hips with both hands, pulling your core over him. His cock slipping through your folds through too many barriers of clothing. “Shit Cal.” You felt the sensation of fire burning into you, setting you alight. You’re dizzy and hot and you just felt so good against him. The friction of his shorts might have been frustrating, but it was also, so rewarding. It was such a good roughness against your clothed mound. “Are you?” He can’t even say it, too busy dragging you over his cock. “I’m, fuck, Calum.” He doesn’t stop, not for a second, not for a beat. He makes you ride it out. He’s so stupidly proud of himself. He’d barely touched you and you’d come undone. You’d actually fucking came. “Fucking unreal for me.” He slowed himself down before he followed a similar path to destruction. 

He’s pushing your hips back down, letting your body sink into the mattress, pulling away from you to catch a breath. “I can’t believe that.” Your hand floats through your hair combing it back. He’s resting back on his knees, still between your legs. “You’re so fucking hot.” His eyes don’t look anywhere but your face. Your shirt is half way up your chest, bare tits poking out for him to see and yet, he doesn’t look.

You can’t say you share the same sentiment. Your eyes raced to the outline of his erection in them grey basketball shorts. You drank in the sight before you and your teeth clamped down into your lower lip. He reached down to squeeze your thigh. “My eyes are up here.” He gestured with his index and middle finger. You smirked up at him. “Kind of wish they weren’t.” You didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah?” You nodded. Eyes falling back to his very, large problem that he now palmed through his clothing. Shit, even his own hand wouldn’t cover him.

“Gonna keep looking or do you feel like helping?” His voice was awfully steady for someone ready to come apart at the mere thought of your touch. “You want me to?” You’re not sure what you’re asking. “Need you to.” He said. You sat yourself up. “Gonna take this shirt off me first?” You looked up at him, eyes wider than he’d ever seen, somehow so innocent even though you were anything but. “Of course, I am.” His hands didn’t waste any time lifting the material off over your head. You felt the bite of a chill rush over you, your nipples hardening, perking up with it. “So, very, sexy.” He can’t believe his luck. You’re amazed that you don’t feel shy, being so exposed to him. Guess that was good, it felt natural, you felt safe. 

“Gonna help you.” You warned, hands slipping down into his shorts. You gasped at the immediate contact with his bare skin. “No underwear.” He smirked down at you. “Fucking slut.” Your hand cupped him just like before, yeah, definitely needs more than one hand. “You love it.” He chanted “I do.” You confirmed, squeezing him hard. The rush of air that left his mouth, oh it made this all so worth it. You tried to be bolder, you took his length in your palm for the first time. You gripped him tight and moaned in unison. He moaned at the feeling of finding home in your soft touch. You moaned; at the way your hand can’t even wrap around him fully. He’s too thick, too girthy, there wasn’t enough of you to take it all. 

“Do something.” He urged, forehead leaning on yours for stability more than anything else. “Ah right, that’s what I was doing.” You play as you sprang to action, your hand lifting to the throbbing head of his cock, letting the trickles of beaded cum roll into your palm before you can cover him in it using it whilst you twist your hand up and down his length. “Ohh, fuck.” It came out gravelly. He’d never thought much of hand jobs, said no to many throughout his life, never being worth the time, never feeling as good as his own hand. This though. You. Your hand. You touched him and he swore your hand was made to hold his cock. Even if that sounded ridiculous, there had to be some way of it being true because he felt so good. His cock was slick and hot, it glided through your grip with ease and your tightened fist on him, it was incredible.

You knew to tug him hard at the base, to loosen around his tip. To constantly use his pooling arousal to your advantage. You worked his cock better than anyone else could, maybe even better than him. You weren’t rushing, you didn’t wank him hard begging for it all to be over, getting bored of the feeling. No, you just touched him. Switching your pace. Listening to his hot little sounds. Paying attention to what made him twitch, what made him rut his hips into your palm. You loved touching him, you wanted to touch him forever, every which way you could. 

He started fucking your hand. He’s not sure he can stop himself and you’re so turned on by it you actually moan. “What are you doing to me?“ He’d never felt like this before. You’d made him so weak. He was desperately thrusting into your fist like a pathetic little virgin, and you were moaning. He had to be making this up, you weren’t real, none of this could have been real. “Fuck Cal.” You’re soaked at the idea of it all, you even clenched down on fucking nothing, the thought of him inside you instead of just the palm of your hand, it’s too much to bear. “Need to fuck me.” You quicken your pace, your hand tugging at him desperately. “Fuck, fuck. Stop, you gotta stop.” He doesn’t want you to, God knows he doesn’t, but if you don’t, he’s gonna fucking bust all over your perfect little hand. 

He forced your hand out of his shorts and you have the audacity to pout up at him when he does. “You’re something fucking else.” He pushed you back, your head drops happily onto your pillow. “Something good I hope.” You toyed with him, and he is about to lose it. “Take these off.” He tugged at your own shorts, and you didn’t budge. “Off.” He commands, climbing off the bed, feet hitting the cold wooden floor of the hotel room. 

You shifted behind him, pulling your shorts and panties down your thighs, tossing the material to the general vicinity of you shirt. Your hands are once again in your hair, combing through it with nerves just eating away at you. You ached for him. Your thighs were squeezed so tightly shut you thought he might never pry them open again. You were on edge, literally dying there waiting. He’d dropped his shorts; they’d hit the ground quietly. He stepped out of them quickly, hand lifting to touch himself, he let out a quiet hiss when he did. He was so turned on, cock so tight and hot in his hand, he’d bury himself in you and never wish to leave. 

He climbed back onto the bed, settling on his knees like he had before. His hand rolled delicately across his tip, soaking himself still, using his own arousal to ready himself for you. His cock had a wet sheen in the light. You thought it looked even more delicious now with a coating like that. Perhaps your legs would part after all. “You sure?” He thinks he knows your answer, but he’d hate himself if he didn’t check. This had all been so perfect, better than he could have ever imagined because God, his imagination wasn’t half as creative enough to make you up. You were far better than anyone he’d ever known. The more he knew you, the better you got. Each and every layer, prettier or wittier or more perfect. You must have been real. Real and a gift made just for him because you had him hook line and sinker. He was dumb to credit himself for thinking he imagined you a few moments ago.

“Fuck me.” You spoke. He shook his head. Leaning over you, tip throbbing hard when it breached your walls for the first time before making a heady retreat, running through your slick, wet, lips instead. “Can’t.” He said. Running his cock up and down, eyes flickering shut, throat drying with his pure fucking thirst for you. “Why not?” You furrowed your brow. He’s right there, all he had to do was enter you. You could just lift your hips and he’d slip his fat cock inside. “Can’t call this fucking, not when you feel this good.” You think you might have passed out when pushed inside of you. “Oh, fuck.” He covered your lips to catch your moan. He didn’t think about the fact he’d be sinking in further, bottoming out, pelvis to pelvis with you when he did. 

Your legs wrapped around him so tightly your heels began to dig into his tasty, round backside. You fasten him in place intentionally. You needed to feel him. Needed to feel him in his entirety, pulsing inside you. He bit down on your shoulder till he tasted a metal zing of fresh blood, he’d apologise at a later date. For now, he needed it. You were sopping wet around him, engulfing his cock in a warm, tight sleeve. With each breath you took he slipped a little bit further inside. You felt so full you’d felt him bulging in your stomach, so far inside you it even hurt you.

“I need to move, gotta let me move.” He locked eyes with you before you nodded, loosening your legs, letting him withdraw his hips, pulling right back away from you, tip nearly leaving the crevice of your wetness. Then he pushed back in, all the way, hips against hips and you fucking moaned. You moaned so loud he thought he hurt you, ready to withdraw and panic at that thought. But then you lifted your hips to meet his. You meet his next thrust and then the next, and the next. You don’t let him do a damn thing without your involvement. You needed to be in this together because what’s the fucking point if you can’t give each other your all? 

“You’re so wet, soaking me.” You can only sigh, you’re not sorry, he got you so damn good he ought to be proud. “So damn hot. Gonna need to change the fucking sheets.” He rambled on. His hands dig delicious bite marks into your hips. Yours place a similar attack atop his shoulders. “Feel unreal.” You captured his lips in a needy kiss, chest pushing up as your back arched involuntarily. “Very real, so fucking real.” You muttered. As your back arched further, Calum found a place within you, a sensitive spot he angled into unexpectedly. A place you’d only ever touched yourself. You shook, and you clenched down on him, hard. 

He’d be an idiot not to notice it. You were clamping down so much he worried he’d lose circulation all together. “You want me dead don’t you?” He slammed his hips down into you. “Won’t be happy till I’m not fit for anyone else, that it?” His chest flattened against yours, his cock reaching that angle even more intrusively than before and you’re about to scream for it.

He’s got so much pressure leaning against it you’re about to crumble and he doesn’t even know it. “Calum.” You panicked, hands snaking into his hair, tugging his brown curls. He couldn’t get any closer to you and yet you needed it, wanted him covering you. “Fuck, you’re, fuck are you cumming?“ He leaned his head back, looking down into your eyes, you have tears brimming in them and he can’t believe it, he was so right. “Please, please don’t stop.” Your voice came out so weak, soft, precious, and broken and he thought you sounded like a needy little princess when you begged for him like that. “Anything, anything for you.” He meant it too. 

His hand wrapped around your throat loosely and tenderly as he coaxed your second orgasm from you. Your scream caught in your throat. He kissed you hard, breathing life erratically back into you. The way you tightened around his cock has his eyes roll back into his skull, his teeth biting down hard on your plump, cherry lips. He’s so close to cumming himself, but he will not let himself go until you’ve done it first. He had to make it through. He had to feel the way you came around his dick for the first time. Needed it imbedded in his brain as the religious experience it certainly felt like it would be.

“Calum, Calum,” you’re not even aware you’re yelling his name out there. You just do it. That’s what gets him in the end. Your pretty little voice wrapping around his name, securing the idea that he was in fact the guy who’d made you crumble into a mess in these sheets, twice. It was all him. “Where, fuck, where do you-“ he can’t even say it, can’t get the words out. “In me, need it in me, please baby.” 

He did as you asked, his hips pulsing into you, cock sputtering, leaking his hot cum inside you. You felt it all. Deep inside, covering you, damning you. You were claimed from the inside out. There wasn’t a single piece of you that wasn’t marked as his now. You sighed heavily at the thought of it. “So, fucking good.” You muttered. Him filling you was just so erotic to you. He’d felt exactly the same because of course he did, he was made for you. He loved that you’d let him take you like that. It felt heavenly pouring himself into you, coating you in his colours. Pulling out might just be the hardest thing he’d ever have to do. 

His body covered yours. He’s no strength to hold himself above you, but no way of pulling away just yet. You’d not minded his weight at all. You’d actually enjoyed it, felt comforted by it. Even if your bodies were sweat soaked and desperately in need of another shower, it felt nothing but perfect lying here a little longer. Your fingers massaged into his scalp, he hummed at the relief of your touch. His breathing slowed down, softly blowing over your chest where his head lay comfortably.

You decided you loved the sound of him breathing. You can’t explain exactly why that is, but it offered you some kind of comforting stimulation that you think you’d listen to happily for hours. The mere existence of him, being enough to soothe you. “So that, uh-“ he licked his bottom lip, wetting the dryness there. “That happened.” You heart leaped and you know he felt it. “Don’t make it weird.” You nearly begged. “I’m not making it weird.” You poked his head. “You’re making it weird.” You accused, poking him again. “Would you stop?”

He lifted his head this time to avoid another attack. Well fuck. If he thought you looked beautiful before, it had nothing on the way you looked now. You were flustered and tired, your eyes wet with tears and probably sweat and yet, gorgeous. “You’re staring.” He hated you. “I can’t stop.” He’s lying. He could, he just never wanted to. “What will people think?” You gasped. “How will we tell them?” He continued, following your train of thought like he’d conjured it himself.

“Well, what do we actually have to tell? You know, to get our story straight.” He knew that was your not-so-subtle way of asking what you were, after all of this, but he doesn’t mind it because he’d also liked to know. As cliché as it was. It really did happen that fast. “Well,” he rubbed your cheek with the back of his hand, watching as your face leaned into his touch. “Your family think we’re in love so, that’s kind of handled.” You laughed. “That you’re way of confessing your love for me?” You dig with a smile. “No.” Yes. But it was way too soon to verbalise that. Sure, you’d known him for a while, but this weekend was the closest you’d ever been. And yeah, he may have felt it in his bones, but he wasn’t crazy enough to admit it to you. Jesus Christ. “So, it’s just, everyone else.” He nodded, then repeated after you. “Everyone else.” Easier said than done. 

“What if I uh, slip you another 200?” He rolled his eyes. Only you would ask that. “Oh, because I haven’t whored myself out enough?” You grinned. “Well, if the shoe fits baby.” He nudged your nose with his own. “No but seriously, what would 200 get me?” You tried to deadpan but the smile refused to leave you. “I’m refunding it by the way.” You feigned shock. “My money not good enough for you Hood?” He looked at you with a ‘you really asking me that?’ look on his face. Though technically, you hadn’t actually given the money to him yet. “Only asked for it because I knew it’d piss you off sweetheart.” That hadn’t surprised you at all. “I dragged my ass to the bank for nothing.” He thought he might howl with laughter. 

He stills his hips, hands on either side of your face supporting his weight as not to push himself in any further until you were ready for it. His lips were pursed as if he were about to whistle or something but the only sound that did occur, was the soft puffs of air, the rapid breathing technique you’d seen him use to calm his nerves. He was extremely nervous after all. He also just needed to hide the panting. He couldn’t bear the thought of showing you how close his thread was to snapping. He needed to stay strong, what use was he if he lost his cool the second he felt your warmth engulfing him. “Are you nervous Lu?” Your little hands reach out to touch him, sliding over his shoulders, rubbing them encouragingly. Even the silky smoothness of your voice had him fighting to hold on.

“Of course, I’m fucking nervous.” He leans down to kiss you, hopefully to hide it, a smile forming on his lips the moment he reminds himself this is still happening and it’s not some dream of his. He’s actually allowed to kiss you now, any time he thought about it, he simply could. As he kisses you softly, a cool metal drags across your chest, chills climbing the length of your body in waves. His chain was dragging across you. Butterflies begin to erupt in your stomach, and he must feel them. He’s so deep, buried in the pits of your tummy that he must have known them, met them there. 

When he retracts his lips, you’re met with a look on his face that you’d never seen before, not in this context anyway. He was smiling, mouth wide, cheeks burning and bunching under his eyes, dimples sinking into his smile lines. “I finally got the girl.” You want to snort with laughter at the cheesiness of his remark, but it pleased such a sweet little portion of your mind that you couldn’t bear to mock him for it. You were glad it was a long time coming for the both of you.

“What are you going to do with your prize?” Your lips hover over his as you wait patiently for his turn. He’s sweating to death as he holds himself in place, he has to do something about that. “Fuck you silly.” He mutters with confidence before pushing his hips down to press right up against yours. “Shit, fuck Luke.” You can’t even begin to describe how full you had felt. When he finally bottomed out and his pelvis was flush against your own, that overflowing, full to the brim feeling made you want to cry. You might have cried. He’d felt thick and long in your mouth but in your cunt, even more so. His cock brushed up against something deep within you, pressing your nerves of pleasure, coaxing another orgasm out of you.

You felt so awful for Ashton in the room next door. There was no way he didn’t hear you gasping for air, gagging for the rough torture of your best friends hips ricocheting off yours. Luke knew he’d have some explaining to do the next morning but for now, he needed to make you his, really his. Your legs were wrapped so tightly around his waist that you clung to him, feet digging into his back to push him in deeper while also lifting your back from the ground. Your hips angle upwards when he urges the position switch, and you feel so euphoric you can scarcely breathe. “Feel you squeezing me again.” His nails are digging into the flesh of your hips, latching onto you with a strength that would bruise you for weeks. “Feel so fucking good.” He pecks your lips. “So good for me.” 

“Want you to forget bout her.” You whine into his ear. “No one can get you like this Luke, no one but me.” He whimpers at your words, nodding his head along with you but it’s not enough for you. “Tell me, you have to say it.” He looks you dead in the eyes, his hips rolling slowly into you as he holds you close, forehead resting against yours. “You were fucking made for me.” Considering how out of breath he’d been before; his words are steady and serious. “It’s always been you, only one for me.” You weren’t sure what you expected from him, but it certainly wasn’t that. You linger under his gaze just a few seconds longer before throwing your lips on his.

You kiss him more, chasing his mouth every time he dared to dodge you. He didn’t do it because he disliked kissing you or anything, it was quite the opposite. Your tongue stroking his, flicking inside his mouth, licking into it in the gentle but familiar way that only you could. With the additional taste of his cock still lingering on it, that would have him finished in seconds. He needed just a few moments longer. Just enough time to get you there first, he needed to feel you come on him this time. “How’s it feel?” He makes more forceful ruts against you, skin slapping hard. “So- so- fuck, so good, oh god.” He throws himself down, body draping over you but leaving enough room for him to continue his assault on your pussy, riding you for dear life.

He fucks into you so hard you squeak out in response. He’d knocked the air from your lungs. Filled you so good, tightly packed inside you, feeling so familiar and sweet, being welcomed home to where he belonged. Where he’d always belonged but just never known it for certain until this moment. “Luke, baby.” You cry with urgency, arms tightening around his shoulders while he fucked up into you enough to destroy any innocence you’d ever had or may have again.

“Baby I’m-“ He keeps his pace, nodding in acknowledgement of your warning. “Cum for me, cum again baby, let me feel you.” Your head rolls back while you feel yourself constricting around him. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, Luke.” Your eyes snap shut, mouth contorting, widening with wonder. “That’s it, let it go.” He’s pecking kisses over your cheeks an exacts juxtaposition to the way his thrusts never faltered their pace. He’s never felt anything like this before. He felt weightless, free, he felt all the positive emotions someone could feel. The feeling of you releasing around him had rendered him invincible.

You tried your hardest to focus on him as he chased his own finish. Considering you’d edged him along nicely earlier, he’d certainty put that in the past, no longer affected by the deprivation of his orgasm, just powering through as if he’d never been at his limit at all. You on the other hand were so dead set on getting him where he needed to be, feeling so much sympathy at his lack of and ending that you tried everything to help him, determined still to be the best he’d ever had. Even if he had absolutely no doubt in his mind already that you were exactly that.

“Do me a favour?” He stared at you in disbelief, unsure if he could trust what his ears had heard. “Now? Can’t it wait?” He says attempting to stop gritting his teeth. You kissed him briefly before shaking your head, teeth sinking into your bottom lip for just a second while you attempted to phrase your next sentence. “Want you to take me from behind Luke.” He blinks rapidly a few times, just to make sure he’s actually heard that. Not because he’s shocked by the request, he’d always loved that position, loved you begging for it even more so. He just honestly didn’t think you could get any more perfect for him, and then you did. “Use me, please Luke please.” You started pleading for his sake, never imagining it would be the push he needed to dissipate the loving side of him and bring out the feral. 

He pulled out, groaning at the loss and the effort it took to flip you over. You go to set yourself on all fours to offer yourself back to him. Your back arched with your ass sticking out, your front half leaning on your hands. Luke decides he didn’t need you on all fours, he just pushes you back down, face first into the cushions, your pelvis and legs flattening down too. You were lay on your stomach, Luke not giving a damn if you could breathe or not. You can breathe when he’s done, even if you feel you may never breathe again because you’d surely died and gone to heaven. You feel your whole body tingling with anticipation. You already missed his fullness, first fearing to take it now dreading being without. You try to encourage his return, reaching behind you to lift your cheeks, spreading them and your thighs a little beneath him. You put on a show for him. Showed him how needy you still were, even after he’d wrecked you.

Luke’s legs are situated on either side of yours, his front lowered to encase you, necklace once again dangling against your dampened skin but this time on your back. He spreads your ass himself, batting your hands away. He creates enough of a gap to slip down into you again, this time you felt unbelievable, even more so than the last time. You were so fucking tight he may as well have been getting suctioned into you. “So, fucking big.” You cry when he moves, rocking carefully into you for both your sakes. He knew the angle could damage you if he weren’t careful, but you were so irresistible. Such a sweet, wet little hole for him. “You can move, don’t be shy, I can take it.” He arches his brow, not quite believing you since the shakiness in your voice was hard to ignore but he needed to move. He had to or else he’d wreck himself prematurely in this new position. 

He pushes in and out of you, gradually gaining speed, hands both finding their way to grip your hips, pulling you to meet his thrusts but also bleeding you dry as he clawed at your delicate skin. “Fuck, fuck.” You are so broken, voice fading, words starting to lack sense. You made so much noise it was impossible to tell if you’d had a coherent thought at all in the last 20 minutes. He’s not giving up though, his cock was almost there, twitching from the base, balls ready to drain into you. “Baby.” He tried to catch your attention, you’re so fucked out, he’s treating you like a rag-doll, ramming himself into you so hard you might never walk again. “Baby, need you with me.” He’s being vulnerable, he needs to reach you, wants to hear your sweet voice, needs your kindness, needs your love. As nice as it was to have his way with you, reducing you to a moaning mess beneath him, he needed a stronger connection to send him over the edge. 

“I’m here, right here.” You lift your head the best you can, turning your head back to catch his eyes. His hair was so sweaty, his curls had slicked back flat. His cheeks, whole face and even his chest was rose tinted. His eyes found yours with a kindness you wanted to smother yourself in. “So close.” He softens his words, his thrusts too, not enough to let you catch a break but enough to show it wasn’t just fucking anymore. It was much more than that.

“Let go for me.” You encourage. He’s whimpering, hands kneading your skin, hips rocking, breath catching, cock pulsing and throbbing against your walls. “Fuck I’m done, I’m cumming, oh my god.” He brings a fist up to his mouth for him to bite down onto for the sake of the other guests in the hotel as he fucked himself into the strongest orgasm he’d ever known. He repeats your name over and over like a sacred prayer under his breath and you melt at the melody of it. “Feel fucking amazing, fuck.” The warm spurts of his cum within you are a welcome sensation, it made you his, well and truly. You didn’t want him to pull away, wanted to revel in the feeling of him stilling inside you, even as he curses while catching his breath.

He goes to pull himself away, stroking over your back to brace you both but you stop him, covering his hand with your own the best you could. “Baby I’m so spent.” He tries to argue, knowing there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d get hard enough for another round anytime soon. “Shh, sh just stay here a little while.” It soon registers in his head what your request actually meant. You just wanted to feel him, have the closeness without it being all the way sexual. His heart warmed at your neediness to continue feeling full of him.

“Can we lie together first?” He tries to persuade you, his body so achy and tired, he’d love nothing more than to curl up with you for hours. You allow him to remove himself, his cock dragging free from the warmth of your pussy, his finish leaking from you messily. You whine at the loss of him that you’d now grown accustomed to, but you enjoy the slow drip of his cum that begins to trickle from your entrance. You beg him to hurry, to scoop you up in his arms and return to you, laying beside you, his chest against your back, arms tight around your waist.

He falls into the position of big spoon, brushing your hair across your neck allowing him to press sweet kisses along your newly exposed shoulder. You sink down onto his softening length and feel satisfied with the knowledge that he was still larger than average even then. “Feel so right for me.” You start your journey, letting your hand run across your own hips, walking them down until you met his own hand, linking your fingers immediately, sighing with relief that you were connected there, as if you could never have enough contact with him.

“Told you.” He whispers against your ear, a hot flush spreading from the area like a rash. “You’re gonna need me all the time now, you know why?” You’re too sleepy to make the guesses he wants you to, but you indulge him in the small ways you can manage. “Why?” You fight a yawn after asking, he finds it adorable. His lips press into your shoulder once more and you feel his lips switching from a smile to a smirk before he grazes you playfully with his teeth. You wish he’d lose the busy of energy he suddenly gained, he was getting too confident again, needed knocking down a peg or two, even if you knew you were the cause of his happiness, it was ridiculous that he wasn’t tired.

“It’s not that big of a deal, you caught me in a compromising position, we can move on now.” He’s not even blinking an eye; he’s not doing much of anything actually. Maybe it’s his years of keeping his lip tight for the sake of the band, never letting a secret spill for the gossip that would entail. He’d been working on his poker face for over 10 years, and you were ashamed to say it was working on you. You couldn’t see a single glimmer of guilt cross his chiselled features and it’s not like he should be ashamed of his sexuality, he was entitled to it as much as anyone. That wasn’t what irked you. What was bothering you, however, was that you just noticed the small smile that crept onto his lips whenever you stared at them for too long.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I caught my best friend with his dick down some poor girl’s throat.” You stood up from the chair to emphasise your frustration, how very not okay you were with the events of the previous night. You hadn’t set up a schedule for the room share, you hadn’t enforced any rules at all to prevent things like this from happening. You honestly hadn’t felt like you’d needed to. You were sharing a room with him over a long weekend. Just 3 nights and 4 days. You were actually dumb enough to think that booking a room with one 1 bed would finally be what bought you closer together, smashing the boundaries between the two of you that normal circumstances never could. You’d never anticipated those same boundaries being broken quite like this.

The image of him sat right on the edge, rutting his hips up into her mouth. You couldn’t forget it. Nor the hand he had gripping her jaw whilst simultaneously gripping the sheets on your side of the bed too. Just rubbing the material back and forth between his thumbs like a comfort blanket. He didn’t even look at her while she took him, no. His head had fallen back, face positioned towards the ceiling. His eyes clasped shut, lips barely puffing out air. He looked lost in her touch but not enough to vocalise a damn word. He was silent. Just chasing that high without any means of an end. It was unsettling. His jugular was so bare too. His Adams apple gulping down the air you failed to see him take in. Maybe he’d stolen it from you since the sight was so frustratingly breath-taking.

“You make it sound like I forced her.” His confidence wavered but only for a second, his hands fiddling with the rings on his fingers, sliding them back and forth as he fought his case and you instantly felt regretful for the way you’d phrased it. “I didn’t mean it like that.” You held your hand out steady to reassure him. You really didn’t, he wasn’t like that. Even in his hardest partying days you don’t think he could have forced anyone. One look into the salted ocean of his eyes and you’d be willing to do just about anything to stay a while, take a swim, dive in, and surround yourself in the clearness. Only because you wanted to, no other reason.

“I’m sorry. I just-.” You go to sit down beside him on the bed but think better of it. You hadn’t slept in it at all. Another reminder as to how he couldn’t convince someone to do something they hadn’t wanted to. You’d actually wanted to drop your clothes and slot beside him as if nothing had ever happened. When he’d held your hand and almost begged you to stay you nearly broke to pieces and crumbled beside him like the remnants of a midnight snack before bed. You just didn’t want to share the same bed he’d used with her. Even if that meant opting for the sofa that night and then Ashton’s bed the night after. “They’ve been cleaned you know.” He refers to the hygiene of the bedsheets beneath him. He sighs before standing up to let you sink down into the sheets in replacement of him, you now felt less ill thinking about touching them with your own palms. Even if they hadn’t been cleaned daily, did you really think he was that much of animal that he’d followed through after you witnessed him? The sheets were as pristine and unused as they were when you arrived.

“It was just a shock.” It was a shock to you to slot your key card in the door, stumbling through, shedding your boots from your ankles as you trickled in from the hotel bar. You’d held them in your hands as you walked the short hallway past the reasonably sized bathroom, towards the bedroom. You dropped them with a double thud when your eyes fell to the girl on her knees. It was a shock for a lot of reasons. 1, it meant you couldn’t move for a while, feet cemented in place, creating your own personal hell as you watched the scene play out in front of you. 2, it meant you had to announce yourself somehow or make a heady escape, but you’d doubted you were quite sober enough to retreat without making a single sound anyhow. 3, because of the impending doom of your friendship with both Luke and the others because they came as a packaged deal, nothing more and nothing less. 4, as it was only fitting to have quadruple the trauma. It meant that it hurt like hell cause you wanted nothing more than to be that girl you were referring to. To be the one taking him instead of witnessing him giving himself to someone else. That was the biggest shock. You hated that you still desperately wished it had been you.

“Can we just please forget this?” He fucked up the moment he attempted to get his kicks from someone else and it didn’t take a genius to know why. His hand wasn’t enough, the hands of the girls he chased, who also chased him, weren’t enough. Hell, maybe he was asexual or something, maybe sexual gratification just wasn’t it for him, could never fix his little problem though he’d like to argue it was actually far from little but for the sake of punishing himself further, sure, a “little “problem. But then he let his mind wander to you. If he just pictured you, imagined you, like he did that night, that night when he closed his eyes and thought of you so hard, he thought he’d summoned you there himself when he opened his eyes to the sight of you stood in the doorway. The only thing that was wrong with the scenario was that it wasn’t just a fantasy of his, you wouldn’t push her out the way and finish the job for her. You were there and you were horrified at what you’d seen. He didn’t think he’d ever have it in him to get hard again. It was what he deserved after all.

“I can take the couch tonight.” He threw his phone down onto it to show he’d claimed it for the evening. “You’re too tall for it, even I had to curl up and I’m at least 4 inches shorter. Take the bed, I’ll see about getting my own room. Maybe reception have had a cancellation or something.” You felt too guilty to ask Ashton for the second night in a row. He needed a good night’s rest more than anyone after the shows he’d played. He insisted that he hadn’t minded, that he quite enjoyed not being alone, but you couldn’t impose, especially when you felt how much he tossed, turned, and had to hold himself back from rolling into your side accidentally. Even his subconscious knew he needed the space.

“Then I’ll sleep on the floor or something.” He’s already grabbing the couch cushions, throwing them down on the lush carpet, ignoring most of what you’d just said. “Luke you really don’t have to.” He’d mess up his back if he stayed down there, you weren’t going to let that happen. “Just take the bed.” You grab his wrist to prevent any further preparations he could make. For a moment you thought you felt a static shock from the contact, you block the memory and release him. “You’re cute when you’re bossy.” He attempts a smirk; however premature it may be. “That why you test me so much?” You take over, grabbing the pillows from your side of the mattress to assemble with the others at the foot of the bed. Luke bites his tongue when he wants to say more. He instead walks towards the wardrobe vaguely remembering the sight of spare pillows and a few top sheets in case of a colder night. “Thank you.” You smile as you take them from him.

“That’s not so bad.” You clap your hands together, proud of the little bed you’d made. The couch cushions forming a makeshift mattress, the one blanket draped over as a sheet. The pillows both spare and from the bed were lay around to catch your body if you tossed and turned in the night which you definitely would be doing, you always did when you felt stressed, today was no different. The last blanket was there to cover you as a makeshift duvet. It looked like the beginnings of an excellent fort, not so much a comfortable night’s sleep but it was the best you could do in your newly found confinement. “That’s the worst arrangement I’ve ever seen.” You scowl at him, and he ignores it. He’s kneeling down, shifting the pillows already before halting his movements, retreating from the carpet as quickly as he’d crouched there in the first place. “I’ll be back in like 5 minutes.”

You stand there knowing exactly where he’s gone. He ran to the next room; you hear his heavy fists on the door through the wall. You roll your eyes at the way he runs to his friends for help at every turn. I guess they were more like brothers at this stage, but it didn’t make it any less adorable, and moderately annoying if you were being brutal, and you were. He couldn’t just solve a problem by himself, never had to. He needed the nurturing, the second, third and fourth opinions. The council of his band. Maybe that’s why it was so hard to sweep this fallout under the mat. He was trying to fix it independently without turning to them. He wasn’t even asking you if there was anything he could do, even if you wouldn’t have helped him to figure it out, he never asked you anyway. That’s all you really wanted too, to be the one he could go to, for anything, not entirely without judgement but closely enough. Before you thought about it any longer, he was back with more sheets and more pillows, nearly tripping over the fabric and his own feet to transport them to you.

You took some of the load from him immediately and he smiled at you genuinely for the first time that day. He felt like he’d earned the right to show you some more kindness and he was taking the opportunity gladly. “Okay so what’s the plan then?” You let him lead you, shaking your shoulders out, ready to out yourself to work as if this was such a strenuous task. “Okay so-“ You spent a little while pacing back and forth over the space before moving ultimately decided to deconstruct and set up camp elsewhere. The extent of the collected materials proving too large for the designated area at the end of the bed. Instead, you’d incorporated the sofa into his design, altering the original structure completely. You’d taken the sheet he’d wrangled from Michael’s linen closet, placed it over the couch and tucked it behind where it met the wall to keep it in place. You’d then draped the opposite end over the two chairs that were once beneath the desk and dressing table the hotel provided creating a roof-like effect.

Luke then moved beneath the newly erected structure, layering the pillows with some blankets to create a cushiony base large enough to be considered a twin sized bed (the best Luke could manage with the space). All before adding the couch cushions now covered in fresh sheets as a headrest for more pillows to build on top. He’d even managed to enhance the practicality of the fort so that there were a couple of free plug sockets for you to access to charge your phone and other items while you lay inside. He’d clearly had too much experience working with hotel resources when he was living in them from week to week. You felt both sad at the thought of him having to entertain himself that way but also a little jealous of the idea that he might not have been as lonely as you pictured him. You may not be the only girl he’d built a fort for. You weren’t the only girl he’d chosen to do a lot of things with. You might have been the only girl he’d really cared for though; you just didn’t really know that yet and that was hard enough. All that your new home was missing was another blanket and it didn’t surprise you when he leapt up again to scrounge one from someone else, after already bleeding them dry. You had to be a little impressed with his efforts at an apology, he’d tried so hard for you.

When he came back, he sank to his knees at the base of your little palace, sweat gathering on his brow, breath exhaling and inhaling rapidly enough that you’d thought he might pass out. “Where did you steal that one from?” Judging by the flustered look of him, he’d ran home and back. “Nearly killed housekeeping when I just about wheezed my request.” Your hand flew to your mouth to cover the snort that released itself. He’d never been happier to hear such a dorky sound shoot out of your nose. It may have been embarrassing for you, but for him it was the sweetest sound. He didn’t have a weird fetish or anything, he just knew that you had to be comfortable or really, thoroughly enjoying yourself, to let a sound like that out without wincing in shame afterwards. It meant you were relaxed with him; your walls had rained down against the ground and you weren’t fighting with him or your urge to stay composed any longer. When your tearful eyes met his, tearful with happiness and rib-aching laughter over sadness by the way, he wanted to kiss you.

You wanted to kiss him too. You didn’t. You just thanked him instead. “You might have a future in decorating Mr Hemmings.” You shuffle back under the fortress, lying yourself back, testing the comfort of the bed he’d made. You beckon him in with your finger and he gladly complies, joining you with just enough space between you to settle your hands down without them touching. “Only kid’s rooms though.” You add. “I think this is the dream house for any age.” He argues and you disagree. “For about a week until you start to get claustrophobic.” He couldn’t deny you there. He was already starting to feel it, he could have sworn it was bigger than this.

He sits himself up, looking back down towards you before sending himself out. “Well, I hope you enjoy your new home.” He shuffles on his bottom to get himself to the singular exit. He doesn’t make it very far when your soft hand traps his wrist against the cushions they still lie on. “You don’t have to go yet.” He argues. “Technically I’m not going anywhere, same room and all.” You roll your eyes; you finally show him some normality and he chose to annoy you. “Lie back down.” He doesn’t dare to escape you now. “Yes ma’am.”

He lays himself down, heart suddenly hammering when he notices you’re hand still holding onto him. He smiles to himself uncontrollably the longer it stays there, your thumb starting to stroke over his skin anxiously, further confirming that you were touching him on purpose, that it wasn’t just the accidental impulse it started out to be. “You can hold my hand you know.” His mouth feels drier than the Sahara as he says it. Probably because he had no business suggesting anything for you to do. “I don’t know where it’s been.” You couldn’t resist the dig, even if it actually churned your stomach to let it slip. It still stirred anxiety within you, the thought of him actually being with someone else. “Hilarious.” He scolds before his breath catches, your hand gently prying his fingers open to let yours slip between them like flowing silk.

“I was working up to it.” You admit, turning your head to face the side of his. He felt your gaze, but he didn’t meet it. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hide his excitement if he did. He opted for the sheet above instead, soft, simple, and pure. Pure enough to absorb his expressions and not reflect them but conceal them instead. “Luke, I think I was jealous.” You drop the bomb on him, exploding the neutral scenario he’d created for you so painstakingly hard. He shoots to sit up, nearly deconstructing the damn thing he spent so long building in apology to you. “Well, you didn’t have to react quite like that.” You retract your hands, pulling them over your lower tummy prodding at the butterflies to quieten them down as you do damage control. “I know it's bad okay, you don’t have to say anything. I already know.” It’s a good thing you let him know because he didn’t think he had it in him to utter a single word right now. His body was short circuiting before your eyes. Jealous. Jealous of him, jealous of her, jealous of what exactly?

“I think- “You cut yourself off, to start again. “I guess I- “No, not quite right again. Maybe you should just throw caution to the wind, you’d done enough pussyfooting around.

Throw. Caution. To. The. Fucking. Wind.

“I booked a single bedded room Luke, what the fuck did you think that meant?” You didn’t think it would come out quite so aggressively, but you weren’t about to take anything back now. His wires were finally uncrossing, his head clearing, he was fully functional once more and recognising his colossal idiocy. “I’m a fucking idiot.” He doesn’t even move. He’s facing forward, palms flat against the blanket, shoulders slumped as the words sink in. “You think? I mean come on, did you think we were gonna top and tails it?” You laugh as you even mention it. “It used to be my favourite trope actually, only one bed, but I guess I see the flaws in it now.” He’s shaking his head to react to your words. “I’m so dumb.” You snort. Yeah, you said that already, you think. This time he doesn’t find your laughter so adorable, this time he hates the sound because it’s just you mocking him and although he thoroughly deserved it, he wanted, no, needed, you to shut the fuck up.

He turned himself around, sitting on his knees, facing you with all the confidence he had left. “Tell me I have another shot.” He’s looking at you and you’re looking away and he’d lift your chin to bring your attention in his direction, but he doesn’t dare overstep physically since his words were doing quite enough of that already. “Tell me I can have another chance.” You can hear his heart pounding in his chest. Good. “Or what?” He’s so close to just slamming your back down and shutting you up in every way he could. “Or I take the not-so-subtle hint,” he nearly winces as he nods towards the bed he’d stupidly ignored before finishing his sentence, “and I don’t ask again.” You know he’s not moved an inch, but it feels like his drifting from you. “I want you to ask again.” He’s about to scream with excitement. “Ask me Luke- “He’s leaning forward carefully, making no real effort to close any gap, just meeting you in the middle, the rest of the distance was yours to close. “Do I have another chance?” You’re not saying a damn thing back and the silence is deadly. “Or do I have to take it from you?” Your eyes meet his briefly before rolling back at the intensity of his words.

His hands float towards your hips, shuffling your body closer to him. You feel as though you weigh nothing at all when he lifts you with such ease. “Need your permission.” His forehead is almost leaning into yours but he’s too frightened to touch you more than he already had just in case you disappeared the moment he stepped it up a notch. Your permission is granted by a kiss to his neck. His eyes fly shut when your lips caress his skin. He never expected any of this, you both knew that he’d made it abundantly clear, but he certainly never would have thought you’d kiss his throat before you so much as pecked him on the lip. It felt like more of a punishment than anything else he’d gone through with you. Luke craved you. He’d sell his soul for a real kiss from you, in his mind he already had done because in what world did he deserve your lips trailing down his chest? The buttons of his shirt flying open without his realisation because he’s so lost in thought deciphering if he’d been imagining the whole ordeal. “Shit, Luke you’re solid.” He’s coming to his senses, his hips rocking up into your hand. The second he opened his eyes he nearly creamed his pants seeing your eyes go wide, lips wet with your salivating at the sight of his fat cock begging to be released from the confinement of his jeans.

You rub over the hardened lump with a morbid curiosity for how long it would take to get him begging you for more. You also can’t help but wonder how easy it was for his previous endeavour to get him like that. He’s pressing his crotch into your hand, his teeth nearly piercing his bottom lip as he melts under your lacklustre touch. He knows he could cum from it but that didn’t mean he couldn’t aspire for more; it wasn’t nearly enough when he knew what you could be offering him. He wants to beg you, but the hoarseness of his dry throat has him whimpering and whining gruffly instead. “I wanna see what the hype is about.” You breathe as you unbutton his jeans, the zipper falling down by itself, your brow arching in surprise. “Jeans too tight?” He curses as he’s nearly freed. Your fingers immediately prod at a peculiar wet patch in the fabric of his underwear and for a moment he wonders why the fuck you’d ever think to touch him like that until he opens his eyes to view for himself.

He’d leaked a substantial amount of precum into the grey cotton of his pants and you didn’t have to be a genius to spot it and know exactly why it was there. “Fucking kill me now.” He threw his head back, hands covering his face before you could spot the redness of his cheeks. “It’s flattering Lu, nothing to be ashamed of.” Your eyes are transfixed on the area, unfazed. “Need to get these off you.” You tug at the waistband of his jeans, wiggling it as much as you could by yourself. You pout when you can’t quite manage it. Luke peaks at you through the gaps he’d made between his fingers. His hips lifted before he even thought about it. Your pout fades, lips parting to gasp instead as not only the denim but the material beneath had slid down to his mid-thigh, leaving him completely exposed to you for the first time.

This time you have to catch your jaw, closing your mouth before you really do dribble at the size of him. His tip is blushing red, leaking with arousal so vastly, its pooling onto his stomach. He’s thicker than you thought he’d be. You knew he felt fat in your hand, but you assumed the fabric assisted the image but no, it was all him. His cock was so thick you’d never be able to take it all at once, not without training anyway. He wonders what’s going on in your beautiful little mind as you stare down at him, not moving a muscle. “Baby please.” Before he could whine much more, you outstretched your tongue to lick the liquid silver he’d left against the soft flesh of his tummy. You vibrate a moan against him at the sweet taste of him and his cock doesn’t just twitch, it practically leaps at vision of you. You’ve shocked him speechless. He starts to wonder if you intentionally avoided the places he needs you the most or if it’s all your own sick little game of revenge.

His hips lift from the floor once more and you use both hands to force him back down before you assault his pretty tip with kisses and kitten licks. You knew they did nothing but frustrate him, barely stimulating him enough to please him, but you were just getting started on this little love letter of yours. You wanted to show him all you had, let him forget anyone else who ever dared to try and compete. You licked over the sensitive little slit at the centre of his tip and he gripped the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white and cracked from the pressure. He needed to remember how helpless you’d made him feel just then, like he could have finished instantly into your mouth.

You hummed an unidentifiable tune as you sucked the first inch of him into your mouth, moaning as an unexpected squirt of liquid shot onto your tongue, more of his early arousal. You never thought you’d ever get him this good. Not before you even took him whole. His body was practically coming alive under your touch, he’d have nothing left to give and you hadn’t even gotten halfway down his length yet. “Oh fuck.” He’s groaning desperately as you retreat from him. You remove all touch, letting his cock slap back against his stomach. He’s never felt so exposed in his life, and it was exhilarating for him. He was completely at your disposal. But you don’t leave him like that for long, even if you’d wanted to. You were about ready to hump the pillow strategically placed beneath you, you were that turned on by the idea of tasting him.

You spat in your hand and gripped the base of his cock before dragging the wetness over him, slowly mixing it with the lubricant he’d already provided. “You’re so hot.” He’s putty in your hands. You smile, not towards him, just down at his cock as you drag your hand firmly over him. You hope to create a torturous pace, nowhere near fast enough to get a release but just enough to keep his hips stuttering, tip leaking and him close to begging for your lips. You were concerned to take him whole and thankfully with your hand wrapped around him, you may not have to. Even if that were difficult for you to accept when you’d needed him so bad. You’d never felt a hunger like this before. You’d never wanted anything in your mouth as much as his cock and there was no point denying either of your urges, this was your chance.

You were so greedy as you took him in your mouth this time. Your hands fisting tightly around him, tongue slurping up his juices as you inched your way down him. “So, fucking greedy for me, fuck baby.” You dare to glance up through your lashes to see him leaning against his elbows, watching you with his jaw slack, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. The moment your eyes meet, he swears he can’t take it anymore and he pushes your head down over him. You let out a strangled moan and he panics at the sound vibrating against him, now terrified he’d hurt you, gearing himself up to pull you back where you were. You fight his hands, surprising him yet another time that evening. You force your lips down until they reach the hand you coated his base with, and he hits the back of your throat with a grunt.

The noise Luke made could be compared with one he’d release if he were punched in the chest, sounding both winded and in pain. You suck hard on as much of him as you can before pulling back and throwing yourself down again. “Shit, just like that, oh fuck, use that tongue.” He’s gripping your hair tightly in one hand and fighting himself strongly to avoid pushing you down again with the other. Instead, he tugged on your locks as a form of encouragement, and it had your stomach doing somersaults.

The noise of you slurping, choking, and gagging around him was a symphony of pleasure and he’d half the mind to record it and keep it forever if he could but he couldn’t fucking move from you if he tried. If he left you for even a millisecond, he’d never forgive himself. He was finally, exactly where he needed to be, tightly packed into your hot little mouth, his new place to call home and what a glorious home it was turning out to be. He belonged there.

Scratch everything, he previously thought about never being satisfied in bed. He’d never felt more wrong in his entire life. He would eat his words as you ate him, gulping down whatever he could give you. His cock had never been harder, never been so happy. There wasn’t a better way for him to describe it when you sucked on him like that. He had to fight himself to keep his eyes open, to remain here with you, knowing that you were everything he’d been waiting for.

You looked so gorgeous taking him too. He wanted this image tattooed on his eyelids. He felt like his cock might burst when you started rocking your own hips while you inched back and forth over him. You’d loved his cock so much you couldn’t prevent yourself from getting off over it. Right in front of him, you humped your hot little cunt into the sheets as a desperate attempt to release the growing tension between your legs. “If you don’t keep your hips still, I’m gonna cum down your throat, do you hear me?” You furrow your brows, turning your attention to his face. He’s sweating, its dripping down his cheeks so nicely you almost mistook them for tears. You can’t help but be shy about his accusations. You didn’t intend to do anything. You instinctively chased a feeling against your will and if it was anyone’s fault it was his. You were aching for him to fill something more than your mouth. No matter how good he felt pressing against the walls of your throat, no room left to breathe or utter a sound, you wanted his size elsewhere.

You continued to take him, this time consciously stilling your hips but huffing every now and then when you felt the urge to move. You may have swivelled a little, but you’d hoped he’d be kind enough to let it go amiss. You weren’t that lucky. Luke’s hands leave your hair, and you were whining without the feeling of him coaxing you on until you simply couldn’t whine anymore. His hands had slinked down to the column of your throat, linking beneath where the two of you were already connected. He applied a pressure to the edges, blindly but cautiously trying not to harm you or block your air way completely. He clamped down little by little until not a peep was heard from your perfect mouth and he used your silence to pull you down until your nose was meeting his pelvis, till he felt his own cock pulsating down your throat whilst in his hands. He let out the heaviest pants as you tried to gag around him. That’s when it hit you.

When you saw this gaping mouth, his usually light eyes darkened like the night sky, his cheeks burning hot like a furnace. You came without a single touch, a slither of friction, not even a weak attempt at conversation. As if he was in your mind, knowing what had just happened to you through some unbreakable bond, he released you from him, hands shifting to pat your head, smooth his fingers through your hair and settle you down from this insane high of yours. You choke out a moan and your head crashes against his torso. You’d never known yourself to come undone like that. You were a giver and always had been. It was no secret to you or anyone you’d fucked, just how soaked the act got you but to cum from that alone. To finish with his cock filling your mouth. You felt your cunt continually spasming.

“What the fuck?” You question yourself breathlessly, ashamed of yourself for letting your guard slip like that. It was Luke who was meant to cum first, not you. It was him who needed to know just what he’d been missing. Your body had betrayed you. It was mortifying. You hid your face to escape the mockery you knew would be coming. You were so prepared for it, so distracted from the original task at hand, you’d stopped touching him all together. If he weren’t so ridiculously in love with you, he’d be telling you to get back to it. He was so on edge it wouldn’t take more than a couple flicks of your wrist to finish him anyway. Because that, that was the most incredible thing he’d ever witnessed.

You were hiding away from him, shying away as if it were something he’d judge you for. If anything, he was blessed by it. You’d literally wanted his cock down your throat so badly you couldn’t stop yourself from finishing when you felt it there. You had fucking ruined him. He would never look at you the same way again. He’d think of this moment, the bulge in your throat when you couldn’t contain him, the tears staining your cheeks from the fullness, the hand wrapped around him tight like a vice because you had to just touch him with more than just your mouth. He adored you so much you’d never, ever understand just how much.

Luke nudges you gently, hand slipping under your chin, lifting you up, the rest of your body deciding to go with it. Your red and puffy eyes meet his pathetically. “Gotta let me take you baby.” You find yourself nodding, even if you didn’t really know what he meant. He had been taking you. He’d had your mind, body, and soul, what more could there be? “Gotta get these clothes off for me.” His hands stroke over your shoulders, still coated in a t-shirt now dampened with sweat. You nod lazily before reaching for the hem to grip onto and lift. “Wait.” He pushes his forehead against yours, hands preventing yours from following his instruction. “Can I kiss you?” You stare dumbfounded. You’d done a lot more than kiss him now and yet he still had to ask. “Taste like you though.” You mutter. “Think I can live with that.”

His kiss breathes life back into your aching form. You feel like you can straighten your back again, sit tall, sit confidently without gripping his thighs for support. Luke kisses you slowly, not slow in a disappointing manner, not too vanilla to take away from the passion of the moment. It’s just pleasantly slow, soft, and serene. His lips feel nice. You decide you quite like the plumpness of his bottom lip in comparison with the sharpness of his top. You sink into his mouth, hand cupping his cheek as you glide your own over his.

His hands wander to your waist, grabbing a handful of flesh before fleeing further south. Your tongue licks a stripe over his bottom lip which he takes as a sign to part them. You slip your tongue into the warm cavern of his mouth, and he tastes himself with a whimper. His palms smack down on your ass hard enough to echo it like the sound of a cracking whip. The erotic sounds of your tongues dancing with each other should put you off but it just doesn’t. The wetness is invited, the warmth is accepted, the sensation had your hips rolling again and God there must be something wrong with you. You couldn’t fill your void with enough of him. He just smiled into your kiss because he’d felt exactly the same way.

“Gotta- “he tugs your shirt, “take- “lifting it clumsily above your hips between kisses, “your- “you start to feel the coolness of the exposure as it climbs higher, “these- “it’s becoming an unbearable taunt, “fucking clothes off.” He pulls back to watch you discard the material as fast as you could so you can throw yourself into his lap. He’s halfway through removing the remainder of his jeans when you start to remember the rest of you is also still clothed.

You both fumble to remove your trousers and any other barriers separating you from each other. You don’t have a single drop of energy left to allow yourself to feel self-conscious when his eyes wrack over your body. It’s hard to feel anything other than perfect when his top responses are to wrap his own hand around his cock and suck his bottom lip between his teeth. “You’re so pretty Luke.” You sigh and he whines, gripping himself just that little bit tighter at the tone of innocence in your voice. “Yeah?” You nod in confirmation before flicking his hand away, replacing it with your own. He fucks up into your hand unabashedly, too swept away to care, too comfortable with you to reconsider the impulse.

“Need you to touch me.” You mewl, swiping your thumb over the throbbing head of him similarly to how you did it with your tongue before. “Where baby?” He knows exactly where. “Touch you where?” He needs to hear it; he’s vibrating just considering it. “You know where.” You match him. “No, no, gotta tell me.” You slow your movements, hand loosening around his cock causing his smile to falter. “Where do you need me?” You curse him. “You fucking know where.” You glare at him before you lie yourself down, arms crossing over your bare chest, sick of how ridiculously needy you were that you would put up with this childishness for the sake of another orgasm.

“How can I know I’m right if you don’t tell me?” His fingers have moved to your hip as he lay on his side, watching you closely, walking his fingers over your scorching hot skin. “Playing games now baby?” You pout towards him in a final attempt to win him over. You could just kill him for giving you as much of a fight as you did him. The two of you too stubborn for your own good.

“Where do you want me?” He asks again, voice shifting, dripping with a power that had you weak. “Same place I’ve always wanted you.” You soften your tone to reel him in and for a moment he believes he’ll never win this fight. Then you speak again. “My pussy, need you inside me, please Lu, please baby, waited so long.” You plead for your life. His cock is actually hurting it’s so fucking tight and hard right now. “Your pussy?” He offers as a question, and you hardly notice it until he speaks again.

“Come on, open up for me.” He beckons you. He toys with you. Both your thighs were tightened around his arm and yet he had enough strength to remain in place. “Feel you pulsing.” His other hand trickles up your thigh, toward your hip. Chills run across your scorching hot skin. “Know you can give me more.” Despite his threats before he’d softened to reel you in. “Just let me in.” He’s caressing your hip, grabbing, and releasing, kneading into you with his soft hands. Your legs loosen their grip against your will. He’d smile but the battle wasn’t over yet.

“I can’t, I can’t.” You’re panting, writhing as his fingers curl inside you. Your head is spinning, you’re thrashing around, and he just used his spare hand to fasten you into the mattress. You’re enthralled at the strength he’s shown. You’d appreciate it if he wasn’t overstimulating you. You hoped you’d go numb. He’d worked you so hard you broke and couldn’t be used anymore. You wouldn’t have to fight against your next orgasm and the toll it took on your body. The absolute wreckage of them.

“You wanted this; you wanted me to use you.” You blocked that conversation from your mind 3 orgasms ago. You’d said something vaguely along those lines, you couldn’t quite recall it at this moment in time, but he’d certainly help you with that. “Need you so bad,” he mimics, leaning down, his face lowering to the crook of your neck where he kissed between sentences. “Need you to fuck me. Need your cock.” You’re shaking your head, you refused to acknowledge it even if that was the truth. “Want you to use me baby please.” He whines and pouts towards the end and your legs are loosening again, letting him fuck a little deeper. Did you have any power at all?

“Well, I’m going to use you, and you’re going to like it.” The breath fluttering over your earlobe has your cunt clenching. You feel his smirk against your skin, and he thinks he’s won but he’s not there yet. You didn’t have it in you. You thought you’d never cum again for the rest of your life. You just throbbed and burned, maybe even stung from the constant pounding. You were soaked for sure, no doubt about that, but the consistent motion and friction, you’d be sore for days, limping too probably. “Thought you were there, weren’t you there sweetheart?” You shake your head with a sob. When he pulls back, sitting up again, you think he too, might be ready to cry.

“You want me to fuck you all night but don’t have the decency to cum on my fingers? Hmm. How will I know you can take this cock if you can’t even take these. So, fucking ungrateful baby, that hurts.” You let out a choked sob at the thought of him fucking you even after all this. Never mind aching for days, it’ll be weeks, months, and years. You could say goodbye to walking ever again. There was no way you’d see the outside of this room for at least 3 years at this rate.

He’s bending them gorgeous fingers inside again and your pulse skyrockets before your back arches from the bed beneath his grasp. “There it is, let it out baby.” You’re trying to squeeze your thighs again but it’s no use. Its hurtling towards you and there’s no signs of stopping it. “Come on baby that’s it, good girl, cum for me.” You’re crying, tears burning down your cheeks as you feel your whole body burst before disintegrating into nothingness. It’s as if you pushed yourself over the edge of a cliff, to fall and not acknowledge the trip down. You were in your subconscious. Here but not here. Floating away from him. You saw him but couldn’t register his voice, just this ringing in your ears, the blurry noise of the images before you. Your lover stroking your cheek, no longer talking, just looking at you with nothing but kindness and concern.

You’re drifting away. You hadn’t felt your rapid breaths, your panicked expression, nor the way your hips were cracking as you dropped them to the mattress. You’re so faded you took a while to notice he’d slipped from the room to grab a hot flannel for you. He’s cleaning you up, rubbing over your bruised cunt, your soaked thighs. He’s swapping the flannel for a cooler one, tackling the sweat coating your chest, just dabbing it away before moving it towards your brow, then to pat your nose as you stir back round.

He’s ogling at you, but you feel like a sick patient with a nurse here to tend to your every need instead of a cared for girlfriend. “I love you.” Is what you try to say but with the coarseness of your dehydrated throat, you hardly say a word at all. He’s already hopping off the bed to grab a glass of water before you even attempt to request one. He’s slipping his hand under your neck, lifting it toward the glass he leant softly against your lips before tilting it, allowing the water to flow between your puffy pink lips.

He’s stroking over your inner thighs drawing incoherent shapes into your thick flesh while he’s coming down. His head previously filled with fog now starting to clear. He’s softening inside you, sodden with the mix of both of your arousals. He wants slip from you and take care of you, clean you both, or maybe even force his face between your legs, he can’t quite decide the best way to play it out yet but either way, his movement was required.

He’s retracting his hips with a sigh, and you clutch desperately onto his wrists, pulling him back down, his pelvis back into you. “Please, please stay.” You’re breathless. Not just from him fucking you either. There’s neediness and an urgency laced within your tone. He’s sceptical, watching your lust filled gaze as he goes to move again, maybe you were just sensitive from your come down or something. But as your nails begin digging into the backs of his palms, he’s arching his brow and starting to get the picture. “Need you to stay.” You start rocking your hips up from the mattress, grinding your soaked cunt over his twitching cock to further assist your plea.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” You whimper a response, it’s pathetic to him. It’s even more pathetic to you. You can’t fight your urges, not that you’d tried particularly hard to. You just felt so good and so close again already. Just the feeling of his cum inside you, his cock still thick against your walls, it was absurd. “Two orgasms not enough for you?” He grips your thighs hard enough to leave a warning in the shape of crescent moons. He’s so overwhelmed. He knew you were greedy, but this, this was incessant even by his standards. The most unsettling part for him however, is that he knows he doesn’t have it in him to cum again and what fucking fun is it, if he doesn’t get gratification too? When he’s making you feel that hungry, doesn’t he deserve some reward? His cock is disagreeing with all of his logic. His girlfriend is desperately getting herself off on his well spent dick and he has the audacity to stand and stare in bewilderment instead of offering her more of a hand all because it doesn’t suit his own needs. He couldn’t be that selfish.

“Such a fucking slut.” You don’t even bat an eyelid. Any other time of day, you’d scold him for referring to you like that, but he was so far from wrong. You were a slut, a cock hungry, fucked out little whore for one man only. The moment he came inside you felt the familiar building of another orgasm and you were like a dog in heat, no control over it at all. It was a fucking necessity to cum again and you needed his assistance or else it wasn’t enough; it might never be enough. Hell, it felt like a betrayal every time you touched yourself without his presence or approval on a normal day, even on the long nights where your schedules were too conflicted to sync up. To finish now without his guidance would be even more sinful. To finish with him right here, but not let it be at his hand. You just might have to damn yourself.

He’s rolling his eyes at the smile on your lips when his thumb brushes your clit. “You’re ridiculous.” He scolds. You’re too busy grinding against him to care, in your mind you’d already won. “Can’t even listen to me now hmm, is that any way to thank me for helping you?” He goes to pull his thumb from you and once again you pay him immediate attention, your life depended on his touch. “So, fucking ungrateful.” You were, you really were. He’d give you the moon and stars and yet you just wanted to get off again, you were awful. “I’m sorry baby, so fucking sorry.” You slow your movements, embarrassed by your behaviour, mortified to be clinging onto him the way you were.

“God, when you pout.” He’s pausing to capture your gaze. “Makes me wanna give you the world.” Your heart would burst if your cunt weren’t on fire instead. “Gonna pull out now.” He lifts his hand to shush you before you attempt to protest. “You’re gonna roll over, get on your knees and take what you need kay?” He gestures his instructions with the rotation of his index finger. You don’t do anything but stare. “Why should I do all the work when it’s you wanting to get off hmm?” Although his words seem harsh, you know he’s already forgiven you.

He’s cupping your face in his hands. “Fuck yourself on my cock pretty girl.” You melt, face nuzzling into his palms, so pretty for him. His cock is twitching at the sweet image of you adoring him the way only you could. Your eyes so big, cheeks so dark with a blush. Your mascara dripping down your cheeks to top it off for him. You gave him such a superiority complex. He ought to fix that. Not today though. “Be a good girl for me and climb on.” He rolls onto his back, patting his thighs down for you to find. You do as you’re told. You swing your legs on either side of his lap, reaching between your legs to guide him back inside of you. You ignore the essence of him dripping down onto him. “Making such a fucking mess of us.” He’s irritated, hated the feeling. He loved the view don’t get him wrong but if he wanted to be covered in his own cum he’d be wanking alone with a tissue in hand to clean him up.

This was the opposite of that, you were there to take his load, not give it back to him mixed with a concoction of your own. The things he did for you. “Sit down already.” He slammed your hips down over him, cock reaching the hilt of you. You squeal at the intrusion, and he wants rolls his eyes. It’s as if you were cock starved or something. “Need you to hurry.” He’s so over this. He loves you, loves the feeling of you, loves the idea that you need him so much you can’t cope without his cock inside you, warming him there for another round but he’s unbelievably irritated. Maybe he’s turning himself on again and embarrassed that he was as weak as you. Maybe he’s just exhausted and desperate to sleep it all away. Maybe you’re taking too damn long to use him and he’s missing out on watching you lose yourself in your own bliss.

“Come on, bounce for me. Need it.” You do as he says and his head rolls back hitting his pillow with a thud. He released a guttural groan. “That’s it, that’s a good girl.” He’s not sure if he’s saying it for your benefit or his own anymore. He couldn’t deny the heat rushing to his cock when you clenched around it. He almost stirred himself into believing he too, might have unfinished business with you.

Your ass is slapping his thighs hard, your bodies bouncing violently into the mattress. The squelching sound of your soaked pussy gliding over his cock is so vulgar and foul but when you’re chasing your high it was just a constant reminder of how close it was and how good it was going to feel soon.

His cock being semi erect didn’t even have a negative effect like he’d worried. He thought it might not be enough, would never get you there. He was wrong. He was so totally incorrect it was laughable. The thought of his softening cock still leaking cum inside you had you so close to the edge you thought you’d never stop using him. You couldn’t pinpoint why exactly it was attractive to you. Maybe the thought of him being drained for you, cock emptied into you, nothing left to give because of you and yet his damn hips were rocking anyway. You were so much of a temptation to him that his body allowed him some rigidity just to keep him going for you. That his body was so responsive and in love with you that it would do just about anything if it meant he could please you. He was just as much a slut for you as you were for him. You have to marry this man.

“You’re getting hard,” you gasped out. “Oh, my fuck,” he’s as shocked as you are, utterly exhausted and yet, his body was on a different wavelength. “Gonna cum babe,” you’re falling to pieces around him, and he’s so lost in lust he can’t respond anything more constructive than a breathless “yeah?” And even worse, the repetition of what you’d already said, “gonna cum for me hmm.” You’re sweating so hard, its dripping down you like droplets of rain. “Oh god, oh fuck I’m gonna cum, oh baby, shit.” Your body is shaking, your cunt is twitching, you have to seat yourself right against him, swallow him whole, feeling the pain of his fullness inside of you, gripping his shoulders for dear life as you cream all over him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He’s kissing you, surging forwards, forcing his tongue down your throat, yanking your head back with a harsh tug of your hair. You’re crying against his mouth as your legs still jitter on either side of him.

“All better now? Got what you wanted?” You’d nod if he gave you the space to. “Yes, yes.” You’re still clenching around him. He uses all his strength not to show you how it affected him. He uses his spare hands to brush your clit again. Your hips buck violently, and you yell. “No please!” You’re so sensitive you feel your body run from his touch, resenting it completely, starting to sting actually. “Oh, so now you’re done. Got what you wanted, don’t wanna play anymore?” He’s still touching you, still playing. You’re shuddering, you feel the compulsivity to retreat, hard. “Not so nice when it’s the other way around.” He plays. “When you’re sensitive.” He doesn’t dare stop his assault, a newfound energy coursing through his veins, revenge. “Stop, stop please.” You’re clawing at his shoulders, almost mirroring how you’d started this, tears slipping from your eyes. “I won’t again, I promise I won’t do it again, please.” You’re pleading for your life in his hands.

“What about me?” He’s looking you dead in the eyes. “You noticed I’m still hard, what are you gonna do about it?” You can’t fathom what to say, not when his fingers are still attacking you. You can’t utter a single word. Your hips just jolt and rock, body trying to escape his fingers, the assault on your clit. You’re so over the edge, you’re right on the other side falling to your death, falling into a hell of over overstimulation and sensitivity, you can feel everything but equally nothing at all and your mind is going blank.

Your hands still dig into his shoulders, gripping him as if it would even stop him. Watching you struggle, seeing you regret your choice to mess with him is sending him into a world of satisfaction he hadn’t known he’d needed. He owned every piece of you, and he was still in control, and you’d be stupid to forget it again. When you came back round, he would tell you. He would let it be known; you would have to learn. “Shit, feel it.” He’s choking out. “You fucking did this.” There are tears cascading form your eyes now, no longer trickling gently down your face. You couldn’t decide when they’d started falling but the sting felt in each cheek let you know it had been a while.

“Tell me you love me.” He’s gripping your neck, bringing your face down toward him. You’re still lost in a space so far from the comforts of his bedroom, but you hear him. His voice is reaching you through the darkness. “Tell me you still love me, baby.” He’s begging you. You mutter the words he longs to hear as if there was ever a question of how you felt about him. “Love you so much it hurts, makes me fucking crazy baby.” He’s letting go, he’s letting go for you, on your word, on your command, even if unintentional.

He too is seeing stars painted across his eyelids. A heaviness he’d never experienced before. The sinking of both his and your body into the mattress, falling deeper, into a city of sheets and bed linen built just for the two of you. Your body is hot against him. The only reminder of where you actually were in a physical state, right on top of him, connected to him. He’s wrapping his arms around your shoulders, opening his eyes, willing himself back into the present. You’re slumped over him, skin hot and coated in a sheen of sweat that glistened in the low light. You looked so pathetic, folded over him as if you were the bed sheet yourself, encasing his torso, shielding his nakedness. He wasn’t sure if you’d drifted off to sleep or if you’d even come back from your heavenly trip. You often disappeared into your own headspace after sex. Somewhere far and beyond, he’d hoped you’d take him with you one day.

“You feeling okay?” You’re mumbling over his chest, hot breathe tingling against his skin. He feels instant relief at the sound of your voice. His fingers thread themselves through your hair, combing through until they reach your scalp, allowing him to massage you, soothe you while you lay. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” You’d laugh if you had the breath left in you to do so. “What you thinking bout pretty girl?” Your fingers begin to break the illusion, no longer draped over him like soft linen but a living, moving human once more, swirling your initials into his ribcage. “How fucking good a bath would be.” He’s snorted a laugh and you grumble when it erupts from his chest, rocking you against him.

“You think I’m gonna run you a bath after that performance?” Your lips curl into a smile against him before you push yourself up, lifting your face. Your hands grip the sheets to support you as you lift your upper half. “No, no, don’t leave me yet.” He whines. “Please, please stay.” He mimics your earlier tone with a smirk. “You’re mean when you’re spent.” You pout, before running your thumb across his bottom lip, admiring the plump, cushiony skin all pink and kissable. “You’re pretty.” You doubted that. You didn’t have to think too hard about what you may look like, hair all over the place, mascara dripping, crusted spit in more places than you’d ever wish for. “Bath with me?” You prod his chest. He groans.

It sounded like a wonderful idea to his aching bones but the willpower it would take to get from this room to the next might have been one marathon too many. “5 more minutes.” You offer, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He’s stroking your cheek as you do it. It’s like you’re breathing life back into him, he’s feeling less weighed down, no longer tied to his position on the bed. He’s able to lean himself up, tilting your head back as he breathes his own passion into you. You swear your cunt is throbbing again. You’re cursing it inside your head for its obsession for gratification but then he’s twitching and slowly rolling his hips again. “You’re fucking kidding me.” You don’t know if he’s talking to you or himself, but you felt his annoyance. “What’s wrong with us?” You moan against his mouth. “Wish I fucking knew.” He agreed.

He’s cupping your ass, to scoot you away from his cock, at least that’s what he’s telling himself, hoping he’d retreat from inside you and let this be the end of it but no, you cry out when he’s doing the opposite, lifting into you, “fuck, I can’t, I can’t” you think you can, but you can’t, he’s too much, it’s all too much. Your head is rolling back. He agrees, he knows somewhere inside of him he agrees, so he really tries to restrain himself and by some miracle, he stops but God he burns for you.

“Run that bath, stay the hell away from me for like 20 minutes or I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you.” He says like he’s scared. Like he’s threatening someone sinister who’s putting you in imminent danger but it’s the farthest from it. He’s just so insanely in love with you and your perfect cunt that he can’t keep away. It’s like you’d infected him with it, you’d bewitched him. There were worse diseases to catch and spells to fall under, sure, but love was exhausting. A love like this was unimaginable.

Ashton had found it strange at first, unsettling really. It was one thing he never thought he’d be able to be on board with. He never thought you two would ever work with this sound barrier between you, but he fell hard anyway. He’d dwell in the quiet life if that’s what it took to be yours and he so desperately loved being yours.

He was partial to white noise. The waves on a shore, the light humming of traffic, birds singing outside, just soft, and subtle sounds to lull him into relaxation. Being a percussionist, it felt abnormal to be in complete silence. One time he actually panicked he may have gone deaf due to the conditions in your room. He could mostly blame his exhaustion for that scenario popping into his head, but it still freaked him out every now and then if he forgot.

It didn’t come without some advantages. It made him more sensitive to sounds and movements. It made him more perceptive of you and your routines. If he couldn’t catch any sleep, he’d lay there, waiting, hoping, trying to find something to send him away. He listened to music quite often. It was the most natural release he had. He’d lay and watch you, twisted onto your side, curled into a foetal position (you always ended up there eventually). He’d watch your form rise and fall on the mattress with each breath. He’d smile at how peaceful you’d seemed. He’d thank his lucky stars for bringing you into his life and then he’d listen to song after song until he joined you in slumber. Tonight, wasn’t going to be that easy.

He'd done his stages, he’d watched you drop into your routine, curling over, hugging your knees tight. He’d put his earphones in, picked a meditational track to try and soothe him. He’d been on the road for the last few months, so used to the engine of the tour bus or the movements of the other guys in their bunks to accompany him and rock him to sleep. It was difficult to adjust back to your silence. The tracks had helped him, they started noisily, a mixture of sounds to illustrate busyness in the environment. They died down, lessening, focusing on particularly calming vibrations. As the sounds condensed, his consciousness began to feel like it was slipping away. His breathing became deeper. His arms felt heavy. He was drifting away into his own wonderful mind. Almost in bliss.

He felt movements on the mattress. Beside him your body felt like it had dipped deeper before you shuffled back and forth back over to your side. He continued to focus on sleeping, he still felt ready to drop. Your movements subsided. He decided you were just adjusting yourself, getting more comfortable. He couldn’t blame you for that. He settled down again. Just a few breathing exercises would get him there. Breathe in. Hold for four. Breathe out. Hold for four. You moved again, backside nudging into his thigh. His eyes remain closed, his fingers start to twitch at his side with agitation and possibly sexual frustration, sharing a bed with you again after so long away definitely did things to him out of his control.

Next track. He needed to start again. He needed to repeat the process from scratch. Loud noise filled his ears again. He tries to still himself, but with your newly restless body shuffling beside him, he’s beginning to lose it. He starts tapping the bed on either side of his legs. Just slow beats drumming into the sheets. He’s still committing to his breathing exercises. You bump into him again only this time he swears you mutter as you do it. He keeps his earphones in but begins to listen out for you over the volume.

You’re mumbling. He wonders if you’re having a nightmare. If that’s why you can’t sleep in one set position. It was unusual for you to be so fidgety otherwise. He aches at the thought of you scared. He’d dive into your subconscious and protect you from your demons if he could. He wonders if he can soothe you from here, let you know he’s got you, that you’re safe. Your body stills as he thinks of it. Perhaps you’d made it out without him. He was alone once again.

You were still for a few more minutes. He’d been surrounded by the sweet sounds of the coast, sand crunching beneath footsteps, water washing over the shore, birds singing overhead as they flew. He was sinking. He was so close. He takes deeper breaths, mouth parting beyond his control. He starts to picture things in his mind, nothing that made sense, just images, colours, and shapes it would take hours to decipher the meaning of. It’s pretty, its bright and it’s so him. He’s so light, he’s weightless, floating away and- fuck. You made the strangest sound.

He removes his left earphone to see if you make it again. Nothing comes from you. Perhaps his own mind was playing tricks on him, keeping him awake as some kind of special torture created just for him. He definitely heard something. He swears it. There! You’re humming, almost whining. Your body shuffles a little. You’d left your ball of comfort, instead you lay on your side, one leg straight, the other bent on top of it.

He rolls onto his side now abandoning both earphones to focus his attention on you. He doesn’t reach out, doesn’t try to touch you. He just watches you. You seem peaceful enough. You were moving. You were rocking, sort of. He couldn’t find a better way to describe it. You were in motion, as if you were trying to get somewhere without ever really going. You huffed and sighed. It seemed like you were frustrated. He decided you could be stressed. Work had been hectic on both of your ends. You could just be tackling your problems in your sleep. He wasn’t sure. He wanted to help though.

He strokes over your back silently. He expects a reaction from you. He’s not sure what exactly, but something. You were well and truly, fast asleep. You continue your shuffling. He decides he may as well keep attempting to soothe you. It’s not as if he had anything better to do. He’d abandoned the idea of sleeping all together. If it happened later on then so be it but for now, all eyes were on you.

He swears your whines were getting louder. They were fewer and farther between. When they did appear, you were clear as day. He’d be lying if his attraction earlier in the night hadn’t crept back up on him again. He was rock solid, much against his will he thought. But then you moaned. You moaned his name. It was so sweet, so intoxicating. He thought he’d hallucinated. His eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. His hand dropped from your back. He waited for another. “Ash.” He held his breath. You weren’t having a nightmare, no, far from it. You were having a dream. A sweet like sugar, dripping with honey, sex dream. He’d never felt pride like it.

He thought about waking you. Even with the realisation that you were just as hot for him as he was for you, it didn’t feel right to purposefully stir you. He instead opted for sliding in closer behind you. He threw an arm around your waist. He buried his face in your hair and he held you. He held you closely into his chest. He just hugged you to him. The time for your shuffling was over. You’d leant back into him. You’d accepted his touch. It was as if he’d answered your prayers and given you what you needed unintentionally. He might have been slightly disappointed that all you wanted was a cuddle. He still wouldn’t say he didn’t love that. He did. He loved that you were needy for his closeness even in slumber.

“Ash.” You call. It’s quiet. It’s above a whisper but just barely. He wants to respond. He’s not sure if you’re sleep talking once more. “Ash.” You whisper it again. He kisses your shoulder to alert you he was there; he was with you. “You okay?” He chuckles into your skin, kissing you again. He wants to smother you in kisses. An appreciation. “I’m good, how are you?” He decides to do it. He litters the top of your spine, the tops of your shoulders. “I’m okay.” Your breath hitches as his kisses wander. “What you dreamin about?” You blush, he can’t see you, but you still blush. “You.”

He smirks into your skin. The blood is running straight between his legs. “Wondered what you were doing.” He begins his affections again. You shudder under the warmth of him. “Did I wake you?” Your breath is still shaky. “That would imply I slept at all.” He sucks a kiss into your left shoulder. “Which I haven’t quite managed.” You felt guilt. “It’s not your fault.” He adds, answering your thought. “So tired I’m not tired at all, you know?” You did. You knew it all too well. If you hadn’t been prescribed sleeping medication in the last year you don’t know where you’d be. Exhausted in a hole somewhere, was that too dramatic to imagine?

“Can I help?” You turn your face slightly. You try to catch a glimpse of him even if it hurts your neck to chase the idea. “I don’t know, can you?” You roll your eyes instinctively. He takes a bold step. He nudges your thighs, you separate them without question, allowing his knee to slot between them. He presses his leg right against your cotton clad cunt. You’re embarrassed at how wet you’d been. “I think I can help you though.” He rocks his leg torturously slowly over your pants. You don’t dare to fight the urge to grind down onto him.

He laughs a breathy chuckle over your neck. “Tell me about your dream.” You want to curl up and hide. You found it mortifying. You didn’t want to confess. You knew he’d never judge you. He never had. It still felt like this was something too personal. The inner workings of your mind. They were inner workings for a reason. “Come on, don’t be shy.” His leg switched pace. His hands grip onto your hips, burrowing into the thick flesh of them. He’s pulling you down onto him. You’re meeting his thigh, bouncing almost. You gasp, pussy clenching for something he hadn’t yet provided. “Tell me baby.” He nips your earlobe, and you lose it.

“Just you, you coming home, fucking me.” He gathered that much already. “That’s what got you all restless and rutting in your sleep.” He digs his fingers deeper, in a way that hurt, but a way that you’d begged for before. “Why don’t I believe you?” You bite down on your bottom lip as the heat pools between your legs. There was something so dangerous about the situation. You withholding information could lead to all kinds of punishment. Your pussy was drenched with your anticipation.

“I could stop. Let you go back to your dream; you liked me there.” You huff. “You’d really stop.” He hears the sadness in your tone, and he’s glad it’s there. “If you can’t be honest with me, how can I give you what you need?” You think about it but not for too long. You lean your head back, neck stretching, beckoning his lips to latch onto it. He does as he assumes you want. He attaches his teeth just below a vein pumping away.

“You fuck me everywhere. Every room. You just don’t stop. Say you missed me so much.” He’s humming with contentment at your words. “God, like a feral animal or something.” He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. “I loved it, Ash I need it. Need it like that.” He’s stirring from your words. He’s rocking his pelvis as well as his thigh. Shit. “You fucked me on the couch. Sat back and watched me ride you. Said you missed the way I wrapped around you.” He’s letting his hands wander, encouraging your words, drawing them from within. “You choked me.” Nothing new to him there. “Said you wanted to taste me.” This all seemed so normal. He retreats from you. “No, no please.”

He sighs. “Why do I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me?” He doesn’t limit his hips, or his thigh moving. He just refuses to kiss you until you spit it out. “You wanted to cum in me. You needed to.” He felt his cock twitch at the thought of it. He never tired of filling you, didn’t suppose he ever would. “You said you wanted to taste it, Ash.” You start to grind down desperately onto his thigh. He realises just how close you were from sputtering your secrets. His mouth parts, jaw going slack. “Taste you.” He repeats. You nod quickly. You’re chasing your orgasm and he’s in slow motion processing your words. “You cum in me and you beg for a taste.” You groan.

Ash doesn’t think about his next move. He just does it. He’s sliding away from you. He’s standing from his side of the bed and he’s walking to the door. You’re panicking. Your chest is tightening, and you feel like you might cry. You were scared. He’d forced it out of you, and he’d left you upon hearing it. You pull yourself into a sitting position, eyes fixating on the wooden panels that line your bedroom. “Living room, now.” He orders. Your head snaps into the direction of the door. You choke on air.

You scramble out of your bedroom. You run down the hall faster than a kid on Christmas morning. When you reach the living room he’s seated on the sofa, thighs spread, hands tapping into them with impatience. You walk over to him, not seductively nor confidently. You were too timid for that. Your teeth had been tucked away into your bottom lip so deep you tasted the metallic flavouring of blood. “You take all that time and don’t even have the decency to remove your panties.”

He's pulling you in by the hips. He’s looking up at you, chin resting just above the lining of your underwear. Your fingers tuck themselves into his hair. You couldn’t have loved him more. He thinks the same. Looking up at you, the light around your head pronouncing you as some kind of angel. You were more than that, to him you were far more.

His fingers start to shift the thin fabric separating you. You don’t speak as he removes it. You just watch him. He slides them effortlessly down your thighs and he kisses you every now and again. He gives into his temptations, and he showers you in his love. “Gonna make your dreams come true.” He prods your calf, alerting you to lift your leg to step out of your underwear. “Yeah?” He laughs. Why is he always laughing? Everything was so damn amusing to him. “If it gets you that worked up-“he jolts your body into him and you take the warning to sit, knees sliding on either side of his thighs. “I need to see what all the hype is about hmm.”

You’re stood on your knees, breasts just before his face. He doesn’t let his eyes drop to them even once. He’s so focused on your eyes, so present and in the moment with you. “Want me?” You whine at it. “Need you.” You lower your face to kiss him. Your breasts bump into his chest as your bodies meet. He’s sighing into your lips, arms wrapping around you, pulling you down onto his lap. You’d not realised how perfectly lined up you had been until he slipped inside of you within a moment.

You surge forward even more. Your kiss rough on his lips. He’s devouring you. You’re the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted, and he’d be lying if he didn’t accept that as an addiction because that’s what you were to him, an inescapable feeling, a drug, he was endlessly begging to be prescribed. “Fuck.” You breathe over his lips. “You’re soaking me.” His nose brushes against your own. “You complaining?” He pulls your hair, your neck tilting all the way back. “Don’t forget your place.” You clench down on him and he smirks. “Pussy knows who you belong to so why don’t you.” You’re shuddering at his words.

He brings his lips to yours as his hands lower. Your stomach flutters as his rough fingers skim over you on their path down to your throbbing clit. “You feel close.” He mutters. You nod. His gentle touch just above your clit sends you mad. He was doing it on purpose. “Just can’t seem to find it.” He rubs another portion of you, and you whimper. “You’re horrible.” He reaches it and you gasp. “Ahh, there she is.” You fasten your lips on his, tired of his teasing when you’re aching for a release. You’d known you were hot, known you’d been horny, but this was frantic. This was pathetic. You felt like you would have died if he hadn’t given himself to you. Maybe you would have. You’re glad you didn’t have to find out.

“Gonna cum.” You tear away from his lips to warn him. He’s grinning. He’s surprised, you’d never finished this fast. He was so pleased you were going to. He couldn’t claim it as entirely his doing, but he wouldn’t dare tell you that. He was going to own it, to own you and he was going to cum. His cock had been teetering on the edge of bliss since the moment your ass brushed his thigh accidentally.

“Give it to me.” He starts thrusting upwards from beneath you. “Come on.” He’s pulling you in. You’re almost there. Just a few more strokes. Just a few more bites of his fingernails into your hips and you’re spilling over. You’re crashing around him. “Oh god, oh fuck.” He’s cumming. He couldn’t handle it. The moment you tightened around his length he was a goner. He’s fastening his lips around your breast. Your nipple slotted between his teeth, pinching it, aiding your release. You were shaking. You’d felt so much and all at once. His teeth, what was he doing to you? You felt so light, so unreal. You weren’t even here in the room.

Your lap sinks down eventually, ass sitting comfortably on his thighs allowing you to catch a much-needed breath. He fastens his arms tightly around your waist, surging your body forward to capture your lips as if he’d been away from you for far too long. You’re panting into each other. He kisses you with an astonishing vigour despite the exhaustion washing over the both of you, the sleeplessness. Its only seconds before your tongue is back in his mouth, hands wrapped in his locks just like they had been before. His cock twitches ecstatically inside of you, still deep and leaking his arousal into you. He shocks you, lifting his lap, rotating you along with his knees, left towards the rest of the couch. You panic at the shift, not even the action itself. With a quick motion he’s lifting, cock nearly slipping from you entirely.

“Don’t, I’ll make a mess.” He wants to smirk and provide a proud “Yes you will.” But he fights the urge. You felt him leaking from you, it was only a matter of time before the mixture of your finishes were staining the couch beneath you. This is it; you think. He’d going to do it. He’s going to taste. He pushes you onto your back with a huff, bodies still tangled, cock still firm within you. “No, no baby.” He coos. He kneels between your legs, chest pressed to yours, eyes looking down between you both to your connected state that he’d managed to keep. “Cause you’re going to fucking keep it inside of you.” If you could do anything but moan, you don’t even think you would.

He brushes a gentle finger across your clit to accompany his words, your pelvis reacts, lifting into him, needily humping at him. He drops his mouth into a little “o.” Deep down he wasn’t surprised, you had always been desperate for him, even if you fought it, but he didn’t need you to know that. “Still sensitive.” You want to whimper; you suspect you may have. “Bucking your hips for me.” He observed. His knack for noticing even your most disguised form of pleasure taking had always gotten on your nerves. There was no surprising him, he was far too intelligent and in tune with your reactions to let an action like that go unnoticed. He tuts. “Still hard for you.” He laughs, his own hips rocking. Is that why he hadn’t moved yet?

“Feel it?” You nod. “Yeah?” He’d have liked words, words were always better than glances or pathetic shakes of your head, but you were so worn out, you’d done so well, and he was so proud of you, but your job just wasn’t done. “Want me to use you? Make it go away.” It was never what you intended but you weren’t upset. You nod more, pouting your lips for some kind of pity from him, any kind. “You want a kiss?” He cups your face in his hand. His fingers stroke over your tear-stained cheek. It wasn’t a terrible thing to find the dampness there. He knew he hadn’t pushed too far, knew he hadn’t hurt you, because he never would, and even if he had by some form of accident, you’d have told him. You instead cried from frustration and then more so for release. An orgasm you’d worked too hard for, held for so long and then finally on his commands you were elated to be granted it. So euphoric that you’d cried with joy.

“Maybe you should make me cum first. Since this whole thing was your idea and you dragged me into it.” He toys with the idea in his mind. You’d tantrum if he did it. Which would have been a hindrance if it didn’t result in some kind of punishment, he quite enjoyed the idea of giving. You hadn’t misbehaved in so long he was starting to worry that he hadn’t corrupted you as much as he’d been bragging about to his friends. On the other hand, you were so good for him recently, it would be fair to give you what you need, while he takes what he needs, and he could be fair. Choices, choices. Your lips were just there, so plump, swollen from his kiss already. “Fuck, you know you always get a kiss.”

He leans into you, his nose slots neatly beside yours, head tilting to glide his lips over your own. You release all of the tensions in your body, drowning in the sofa and his love. You give yourself over to him. A kiss with him was all you’d ever needed; you’d give your life for another if the occasion was ever there. He enjoys it too, just as much, if not more. He wanders back to the thought of you around him though, your tongue slipping into his mouth not as distracting as it usually was. Of course, he’s not usually inside of you for this long, never warms himself inside your wetness in this way and my God, you are so wet. You’re dripping.

Your mixed juices almost unbearable to contain. Even with a mesmerising kiss such as this, he found it nearly impossible to act as if he wasn’t enjoying the feeling of you. You’d ruined your couch, there was no doubt in your mind or his, about that. He felt bad, sure, but not enough for him to stop. Couch be damned, he thought. He could buy you a new one if it didn’t clean well enough, God knows he already built you a new bed after cracking the last one. It was an investment at this point, the use it would have. He may as well make the most of you now the damage was done, waste not, want not, just imagine it being sexier.

His hips pistol into you, skin slapping yours, the noise echoing through the living room just the way you liked it. You’re no longer a tight glove fixed around him, you’re instead just a wet hole, filled to the brim with him. You’re something he can ram into, no concern for the stretch, for the potential pain of his first thrust. He wished he had the stamina to do this more often. To take you like this. Your tightness over his cock was his weakness but this, this was just divine. The promise of your pleasure and the wetness of your orgasm had given him such a high level of satisfaction that you may as well have ruined sex for him for the rest of his life. This is what it means to make love, this is how good it feels.

“Fuck, so fucking good.” You mutter, tears forming again out of your control. “Say it again, tell me how good it is.” He latches his teeth onto your shoulder, hands kneading your ass, pulling you up from the cushions, allowing him to drive into you deeper. You’re melting under the intensity, and he knows it but it’s just too good, you’re too good. He feels like if he didn’t communicate it, didn’t run it by you, then he wasn’t doing it right. He needed you, your tone, your moans, your tears. “Fuck me so good. Use me like I’m nothing.”

He wants to roll his eyes with pleasure, you were so fucked out and still you knew the right words to say. You were stirring him in a way that only you could. “Not nothing baby, you’re not nothing.” You were fucking everything. He’d tell you if he wasn’t so pent up. He mumbles, shaking his head to focus on his cock, its sensitivity inside your slick cunt. “Best fucking pussy.” He’d be more romantic, but he didn’t have it in him. He wants to cry. You clench around him, and he wants to fucking cry.

Your eyes flutter closed, his lips find yours and you gratefully litter his soft lips with as many kisses as you can muster to encompass his moans. You wanted to help him so badly. “Fuck, fuck, I’m so close.” He’s whiny and desperate. He sounds like such a little bitch, and he knows it, worries about it, but he can’t stop. You’d wrecked him. He wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t capable of holding on, pretending he had it together. He was falling apart at the seams. He was succumbing to your hold on him. You had weakened him into a needy state he’d never once imagined he’d be adept to and there was no more holding off.

“Come on, sweet boy, cum for me.” You play with his chain, fingers grasping the metal, his eyes rocketing down to your fingers. “Doing so good for me.” He lets out a huff of air, before another small wail. He’s so close, he’s hellbent on fighting it. He wants more, wants you to finish too. He knew it was too ambitious. There was no way he’d last through it. He was so disappointed in himself. “Give it to me.” You push, hoping to awaken his dominant side. It was okay to take what he wanted from you. “Give me everything.”

You can’t describe the sound he made accurately enough. It was a gut-wrenching desperation. You felt so bad for him, fighting for his finish, holding himself back, sweet boy. “Want my cum?” His eyes are soft when they look to yours. You see water pooling at his lower lash line and your heart hurt to see it. You want to reach out and tell him it’s okay, so unused to seeing him this way. This was usually a reaction shown on your own face not his.

“Yes, yes please.” You moan melodically to coax him closer. You caress his cheek with the back of your hand and his lips slip down to your wrist to place a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss there. “Say it baby please.” He wants to be demanding and strong but he’s on the brink of utter despair. “Say you want my cum, please fucking say you want it.” He’s fucking into you so erratically, so harshly. He barely maintains eye contact, your precious gaze too much for him to bear. Your heart breaks for him. “Need it Ash, need your cum, want to feel it.” You kiss him between sentences. “Want all of it, give it to me, cum in me.”

He lets out a strangulated groan as his cock pulses and leaks into you drop by drop. His eyes snap shut, his lips twitching and contorting involuntarily. He’s overcome by an ethereal bliss he’d never known before. He felt rather invincible. He thought he came hard the first time but now saw that he was entirely wrong, never been more wrong actually. “Fuck, fuck Ash, oh it feels-“he cuts you off with ease, “like fuckin heaven.” He admits. “Exactly like heaven.” You confirm as his forehead pushes to rest on your own, his face is turning subtly as he comprehends the power of the emotion wracking his body. “You’re my heaven, you know that?”

He meets your eyes. You take heavy breaths together. Your eyes transfixed on one another. There was a connection between you so strong in this moment that it felt like you were the only two people in existence. No one else had ever come close. There were never two souls more meant for each other than you and him. Shaking breaths and the thudding of hearts against your two chests had envisioned that.

Water gathers, clumping your lower lashes together. He’d wipe them dry with his thumb only he can’t take his eyes away from them long enough to move. The small pearls of tears forming before beginning their journey of sliding down your pretty cheeks. How lucky they were to touch you in such a way. He wanted them to evaporate before they had the opportunity to fall but there was just something so touching about the way you empathised with him. Crying at the sign of his finish, so deeply grateful that he had the chance to, enough to stir you into a reaction like this.

He wants to stay. He wants to live in your warmth for eternity, but he still has a job to do. He has to make your dream come true. God help him he’d thought of nothing else since you uttered it. “Gonna pull out.” He pecks your lip. “Give you what you wanted.” You’re throbbing again. How was it that you were throbbing?

He’ll admit he wasn’t turned on by the idea of the taste. He’d never been curious. He hadn’t wanted to know. It was the way you had wanted it that caught him off guard. You were the only reason he’d ever attempt something like this. That’s what he thought at first. Then his tongue lapped up the waterfall cascading from you. He cleaned up the liquid you’d leaked. You pushed your pelvis into him and suddenly he was thirsty. He was dehydrated. He was parched.

He hooked his arms under your thighs bringing you ever closer to him and he buried his tongue inside of you. He only meant to try it. He only meant to lick a little, gather the taste on his lips before bringing them back to yours to share the flavour. He couldn’t pull himself away. He wanted more. He wanted every last drop. You were moaning so loud, even over the noises of him lapping away at your shared juices, he heard your moans. “Fuck, Ash.” He was so hungry. You were going to cum again from the determined look in his eyes alone.

He never stopped. Even when he felt the warm fluids dripping from his lips, down his chin and onto the cushion beneath him, he didn’t stop. You were cumming again, your hips were jittering, twitching into his mouth. He was like a man possessed. “Too much, oh my god, fuck Ash.” Your hands were in his hair, trying to pull him away and despite him wanting to fight you on it, he withdrew himself. You stared at him bewildered. He may have looked the same, wiping his chin with the back of his hands as he sat back on his knees. “I gotta lock you down.”

He leans to kiss your lips, but you let out and exhausted laugh before he can, just missing him by an inch. “Don’t know what’s so funny.” He feigns offence all while smiling, as if he hadn’t just done what he just did. As if it hadn’t phased him. He didn’t think he cared. He chases your kiss a second time, you escape him with an intangible ease again. He sighs with annoyance before trapping your face, his thumb on one cheek the rest of his fingers on the other, stationing you in place. He kisses your pouting lips, you let your eyes roll back as you taste yourself on his mouth. It was far greater than you ever thought it would be and you weren’t too wrecked to acknowledge it. He pulls away finally before releasing you to continue speaking. You were lucky you were cute.

“As I was saying.” You roll your eyes at his persistence rather than eroticism. “Don’t give me that. Where’s this attitude coming from?" He’s mocking you and you love that; he’d flipped the switch immediately back to sweet boyfriend mode. You loved it, but he also sounds demeaning and if you were brutally honest, quite parental in the way he scolded you. You knew a blush had coated your cheeks at the realisation. You wonder if this was the only time, he’d exhibited that authority or if it was just the only time, you’d caught it. “Just made you cum twice is all, think I get a little credit.” He nods his head, but you know it’s not in agreement it’s in consideration of your case. “Think you make the rules cause your pussy can’t keep away from me.” You sure hoped you didn’t, you wanted a telling off.

You try so hard not to laugh when he speaks again. “I’m just a big joke to you hmm.” He’s in a borderline tantrum state, ready to lecture you jokingly until you behaved. If it wasn’t for the pending pout, you’d continue to push him into retaliation. You instead kiss him sweetly to soften him, but his features remain depleted. “I’m not mad, baby, just disappointed.”

You can’t fight it anymore. “You’re so fucking weird.” You nearly snort, ruining any chances of being sexy ever again. He really was acing this paternal disapproval. He’d heard that line many times in his life. He grins back, he knew he was being ridiculous, but it was too fun to stop now. It was late, you were so exhausted, but you were hit with such a pleasant come down that you’d feared you’d be awake for the next 24 hours just to enjoy this euphoria with him. This level of giddiness and goofiness that had you quickly grasping the idea that he just might be the only other person on earth who understood you.

“You’re so right, and so fucking rude at the same time. I just ate your pussy so hard, and you’re sat here laughing at me. Got me tasting my own cum because you begged and you’re mocking me. Hurts baby. Remind me why I like you.” He arches a brow as if he didn’t know the million reasons inside and out. You try something, a gentle reminder, a simplistic action. You watch his face to see if it has any affect. You clamped your hand down on him, squeezing his softening length while tangling the fingers of your spare hand in his hair. You felt him twitch and almost think he’d hardened again from it. “Yeah, you’re right.” He sighs into your neck that he now buries his face in briefly. You smile with a satisfaction money can’t buy, not even his.

“Can’t just squeeze me like that to get a win.” He pouts against your throat. “It’s all I got baby.” You stroke his hair, taming his locks albeit aimlessly considering it was practically sentient with a life form of its own bouncing it back into its previous position. “Think you got more going for you than that.” Ever the sweetheart he beams at you. “That’s probably one of your finer skills though.” You take it back; he’s a dick and you hate him. “But you do it so well.” He patronises and strings out the Ls. “Thanks babe.” You scoff. “You’re so welcome babe.” He always needed the last word. “Love you babe.” You combat. He smirks before he speaks again. “Eh, you’re alright.”

You don’t sit beside him in the passenger seat like he expects. He glances to the empty seat beside himself as if he were still waiting on you to settle there. You don’t beg him to turn the radio down. You don’t say anything at all. He suspects you might cross your arms over your chest in some form of tantrum or way to signify how badly he’d fucked up and that you were pissed at him because he knew in his head and heart that you were. You can’t even find it in yourself to do that. Your hands are lay flat against your thighs, one on each, so still. You’d given him nothing. You just looked out of the window, feeling as if you were in some kind of movie, some sad film sequence, just watching the world fade away. You’d never looked so dejected before.

He finds it hard to focus on the road. He watches it more than he watches you, but he finds himself flickering over to you so fast his eyes start to hurt. At the next redlight he decided to dig his hand into the glovebox compartment, digging through takeout receipts and old CDs to fetch his glasses. He curses under his breath when he struggles to land on them immediately. He watches the lights, then you, then the lights again while he grabs them, anxiously rushing himself. He shuts the compartment, sliding the lenses over the bridge of his nose, notably on edge. He dared to glance your way again. He could now see your pain with 20/20 vision.

He feels he should say something. He could distract you. He could engage in small talk. You didn’t even have to answer, a glance in his direction would have been a win for him. He’s tapping the steering wheel. It’s as if his entire vocabulary had escaped him. His mouth had gone dry. He finds himself scratching at his chin, his short beard a pleasant feeling under his fingernails. He still darts eyes over to you as if you’d have gone somewhere in the seconds it took him to think.

The headlights of the car behind had given you this glow and upon noticing it he’d let out a deep and painful sigh. He hadn’t ever seen you look as beautiful as you did right then. Which is a shocking realisation for him when he’d always considered you breath-taking. He swears he could crash this car and go out in an eternal blaze, and it would have been worth it because the last thing he saw was you.

He saw you, like this, biting your lip to avoid speaking to him. Brushing your fingertips over your thighs, occasionally tugging your skirt down towards your knees. You with your legs growing cold even under your thick tights that you’d picked because you thought you’d get a chill. He saw you unable to look at him. Fighting internally (or so you thought) to avoid his gaze. You were such a sight to behold. As he neared your side of town, just a mere 10 minutes from your home, he found himself unable to take you there. He was left powerless to his deepest intentions. He diverted your journey.

You don’t think too much of it. There were so many routes he could take. He would take you there, you were sure of it. You didn’t show signs of stress, of anxiety, no more than you already had just being in this position. You just watched the buildings whiz by. The streetlights flickering here and there. Worst of all, the billboards reminding you of just why you’d been upset in the first place. You couldn’t look out of the window much longer.

You had a dumb fight. All fights were dumb but this one especially. You went to his stupid party, at his stupid friend’s house. You couldn’t have known. You still wouldn’t have known, even now, if it hadn’t been for someone else. You feel the tension knotting in your stomach as your mind wanders back to it. You wanted to cry so badly, to be able to feel anything at all without the intensity of his eyes catching you at any second because of course you noticed him. You couldn’t not notice him. He was all you were ever aware of, and you were so god damn hurt because he didn’t have the decency to share the same sentiment with you.

You sigh with frustration. You’ve had enough. “Let me out.” You say it sternly. “What?” He responds as the words are still leaving you. “Let. Me. Out.” He’s puzzled. He’s still driving, far enough away from your house that you wouldn’t dare walk from here, not at this hour. “Are you kidding me? No, I’m not stopping.” He watches the road intently for the first time since you left the driveway of his friend’s house. “Luke, let me out of this fucking car.” Your tone is calm, and your heart is anything but.

He wants to fight you on it. He doesn’t want to lose you. He might lose you if he doesn’t stop. There was also a heavy possibility that he would lose you even if he did. “Then what?” He asks. You look to him in the mirror, your lips are parted, nothing coming out. “No plan? No way of getting home?” He’s trying to gesture with his hands while they remain on the wheel. “Not letting you out then.” He thinks he has you defeated. He’s not even close.

“I’ll call a taxi.” He scoffs. “Yeah? Why didn’t you do that about 20 minutes ago?” He’s shocked he’s managed to argue with you. Just minutes ago, his heart was aching, and he was terrified he’d upset you and now he was arguing. It was fight or flight and you were important enough for him to pick the former. He’d regret it another time, he’s sure. “Because I didn’t think of it then.” You exasperate, flinging your arms out. “Just let me out Luke.” You stare right into his eyes; you have a cold and serious glare. He pulls over begrudgingly, but he doesn’t unlock the car.

You know not to bother with the handle, he’d already thought of that. Considering he was such an airhead on a day to day, he seemed to be carrying himself pretty well tonight. He was just hellbent on destroying your happiness. Maybe he should progress that as a career on top of lying to you. That would go down a real treat.

“Talk to me.” He pleads. It was worth a try. “No.” He rolls his eyes, fingers running along the leather of the steering wheel before returning to the top, gripping it tightly. “Just yell at me already, do whatever you have to.” He slumps back in his seat, head hitting the rest behind it with a thud. It had to hurt. Good, you thought.

“You could have fucking told me.” You surprised yourself but not him. He knew you’d kept tight lipped for too long and now the second you were given real opportunity you were going to come for him with all you had. “You know who told me?” He doesn’t respond. It wasn’t necessarily rhetorical, but you knew he knew and there was no point in adding more fuel to the fire in confirming it. “Jordan. Not you, not Ash, not Cal not even blabbermouth Michael, fucking Jordan!” Your hands slam down against the seat so hard it made your palms sting. He winced as you did it. Even if he didn’t see it. He heard it. He’d kiss your delicate skin better if he wouldn’t get slapped for even trying to.

“I was going to tell you.” He was. He really was, he just didn’t know when, hadn’t found the words. A pathetic excuse, he was well aware. “What? When you were already halfway across the globe? You’re leaving in 2 weeks Luke.” You sounded so wounded, and you recognised it, and you hated it. He couldn’t have felt more stupid if he’d tried. “I just don’t understand.” He dared to look at you in the mirror. You were appeared just as crushed as you sounded and to make matters worse, you were looking right at him. You weren’t glancing into the mirror like a coward. You weren’t like him. You were looking directly at his poorly positioned, lanky body sinking into the leather seating of his car.

“Did you just think I’d see a billboard and be like yeah cool, amazing, so glad you’re touring again, congratulations.” He wants to speak but no words come out. There wasn’t a way to apologise for this, not when he’d fucked up so badly, not when he’d ruined everything. “I would have been happy for you Lu.” His heart was aching in a way he’d never felt before, come close to but never quite endured. The nickname had sent him over the cliff he was afraid he’d been back stepping onto. One more wrong move and he was done for.

“I’m coming back there.” Before you could protest, he was pulling the keys and burying them in his pocket. The best plan for him was none at all. The door was opening and closing, and he was slamming another behind him, sliding into the backseat. You stare ahead of you. Your heartbeat so loud you both heard it. He locked the doors again and you laughed. He’d actually disliked the sound for the first time in his life. “I’m not going anywhere. You made sure of that. I don’t even know where we are.” You run your fingers through your hair. He doesn’t look at you like he wants to. He looks forward. You’re both staring at the seats in front of you. You wished you were in complete darkness; it may make this easier to live through. Unfortunately for the both of you, you were parked conveniently next to a streetlight.

“I couldn’t find the words.” He says, he wanted to be as transparent as he could. “I wanted to find them, I couldn’t. Like every time I tried to tell you, they just got jumbled up like some kind of word vomit or something.” He pulls a disgusted face as he says the word ‘vomit,’ he’d never liked that word. “You’re a lyricist. I find that hard to believe.” You cross your arms over your chest. A weak argument. “You don’t have to be so hard on me.” He’s right, you don’t, and you might feel a shed of remorse for it, but you wouldn’t drop it. “I’ve been beating myself up all night you know.”

You allow yourself to look at him. His stomach twists when your eyes land on him. His body is flooded with a warmth he could only compare to the sun. A blistering but comforting heat that reminded him of where he came from, where he was most at home. “I didn’t actually want to face the fact that I was leaving.” He starts to fiddle with the tear in his jeans. He wasn’t sure where the rip came from, he’d grown out of intentionally ripped jeans long ago, but the threads were tactile and useful to him now, soothing him as he worked through his emotions. Since he had no choice but to do so.

“It’s what you do.” Your voice is so soft, he wants to lean in and let you surround him with it. “But I haven’t done it, not for 2 years.” He laughs nervously. He’s not sure how the conversation morphs into his anxieties for the future but here he was. “Hell, I barely remember how I did it before.” He’s running his fingers through his bleached blonde curls and you’re biting your bottom lip at the thought of replacing them with your own. Hard to stay mad when you lose your focus at the sight of anything he does. “You really are scared.” He would feel relaxed at your compassion returning but he doesn’t know how long it will last. “Terrified more like.” He reaches forward to prod the headrest before him. There’s no reason for it other than impulse and he tended to act on those a lot.

“I could have helped.” He sighs, sinking into his seat, he’d connected those dots already. “I know.” You don’t push it, sitting quietly, maybe even patiently. “I know and that’s why I’m so stupid.” You’d never correct him there. “You’d have supported me no matter what because you’re a good fucking friend and I’m just a coward who doesn’t deserve it.” You roll your eyes as he hits his head repeatedly off the back of his seat. “Cut the pity party.” He gulps. He almost gives into temptation, glancing to the right of him as you command his silence. He settles for leaning his head back instead.

He couldn’t have looked more inviting if he tried. His neck outstretched like that. His adam’s apple prominently bobbing as he took a breath and gulp of air. The way he wet his bottom lip with the nerves he felt. The damn near sheer shirt he coated his top half with. When did he start dressing sluttier than you? You wanted to bite his neck, you wanted to forget all of this and wrap your lips around his jugular and never let go. You’re not even sure what you were fighting for anymore. “Sorry.” Even if you knew it wasn’t meant as his formal apology, you had known that he meant it. He would never not be sorry for this. You were the last person he wanted to hurt.

“I am a good friend.” You say. He would laugh if he could. He doubts he’d ever feel joy again until you forgave him. He was still picking away at his jeans, cursing his chipped nail polish at the same time. “I am happy for you.” You were, somewhere in the pits of your soul you were, somewhere very far and unobtainable at this moment in time but it was there. “I miss you already.” He says in a low whisper and that’s enough to crack your hard exterior just like the rasp in his voice had. “You what?” You hadn’t heard him right. You couldn’t have. His voice was too husky to be understood, you’d bet money on it. “I-“

He turns his body around, knees trying to face you, as much as they could in the cramped space he’d forced himself into. You didn’t look at him. He was starting to take it personally. “Would you just look at me?” Its making it much harder for him to grovel without your eyes giving him a chance. He wants to reach out and touch the hand you left on your thigh, but he thinks better of it, couldn’t step in too soon. “I can’t,” you mutter, you’re avoiding his gaze even more now that he’d asked for it. You were just trying to make sense of it all. You’re acting ridiculous and you’re acutely aware of it but you’re processing. “Can’t or won’t?” Where had he robbed these few braincells from? You didn’t like it; he wasn’t supposed to be this perceptive, that was never his game. “Both.” You grunt.

“Can’t keep doing this.” He says. You’re not sure what exactly he’s referring to, but you feel him burning the words into the side of your face like he’s branding you with a hot iron. “Doing what?” You’re suddenly breathless and this tiny car had felt a whole lot smaller, closing in on you. You had to fan yourself with your hand to satiate the heat. The more you focused the more you noticed how his long legs had barely fit a gap between the two of you, it was only a matter of time before you were crushed together.

“I don’t know- I don’t want to say it.” He bites back the words he so keenly wishes to utter. “You don’t or wont?” You turn his words back on him without so much as a second glance. Your pulse rockets as you do. “Both.” He says, his body is shifting still. He’s moving closer. Not quite beside you but getting there. It wouldn’t be long. He doesn’t want to cross your boundaries; he’s had better ideas than to mess with them, but they were just there. The temptation was overwhelming. He starts to slip back where he was, his knees digging into the back of the driver’s seat thinking better of it. He was a coward, and he didn’t need to look at you to know you thought it too. He’d returned to his original position and your heart ached at the distance.

Even when he was on a different continent, he’d never felt further from you than he did in this moment. What’s worse was that you saw him retreating, not just physically but mentally. He was sat debating whether to leave you not just on tour but for good. When his nails dug into his own thighs, his breathing deepening into exhausted sighs. The wheels were turning with no signs of breaking. He’d gone from suffocatingly close to a million miles away and he hadn’t even moved. It’s just what it felt like when he closed himself off like that. You didn’t like it. He didn’t have to. You were scared he felt he needed to. You were mad, you were so mad, but not even because you of what he did anymore, but because of what he wouldn’t do, what he continued not to do. There wasn’t enough honesty between you. You needed some truth. You may have to force it from him, but it was far less unsettling to picture than the thought of him leaving without the air cleared between you.

So, you did the unthinkable. You clambered onto his lap in a way you never had before; sober or otherwise. Your legs fastened on either side of his thighs. Your head bumps the ceiling briefly, not enough to knock you off track but enough to hurt. You’re well aware of the clumsiness of your actions and the inelegance of jumping someone’s bones. Not to mention the wardrobe malfunctions that ensue. Your skintight skirt flipping up, essentially exposing your underwear in the process. Even hidden under dark tights the risk of him seeing them made a hot flush creep across your stomach.

You had made it now. You sat in his lap, and you made him see you, you begged him to see you and he saw you all right. His mind raced. He didn’t know where to look or what to say. He was going a million miles a minute. The possibilities, he was lost in them, what could have been, the what ifs and even the why on earths. His trousers were already tightening. Just another thing to worry about. If he hadn’t upset you enough before, an inappropriately timed boner might as well do the trick.

You wonder where to put your hands. The internal battle chipping away at you piece by piece. You’re hovering over his lap, too petrified to sit your full weight on top of him even if it pained you not to. If you didn’t clutch some support you’d be aching for days. It was as if he saw a thought bubble appear above your head. He wearily placed his hands on your legs to push you down and make you sit. His eyes were transfixed on his hands. He’d moved them with no communication to the rest of his body. He’d not spent a second thinking about touching you and yet, he had.

He shouldn’t have looked down at his hands. He had the thought now, the regret in his choice of actions, the placement of them. He knew how your skirt had betrayed you, lifting to show him more of you than he’d ever dreamed of. He knew that if he just looked even a millimetre to the side, he’d see the cotton of your underwear concealing you away from him beneath your tights. He felt every bone in his body screaming at him to move, he wasn’t quite sure which direction yelled louder. To look or not to look? He wanted to look. He’d ruined himself.

You took this opportunity to look at him. You analysed his expression while he avoided your gaze. How had you been so stupid? To be blind to him. You watched his every move and waited on his every word with bated breath and yet you just hadn’t seen it. You hadn’t seen how hard he fought with himself every day. How he’d never really looked you in the eyes before because there was such a deep secret locked away inside of them. It was almost like this was your first time seeing him properly. You’d never seen him so clearly in fact. His little freckles dotted around his nose. The glitter shimmering across his eyelids, he shone like some kind of fairy. It wasn’t the worst way to describe him. He was quite ethereal. A bone structure a model would die for. Sweet blue eyes so clear you felt cleansed just being seen by them. His smile lines sinking into the corners of his mouth. There was something kind of magic about the way he looked in the dim light and it drew you in enough to leave not even a little bit of space between you.

You kissed him. You leaned in quickly, too quickly to catch yourself, not sure if you even would have wanted to. It was too late to prevent it now anyway. The wheels were fully in motion and like a freight train, there was no stopping you. Your lips had reached his and you had felt your body surging to life.

He can’t move. He can’t breathe. He can’t- well he doesn’t know what he can’t do, he just can’t do it. You’re kissing him. You’re sat on his lap; his hands are on your thighs and- his hands are on your thighs. He needs to move his hands. He lifts them and he’s thanking God inside his head for giving him the strength to do it even if it pained him to leave the safe space they’d been left to rest in. You’re panicking. He’s not kissing you back, he’s not doing a damn thing. He moved his hands away and you expect them to push you back at any moment, but that moment never arrives. He needed to kiss you back. Your lips felt so nice, so soft, supple, and shit- he needs to kiss you back!

His body is on autopilot, kicking into gear. It was better than nothing. It was way better than nothing. He instinctively leans forward; you’re so scared to fall backwards that your hands are gripping onto his shoulders for dear life. Maybe it’s to secure the kiss, maybe it’s because you need him closer, either way you’re elated, you’re not the only one involved any longer. He’s still leaning, he’s pushing forward, your back is pushed into the seat behind, his hands are floating around to your back and then-. They land. They’re overlapping each other near the base of your spine and tugging you inwards away from the seat. He’s pulling you in close, into his atmosphere. His car was becoming suffocatingly tiny, and you hadn’t even minded it anymore because you weren’t trapped alone, you were trapped with him, him, him. The air was thick with fear and lust, but it was invigorating. It smelt like him. It felt like him. Fuck it was him, all him.

“Oh God Luke why haven’t we kissed before?” You’re gasping for a breath between kisses, and you can’t help yourself. You take the words right out of his mouth. You can’t stay away. You kiss him so much he can’t get a word in. It was almost as if you’d only just discovered it. You’d experienced the pleasure of kissing for the very first time and you needed all the practice you could get before it’s taken away from you again. He’s just as invested as you are. Your lips are so sweet he wants the taste imbedded into his brain and he suspects it would be from here on out. Your scent, your taste, he’s not the best at describing things but you remind him of the air after rain. Fresh and earthy. Floral and saccharine, a conforming aroma he wanted to bottle and keep to himself forever.

He’s not breathing anymore. He’s not taken a single breath out of fear the oxygen would somehow wake him from this dream he had to be having. But you’re pulling away because he hasn’t said anything and it’s starting to dawn on you just what you’d done. You think you’re going crazy. He kissed you back, sure, but that didn’t mean anything, he took his time, it wasn’t instant. It wasn’t confirmation. It didn’t mean he meant to. He just did what anyone would do, act on impulse. You think you’re shaking with fear. You meet his eyes with nothing but anxiety in your heart. You’d kissed him like you meant it. Did he?

His glasses are so foggy you can’t even see his eyes anymore. It was undecided if that was an advantage or not. On the one hand you wouldn’t see the shock or horror. On the other, you couldn’t see if he felt the opposite. If he looked at you like you were the piece he’d been missing all these years. You don’t even know if he’s looking at you or not. He’s facing you but is he seeing you?

His hands slip from around you and you hold back the whimper of disappointment. You needed to keep your expectations to a minimum. His hands tug his glasses away from his face before he looks down, attempting to clean them with the bottom of his shirt. You bite your lip so hard you fear it may burst at the slight exposure of his happy trail beneath. Sure, you could faintly see it through the mesh but seeing it bare was something that had you fighting for your life and begging your legs not to squeeze together. You heard nothing but the pounding of hearts and the occasional car whizzing by on the quiet road as you processed the previous events.

“Lu.” His eyes lift to meet yours and they’re filled with a kindness that is so compelling you might just make it out of here alive. He notices that your pupils are dilated to an extent that he could have mistaken them for black. He’d never seen you like that before. Your cheeks, they’re so round, darkened with a blush. Your lips, so beautifully shaped, swollen from his own. Your cupid’s bow so prominent and alluring, you were so naturally pretty, he’d always known it but seeing it this close, breath-taking. He can’t believe he’s never been this close to you before. That was a crying shame. A monumental mistake on his part. Even if he wouldn’t have been able to control himself. He would certainly have remembered it though, memorised every feature of your face like the lyrics to a song he must sing and be happy to for the rest of his days on this earth with you.

He sets his glasses in your lap and your stomach flutters as you feel the weight of them. They weren’t heavy in the slightest but the sensation, the reminder of just where you were situated. You were still in his lap, still in his orbit. It was dizzying. “You look really pretty.” You let slip, one glance into his eyes and your mouth ran without thought. His lips turn up in one corner. “You think I’m pretty?” He’s laughing at it but it’s the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. Deep down, it’s probably the nicest compliment you could have given him. You thought he was pretty and even better than that, you liked that he was pretty. “With glasses,” you gesture to your lap. “Even prettier.” It takes an incredible strength not to let it be known that he loved hearing you say that.

You try something different. You have only one chance at this. You owed it to yourself to explore the unanswered questions you’d been stacking up in your brain for the entirety of your friendship. One’s you hadn’t dared to speak into existence and thought better of verbalising even now. Instead, you answer with a touch. You place your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck and while you fumble to grip them in a light tug, your nails graze his scalp. He whimpers beneath you elegantly before snapping his mouth shut, a flush of red blotting his cheeks as a result. Fuck. He’d always had the prettiest voice, but you weren’t even remotely aware that it was melodical even in this situation. “Did you just-“he wants to hide, he wants his hands to cover his face and he goes to fulfil that want, but you stop him.

He's looking at you and he hasn’t felt this vulnerable in a long time. You didn’t have many secrets. You knew almost everything about each other but this. Knowing his kiss, knowing his sounds. This was an unexplored territory. Continuing forward at this trajectory could have the most fatal consequences for the two of you and your ongoing relations. You’re so painfully aware of that but you still tug his hair back hard in efforts to hear him again. “Fuck.” He gasps, his pink lips slotting open not even trying to save himself the embarrassment, he was already exposed, may as well accept it.

You had to kiss him again, had to kiss him and pull his hair and feel his little bitch boy whimpers on your lips or you may die. You throw yourself at him with nothing more to lose. His hands wrap around you so tightly you knew he’d struggle to let you go and there wasn’t a chance in hell that you’d ever allow him to if he tried. You tug on his blonde curls, and you kiss him and he’s grunting into your mouth like a desperate slut. His tongue slides inside your mouth, granting itself permission. You weren’t the only one wanting to take charge and the idea of fighting for it turned you on more than it should have. His one hand leaves your waist to cup your cheek while he pushes his face right into yours. His precious little nose digging into your cheek as his mouth is enjoying you, savouring you.

‘You’ by definition as declared by Luke Hemmings.

pronoun

1. Used to refer to the person or people that the speaker is addressing.

"Are you listening?"

2. Used to refer to any person in general.

"After a while, you get used to it"

3. Used as a treat for him to devour, tasting better than any gourmet, expensive delicacy he’d ever had the pleasure of trying.

"He loves you; he loves your taste; he loves you"

Your kiss was replaying in his mind before it even ended. It was hung in a museum full of his greatest achievements. He’d be visiting the archive on numerous occasions just to relive this feeling, whether you developed from here or not didn’t even matter anymore he was in it 100% for as long as it lasts. “Luke, I think I love-“He stops dead in his tracks as your words fill the silence. His eyes are not nearly as panicked as they should have been, unlike yours. “I love kissing you,” you finish, your breath shaky as you catch yourself before confessing to something far too soon, even if you’d felt it with every fibre of your being since you met him.

“Yeah?” He’s so drunk on your lips he can’t possibly think straight let alone filter his words to have more caution in them. “Love kissing me or love me?” In the short pause he’s watching you expectantly. It’s not for you to confess your love. It’s not even for you to reject him. It’s just to hear your voice and know he’s not alone like he fears he might be. “Both.” You breathe out. The relief washed over you both like a tidal wave.

You can’t keep away any longer. You’d be damned if you let there be any more silence without it being a result of locking lips. “Have to have you.” He groans.” Your hands are sinking down between you. Your brain is foggy. There’s an unmistakably lusty cloud over your head. You felt as if you’d been hit by cupid’s arrow, infatuated to such an intensity that you were unable to process any information that wasn’t related to your love for the man beneath you. Whatever sick love spell it was, you were grateful for it. It had given you the courage to act on your true feelings and there was no way you were turning back now unless he asked it of you, and he swears he would never dream of such an outcome.

He wants to cry when your fingers brush his stomach. His tummy flips at the coolness of your fingertips delicately toying with the material resting above it. You lift it slowly, your hands deliberately feeling along his torso as the shirt rode higher. He wants to tear it off, he’d even burn it just to prove how little he needed it and how much he needed you instead. You bite on your lower lip at his eagerness to remove it. “Take it off.” You say. He’s way ahead of you. In a flash he’s throwing it to the front of the car. A problem for him to deal with at a later date.

Luke exposed in this way wasn’t something new to you. You’d seen him shirtless. You’d touched him shirtless. The only benefits of living in a ridiculously sunny state were the opportunities to lounge by the beach or the pool. To witness the tightened torso of your best friend with a pair of sunglasses shielding him from knowing just how much you were checking him out. You wondered if he’d ever done the same to you, but by the way he’s staring at your chest, it’s like he’s never seen it before.

Luke had wanted to. He’d thought about it so often, mostly at night alone in his room, but still he’d thought long and hard about the way your body looked in very little clothing. He remained as respectful as he could in your presence. He didn’t let his eyes wander too far from what’s socially acceptable between friends. But he had thought about this moment for what felt like an eternity. He could never have imagined the location or the dim light painting this portrait of your silhouette, but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

He's getting braver. His hands are caressing your hips, pushing upwards to rub along your sides before returning back. “Luke, please.” He’s ignoring your need. He’s playing with you how he wants to when he wants to. He’s repeating his movements at a snail’s pace. You couldn’t rush him, not after making him wait for so long, he deserved to take his time. You’re not happy about it. You’re ready to rock over his lap and take what you need but he catches your hips. “No.” He says confidently, sternly too. Your eyes almost bulge out of your skull, a tantrum ready to slip from your tongue. “Wait for it.” As if you hadn’t been waiting for it every single day of your life. Fucking hell, he’s not even looking at you. It’s like you’re not even there anymore. His eyes are fixated on your chest and somehow that had increased the wetness between your legs more than you thought it would. If it were Luke objectifying you, you would make an exception. You just sank back onto his lap, running your fingers through his hair while he explored you, doing as you were told and praying he’d end your torture if you did. He never thought he’d see the day, you are being obedient.

It's worked out better than you’d imagined. His teasing touches, they’re working you up just enough to leave you wanting more. You worry your enjoyment can be felt through the fabric of your clothing. The more he touches, the more he gets to know you. He feels it, he just doesn’t show it. Somehow that made it even hotter for you. You were embarrassingly speechless for him, and he pretended he hadn’t caused it, couldn’t possibly have known. He wasn’t completely clueless. He wasn’t all shy. He knew what he was doing. There was such a power in shutting the pretty mouth of his best friend with simple caresses. “You seemed to have a lot to say before.” He’s now fondling your breasts, pinching hard over the fabric of your blouse, not even daring to touch beneath but you didn’t even need him to. The gasp that leaves your lips makes his cock twitch and you felt it. “Where’s all that energy gone?” He doesn’t even need to smirk; you hear it in his tone, even if you were deaf, you think you’d hear it.

This time he looks at you. He watches your expressions patiently with a glimmer of enjoyment as he pinches hard, trapping your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You gasp upon the sharpness of his touch. “Luke.” He had to smile, had to let it show how unbelievably thrilled he was to be doing this to you, to hear you sighing his name because it was real, and he was living out his fantasies. “Kiss me.” He says. You’re surprised he says it. You thought he’d have just taken it by now since you were clearly putty in his hands but instead, he’d instructed you and you had to do it and you were so eager.

You lean in to close the gap and he’s groping over your chest harder as you inch in. Your lips are parted, his tongue slipping in. The moan that escapes you sends his hips bucking upwards into you. There was some kind of a heaven between your thighs, he’s sure of it because the way it felt to just brush against your clothed cunt was already more than he could take. Every ounce of you was blissful to touch. “Oh my God.” You gasped. “No, that’s not my name.” He grumbles into your mouth. You want to roll your eyes with annoyance but they’re already rolling for a different reason. “When you touch me like that, what’s the fucking difference?” An excellent point, you think. He had to be some kind of deity.

He catches your bottom lip between his teeth, and you whimper. The bite is sharp, and it hurts but your lack of release is starting to hurt more. The build-up was fun, but not nearly enough. You had to take your shirt off, move this further. You start to unbutton it. You slip it down over your shoulders and he doesn’t help, no he just watches you. His blue eyes so dark like an ocean you could dive into. You feel a chill as your bra drops from your chest. You were equally exposed now. It suddenly felt so much more real. Seated in the backseat of his car, 2 weeks before he leaves for a tour you didn’t even know about 2 hours ago. Its sinking in, just how much this would hurt you from here on out.

“We can stop right now.” He pushes his forehead against yours. His lips hover above your own. Hot breath fanning over them. It’s not as soothing as it should have been. You’re breathing is more erratic now. His proximity, you need his lips, need his touch, no hesitation, no-. No. You need a pause. You feel as if you could cry, maybe you were crying. Things were catching up to you, hard. “It won’t be easy.” He tries to laugh. “But we can stop.” He pecks your lip. Letting his words sink in. “I don’t want to stop Luke.” He could smile, but it didn’t seem right to, not yet, not while your mind is still restless. “Everything changes from here on, doesn’t it?” Now he’s smiling at you; his hand reaches up to cup your cheek lifting your face in his hands. “What’s to change?”

You weren’t sure exactly what he meant; somehow you felt comforted by it anyway. You silently urged him to continue. “I’ve always been in love with you.” He rubbed his thumb softly over your jaw, your face started to feel heavy in his hands as you melted into his touch, at his words. His heart wasn’t on his sleeve, no, it was being handed to you, given with a stroke to your jaw, a glimmer in his eye and a softness of words on his tongue. “The only change is that you know it.” He’s grinning as he reveals his secret, finally able to clue you in on his little plans. You could have told him then and there, just how relieved you were to feel the same, you felt it could wait. As sweet as it was, you need something less precious, he had to finish what he started or so help him you’d vanquish him.

“Take my clothes off.” He’s way ahead of you once again. He lifts your skirt, and you feel the need to correct him, tell him it needs to come off the other way around, he’s already fiddling with your tights. He’d grabbed them, the material stretching over his hands and before you could raise a brow in suspicion at the oddness, he’s tearing them, splitting the crotch for access. You were lost for words, and he was the same. The only difference was that he was silently praising himself for his strength no to look sooner. Where he thought he’d find cotton, instead he found lace. You were wearing soaking wet, lace panties. “You’re fucking kidding me.” He can’t supress his moan at all. You think you may be engulfed in flames, the only explanation for the fire burning you up inside. He. Tore. Your. Clothes. Off. LITERALLY. How can anyone ever compete?

Butterflies are swarming in your stomach as his fingers don’t hesitate to rub over your core. You sigh at his touch, it’s not even near your clit but you feel like you might cum. “Have I always got you this wet?” He’s surprised. He’s impressed and proud too but mostly surprised. You could laugh at his outburst, if it wouldn’t reveal just how ridiculously on point he was. “More often than I’d like to acknowledge right now.” He decides he’ll put a pin in it for another occasion because he’s absolutely certain now, there will be more occasions.

Your fingers find his hair, tugging on his curls in hopes to bring him back to the task at hand, you. “Think you can hurry this up?” You’re trying to stay cool, but you’re anything but. You don’t want to beg for it, it felt so beneath you before this moment, but he needed to pick up the pace. His fingers rub over the wet material clinging to your cunt. “Would usually have to work for it.” He’s smiling against your lips uncontrollably. “Guess I don’t need to.” You want to wipe the smug look off his face. He’s looking at your lips right before crashing his own against them, distracting you from his hands slipping away beneath you.

He’s freeing himself from his jeans and you so desperately need to look but you can’t. You can’t pull away. You just kiss and kiss and he just- oh God, he’s dragging your hips over him. He’s rocking up into you, still separated by the restrictions of your underwear but you feel him. You know you asked for more, but this was really happening like right now. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Your hips start moving with the guidance of his hands. “Do something for me.” He breathes, tone too calm for your liking. His lips are trailing from yours, down to the column of your throat. “Anything.” You mean it, you truly mean it, he owns every piece of your soul. “Put me in.” You’re done for.

There’s no hesitation. You reach between you, hands blindly chasing after him. When you feel the hot, weight of him barely fitting in your hand, you want to whine. He’s so hard, burning up too. He’s hot to touch and it’s so unbearably arousing. He twitches at your slightest touch, and you’d be proud if you weren’t so needy. You work your hand over him, just gathering the beads of liquid already leaking from the tip to drag it back over him. He’s pushed his face right into your neck, kissing and nipping, his beard scratching your flesh as you bring him to you. It’s so nice to feel him humming along your throat. You are ruining him just as much as he did you.

Your breath hitches as you slide your underwear to the side. Your heart hammers as his tip brushes your entrance. Luke’s cock throbs as its sinking inside you. It’s barely inside and you feel so snug around him. He bites down hard on your neck as you take more but not nearly enough. You can’t think of anything but the fullness. You wonder if he’d fit inside you fully, scared he might not be able to go further, that you couldn’t possibly cater to his size but then he wiggles his hips, careful not to hurt you but he’s still forcing himself deeper inside.

You gasp out as you stretch for him, gripping the leather of the seat behind him. “So, fucking tight.” You were so wet he felt you dripping onto his thighs and yet you squeezed him so tight it was like you weren’t ready at all. “Is it too much?” It was so hard to speak when you held him like that, but something wasn’t right. He needed you to feel good. It wasn’t worth it otherwise, meant too much to fuck it up like this.

You’re nodding your head in response, entirely against your will. You’d failed him. You finally get to take it to the next level, and you can’t even take him. You were mortified. You were disappointed. You were devastated. You’re ready to give up, accept this as the mistake it must be, he doesn’t share the same sentiment. “Gonna try something different, okay?” He’s bringing your eyes to meet his. You’re so shocked. If it were anyone else, you’d have been discarded like dirty laundry. You’d be no fit for use. But Luke? Luke wasn’t giving up on you. He’d try a thousand times to get it right if that’s what it took to please you, to give himself to you the best way he could. You had never felt so loved in your life.

His cock can’t help but twitch when he sees your panic. “Trust me?” You nod profusely, it wasn’t necessary, but you were so close to losing it you couldn’t be stopped. “Think you can lie down for me?” You nod again. It takes all of your combined energy to pull away from each other. It feels like you’d lost a piece of yourself when you moved away. You’d collided and now been torn apart prematurely and the part of you that finally felt whole, was gone again.

You slipped off his lap, seating yourself back where you’d started. Luke’s shuffling around, removing his jeans completely before moving over, pulling your legs apart for him to slip between. You curse yourself once more for missing out on witnessing him naked for you, but your mind was racing with other information. He hadn’t warned you before his cock pushed past the threshold of your entrance. Instead, he eases himself in. Your cunt instinctively squeezing him at the intrusion.

“Oh, fuck.” He cried when he slid inside, his full length splitting you open. This angle was better, he’d fit, he’d not struggled and yet, you’d never felt so full in your life. He watches your expression, your eyes sealed shut, lips parted, cheeks burning. He watches you until you show any signs of regret or pleasure. He would stop immediately if you needed it. You just whimpered and moaned, and it was filth to his ears. His cock was so painfully hard he couldn’t hold back any longer. He did that to you; he didn’t even have to move either. He’d got you looking fucked out, crying for him and he’d barely started.

“Can I move?” He’s trying to keep his tone calm but he’s breathless. “Please baby, I gotta move.” His thighs are shaking. He’s gripping the seats like his life depended on it and it probably did. Your heart is warmed at the fact he’d asked. It shouldn’t feel anything of the sort with him so fucking deep inside you, ready to fuck you into oblivion but you did, he was so perfect. You nod your head, leaning up to capture his lips in a kiss. “Fuck me.” Please, please, please, you thought. “Give it to me.” He kisses you back, retracting his hips simultaneously before dipping back in. “So, fucking beautiful.” He mutters. “Fucking your best friend.” It felt so dirty hearing it from him like this. But that is exactly what you were doing. Your hands are reaching up around his waist, clawing into his back when he ruts deeper, the car starting to rock with each movement of his hips. “So deep in you.” You choke after a particularly harsh thrust. “So good.” You’re stuttering it. Hearing your broken panting is nearly enough to send him over the edge.

He didn’t rock his hips quickly this time, not wanting to overdo it, to break you so soon. Instead, he slows himself. He’s grinding his hips down into you with a precision you’d never known before. “All you can say?” He teased. “You’re lucky you feel so good.” You warn him. “If I could think straight, you’d be done for.” He nips at your shoulder before layering it with kisses. “Is that so?” You whimper when his body lowers over yours. His body is no longer held up above put pressed into you. The new position providing more stimulation than the last. The closeness had his pelvis rocking into your clit. The extra stimulation leaving your cunt clenching and tingling, bursting with pleasure.

“Fuck, feel you tightening.” He’s starting to speak but quickly losing his train of thought at your body’s natural response to him. He’s wincing like it hurts him when you squeeze. In reality he’s just holding onto his load by a thread, ready to bust at the seams. He didn’t think he’d be able to pull out if he did. You probably should have thought of that sooner. He couldn’t exactly ask now. He should though. “Need it.” Your sweet whining brings him back. “What?” He’s losing himself in your eyes. Dark, lust filled and reading him like a book. “Need you to cum inside.” He’s gripping the seats so tight the material is about to tear. Just when he’d worried he’d made a fatal error you swoop in and save him. You wanted him inside. He didn’t have to move, he wanted so badly to stay, and you let him as if you knew. You knew how fucking feral he’d go hearing it dripping from your lips like that, a sultry dream. He needed this, needs to cum, needs you to feel it, everything he’s got.

He picked up his pace, abandoning his previous rhythm. He was going to pound into you so hard you’d be begging him to be the only man in your life for eternity. He would give it to so good you never had to wonder where your loyalties may lie. You were going to be his and no one else’s if it killed him. No one could ever fuck you like he could. “Fuck, tell me you’re mine.” You feel startled by the request. Not because it’s out of the ordinary but because you thought he’d have to be mad not to know it already. Not when the request alone had you cumming around him the moment the words touched your ears. You felt it so hard, it was a wonder you hadn’t blacked out. Your walls a tightening mess, thighs wrapped around Luke’s waist so tight you couldn’t feel the shake in them, stabilised by his frame. Oh, you felt it in your core though. Holy shit, you’d not cum so hard for so long. He hadn’t even realised you’d done it at all. It felt so unreal that you’d even doubted it yourself. Finishing from a sentence, from fucking without the aid of touching yourself, simply unheard of. Maybe you really were his.

“I’m yours, all yours.” It had never been truer. His eyes close as he lets the words float around in his brain over and over. “Yeah? All mine? Belong to me?” You don’t think you could ever profess it enough. You instead move your hands, wrapping them around his neck, bringing his chest down into yours. You lift your head from the seat, your lips coming to his ear as he slows himself, meeting you halfway. You’re whispers send him right over the edge, tumbling towards his demise. He’s grunting, spilling inside you, hips slowly grinding before coming to a halt. He’s muttering sweet sentiments. “You’re so pretty. So good, fuck baby.” His head is spinning. He’s so blissed out he felt like he wasn’t even with you, he was on a whole other plain. You’d taken him to heaven, you’d actually killed him. What a pleasure it was to be killed by you. He was utterly destroyed.

He’s trying to hold himself up, arms on either side of your head. He’s not looking at you, more your bodies still entangled. He looked so conflicted. You try not to imagine the worst. He can’t regret you already. You’d only just ended. Usually, it took some time. He at least should drop you home before that kind of clarity kicks in. Your heart picks up speed again. A panic starting to drip a sweat over your brow. You don’t want this to end like that. “Stop that.” He places a singular kiss to the tip of your nose and the thoughts are erased. “I can practically hear your thoughts” He kisses you again so nonchalantly. “I’m just thinking about moving.” You try not to sigh so loud with relief, but you fail miserably and he’s laughing because it’s so effortlessly you. “Probably should have planned that better.” He’s scolding himself and his tone is light and airy, and you don’t feel so scared anymore. He was right before when he said nothing would change. The only difference was the physicality.

“Why couldn’t you be shorter? We could have lay here for a while.” He’s glad to hear your laughter returning even if it is at his expense. “In my defence, I’ve never done it in a car before, I’m sure there’s a way of doin it, I just don’t know it.” Your eyes widen. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He’s furrowing his brows above you. “I thought this was exactly the location 2018 Luke would be going for.” He gasps in offence. “Sorry to disappoint, it’s all beds for me.” You don’t believe him for a second. He’d had some messy eras. You reckon he just forgot them or tried his hardest to.

“Why have you?” You smirk. “Might have.” There’s that gasp again before a moment of confusion. “Wait, you don’t have a car.” He needs to investigate further. “Correct.” He’s thinking. “Matt didn’t have a car either.” Of course, only he would mention your only ex immediately after your first time together. Very on brand for him. “Did you fuck in my car?” You struggle to contain your laughter. “No! What the fuck?” You shove him. “Thank God, that would have been awkward.” You snort. “More awkward than this sorry excuse for pillow talk?” He pecks your nose for the last time before beaming an infectious smile down at you.

“Not to ruin the moment or anything but uh, will you drive me home now?” He’s suddenly reminded of the purpose of this entire event. He was apologising and giving you a lift. “That’s why we fucked then, just wanted that trip.” You nod along with him. “Mmhmm, didn’t bring my purse, gotta pay my way somehow.” He rolls his eyes. He’s amazed by you. You manage to make his heart pound and dick throb all from making jokes with him still buried inside you. “You fuck all your uber drivers?” You shrug the best you can beneath him. “Only the hot ones.”

It takes you both a little time to dress yourselves. The moment he pulls out you’re sighing and missing the feeling. He’s just as devastated to leave you empty, the sight of his finish leaking from you certainly made up for the fact though. You don’t miss your opportunity to check him out this time. His shoulders are so broad and so freckled. You’d never really noticed that before, always assumed he was pasty beneath those clothes. You were pleasantly surprised. He was a work of art in every manner of the word. “You’re so pretty, you know that?” He’s knelt in front of you stark naked and yet it’s your words that bring him to blushing. “You might have mentioned it.”

Once he’s dressed his bottom half, he moved to help you. He’d gathered as many items of clothing as he could, your shirt and your vest, your bra was certainly gone forever. You sit up straight, bottom half not moving for the risk of making a larger mess than you already had. You were thankful the seats were leather. You both ignore the elephant in the room, well vehicle, for as long as possible before eventually addressing it, looking to the pool of his cum on the seat. “How bout we get these off?” He tugs your shredded tights. “Can use them as a, um, temporary fix.” He cringed as he said it. It was a very sensible idea despite the uncomfortable subject. You work to remove them, cleaning the best you can. “Think you’ll sit in the front seat this time?” You ponder it. “I don’t know about that one.”

His name flashes across the caller ID and you have to hold yourself back from answering too soon, a foreign feeling to you. Holding your breath, counting to 10 as not to pick up on the first ring. Avoiding eagerness. It was like your phone didn’t even need to signal either, you always seemed to be innately ready and waiting, like you spent your day anticipating it even if he hadn’t warned you prior.

If you were in another room, you’d end up walking back in just in time for the tone, so conveniently you thought he was wired into your brain somehow. You swore you were in the shower once and stopped the water before rinsing because you sensed someone had yelled your name when in actuality your phone was seconds away from sounding out, his voice beckoning you on the other side. You had a useless talent for it. A sixth sense if you will. It made you a great friend at least.

You sat yourself down on your bed, fidgeting with the cushion you’d placed on your lap out of habit, shuffling so your back was against the headboard. Your legs were crossed comfortably, for now. You thought about uncrossing them just in case the call went on longer and they started to numb, but ultimately decided you could cross that bridge when you came to it. You took a deep breath.

“What took you so long?” A panic stricken voice whines from the other end. Should you be alarmed? “You usually answer in 2 rings, what’s going on are you okay?” You hated that he’d noticed. He was the least susceptible person on earth, it was unfair. “I was in the shower.” You rush. He breathes deeply, as if he was thinking about it, the image of you under the water or maybe he saw through your lie. You hoped he wasn’t repulsed either way. “Was it a good shower?” You snort a laugh.

“What? Just asking.” He laughs too. Your heat settles. “It was an average shower.” You know he’s nodding on the other end as he hums. “So, you called because?” Your heart starts pumping rapidly, your grip on the tassels of the cushion tightening. “Can’t I call my wonderful friend on a Thursday evening?” You allow yourself to smile, to be happy he’d called at all, even if he did just call you his friend. You could hate that word, you really, really could.

“The real reason.” You pry, knowing that it could never be as simple as that. “I have a date.” He rushes. So fast you think you have some incredible skill for being able to translate. Your mouth opens and closes at least 7 times before responding. “You do?” You try not to sound so surprised. It wasn’t the first time this had happened to either of you actually. He’d just never called you about one before. He usually told you in person. Why didn’t he tell you in person? Couldn’t he wait? Why did he sound so panicked?

“I do.” You could hear him smiling, you just knew he was smiling. Probably scratching his head, wondering how he’d managed a date at all knowing him. He was so blind, not just to your affections but the fact that you weren’t the only one who’d had them for him, you never had been. He was definitely attractive, he had humour, intelligence, hobbies, ambition, maybe too much ambition sometimes, thought he could conquer the world, maybe he could, maybe he would, you were certain if he put his mind to it, nothing could stop him. “I need your help though.” You lean forward, as if you were ready to rush over to his house right now and come to aid him, pathetic. You sit yourself back again. “What with?” You try not to feel nervous, try not to feel hurt, it’s something that’s grown more difficult the last year or so.

“I kinda maybe said we were having a party.” You nod as you listen, again as if he was in the room with you. “When?” He starts nervously laughing, shuffling around on the other side of the line. You sigh instantly, you know he’s fucked something up, it was just a case of what. “Tomorrow night.” He said before you heard him tapping his foot vigorously on the ground, his tell-tale sign that he was nervous and giving himself a hard time before you could. “I ALSO MAYBE SAID IT WAS AT YOUR PLACE!” The words slipped from his mouth in a jumble, you had to be a genius to piece it together so soon, you deserved so much credit for that. You deserved some kind of medal actually, you wonder if they do those, deciphering or something.

Your palm hit your face with a louder than intended smack. “That sounded rough.” He sighed. “You’re dead.” You curse him. “Dead, dead, dead.” You know he’s wincing as you say it, you hope he does more than that, hope he pictures his head on a spike for what he was about to put you through. “Who is it?” You ask. He doesn’t say anything. You’d surprised him by asking. He hadn’t expected you to care that deeply. Sure, he phoned you to talk about this date, this party that he'd needed you to throw in your own house and all, but he still didn’t actually plan the part where he had to tell you the name of the girl. The girl that may or not actually fucking exist.

“Mindy.” You laugh. You laugh a lot. “Mindy?” You question. “Uh, yup.” You hear him scratching the stubble on his chin. He’s wracking his brain as fast as he can to think of if he or you actually knew anyone with that name already. He hoped to God that you didn’t. It may be easier to explain the whole thing if a Mindy didn’t happen to live in your inner or outer friendship circle or anywhere in your general vicinity for that matter. He couldn’t be too sure though, there was always some variation of a Mindy. There was Cindy, the blonde dancer or maybe cheerleader, he didn’t speak to her long enough to catch the career goals. There had also been an Indi at some point, a next door neighbour of yours, got arrested for something or other. He wasn’t sure, not very good at remembering anything about other women, not when he had you. You were the only woman he’d needed, only one he’d really cared to know. Except for tomorrow night.

“Where did you meet her?” You had to ask, there was no way a girl called Mindy took an interest in him, not now he’d settled down. He used to be such a slut, not that it’s a bad thing to sleep around but the way he’d treated some girls, well you were glad that portion of his life was over. It was the one and only time you’d regretted your crush on him. Feeling lucky not to have his attention at that time, though you must have been repulsive because he really did go for anyone, and you couldn’t help but hold the tiniest grudge because of that. If he hadn’t wanted you then, well you doubt he ever would.

He’d straightened his act since. He went on dates occasionally, no more one night stands, that you knew of, so hopefully few to none. No one had ever stuck around. Whether it was down to his or your judgement. You couldn’t always be certain which it was. But it was always his and your say, not theirs, almost never theirs. You felt wrong for enjoying having a role so big in his life. For being a factor in decisions like that at all. One day he wouldn’t need you like that. You should feel lucky that he does now. Even if it hurt to imagine him with someone else.

He was similar with you. He judged every person you bought to him, like an older brother or a very aggressive dog who’d snapped his leash. No one was ever good enough. No one would ever be good enough for you. That’s what he thought anyway. He certainly knew he wasn’t good enough for you. He’d never even try it. You deserved better than him. In fact, you’d had better.

There was once an occasion where he’d actually felt bad for tarnishing your relationship with a guy. A college graduate who just got a job as a veterinarian. If he was being excruciatingly honest, which he so often hated being, he could admit that he was probably the perfect man for you. He shared all your interests, had similar career goals, a good family, good ambition. The only problem was that he wasn’t Michael. Otherwise, he swore you’d be half way to engaged by now. Even if you were still in your early 20s.

Every other time there’d been a substantial reason. A justifiable reason. A police record, no qualifications, a crazy ex, a tight knit relationship with their mother. So maybe they weren’t as sound as he’d liked to think but he had good intentions, that had to count for something. He just wanted the best for you, would always want that for you. What kind of friend would he be if he didn’t? It was his duty.

He wracked his brain for a suitable scenario. The grocery store maybe? She was working the counter or something. She wanted to check out more than the items in his basket. Nope. Absolutely not. You shopped at the same store anyway and with name tags and all you could hunt her down like a dog. Too close to home. How about the record store? He never saw you in there, not unless he dragged you in there himself, which he hadn’t done for years, not since, well not since the cashier asked him for your number and he swore he’d break his face if he dared ask or look in your direction again. The record store it is. Mindy from the record store.

“The record store.” He shrugs. You perk up. He’d met her in his favourite place. Nothing to worry about, you could handle that, the impending doom of your friendship and heartache, she might just be perfect. If you had a pencil in your hand you swear it would have snapped. “Uh, she actually slipped me a limited edition-“ You lean back, hitting your head off the board to drown out the anecdote. “Did you just- are you okay?” You mumble. “Yup, fine, all fine.” You don’t even attempt to rub the back of your head. You deserved the punishment. It was all worse than you thought. He’d met the perfect girl. You thought you’d have more time. It hasn’t happened yet; he’d never even been close; they’d all been false starts. This was code red.

“So, the party.” He mentions again. You could say no. You could give him any excuse and he’d never ask again. He’d even accept an “I’m not in the mood.” 1 because it was painfully accurate and the only excuse you could muster at the time but 2 because he respects you enough to take your word as gospel and never push you past your limits. He couldn’t take advantage of you. Although in this scenario, not entirely true anymore. “You’re setting everything up.” Your fingers run through your hair as you hear him begin to shuffle again on the other side. Your own words betrayed you. You were a really, really good friend.

He felt more panicked than relieved that you’d agreed. It made it so much more real. As real as a date with a fake person could be that is. Shit. This whole idea sounded so much better before he dialled your number. He rubbed his eye in frustration at the mess he’d left himself in as if it would provide him with any clarity at all. He now had to set up a party, a fake date and then, the perfect way to confess his feelings for you. That’s what this whole charade was for. He was too cowardly to tell you on the phone, too selfish not to tell you at all. At least if it went poorly he could blame the alcohol, or maybe even pretend he didn’t hear you over the bass of the music.

He grabbed a pen by the landline fixed to the wall (the one he had only bought for the aesthetic, never to be used). He scrawled down in capitals on the notepad beside it. “Note to self: HEAVY BASS!!!” Then just beneath. “You can do this.” He hoped that manifestation would help him through the next 24 hours. He wouldn’t be able to breathe until he completed this task he’d set himself. You were worth it, you had to be.

You’d kill him. He was late to a party he’d wanted. You should have been surprised. You were never surprised. The lengths he would go to, the theatrics, he infuriated and crushed your soul into pieces simultaneously. He’d never done something like this for you. You wouldn’t exactly like a party thrown in your honour, but it was a grand romantic gesture anyone could find a soft spot for. Perhaps that should tell you all you needed to know. He would never do this for you. You could stop blissfully ignoring the fact that things might never change between the two of you. Unless you got rid of Mindy that is.

You’d started letting people in, he’d put up flyers around town, you hated that he did that. You were starting to hate everything that he did. Couldn’t recognise half the people who rocked up but hey, it’s just your house and everything you own on the line, nothing could possibly go wrong there. You almost slammed the door in his face when he finally showed up. He smiled the best he could while wondering how long he had before he needed to flinch at the no doubt heavy fist heading his way. He was surprised when it hadn’t arrived. “Shit, are you ill?” The back of his hand pushes against your forehead to gather your temperature. You swat him away. “I’m fine, you’re late.” You step aside, letting him in, already feeling your heart regretting the decision, it so often did.

He stared at you for a moment, eyes raking in your appearance, taking in every detail of you, so much so it was like he’d physically touched you, goosebumps brushing over your arms. It was sinful to look at you that way considering the circumstances, but you had so liked that he had. He had liked it too, so much so that he lost sight of his purpose tonight. “Is she here?” You ask coldly, quietly but still loud enough to try and nudge his eyes away. They remained for a moment longer before he turns around, a brow arching. “She?” Was he joking?

He laughed, almost too enthusiastically even he’d admit, his hand resting on his stomach as if it ached from the humour. “I don’t know, she might be.” He took a few rushed glances around him again, gathering the surroundings, squinting to see if anyone here could look even the tiniest bit suited for the role. He could coax someone into pretending. Probably not for the fun of it, might have to bribe them with a couple bucks but that was fine, that was doable. He’s patting his pockets, front, left, right and back. Shit. No wallet. What about jacket? A sigh of relief. Won’t cancel that out then, he could still manage.

“Well let me know when you find her.” You try to smile, try to act casual, as if this wasn’t the worst Friday night you could have envisioned for yourself. He hovered on the spot for a minute, fingers fidgeting, the way they did when he wanted to say something else, when he was struggling to find the words but lingering on the edge of them. Was he struggling to find them? “Mikey?” You question boldly. His mouth props open before closing again, his erratic fidgeting coming to an end. “I’ll catch up with you.” He turns, wandering off into the crowd as quickly as he’d appeared. Your heart sank, your posture going with it. Air, air would be nice.

He had no plan, even as he tried to conjure one, there was still a voice in his mind. A voice that sounded an awful lot like yours if he really focused on it, which he was trying desperately not to do. A voice telling him he had no way of pulling this off either before or after the whole tremendously large lie coming out. Why did he need to go to such lengths at all? Perhaps you’d find it romantic, a grand gesture just for you, though he could have done something less deceiving and more up your street. He really should have thought about this. Was it too late to think about this? He needed to find her again. He’d bottled it, he should just come clean.

“Can I rob a cig?” You ask one of the guys stood just a few metres out into your back garden. The spot you’d escaped to. He grunts a response holding the packet out for you to take, as if it were too much for him to respond with a simple sentence. He instead offers the flame of his zippo lighter for you to lean into. You rarely smoked these days. You hadn’t felt the need to. Your stress seemingly spreading thinner and thinner as time passed on, no longer providing you a reason to indulge. Occasionally you would succumb to the urge. Enjoying the burn, the thought of the damage. You took a drag, stepping away from the group, leaning against the brick wall you stood by.

He thought you’d be in the kitchen. You usually were at any party, your house or otherwise. That was your go to spot. You had access to all drinks, food, and fresh air if things overwhelmed you, which they often did, but that was okay with him, he’d never judge you for it. Instead, he knew to be aware of it. If things were okay you would relax upon the stools by the kitchen island. When he hadn’t spotted your half up, half down waves with a bow pinned to the back, he knew to head outside to your other spot of comfort.

He stepped outside, flicking the garden light on, earning a couple of groans he easily ignored when he spotted you, a cigarette hanging from your lips. He took it from you, startling you, your eyes widening with a rage he hadn’t seen for a while, not since you were kids. “Thought you quit.” He places it between his own lips. You struggle not to blush at his unbothered reaction to sharing. It’s not as if it were the first time you’d done this, but it didn’t get any less attractive when it did. You wished it weren’t so indirect. You wanted his actual lips on yours, this would suffice, it had to.

“I did.” You take it back, he lets you, lips parting enough for you to pluck it back. “I just felt like having one.” He felt bad, it was his fault you’d needed one. “I’m sorry.” He meant it. His hands slid into his pockets when his gaze fell to his feet. “It’s okay.” You lied. Continuing to breathe in the glorious nicotine, you’d even felt a rush of light-headedness. It panicked you when you were younger but for some reason, this evening, the feeling was rather welcomed, just an additional numbness to the ever present trauma of being in love with your best friend.

Michael himself fought the urge to groan when your lips wrapped around the filtered end of what had just been between his own lips. Your plush, cherry red lips enough to send him into a trance of what if’s, as if he’d ever have the courage to make them anything more than that, he wished they were more than that. He’d wanted you, so very badly, it grew with each passing second he stood here fixated on you, yearning for your kiss. It was just a case of telling you.

You thought you’d always be honest with each other. Now when he looked at you, barely able to meet your eyes, aiding the protection of a heavy secret. Your head was thrown back, a lazy arm wrapped across your stomach. He saw for the first time tonight, that he might not have been the only one capable of lying here. There was clearly a restlessness, a war enraging on in the depths of your astounding mind as well as his own. He knew you enough to decipher your struggle, but not enough to untangle it or even to pin point what exactly it was that you were struggling so hard with.

You stubbed out the cigarette. Wiping your hands down over your jeans, a force of habit adapted to relieve your fingers of the texture that came with smoking. “We should go back inside.” You didn’t try to sound less deflated, instead you thought you ought to accept it, you didn’t hide a sigh, you just dusted your thighs and straightened yourself out ready for the quest inside. You thought he was about to say something again, maybe you just hoped with every fibre of your being that he would find the courage to, but he just stood there, brow’s twitching, fingers drumming across his thigh as the cogs and wheels turned around in his brain. “Just spit it out,” you both thought, the screaming and restless feeling ricocheting around your all too thick skulls. If he could just say whatever’s been troubling him, just opened up his mouth and let the words flow out. You’d listen. You’d hold your breath, fix your stance and fucking listen and perhaps, you may actually get somewhere. 

He’d never been one to hide like this, both you and he knew that. He had this cocky sort of confidence that was originally designed to mask his anxieties but soon developed into this persona, this character he never imagined he’d become. When he did, he was loud and proud, he spoke from the heart, he hid no truths, he drew as much or as little attention as he desired. Your infatuation had been sewn into the very ground he walked on ever since. Trailing delightfully behind him, admiring this alluring capability that he had to put on the bravest, “fuck you” attitude.

He was brutally honest the majority of the time, his thoughts flowing directly from his brain to his tongue without much interception. It got him in trouble more times than either of you could count but it was that quality that made you feel so drawn to him in the first place. He was surprised that the earth hadn’t imploded the second he started to actually hold back and keep a tight lock on his lips, amongst other things. It was so ineptly not his style and he’d felt that betrayal without even looking to your face to see it written there. Spit. It. Out. Be honest. You’d want his honesty.

“Mindy didn’t show.” Your head doesn’t snap towards him like he thought it would or rather how he hoped it would. He guessed he was too selfish to assume it meant anything to you. You stood exactly the same, shoulders low, arms crossing at your chest. His hand floats towards the back of his neck, tugging a few strands of hair as if to control himself like a puppet, forcing him to continue in this endeavour despite the awkward thickness refusing to settle in the air.

“That’s a shame.” You attempt to give a sympathetic smile, you wished you could, or maybe you didn’t. You must have looked like such a spoilt brat looking anything other than disappointed for him. God, he probably thought you were the least supportive friend on earth. You couldn’t even pretend. It’s not like you even had to be convincing, you just had to perform, console him because the girl he’d seemed to really like had let him down and left him here alone with you on yet another Friday night. 

Suddenly your heart didn’t just hurt for yourself, it hurt for him. He had been excited. He’d been desperate enough to put on this whole show for a girl he’d only just met, and she hadn’t even had the decency to attend. She didn’t have to love him unconditionally. She didn’t have to laugh at all his jokes. She didn’t have to listen to his band rehearse poorly or sit through his stories that droned on and on because they never really had a middle or an end, always getting lost in between. All she had to do was be polite and show up, no further obligations toward him. Somehow she couldn’t even do that, and you simply could not fathom how anyone would be capable of letting him down. “Did she say why?” 

Your hand rests on his arm. He hopes you don’t feel his pulse sky rocketing beneath it. His heart was drumming so violently he worried for his health. His tugged on his locks unable to settle his anxiety for much longer as the question floated in the air between you. He watched you switch your posture, straightening up the moment he mentioned being stood up as if you were a soldier coming to attention. You were there to defend him, to offer him a warmth he’d not deserved for his betrayal, for his lies. You were the sweetest girl he’d ever known. His pretty eyed best friend that he sincerely believed he did not deserve. 

He took a breath, sucking in an achingly large amount of air, chest puffing up with each passing second beneath his checked shirt. This was it. This was the moment that would change it all. “It’s actually really hard to get stood up by someone who doesn’t, never has and probably never will exist at any point in time.” He says in one breath before taking another and repeating the process without glancing to catch your eyes until he’d let it be known.

“Made up to prove fuck knows what at this point.” He starts waving his hands around, gesturing to himself, placing a hand on his hip, rubbing his forehead, the full works to illustrate his explosion of stupidity which sounded more and more guilt ridden as he went on. “I’ve really got nothing, no words, no excuses, really shit all that could explain the rot in my brain that let me think that this was a sensible way to confess my feelings for you.” He finally looks at you, your mouth hanging open, kind of like an adorable goldfish he’d very much like to take home and keep in a bowl by the side of his bed to keep.

He settles for grabbing one of your hands in both of his, eyes beginning to plead with you for a forgiveness he wasn’t sure he’d get and as terrifying as that was for him to consider, it was too late to go back now so he buckled up and begged. “I’m really just, shit I’m just so fucking sorry.” He looked close to tears. The liquid forming beneath each eye, his bottom lip trembling. His heart was no longer pounding which he’d have considered a win except for the fact it had stopped all together as he awaited some form of communication from your end. Anything really. He’d accept a blink or a breath, jackpot if you scowled. You just stared so blankly he wondered if you were even present anymore if you’d still been stood before him. It was as if you’d left your own body. You’d left yourself standing there listening, but you had gone elsewhere. Anywhere but here with him, so needing to escape him that even on a spiritual level you’d vacated the premises to avoid the rest of this conversation. He was battling an enormity of guilt, guilt, guilt. 

“So, Mindy?” You phrase it like a question, arching a brow to better understand him, stringing out the “y” to let him catch your drift. “Doesn’t exist.” He finishes, earning a short nod, he winces, he’s not sure why but it feels like the only available response at the moment. “And you never had a-“ He wanted to run for the hills, but he’d laid out these burning coals to walk across, there was no option to skirt around them now, so walk on he must. “Never had a date no.” You pause for a second. It wasn’t too late to quit, he could drop your hand and leave the country, didn’t even have to grab his belongings from home, just hitchhike his way to the border and never return, anything to avoid the look plastering across your face.

The more you relived the lie, the more he realised how warped he was for conjuring it. It wasn’t cute, sweet, or flattering, not that he ever thought it was, but it would be nice to imagine there was some tiny part of you that saw it that way since it had been a gesture for you after all. “So, you made it all up.” He nods this time, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, eyes flickering to all of his available exits. “What the fuck?”

You tug your hand from his grip, letting it fly to your hair, both hands combing through it as if it would bring a resolution to this problem any quicker. He felt as if your question had slapped him across the cheek, sending him wincing at the tone. “I’m so sorry.” Yes, he said that already. “I just don’t understand.” It was all you thought. Your mind was screaming it over and over again because honestly there was no other reaction you could produce at this moment in time. Your wires were crossing, short circuiting and malfunctioning and you know, ever other technical failure that could possibly arise. Why the fuck would he fucking do that?

The energy spent to create this person, hell this whole scenario, the party, the oddly specific meeting place. It all outweighed whatever outcome was to come from it. There was no reward set in your mind, there was no gain from this. It was actually so impractical of him. That’s what frustrated you the most. You were experiencing something similar to the five stages of grief but instead stages of cognitive dysfunction, just a pure lack of comprehension on every plane.

Considering how heavily methodical he usually was about relationships, there seemed to be absolutely nothing to back him up in this scenario. To create an entire person only to tell you about her. Only to get you to acknowledge her. To fuel this fantasy that he’d met someone so perfect they put you to shame with just the uttering of their name. He’d done all of this for- then it clicks far too agonisingly slowly. You. 

“For me.” You said in a low whisper. His heart doesn’t know whether to leap or pack up and die altogether. “Yeah.” He’s not really sure if he’s responding correctly. He’s not sure he could confirm he’d do something correctly ever again. “You did this for me.” You speak clearer, finding it within yourself to meet his eyes as you repeated yourself. There was an airiness and a disbelief in your tone. He isn’t sure he can hold you gaze for long. His cowardice had begged him not to. He couldn’t bear to see you hurt. Especially since the cause of the pain was him and him alone. “I did. I did this for you.”

You smile. You didn’t mean to, you were pissed. You hadn’t felt as if it was the moment for the expression. Your muscles had acted out against you. They’d gone their own way, leaving you trailing along behind trying to catch up. “You’re smiling.” He was sceptical and rightly so, a smile was the least expected reaction he’d have imagined from you. “You’re a fucking idiot.” You meant it, tongue like a dagger, cutting him as deep as you felt her deserved. “I do own up to that.” He feels like he can breathe again. Short breaths. Less than a second each. But its breathing, nonetheless. “Does this mean we can get all these people out of my fucking house?” He bounced on his heels excitedly, this was nothing, not forgiveness, not brushing it under the mat never to return to at a later date, but it was something. You still wanted to be alone with him. You still wanted something to do with him, to be something to him. That was a huge win in his book. “I’m on it.”

You found yourselves back inside, in your living room, less angsty tension between you, but there was still something thickening the air. “Are you really mad at me? Did I really piss you off?” He felt his bottom lip begin to tremble, although you’d been able to look at him without a frown, he still worried about how things may have changed between you. There weren’t enough words in any dictionary to describe how stupid he felt. The fragility of your friendship was becoming so apparent to him now. He could have lost you. If only he’d thought of it sooner before he started this. He lead himself so blindly. He’d have reoccurring nightmares over it for months, perhaps even the rest of his life.

You don’t say anything. He takes his chances. “You know I can’t think straight when you start to pout.” You hadn’t even noticed your lips pursing. You almost allow a smile to replace it now he’d drawn attention to it, but you didn’t, you weren’t that easy. “I’m not pouting.” His heart jumps. You speaking, saying anything, that was good, you sounded good. “You’re pouting a little.” He holds out his thumb and pointer finger squeezing them together, destined to touch but never quite reaching, instead highlighting the small gap between them. You kind of felt like it resembled the two of you. “I don’t pout.” He smiles, each sound you made had him feeling calmer. “You pout a lot.” He fights the urge to smother the expression with his lips.

“It’s too much fun to piss you off.” It may have been too soon to joke about it. He felt so far from comfortable and yet, he was still speaking, still managing to prevent himself from cracking under the pressure. He was using comedy to mask his pain of course, the only way he knew how to deal with his emotions without addressing them directly. Regardless, the opportunity to have this alone time with you after the shit show that had been the rest of the evening, well it was a pleasure despite the tension.

“What are friends for?” He shrugs, eyes falling not so subtly to the ground, more specifically your shoes. White converse, so pristinely clean anyone could mistake them for newly bought if he hadn’t known you better. He then thought of how his shoes, the worn and tired trainers he couldn’t even remember the brand of, would be touching yours if he just shuffled in a little closer. He could move in if he wanted to. You might not run, but you also might.

“Why do we have to be friends?” You surprise yourself, the words dripping off your tongue with an alarming ease and you’d probably be embarrassed but you couldn’t find it in you. “We’ve always been friends.” He says, even if he hated himself for it. You had to agree. “I guess we have.” It was the truth after all. Your tone changed though; a dissatisfaction laced within. Taking a leaf out of his book, you speak without thought. “You wanna change that?”

He can’t even look at you, doubt he could even hear you, confirm if you responded at all. His heartbeat was deafening. You continue on your path of enlightenment, you don’t think, you just do. You move in, toe to toe. Your breath catches as you breathe in his scent, cigarettes, cheap beer, maybe even sweat and you’d not minded. You feel his breath, each one, just brushing over your skin.

His eyes are anywhere that yours weren’t. You don’t feel as awkward as you should, nearly pressed up against his chest, a proximity that wasn’t foreign to you but had certainly been evolved. You feel a strange sense of calmness coming with it. You’d never felt calm around him before. You always felt restless, or aching. You’d even say intoxicated but never satiated. Never feeling as if you were in safe hands quite like this before.

He cleared his throat. You glanced to his adams apple as it bobbed up and down as he swallowed the words you’re so curious to hear instead. You watch him with great interest. Ogling him like some kind of art exhibition you had to interpret, and you’d have spent hours analysing him if you could, but you needed more. You’re right there, less than an inch between you and you don’t falter.

“Your face is uh, very close to my face.” He knows he’s being silly, knows he’s mucking things up, but God, you were so pretty, there was nothing he could say or do to prevent himself from melting at the sight of you. So, fucking beautiful, his sweet, sweet Y/n. “What are you going to do?” You speak quietly but firmly enough to translate that the ball was well and truly in his court. You had taken your shot; it was his turn to take his.

He licks his bottom lip feverishly, leaving a glossy sheen on the pink, plush skin. You can’t look away. “You want me to kiss you?” You’d never wanted anything more. It excited you that he’d asked, somehow hearing exactly what you were both thinking, it was exhilarating. He looks down at your own lips, almost groaning when he sees your teeth tucked into them, taking a bite he wished he could taste. You were the worst for biting your lip around him. He’d always wondered if you did it on purpose just to break him, convinced there was no way you weren’t doing it on purpose. He thought that maybe one day you would succeed in his destruction too. He was going to make that day, this day.

He leans in slowly and smoothly. He watches you for your reaction. Your eyes flash with panic and he almost backs away from you but no, not this time. His head tilts to the left, his lips inching inward. So close so unbelievably close. He was so near. He was certain that your atoms had latched onto each other before you did so knowingly yourselves. A moan falls between you. A deeply satisfied and most grateful moan. A years in the making expression of fulfilment. You thought if the moment ever arrived it may not live up to expectations, but you stay oh so still, for so long. You take in the sensation, the softness of his lips, the feather light pressure he applies, the taste of his last drink and the cigarette smoke emitting from the both of you. There’s nothing short of electricity. Your hairs stood on end; your stomach had erupted with every emotion a human was capable of expressing.

He takes it upon himself to cup your face in his hands even as he lets you slip away, your mouth retreating against both of your wishes. You see the look in his eyes. You freeze. You had never seen him so content. He wasn’t smiling, not even close, more like gawping at you, mouth open, cheeks burning redder than plastic solo cups scattered across the coffee table.

If you’d only seen his eyes you’d be convinced there was a grin beneath them. There was such a blinding twinkle in them you’d think a light had been flickered on inside and maybe it had. It was a realisation that this kiss was everything you’d both wanted it to be. His eyes had shown you a joy so lovely you wanted to bottle it and keep it forever. “You just kissed me.” It comes out as a whisper; all you could manage after he stole your breath away. He smiles so wide his eyes crinkle on the outer corners. His dimples sink beside his smile lines. “I’m about to do it again, try not to die or anything.”

This time you initiate. You grab onto the collar of his denim jacket, and you use it to reel him into you. His hands land on your hips, just resting there, just holding you, still unsure of the boundaries. You apply a pressure to your kiss, his head pushing back, your face following it. He whimpers. Mouth dropping open when he does. You don’t know what comes over you, you slip your tongue into his mouth the second he gives you access, a brave stride forward into even newer territory.

He retaliates, his teeth clash messily against your own as he leans in closer, nose bumping yours, hands slipping into the back pockets of your jeans bringing you inwards, cupping your ass. Your pelvis hits his, a distinct hardness present his jeans. You felt a flurry of surprise and a colossal amount of pride wrack your body. You’d gotten him hard just from your kiss. Nothing more. He’d officially ruined every other guy for you, and you sincerely hoped he knew that.

You pull away breathlessly, begrudgingly. Your ears are ringing. Your chest is thudding. Your head and heart not quite believing what they’ve witnessed. “You made a whole girl up, but you couldn’t just kiss me.” He wanted to melt into a puddle, his dreams had come true right there in your living room, he could scream with excitement. “Not my finest moment.” He manages to squeeze your ass rather daringly through the pockets of your jeans and he suspects that you quite enjoy it.

“You think?” He grimaces as he thinks back to it, anything more than a millisecond felt unnecessary and cruel. “You didn’t say anything either sweetheart.” He finds it in himself to smirk because he knows its damn true. He thanked whatever God there was for allowing him the strength to joke. “You had a hot date.” You remind. “Didn’t always.” You huff at his answer. “We’re stupid.” He nods in agreement. “That part is true.” He pushes his forehead against your own, locking eyes with you, you could get used to that. “I love stupid.” You shouldn’t have wanted to squeal so much at such a dumb sentence. It wasn’t him saying he loved you, though you’d enjoy spending the rest of the evening convincing yourself that, that was exactly what he’d said.

“Do you fuck stupid?” You hold your breath, mind catching up with your words. His expression was filled with intrigue. “Wanna find out?” You peck his lips just once, retreating from him only for him to reign you back in, lips smothering yours with a sigh. Your hands firmly grasp his collar, allowing you to have some control over his movements. His lips move effortlessly over yours, so soft, so warm, a little fuzzy with stubble coming through but not enough to irritate your soft skin. He’s like a breath of fresh air and the most potent aroma all in one. He smells like he always does, but it’s different, it’s better. He smells kind of like you now, vanilla vodka from your own tongue masking his previous scent. You loved that he smelt like you.

“Gotta get outta here.” You try to separate yourself, eyeing the stairs with no subtlety. “Oh, I think it’s perfect here.” He says, eyes roaming around the room, to the couch in particular. “You want our first time to be in here?” Even though you each knew where you were headed, it felt so much more real now it was spoken into existence. You aren’t really sure why you’re questioning it. It was private, cosy, the sofa folded out into a bed if you really wanted to create a more stereotypical or romantic environment. Though you’d argue pretty fairy lights took care of most of those concerns. Either way, it wasn’t the worst location you’d ever had sex.

“Okay.” You breathe. His grin begins widening from ear to ear. “Okay?” He checks again a little nod accompanying it. “Yes, okay.” You roll your eyes. He kisses you, forcefully but not overpowering you, not that you’d mind, not hurting you, just showing you how content he was. How happy he was to be here with you. You hardly notice you’d been stepping backwards. Your feet taking you involuntarily until they hit the couch behind you, your knees bending, sitting you down while Michael stood there glancing down from between your split knees.

He looks down at you, the light behind his head resembling the halo of an angel which was remarkably ironic since he was no angel. The wicked smirk on his face had alerted you of that. There was no more nervous little Michael pathetically in love with his best friend. It still existed deep within him but not close enough for his reach anymore. This was a man starved of touch. He was drunk on the sight of you. Drunk on the scent of you and the very thought/ image of what you’d look like for the rest of the night. “Pictured this moment so many times.” He says, shrugging off his jacket, letting it drop clumsily onto the coffee table. “You being underneath me more than I can count.”

You were taken back. You’d thought of him just as vividly as he’d thought of you. You weren’t taken back because you were grossed out or shocked by his admission in any manner. You were taken back because you wanted to hear more about how he’d imagined you. “How do you picture it?” You breathe steady. Your control astounds you. His lip twitches in amusement waiting for you to clarify. He knew what you meant; he just needed you to say it.

“When you think of me.” Your hand strokes over the couch cushions on either side of your thighs. “When I’m underneath you,” you pause to capture his eyes before proceeding. “How do you picture me?” He bends over, leaning down to capture your face in his hand. Just two fingers bringing your chin upwards. “You’re wearing a lot less for a start.” He finds it easy to slip into his typical role of dominance. He strokes over your cheek and continues his retelling. “You still look at me the same.” You linger on his every word. “Heart eyes, curiosity, maybe even a little bit of fear.” He releases your face from his hands. “Think we can take care of the first part?”

He stands upright, eyeing you with no attempt to remove an item of clothing off of himself. His eyes were attempting to undress you, but you knew eventually you’d have to do it yourself. You remain seated, leaning over to take off your shoes first. Your eyes just watch his own shoes, no tapping, no nerves at all. He always fidgeted when he was nervous. You let your eyes float up to look at him, his head tilts, no words spoken. You feel the weight of his impatient stare and work faster to remove the rest of your clothing. You unbutton your jeans with a speedy efficiency. You momentarily lift your hips to drag them the rest of the way down your legs and this time you do notice a breath hitching in his throat. He wasn’t as cool as he’d lead you to believe.

He crouches down, squatting before you to throw your jeans across the room. He watched you like he’d never seen you before. Like he was an alien creature learning everything he needed to know all at once. He watched you with a curiosity that made you squeeze your thighs together. He wasn’t your Michael anymore. He’d shifted and you think you liked it. “No, no, don’t be shy princess.” His hand rests on your knee, a static shock gripping you. He’s captivated by you, clothed and unclothed. You wonder what he means, whether you needed to take off more. You go to take off your shirt before he takes your hands. “Open your legs sweetheart, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

He guides your hands to your thighs, depositing them and removing his touch once more to lean back and watch the show. You’d waited too long to be shy and timid now. You spread your legs, the click of your hips letting you know when to stop. His fingers flew to your core. Your lips parting drastically fast. “Not even dripping for me.” He drags his finger over your clothed slit. “You make me wait this long and you aren’t even wet for me.” You feel guilty. You must be. You’d felt so damp, so needy. You felt a coolness washing over the wet spot in your underwear the moment your legs were spread. He had to be toying with you.

“I’d think twice before you argue with me.” There was gravel in his tone. He doesn’t even look at your face, too busy hooking a finger into your underwear, slipping it to the side to get a better look at you. He drops to his knees, no longer squatting, you’re not sure if he’s getting comfortable or succumbing to his urges. “You’ve been hiding this pretty little pussy from me.” His finger slides through your wetness, collecting it before bringing it to your lips. You eye it sceptically. “Go on.” He nods, finger remaining in place. His eyes follow your lips. Your turn to impress. You lean over mouth opening wide your tongue poking out to lick over it. Your eyes meet his and you see his serious expression wavering. “Tastes good?“ He asks, eyes becoming less harsh and more loving. “Think I should get a taste?” You ponder it, the possibilities, you wanted to, wanted his tongue but you ached for more.

“We don’t have to go any further.” His character broke, a softness in his tone, your Michael returning. “Want to, really want to.” You slip out. “Promise?” You smile. “Gotta have you.” He smiles back. “Oh yeah?“ You nod and he’s like a kid in a toy store. He works to pull his shirt off over his head. You reach for bis belt buckle as he stands, making quick work of undoing it before tugging his jeans down over his thick thighs with a struggle. Your mouth begins to water when his pulsing cock reaches eye level. Your hands go to stroke him, he pushed his hips involuntarily into your hand. You know you shouldn’t indulge, you’d be punished for it greatly, but it was right there. It was needy for you, hot to touch, dripping. His tip was just begging for it.

“Please.” You whimper. “Please what.” He tries not to drop dead at the vision of you struggling to close your pretty mouth at the thought of him taking it. “This how you want me?” He asks. “Don’t want me to take your sweet little pussy?” You heavily debate it. You wanted him anywhere you could have him. “Can’t decide?” He strokes your cheek sympathetically as you struggle. “Quick taste.” He grants you. You nearly squeak with excitement. You gently pull his boxers down, cock falling out, thick and heavy. You let his underwear stretch over his thighs, too eager to lick him to remove them completely.

You kitten lick across his length, and he growls. “Don’t tease me.” His cock twitches when your hand wraps around it. He sighs loudly as you drag it over his length. “Yes, just like that.” You feel encouraged by his praise, grateful for the guidance and encouragement. You’d always worked harder with a little praise, in every aspect of life. He guessed that. That even in this state you’d do just about anything for a gold star.

His own hand meets yours, taking over. “Open your mouth.” You do as you’re told, lips parting, his cock rubbing over your bottom lip back and forth before you stretch out your tongue to taste more. “Good girl.” You whine at the name, sparking excitement and a shudder from him. “Like being called that?” You nod, hips shuffling on the edge of your seat. “Open wide.”

You expect him to edge himself in, taking his time as you stretch your lips around him. “Gonna be a good girl and let me stuff your mouth?” You can’t do anything but whimper, he pushes deeper, cock reaching the back of your throat. There isn’t room for you to make another sound. He has to force himself to take a breath in respite. You’re so warm, so tight. You were always pretty but with his cock down your throat, your pretty eyes looking up at him like he was some kind of god in need of worship, it sent him fucking feral and he needed you choking, he had to know what it would be like. He pulled out before pushing back in, further than before, his dick twitching when you gag involuntarily, throat convulsing.

“Too much? Dick too much.” You throw yourself forward, nose hitting his pelvis, his cock slipping deeper, bending into the crevice of your throat. It takes all of your strength not to gag again and completely reject him. He soon saw to that. His hand pushes your head to stay in place. You’d often wondered what he’d do in a scenario like this, head pushing was never one of your predictions, you were pleased that you were wrong. You grip his thighs, nails biting into them. It wasn’t too much. It was a lot, but it was good, he needed this, needed your throat to fill. You had to do this, for him. Always for him.

“Shit, wanna remember this forever.” Your glance up spaced out to see his phone hovering above your head, snapping a shot of himself balls deep in your mouth, spit dripping from the corners of your lips. “So, fucking pretty.” He released his hand from your head, letting you retract away, a line of saliva stringing between you and his cock. You gasp for as much air as possible before he speaks. “Wanna lie down?” You shake your head, and he fights a laugh. “No?” You shake again, unable to speak eloquently after the bruising to your oesophagus. His hand lifts your chin. You look quite pathetic down there. You knees apart, cheeks red, hair messy, mascara running, a slice of heaven for his eyes only.

“You have something else in mind?“ You nod. He decides to take it easy on you, your throat took a beating for him, where he’d usually be bothered by lack of verbal communication, he could afford to let it slip this time, only for you. “Show me.” He commands. You lift from your knees without a shred of support. You take yourself over to the couch, kneeling down, hands bracing the back cushions, your back arching, ass lifting into the air. He laughs with excitement. “From behind huh.” He lurches forward, hands smacking your cheek before rubbing soothingly over the stinging flesh. “Look so hot right now.” His other hand joins him in kneading your skin. “Need these panties off honey.”

He lets you remove them yourself, slipping out of your position to make it happen before returning. You assume he’d removed the remainder of his own clothing before he slots himself behind you. He leans over your back, kissing sweetly over your spine. You feel so safe with him, so excited too. “Tell me you want me inside you.” He breathes across your ear, hand traveling down, fingers tracing your spine, dropping further to your ass, down further still, cupping your cunt in his hand, sending your hips to grind over his fingers. “Tell me you need me.” He whispers hotly. Your head is so fuzzy, so much happening and all at once. “Say it.” He pushes again. “Tell me you need me inside you.” He rubs his cock over your ass, before slipping it between your legs, thrusting inward, rubbing across your cunt, you were almost in tears. “Tell me how you want your best friend to fuck you.”

You grip the couch. “Need you so much.” You choke. He hits your ass. “Try harder.” You moan. “Need you inside me. Need you to stretch me.” He hits again, even if you’d done better this time it wasn’t quite enough. This was years in the making, he had to make it worth it, wanted to replay your sounds before bed every night as if they were his favourite song. He’d put enough thought into it after all. “I ache for you Michael.” You sound as if you’re about to cry. He only feels a smidge of guilt. “Always wanted you, always needed you. You have to. Please I need you to.” He strokes over your back, rubbing circles in as you get worked up. You don’t know why it hit you like that, tears, actual tears. You sniffle, holding them back. “Are you crying?“ He’s not mocking you, he actually enjoyed hearing it, you so caught up, hungry for his body that you’re crying without it.

Maybe he was a monster for enjoying it. He’d hated you crying until this moment. It was always heart wrenching to see you break over things out of your control. This though, this was different. This was you on the brink of collapse. Your cunt clenching thin air, ass wiggling, nails pinned into the cushion to support you as you lost all composure. You were so cock hungry for Michael Clifford that you were choking back sobs. He’d be a fool to deny you.

He pushes the tip of his cock into your pussy. You let out a gasp of excitement and gratitude for his pity he took on you. He tries his hardest to keep his tough facade, the one that wants you ruined, staining this couch, screaming the place down. You squeezed him so tight. You were undeniably wet, a cavern of an inviting warmth and solitude. He had to admire you, taking him so well, not a sound peaking from your lips. “Such a good girl for me.” His hands slide over your hips tugging them back over him. His cock pushes right into you, no room left to move. He feels constricted so trapped.

He’s burning inside you, pushing you to your limit, causing a deep ache in your abdomen. “So much babe.” He wiggles his hips, you let a sob slip out. “Too much?” He rubs circles into your hips. You nod profusely. You were so disappointed in yourself. You thought you’d be perfect for him. You thought he’d fit you like a puzzle piece. You thought he was made for you. There was a fatal flaw in his design, and it hurt you to think about. You’d never be enough. He was too big.

“You can take it.” He pushes forward, a yelp releasing from you. “Driving me fucking crazy.” He pulls back and you breathe heavy, relieved that his intrusion had ended. He never intended to hurt you, he wanted to test your limits sure but not hurt you, you deserved better than that, even if it would have been fun for him to push. “Gonna fuck you really good.” He rocks his hips, pelvis bumping into your rear end, skin hitting skin, wetness crudely squelching.

He was so nice inside you. He wasn’t too thick, his length made up for that. You liked him inside you. You always wondered what it would feel like. Wondered if it would be awkward, fucking someone you’d known so well. You knew you wouldn’t be his first, knew he’d racked up some experience along the way and you certainly understood why. His authority and his precision. His thrusts were methodological, they were planned, had a rhythm to them that only a musician could mimic. This was his own routine.

“Feels so nice.” You strangle out a moan. His cock twitches at the sound of your voice. He grunts to cover it, pissed off that he couldn’t keep to his dominant exterior. Part of him wanted to fuck you slow, enjoy the time with you, give you the love you’d always deserved. The rest of him wanted to pound you, yank on your hair, leave you bruised inside and out. He couldn’t pick. “Want it hard.” You speak. He wonders if he spoke aloud instead of inside his head. “Harder baby please.” He had to; you’d begged him.

His hands grabs fists full of your ass. He makes you ride his dick, your hips pulling back over him, he slowed his own, he wanted to watch you bounce, watch you take control. “Fuck yourself on my dick.” You do it immediately. You shift on your knees, leaning you back against his chest. He slips his arms around your waist. His lips kiss your shoulder before he takes a brutal bite sending your pussy fluttering around him. “You like it when I bite you.” You sigh helplessly, your hips rocking back, taking him as you want him, dick hitting you where you need him. He bites you again and this time you cry out. “That’s it baby.” He licks over the fresh wound. “Scream my name would you?“

You couldn’t focus on anything but the burning sensation between your legs. His cock was filling you; you’d stretched to accommodate him, and you’d felt him in the fiery pits of your pleasure. It should have been enough to make you cum. Why wasn’t it enough? He surprises you. “Not enough for you, hmm, my cock not doing enough for my greedy girl.” You hated to admit it. “Trying so hard. So hard.” He laughs gently. “I know angel, squeezing so hard, using my cock. You just want more. I can give you more.” Your mind races to possess solutions. All pausing when a wet digit circles your other hole. Your pussy clenched in reaction.

“Oh. I see.” He’s amused. It’s as if every wish he’d ever made was being granted by your bodies acceptance of him. He could do anything to you, and you would take it. “You’ve been wanting me here this whole time.” His thumb dips inside and your hips push back into his hand. You’d never seen yourself trying this, but with him, anything, you’d give him any part of you. “Oh my god.” You tighten over his cock, and he almost finishes. He removes the thumb, circling again before pushing inside. You clamp down he’s losing vision. “Such a filthy slut, needing both holes filled.” You are in a state of utter bliss. This was all you’d ever wanted. You were transported, not even in the room but floating somewhere in the clouds.

You’d never felt so full. Your pussy was drenching his cock so badly you were surprised he hadn’t slipped out. His thumb pumping in and out of your ass had sent your stomach twisting, your butterflies swarming. You loved it. It felt so different to anything you’d tried before. It was an awakening, an entirely new pathway to explore.

You were on the cusp of your orgasm the more he played with you. He knew it too. He decided to switch his thumb for his index finger. He pushed it in, feeling his pulse through it as you squeezed. He then inserted another finger. “Oh god.” You screamed. “You’re doing so well baby.” He pumps his fingers in and out with a speed matching his hips. “So, fucking full.” You can barely grip the couch; you didn’t have the energy. You were like a rag doll, and he had full control over your body.

“I’m gonna cum, gonna cum so fucking hard.” You were seeing stars, so lightheaded you could drop at any moment. You’re shocked as it hurtles towards you. Its more intense than anything you’d ever felt before. “Gonna cum on my cock?” You cry. “Yes, yes, please.” He’s giddied with excitement, giddy with pride. This was it, the greatest moment of his life, he was going to make you cum for him. “Fuck, fuck.” Your walls constrict, trembling. “Oh my god, Michael, Michael.” You desperately try to grip something. His spare hand grips yours, fingers lacing together with your own as you tighten a fist.

“Fuck baby, cum for me, give it to me.” His lips peck at your shoulders, he’s trying so hard not to cum himself. You cumming hard, gripping him like that, it was too much. He had to hold his breath, clutch your hand as hard as you’d held his. “I’m cumming fuck I’m, shit baby I’m gonna, do I pull out?” You want him inside you, want his cum leaking out of you. You really want it, but you weren’t protected. “Gonna pull out.” You cry when he leaves you. “I know baby, I fucking know.” He’d have to get you on the pill first thing tomorrow morning.

You take it upon yourself to turn around, facing him, mouth dropping to his cock without hesitation. “Mouth, quick, give it to me.” You wrap your lips around him, batting his hands away. He goes to cover his own mouth. His cock twitches, veins bulging, cum shooting onto your tongue, coating it with a warm, thick liquid. “Jesus. Fucking. Christ.” He bites his hand to suppress his vocalisations. You let his cum trickle down your throat, licking up whatever you couldn’t quite catch. His hands brush your hair from your face, his hips still rocking into your mouth, giving the last drops of his orgasm. “You’re fucking amazing.”

He drops to his knees before you, pulling you into his lap while he sits on the ground. You wrap your arms around his neck, head touching his. His arms lock around your back as he kisses you, tongue collecting his own juices from yours. Even though he’d just been inside you, he would never feel close enough. Your sweat drenched bodies could not keep him away from you.

He tastes himself with an erotic satisfaction. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He pecks. “You know that?” You shake your head. “Gonna show you, every day, every god damn day how pretty you are.” He kisses once more; he’s obsessed with kissing you, needs it like water. “Can’t get enough of you.” His one hand cups your cheek. “Think I’m in fucking love with you or something.” You snort a laugh. “Thought we were friends.” You play. He’s grateful to hear your voice. To see you recharging, gaining energy.

“Best friends baby. Don’t stick my dick in normal friends.” Your laugh is angelic to him. “Didn’t feel very platonic when you screamed my name anyway.” If that were anything to go by, he’d have fucked half the world. “You never made me take me my shirt off.” He didn’t expect those to be your next words. “Is that a problem?” You shook your head, not completely satisfied with his response. “Why?” He rolls his eyes, even when you’re latching onto him, butt naked, in his lap, you still manage to bother him with inquiries. It was so uniquely you.

“Why do you think?” He’d be intrigued to know. “You’re not a boob guy.” He laughs this time. “Not, not true.” You peck his lip affectionately. “I like you in green.” Your heart stops. He likes you in green. Green. He likes you in green. What the fuck does that mean? He helps you out, dying as he watched you figuring out what he meant. “When I first met you do you remember what you were wearing?” You stared at him as if he’d spoken another language before closing your eyes and thinking back to it. It was jeans and a top, your favourite top at the time. It had frogs on it, you remembered how he laughed about them because they were poorly illustrated.

“Ask me my favourite colour.” You’d not even answered his last question, now he wanted you to move to the next. He just smiles at your confusion, your eyes opening, clearly irritated by the games he was insisting you played. “Go ahead, ask me.” He leans back on his hands; you still sit comfortably in his lap. “What’s your favourite colour?“ He grins. “Green.” You furrow your brow. “But I thought it was red or black.” He almost always wore those two. He shakes his head. “Ask me why.” He continues. “Why green?” You obey. “Because it’s your favourite. Because you look pretty in it. Because you wore it the day we met.” Green frogs, they were green frogs! “Do you love me in green or just love me?” You’re so quiet as you ask.

You feel a wave of intense emotion flooding your shores. He doesn’t answer verbally but somehow you felt like he had. “Seriously?” His grin was so wide, you don’t think you’d ever seen him this happy before. He thought he was so clever too. “Feel like I always have, you must know that right?” You really, honestly, just didn’t. All this time you’d wasted wanting him to notice you, see you as something more than a friend, someone to confide in and yet, all this time he’d done nothing but notice you. Down to the details on your shirt, the cleanliness of your converse and number of freckles dotted over your cheeks, he had noticed you, you’d just been too blind or stupid to see it.

“Jeez, I have to make some calls.” He pushes his forehead against yours. “Oh yeah, right now?” You nod. “Mmhmm, gotta cancel all my dates.” He snorts. “What you gonna tell em?” His thumb begins to trace swirls across your hips. “Something bout a drunk hook up at this killer party thrown for another girl.” He groans. “Please, shut the fuck up.” He cringes almost dropping to lie on his back, bringing you down with him. “Maybe I’ll also add that the guy who wanted to throw said party, was actually in love with someone else the whole time, you know add some drama, some suspense.” He’s cursing your name, he deserved the torture sure, that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“You didn’t think to bag it?” He loosened his grip on your arm as if he could better defend himself if he did. “I thought we were gonna smoke out here, you bring me to the woods in the late afternoon, all kinds of things floating around in this tiny brain.” He gestures with his pointer finger to his own temple. You start to pout, your pace slowing as the rain does. “You’re too cute when you pout.” You knew that. “It was very refreshing.” He admitted, to make you feel better. “You looked real pretty splashing around.” You tried to hide a smile as he described you. “But then you bent over, and you can’t blame a guy for thinking.” He threw his head back dramatically taking a deep breath as he relived the memory. “Nice panties by the way.” Your hand swatted him. “You told me you couldn’t see them through these shorts!” You went to get him again, but he ducked out of the way just in time, you were shocked he hadn’t tripped on the tree trunk beside him. “I lied.” A half grin half smirk sat upon his face.

“You’re a nuisance, you know that?” He smiled down at you triumphantly. His hair damp, curls sticking to his face, it hadn’t bothered him in the slightest, he just let it frame him. His t-shirt was wet against his skin, the only remotely white shirt he’d owned. You could see his tattoos just poking through the thin and nearly translucent material. Your top must have been just as bad, if not worse, a thin, green tank top to accompany your white shorts. Just a subtle glance down and you already spotted your nipples poking through, you bit your lip as if you could control them, or even his gaze which now fell towards them just as your own had. Two minutes in the cool air and your body was giving you away. “You love that about me.” He stepped in close, arms slipping around your waist. Eyes focusing in on your chest. “For me?” He teased.

Your skin was prickled with goosebumps, whether from the air or his fingers, you weren’t entirely sure. You laced your own fingers together, around his neck as you stood on your tip toes to reach him. “Gonna kiss me?” You breathe, tilting your head back to capture his eyes as he too, tilted his face. “I was thinking about it.” His hands stroke over your hips. His eyes, so big, so round, just taking you in, you no doubt looked a state, knotty hair thrown over your shoulder, skin being kissed by rain drops falling from branches of the canopy up above. He thought you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen; your smile could make flowers bloom. He leaned down to capture your lips sweetly, perfectly.

It always felt like time had stood still when he kissed you like that. It was the smile he gave you beforehand, letting you know he couldn’t have been happier if he’d tried. It made your knees weak, made your heart throb. Something about his fingers delicately tracing the skin of your lower back also made your legs squeeze together, that was nothing new, no matter how sweet a moment between you could be, there was always the simple fact that your body would need him in every way and in every place that it could think of. You would always need him.

While he kissed you, the rain picked up again, cascading faster than it had the first time. Your head was buzzing, lips on fire, wanting nothing more than to sink further into his arms. Calum groaned into your lips as you tried to pull yourself away from him. “No, no, no, come back.” His lips chased after yours, his body too, hands slipping from around your waist with a struggle. “Need to keep dry remember?” You nod to his pocket, it was as if he’d forgotten, though he probably had, too drunk on your kiss. Sometimes it was like he was on another planet after you’d touched him.

“Shit.” A flash of lightning sent you surging forward into his chest. He was quick enough to catch sight of you falling, bringing you close, coating the tops of your arms with his hands, rubbing over them as reassuringly as he could manage. “Hey, you’re okay.” Even if he weren’t completely aware of why you were struck with the fear, his only instincts were that he needed to protect you in any way that he could. He placed a kiss to your temple to bring to you back to him, while your eyes still aimlessly looked around for the next flash. You had to count between each one to gather the distance, see how much time you had.

The floor felt as if it was vibrating beneath you. Your chest had started heaving more than it had when you were running even. “Let’s get you home.” He took your hand instead of your wrist this time and he walked with you instead of ran. Even though there was more urgency now that he’d spotted the storm, he didn’t want to push you. He knew to be tender, kind and patient with you.

You were scared, always had been, never liked storms, probably hated them more now than when you were a kid in fact. It was just one of those things you guessed. You knew it couldn’t hurt you, knew it wasn’t likely, but the sound, the overstimulation, the deafening roar, the feeling of the ground rumbling about to swallow you whole, you hated that. Sure, your other friends could listen to music, could focus on a book or film, you couldn’t do that, couldn’t fixate on anything but the thunder until it died down and it was a damn shame, Calum loved storms.

He made fun of you at first. Thought you were joking when you told him you still hid under the covers sometimes. Then he witnessed you through a storm, a short one, merely a few minutes. It was enough to make his heart swell and have him swear to protect you from the next one and anything else in this world that could make you tremble as easily as that. He never wanted to see you scared, not if he could do something to calm you. 

You were about 5 minutes out, the rain coming down heavy, almost pelting you like thousands of tiny bullets. The ground beneath your feet, once dry dirt, now pools of sludge. Your white trainers could never be considered white again. Your legs were also filthy, half the forest floor sticking to your calves. At the rate you’d been running, you weren’t even cool anymore, you felt like the heatwave was back in action, cooking you alive.

You were half relieved, half agitated when you spotted the trailer. The thought of being cooped up in a tiny space when you felt so unbearably warm, you wished you could last out here. There was also the fact that the thunder would be just as loud in there as it would be stood out here, the thinnest walls. You were apprehensive to say the least. “Shit, left all the windows open.” He let you go, dropping your hand softly before running ahead so fast you thought he might leave track marks in his wake. He ran straight into the bedroom to close the window.

You followed in after, far more calmy, depositing your shoes, admiring the damage before following suit. You go to close the windows at the other end of the trailer, noticing just how dark it had become in there. The lights were on, the curtains were open, but the sky was so grey, so gloomy, it engulfed the sun. Even with the concern, you shut each window you saw, pulling them tight and locking them, all except for the bathroom window, which was broken, had always been broken and probably would remain broken till the end of time since his stubbornness had say in the matter. Just because he bought the trailer for a vacation, didn’t mean he took care of it.

When you headed back into the kitchen the lights started flickering, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach again. You latched the windows closed, jumping when the lights went out entirely and bolt of lightning hit the forest you’d just been in. You were so startled you crashed your hip into the counter. A thundering of footsteps came for your direction, arms wrapping around you, he’d been listening out for you just in case, so worried about you he didn’t think he’d take a breath until he was back by your side. “Hey, power’s out, I saw the lightning, you okay?” He tried to hide his panic. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the trees, you even thought that you saw smoke. A few rapid blinks and you knew you were seeing things, but it had been close, far too close.

He played with your hair, pulling you closer into his chest. “I’ll close the rest of the windows, you wanna stay here?” His tone with you with was so quiet and precious, for a man so full of life it’s hard to believe he had a side like this, maybe before you came along he didn’t even realise himself that he had one. You shook your head silently, the thought of being away from him, not happening. “Wanna come with me?” You nodded, eyes still floating back towards the wood. He kissed your temple, breaking you away before heading back to the spare room with you closely behind him, closing the window with one hand, stroking his thumb over your own with his other. You found it hard to be scared when he tread so carefully, doing everything in his power to soothe you, even if it was hard for him.

When you’d first gotten together he didn’t really know how to be there for you, he’d never had a good example himself, no one looked out for him that way, he had to learn from you, for you even. He picked it up quite quickly, he'd liked the challenge, maybe even knew he’d never get another chance like this, with someone like you, someone so good, so pure, he’ll never know what you saw in him back then, could only be grateful that it lead him to who he was now, new, and improved, better for you and for himself. He loved you, he hoped you knew it too, hadn’t actually told you yet, was thinking about it, not quite found the moment yet but he would, he’d get there, especially when you looked at him all doe eyed and in awe of him. He fell to pieces when you did that.

Once the windows were all settled, you could hear the rain again. The thunder thankfully seemed like it was a couple of miles out now, less to worry about. It was just the power cutting out to keep you busy. “Maybe I should check the fuse, or the generator or something.” He offered as if you had anything to say on the matter, no expertise in the area at all and you highly suspected he was the same. “Go for it big boy.” You pat his cheek smiling. “Light some candles while I go?” You stroke your chin with you finger as if to ponder the idea. “Might do.” He pecked a kiss to your forehead before heading over to the door, slipping his boots back on. The rain was thrashing it down outside. “Here we fucking go.” He groaned before heading out.

You closed the door swiftly behind him to prevent the water flooding inside, leaving it on the latch for him. Luckily some candles were already dotted around the place, bought with the idea of freshening up the place, despite the wicks never having been lit. The thought had counted at least. You couldn’t help but think of him rushing to the store to figure out a way of making the trailer more accommodating for you, a bachelor pad no more. He’d look at every option, every candle, every spray, even considered using the air fresheners you hang in your car since it was the cheapest option available, but he decided on candles, on making an effort just for you and you smiled at the thought.

Once finding more of the candles, all notably vanilla scented (your favourite) you set them up around the living room, lighting a couple while you listened to your boyfriend yelling outside about something or other. You didn’t need to see him to imagine his tantrum, arms flailing, hair thrashing around. He probably kicked the generator 5 times before he even yelled about it. To your surprise, the lights did flicker back on momentarily before dampening out, unable to make their minds up. By the time you’d lit the last candle the lights remained on, lovely.

When he came back he was soaked to the bone, dripping like he’d stepped right out of the shower in his clothes. You ran to grab a towel from the bathroom while he stripped his shirt and tossed his boots again. You walked over, dabbing the droplets of water from his cheeks, smirking up at him. “Damn baby, who got you so wet?” He rolled his eyes, pulling you into him, dropping the towel to the floor. “You, all you.” He rubbed his soaking hair all over you, shaking it out like a dog, making you squeal in response to his attack. “Stop, Cal, stop it.” You try to push him away but despite his slim build he was far stronger than he looked.

“You feeling okay?” He checked in, eyes finding yours. You brushed some of his curls back out of his face. “You’re the one soaked through.” He leaned his face into your palm as you stroked his cheeks gently, he was such a lap dog, his eyes often reminded you of one, just a puppy not a boy. “Yeah but the storm and all.” You leant in, pressing your lips onto his softly, him instantly sinking into your touch, you got him every time. “Never better.” You kiss him again, pulling him in even closer, your body starting to heat up, like the candles lit around you.

Your hands traced over his happy trail, up his stomach, resting on his pecks. His muscles twitched under your gentle touches. His skin was cold, soaking wet but needy for you still. You decided you needed him too, needed to thank him for protecting you the way he did. He deserved a treat. Your hands sank down, now fidgeting with his belt buckle. He smiled into your lips, not even trying to hide his excitement, knowing exactly where it was going, or where it would have gone, if the thunder hadn’t returned with a vengeance. You nearly bit his lip when the flash and the instant crashing sound shook the trailer underneath you.

“Fuck sake.” You groaned. “Worst timing ever.” He found himself cursing the universe. “A few more minutes would have been nice.” He continued yelling, even holding out his arms as he spoke, attempting to make you laugh. “Come and sit down.” He nudged you forward, towards the sofa. He quickly grabbed a dry pair of clothes from his room before returning with a blanket in hand. He lay himself down on the sofa with you slotting just beside him, back pressed to his chest as held you close, humming in your ear to distract you the best he could.

You found yourself shaking, partially from the dampness of your clothing, but more from the freight. You had a feeling you wouldn’t be settling down for a while, not without help at least. “Can we smoke?” You sit yourself up, back facing him, he continued to rub soothing circles into your bare skin. “You sure? Do you think it will help?” He knew you could handle it, you smoked often enough but he didn’t want you feeling worse, more panicked even. He wouldn’t forgive himself if you had a bad trip. “I need it.” You sigh. “Okay, I’ll roll for us.” He sits himself up without much more convincing, placing a kiss to your shoulder before pulling himself off the sofa, back down the hall to his room where his stash was hidden.

He called from the bedroom. “Want a shirt to wear?” You didn’t need to respond before he continued. “Yeah I know, stupid question.” He just wanted to keep talking to you, wanted you to know he was there, that there wasn’t a second of the day where he didn’t think about you or need to hear your voice. He also wanted you to know that he loved spending time with you, especially when you were sober, he didn’t need weed to enjoy your company. He never thought he could find so much comfort in another person without additional help.

He came back into the room, nearly having to brace the kitchen island when he saw you’d stripped your vest off right there in his living room. He threw down whatever he’d been carrying, not giving a damn about his weed now that his two favourite things were out in the open. He cupped your breasts from behind, you barely even flinched at his embrace. “Right here where anyone could see you.” He huffed in your ear. “Is nothing sacred?” He hums softly beside your ear, hands squeezing your breasts, fingers rolling over your nipples that he’d been dying to pinch since they poked out in the woods.

“You wanted to fuck me in the woods a minute ago, open didn’t bother you then.” You retort. He gasps dramatically, letting a breath fall over your bare shoulder. “Would have kept your shirt on.” You roll your eyes, “just not a lot else.” He tugs on your earlobe softly, a heat flooding down from his teeth, over your body, his touches starting little fires, you were unsure you’d want to extinguish.

“Gonna give me that shirt?” You try to turn in his arms, it takes every ounce of energy he has not to strip you bare. “No, I quite like what you’re wearing, no need to hide from me.” He hooks his fingers into the belt loops of your shorts, tugging you into him. You found yourself gulping as he kept the contact, kept holding you. Your chest was just seconds away from brushing against his. “Think I’ve been a bad influence on you.” He rests his forehead on yours briefly before ducking down and kissing you like he’d wanted to do every second of every day since he met you and it never got any less exhilarating.

You just fit him, you matched his energy, or you tamed it when he couldn’t quite manage on his own. In your own way he’d say you’d saved him, saved him from himself mostly, from shutting people out, believing they couldn’t possibly care about him, that wouldn’t wanna stick around. You couldn’t do anything but stick around, you were like glue, glued to him no matter what. You would stay. That’s what you did, what you always did, you stuck it out and you stayed around. He had never known someone so fiercely loyal in all of his life until you stepped in out of nowhere turning his whole world upside down.

Something in him, something about this kiss, this moment, getting you through another storm, like getting your whole relationship through one, he had to tell you. It was now or never; this was the moment. He drew his lips from yours, he felt evil for watching your pouting lips chase his, your eyes still closed. “Come back.” Even with your chest as bare as anything, you were the cutest thing he’d ever seen in his life. “Promise me something.” He says. “What?” Your eyes open slightly amused but nothing else to tell. “Promise me something.” You poke him. “Heard you the first time dummy.” He was bottling it. You were even cuter with your eyes open, ogling him like he was something so magnificent, which you’d argue he was. “Fuck.” He was chickening out.

He stepped away for a minute, turning his back to you before facing you again just as swiftly. You stood with your arms crossed over your chest. “Can’t get your words out, chest too distracting for you?” You coo, enjoying how flustered he was, you had absolutely no idea at all what he was going through. “I’m being punished, I just know it.” He mutters, making you arch your brows with curiosity. God you were cute when you were confused.

He threw you his shirt, finally being able to take a steady breath once you were covered. But then he saw how it fit you, tight over the chest, over your hips, loose everywhere else, barely reaching your midthigh. How was that thought somehow more distracting than you being half naked? The thought of your curves being squeezed by his shirt, your breasts pushing against the material of his shirt, you wearing his shirt, his shirt touching you. “I think I love you.” He blurted out as inelegantly as possible.

His hand smacked over his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to see your reaction, always expecting the worst. He felt so undeserving. He could have planned this, made it special, made it something. You sat yourself down on the couch tucking your legs beneath you as if you were processing the new information. As you toyed with the bottom of his shirt, fingers tugging at the frayed edges, you speak in a steady tone. “Well, I know I love you.” You expect to feel the hot flush of embarrassment bracing your cheeks but to your surprise you don’t find it. You’re as calm as you’ve ever been. If only his heart could stop pounding enough for him hear that in your voice.

“Shit, you love me?” He’s at your side again, his favourite place on this earth. “You really love me?” He eyes are so uncertain, so desperate to find the answer in your own eyes. His hands cover yours, pulling them into his lap. Now your heart was rocketing, his damn eyes, they sucked you in like a chocolate whirlpool and you were ready to drown. “I really, fucking love you.” You spot the smirk, the dimples sinking in his cheeks. You squeeze his hands to push your words in deeper, as if you’d even needed to, he’d been replaying it in his head ever since it left your mouth. “Well, I fucking love you more.” He cringed, scrunching his face up when he said it. “Steady on.” You tease.

A couple of hours later, you’re spooning again, tangling limbs on the couch. “You good?” He fights the urge to laugh as you shuffle around beside him. You were the biggest fidget when you were stoned, so many thoughts and so much to do with such little time to do it. “Sleepy but I can’t get to sleep.” Even through his high he can’t avoid melting when you whined like that, like a little kid, kicking your feet together like some kind of cricket. The sweetest cricket he’d ever met might he add. He’d keep you safe in his pocket if he had to. “You can’t sleep, you’ve gotta stay up with me.” He wraps his arms tight round your hips the best he could in your position. “I’m not good enough for you baby.” You roll over to face him, noses pushing together, completely sharing each other’s space, interconnected, tethered, everything he could want and more.

“More than good enough.” You mumble, pupils dilated as you gawp at him. “Just tired.” He says, watching you carefully. “Just tired.” You repeat quietly. “My girl just had a busy day?” His voice is just as soft as yours had been, barely above a whisper. “Your girl?” You shift your arm, bringing it up between you, your palm reaching to press against his face, holding it lightly. Your heart still pitter pattered when he referred to you like that, his girl. The words whirled around in your head like a siren.

His smile was wide, eyelashes fluttering, eyesight flicking from your own eyes then down to your lips and back. Words could never describe just how beautiful you looked to him right now. He could see your every freckle, every line, dimple and even pore and yet he loved you more for it. “My pretty girl.” You smile at his words triumphantly, stroking your thumb over his cheek. “You’re pretty too.” He smiles again. “Yeah?” He runs his hand affectionately over your hip, not inherently sexual, just a comforting stroke.

The storm had felt so far away now that you faced him. “The prettiest.” You lean in to kiss him and he nearly squealed with excitement. He had always loved that you would kiss him first. He’d never have believed you if a year ago you told him he’d be here with you, he had felt so truly blessed to be in your orbit, even just in the same town as you but basking in your glow was heaven to him, this was far greater than anything else life could offer.

“Love you so much.” He muffles between kisses. Your heart feels ready to burst, you’d nearly died the first time he told you, then again the second, you’d have to get used to this for the sake of your health. You couldn’t wait to embrace it though. “Wanna get to bed?” He pulls his lips away just long enough to ask before returning to you. You sigh into his lips, hand moving from his face to his hair, tugging on it lightly, stirring him even though it wasn’t intentional. His hand slid from your hip to your thigh. He tugged it, moving it to rest across his waist while you lay side by side. Your pelvis strategically pressing into his.

You hum into his lips, struggling on what to focus on, his hand tracing your thigh, moving beneath his shirt you wore or maybe his lips tenderly colliding with yours, his stubble coming through starting to scratch at your chin. Maybe even his heart thumping against his chest that you could feel from the closeness. If he just rut his hips the tiniest amount you’d be gagging for it. He got you so worked up and for what?

“Never wanna be away from you.” You sigh, almost giving into your urges, pulling your head back, tilting to the side to watch his face as he tried to find the words to respond. “Just wanna be in your arms.” You continue. He just smiles, a lopsided, happy smile as he watched you, fascinated by the way your mind works. “All the time.” You push on. “It’s actually ridiculous Calum, I just want to be glued to you.” He snorts a laugh. He knew you probably meant it too. You weren’t clingy as such just affectionate. He was your person, your best friend, your everything. You lingered on his every word and bated breath. You just adored him, you always had and suspected that maybe you always will. You just wanted him to know, anywhere in the world was an awful place if he wasn’t there with you. He’d felt the same. He wanted you glued to his side for eternity, and he’d bargain with anyone to make it so.

“You’re my whole world.” He says, giving into your string of sappy comments. You let a satisfied and dopey smile find your lips. “You’re my universe.” He gasps. “You outdo me.” You peck his lips. “Carry me to bed.” You give him the best pleading eyes you can manage. He crumbled instantly but not before rolling his eyes at your childishness. He found it too adorable and endearing, so much so that he could not decline your request even if he’d tried, which he wouldn’t ever dream of doing. He carried you into his room bridle style. Your feet bumping into a couple walls as he manoeuvred through the trailer. He lay you on the bed carefully before standing and stretching. He’d wondered the time, you’d been so spaced out, so lost in each other, it was hard to register what hour it was, what day, week or even month it was if he was being completely honest.

While he checked his watch you shuffle onto the left side of his bed, your side, he’d never sleep on it even when you weren’t there, it was all yours, for you alone. You pout when he takes his time to join you. “Is it just me or is it getting warm again?” He glances down at you, about ready to fan yourself with your hand. “Want me to bring the fan in sweet?” You nod happily, sinking into his bed or at least feeling as if you were. Your body felt like it was floating and falling simultaneously. Your perceptions muffled by the drugs. You were getting so warm too. Now that the storm had passed, the humidity and heaviness in the air had returned, creeping in to suffocate you all over again. The fan had tried its hardest to cool the room but as your boyfriend shuffled into bed to lay beside you, it was dreadfully apparent just how sweaty the evening would be.

He slid his arm around your waist, pulling your back right up against his chest. He had the audacity to moan when you accidently pushed your backside against his now apparent hard on. Usually when you said it was an accident you never meant it, it was a little lie, but this time you seriously hadn’t meant it. His moan had struck a chord within you though, letting your mind wander into the gutter. Just cuddle. You’re sleepy. Just cuddle. It’s too fucking hot to fucking fuck. 

“No, no baby, I’m all hot and sticky.” He buries his head in your neck, his hair sticking to you just as much as your own was, sweat wrecking you both, it was unbearable. “You promise?” He playfully nipped at your neck, a little harder than intended he’ll admit. “Babeeee” You dragged name out, whining. You’d wanted him, he’d gotten to you but the heat, you were doomed. He continued kissing over your skin, tightening his grip around your waist. “You don’t like storms.” He kissed again. “Just tryna distract you baby.” You laugh but you lean into his touch, unable to deny how nice his lips had felt dragging over your skin, how the tickle of his stubble was slowly destroying you. “But it’s so warm and the storm ended hours ago.” You try and fight him. He chuckles, “yeah, cause you’re so damn hot and hmm might come back, you never know.”

You allow yourself to roll your eyes. You want him, hell you always want him, there isn’t a minute of the day where you don’t think about him but the heat, the sweltering heat, he was lucky he’d gotten a cuddle from you, if you weren’t so needy while baked you’d be on the opposite side of the trailer right now. “You’re a menace.” He pinched your ass as the words leave your lips. “A minute ago, I was your universe.” You scoffed before retaliating. “My universe and my menace.” He wasn’t fazed at all. “You’re damn right I am, now you gonna turn over for me or am I gonna take you from behind?” You sigh, already riled up by his words, finding yourself turning over in his arms without any more convincing, meeting his cheeky grin, and dishevelled mane of curls. You loved it when he took you from the back, he gripped your ass, pounded into you till you cried, he loved it when you cried. Such a pretty crier when he had his nails so deep into your flesh you’d felt the sting in the shower for weeks.

“Was kind of hoping you’d stay the other way.” He half winked at you. “Take it or leave it.” Take you or leave you more like. Your hands were already threading through his hair, some fight you put up there. “Fuck, when you say it like that, how can I refuse?” His lips were already finding yours, his nose pressed right up against your own. You were ready now, you’d come around, you’d wanted him. All the teasing throughout the day, finally becoming worth it. It had been such a long day.

The temperature was unbelievable, the humidity even more so, you’d never been so damp in your life and unfortunately it wasn’t all down to him. “You already hard?” You ask, not needing a verbal response, just grazing your hands over the bulge in his underwear, struggling to fight a smirk. He hums into your lips, you feel his eyes flicker closed, his lashes somewhat beating against your face. “You’re not the only one hot and bothered.” He wanted to joke but you knew he was fragile.

He slipped his hand between your legs without much warning, payback for how’d you’d touched him yourself. He tried his best to remain in charge. You gasp and he captures your lips in his. “Hmm need you.” He hums. “Let me fuck you, please baby.” You’d say you were surprised at his neediness but sometimes he was so weak for you, he’d even get down and beg on his knees and he loved to do it too. “You that wound up?” You tease. “Thought you wanted to soothe me?” You reach for his cock, tugging it from his boxers, he whimpers as you grip his length. “Just an excuse then, you just wanted me?” You rub his length over your clothed cunt, pushing your underwear to the side. “You coulda just asked angel.” You rub him over your entrance, tying to prevent a moan escaping from your own lips, to avoid supplying him with the satisfaction.

The weed had hit you hard, always did when the temperature was so high. Just him pressed against you when you were clothed was killing you but this, this was so much more. Not the first time you’d fucked high, definitely wouldn’t be the last but it felt good it felt different, you just felt more. “Fuck baby.” He forces his forehead against yours. “Can’t you wait?” You know you’re pushing it; he was needy but not enough to forget his place with you, he owned you after all. He grit his teeth. “You’re getting real confident baby.” He bites down hard on his own bottom lip. “Learnt from the best.” You sink him into your slick folds, lips parting fast, as you tighten involuntarily around him. This was it, his second favourite place in the entire world, inside you.

“Shit, do you have to clamp so hard?” You shudder as he takes over, pushing himself all the way in, manoeuvring himself to lay on top of you. “Can’t help it, so fucking big, gets me every time.” You’d thought you’d relax yourself more with the drugs, but no your senses were heightened, you felt it all, he felt so big. “Been hard all afternoon thanks to your antics.” You gasp. “I’ve been a good girl.” You smile as angelically as you can without your face contorting with pleasure. “You’re a fucking liar.”

He hovers his face over yours, his hair falling down into it, they looked good grown out, but it was so inconvenient right now. You reach up pushing it back for him, brushing it behind his ears. He could do with a hair tie; you swore you’d give him one every time, but you never did. You notice his lips following yours, he’d mistaken your leaning for something else and it made your heart leap. “Damn, thought you were gonna kiss me.” You pout sympathetically. “You know I want to, just had to tame your hair first.” His turn to pout. You latch your lips onto his, he immediately pours his tongue into your mouth, coating your own. You lean up from your pillow, pushing your face further into his, him tilting his head back. He pulls his hips away before throwing them into you again. He wasted no time quickening the pace. “Fuck, baby.” You cry, snapping back from his lips. “Thought you were gonna go easy on me.” He laughed, “where’s the fun in that, fuck you like you deserve hmm, make the most of you.”

He grabs at your hips, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, “oh, so deep, fuck.” You throw your head back, fighting every impulse in your body not to cum right there. He licks a stripe over your neck, leaving you stickier than before. “Like that.” He hits your ass sharply, jolting your hips upwards into him and you swear you feel him right in your stomach. “God, baby.” He fucks into you at a new pace, your moans for him driving him into you faster. He felt it too, he felt how far he was, how much of him you’d taken, and he’d be lying if the drugs hadn’t forced him to the edge himself.

He had no idea how long he’d last, no idea if he even wanted to last, he wanted you dripping with his cum, wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen, knocking you up, keeping you for him and him alone, untouchable, God you’d look so hot too. Maybe a conversation for the future, he didn’t wanna scare you away so soon. He only just confessed his love for you if he came clean about how he’d planned his life with you long ago, you might run for the hills. It was more along the lines of him scrawling down his hopes for you in the future on a scrap piece of paper anyway. He had time to perfect it before actually sharing it with you. He would share it though, in time.

You were sweating hard, sticking to the sheets, you’d need one hell of a cold shower after this, maybe multiple if you wanted to feel anything other than sticky ever again. “God baby, so fucking good.” He snaps his hips at a faster pace, you almost feel pain, you almost want to feel pain, be unable to walk for a couple days, have to tell your friends you have cramps or something. “Fuck you so good hmm.” He pecks your lip, bringing you back round to him. “Got you drunk on my dick.” You can’t even respond. “Shit your squeezing so hard on me.” You can’t even breathe, can’t say a thing in response. “Cat got you tongue?” he smirked down at you, you yank his hair back in response, causing a screech to roll from his tongue.

“Gonna play dirty?” He bites down on your neck hard; you wince under his teeth. He licks over the wound he’d just created, trying his best to soothe your burning flesh. “Gonna fuckin cum.” You gasp. You feel him smiling into your neck. “Bite me again.” You sigh. “Hmm?” You roll your eyes impatiently, not that he can see. “What did you say baby?“ He lifts his face from your neck, smirking at you, mischief in his eyes. He runs his index finger over your neck, you don’t even flinch when it hurts. “Bite me again and I’ll cum.” He pretended to think about it, flicking his tongue around his mouth.

You decided to up your dirty tactics, clenching down, squeezing him hard. His eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. “You’re such a slut for me.” You nod, not afraid of the title in the slightest. “You love it.” He locks eyes with you, his lips twitching up into a smile. “Love that you corrupted me, love that you have me cock drunk and begging for it every fucking time, even today, I chose to be little spoon I didn’t have to.” Even if the last part wasn’t intentional on this occasion, it certainly had been previously, so it wasn’t much of a stretch. He was almost surprised, but he knew you, he knew your game. He bit down on your throat again, you focused on his cock, how it stilled inside of you, how his teeth were drawing blood from your neck.

Him slowing all movement, somehow it stirred you more so. His throbbing deep inside of you. You just warming him, encasing him. “Can you hold it?” He slowly grinds his hips into you. Focusing so hard that he didn’t respond. “Baby can you hold it?” You ask again, hands cupping his face. Sweat was beading across his forehead and upper lip. You were certain you looked the same, glistening, and exhausted. “Why baby? So, fucking close.” He was so strained, body shaking with his orgasm denial. “Just wanna feel you.” You close your eyes, leaning back. “Like me this deep in you?” You nod, teeth biting into your bottom lip.

“Take me so well princess.” He was shocked he wasn’t stuttering. “So deep you’re gonna struggle walking.” The more he could speak, the more he could control his urges to move against your wishes. “Gonna have to tell your friends, tell them you can’t walk anywhere.” He sealed his eyes shut as you involuntarily squeezed him, just imagining the conversation in your head. You nodded at his words. “I’ll tell them.” He nods back. “Fuck, I don’t think I can hold off baby.” You understood, you were done waiting too. You kissed him in a hurry, lifting your head to meet his before he moved his hips, picking up a rhythm that would finish you both.

You groaned into each other’s lips, tongues swallowing the sounds. You felt your orgasm hit you like a train. The whole day had been one big teasing adventure and you’d not known how badly you’d needed it to end. You were surely going to collapse from the temperature and the inability to catch your breath, but it had been so worth it to come down like this, legs tangled together, him laying his head on your chest while you stroked his hair, both of you feeling the intensity, the aftershocks. You don’t think you’d ever fucked like this. You don’t even know if you could consider it fucking at this point. Not when you had loved each other.

“If another storm comes, you know, I’m just a phone call away.” He muffles out into your chest. “My big, brave hero. Gonna save me from them all?” You poke his nose with your pointer finger, him pretending to bite you as you pull away. “Every single one.” You feel him smile proudly against your skin. “We gonna sex every time too?” He lifts his head, grinning at you hopefully. “If you insist.” He moves himself, leaning up on his left arm, right at your side. He brings his spare hand to stroke your face, kissing you and then retreating just to watch your face, not for a reaction or anything, simply because he loved watching you. There wasn’t a single angle of you he hadn’t enjoyed. “Love you.” He lets out, holding his breath immediately after, the words still seeming so foreign in his mouth. He almost worried you’d never say it back, forgetting you’d already been through this just hours ago. “Love you too.” He smiles, flopping onto his back beside you, sighing with relief, he could get used to this.

You’d never heard a more desperate screech flow from your tongue before. He didn’t slip into you with ease, no, far from it. He’d pushed past the threshold of your entrance, no build up no teasing, not caring for the stretch or the sting of your hole feeling like it was tearing. Somehow the ache and the sensation that he was splitting you open was far more attractive than you’d anticipated. It actually turned you on that he’d been so big, his size too much for you to take even when you were worked up and begging him to take you just minutes before. Some people liked when their partners fit them like a puzzle piece, but you were quickly realising that your partner being too big for you was far more impressive, a much greater match for you. You had to work to keep him, work to take him.

You were soaked enough, your thighs sticky and wet from your arousal, being pent up for half the night on the back of your own actions but somehow, he’d still spread you to capacity and it was the most earth shattering realisation for you, the pain was good, the pain was beautiful. “So tight, thought you were gagging for it.” Of course, he’d noticed, he’d knit his brows in confusion when he had to force himself inside you, feeling your body wanting the opposite, to keep him out of you instead. “Didn’t need me that much?” You shook your head adamantly, trying to translate the opposite. He noticed your struggle to communicate, he could at least help you with that.

He’d pulled you right against him, your back pressed to his chest, both his hands digging into your thighs, pinning your skirt and you in place. He had to roll his eyes, the outfit you’d chosen, the flimsy skirt, sheer in the right lighting, you were planning this from the start. You’d chosen this skirt just for him, easy access to take you as he pleased. He’d seen the outline of your panties beneath the fabric the moment you entered the house even with how dimly lit it was. Where he was pissed at your sluttiness before, he had to commend you, loving the way you’d dressed specifically with him in mind, he’d punish you for it gladly, but it hadn’t meant his heart didn’t swell. His pretty baby, so keen to impress him, to get his reaction and approval. He couldn’t want you anymore.

Your legs were already buckling, your stance inelegant as your legs were slightly spread for him to sink inside you. If they slipped any further you’d be doing the splits and it had crossed his mind just as you’d been concerned about it. It would be sexy for him, sexy to push you to that limit but it wasn’t the best in practicality. He needed you standing as tall as you could manage. Your head was already woozy, feeling lightheaded as he was throbbing inside you, exactly what you’d wanted, to feel him so completely, pushing against your walls, no room to breathe but it wasn’t half intoxicating. He’d gotten you drunker than the alcohol you’d consume tonight, he always did, you were so dumb for him so weak. You cursed as you felt him in the pits of your stomach, solid as a rock. He was perfect, felt so perfect. The only issue was his stillness.

You’d adjusted to him, still clamping down on but not enough for him to prohibit his movements inside of you. “Fuck, do something.” You threw your head back against his shoulder, attempting to catch his eyes, to feed into him just how prepared you were to take whatever he was willing to give you. He just stood there, smiling, not in a happy way, more of an evil way, a wicked way, you’d forced him in here, ended his fun with his friends and now you didn’t want to pull your own weight. He couldn’t even fake his surprise; you were so predictable. You thought you had it all, thought you had it coming and you did, but not the way you wanted, bratty girls don’t get what they want, they have to work for it.

“Please baby.” You whine, still not catching onto his indecisiveness on how to handle you. You knew he sometimes fell for you if you gasped for him sweetly enough, tugged at his heartstrings with enough vigour to make him obey you for a change. It didn’t always work sure but on the off chance it did, you’d be the happiest. You’d secretly hoped he was feeling generous enough to give in, to look past your antics to get him in here. Tonight, wasn’t like that.

You saw him fighting to take a breath, breathing through his nostrils, visibly strained but with enough willpower to keep his eyes dark and menacing, to prevent the softness of his features. He loved is baby girl but right at this moment in time, you weren’t her, you weren’t even his, not the way you paraded around like you were free to do so, like you didn’t bare his bruises, his bite marks, even his necklace round your throat. You were nothing but an imposter, a slut, running around making a show of yourself. If you wanted to act like a slut you’d have to fuck him like one.

“Oh no, no, no, if you’re gonna waltz around here, desperately wanting attention then you need to earn it baby.” He bit harshly on your earlobe, enough for you to yelp and try to drag yourself away from the grip of his teeth. “You got my cock like you wanted.” He breathes hotly over your ear. He wiggled his hips, cock pushing against your walls so hard, no room for him to slide any deeper, you were at your limit, it even hurt but he didn’t care, no, he rut his hips in a few more times for good measure, his nails scraping over your thighs to relax him but send your pulse sky rocketing. He knew he’d been too big, knew he was snug there, encased in your heat with nowhere left to go. He knew you were trying your best not to convulse and clamp down on him purposely for sometimes you did squeeze, and his patience was flying out the window each and every time. He needed to stay strong. Needed you to see how much you fucked with him tonight. You can’t do that to him, can’t treat him like that, like he’s nothing. That’s your title.

“Fuck yourself.” He whispered across your ear as bluntly as he could manage. Your eyes widened and a groan fell from your lips. You didn’t want to, didn’t have the strength nor the energy, your stance alone was hard to maintain but to do all the work, that was cruel, that was too much. You were frustrated, trying your hardest not to stomp your feet in some pathetic attempt at retaliation. You’d got him in here, he was inside of you, why couldn’t he just move, why couldn’t he just punish you like you knew he wanted to? You groaned out and it was cut short when his hand slapped across your ass cheek hard enough for the sound to echo through the bathroom. “Can always finish up here, can finish myself off.” He started to retract his hips, his cock leaving you, you’d felt so full before, now hollow, missing a vital piece of yourself. You needed him, needed his cock to exist, you’d simply die if he moved away.

“Please, please, fuck don’t leave me.” You reached back behind yourself, aiming to grab a hold of him in any way you could, grab his belt loops, his jeans anything to tug him back to you. Your hands instead had found his dick, much to his surprise as it was to yours. You’d hate to waste such a marvellous opportunity. You slid your hands over his length, sopping wet with your own arousal. You’d had him dripping wet. He rutted his hips instinctively into your touch, his own posture wavering as you skilfully played with him. He closed his eyes for a moment, lips parting, breath hitching, God you felt good, your soft little hand grabbing him so rough, so tight, touching him the way he liked, you were playing him so good right now, so dirty. Fuck you were killing him.

It took everything for him to bat your hands away, gripping your wrists in both his own hands. “Act like a slut, get fucked like one.” He grunted into your ear sending a chill coursing down your spine.  You tried to fight a smirk as he pulled you back over him, bottoming out inside you again. You were satisfied, too content almost, he’d given into you, he was gonna pound you, you just had to stand there and take it, you could do that, right? That was the easy part, just had to stand there, be good for him, still for him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You just about screamed.

He’d switched your position, pushing your head right the way down, essentially bending you in half. His hands worked to cross your arms behind your back, ensuring they remained flush against you, unable to travel anywhere else until he was finished with you. Preventing you form playing anymore tricks on him. His other hand religiously held onto your hip, pulling you back over him, guiding your pussy over his cock.

He didn’t take it slow, not at all, he rocked into you, you felt your shoes start to slide on the floor, legs spreading wider, almost doing the splits as feared you might have while he fucked into you. He had little to no consideration for your predicament, if you were to fall that was your own fault as far as he was concerned. You could have waited, could have chosen a location with a seat, a bed, anything other than this but no, you’d needed him where you stood, you’d done this to yourself.

“Shit, so fucking good.” He grabbed you, pulling you back into him, fixing your position slightly, you whimpered, wanting to thank him for his assistance but you were too breathless, too far gone. He was far to kind to you, you’d weakened him. “This what you wanted?” He growled. You pathetically nodded. “Didn’t wanna fuck yourself, so I had to do all the work hmm.” You tried to respond; you knew a smack was coming your way if you didn’t but fuck, you’d wanted it. “So, fucking lucky.” You squeal. “Lucky huh?” He almost tilts his head in confusion even though you couldn’t even see his face right now.

You nod, catching your breath, speaking again “Lucky to get you, to feel you, you fuck me so good Cal.” He hummed a response; your words were always his downfall. Your voice had the pitch of an angel, mixed with the filth flooding from your tongue you’d made his cock twitch. “You don’t even deserve it.” He groaned, slowing his pace, this time taking long strokes, all the way in, almost retreating completely, then pushing back in again, cock angled upwards to push you to the edge. He knew he’d dragged it across your spot, he knew you’d be closing in on your finish if he kept it up, as much as he wanted you to cum, to fall to pieces from his generosity, he wasn’t sure if he was feeling that giving this evening and he’d certainly remind you why that was.

“You nearly made Luke cum his pants; you know that?” You shake your head weakly. “I didn’t, I swear.” He scoffed. “So, you didn’t sit on his lap, didn’t sit your pretty thighs over his?” You had done that, there were no seats left and he’d offered so kindly. He pulled your arms up, straightening your back out, stilling his hips for a moment. You were once again leaning against his chest. “You swear do you?” He knew you’d not bothered with shorts under your skirt tonight, knew you’d sat your almost bare ass down on his band mates leg.

He grazed his teeth over your neck, noticing a hickey that was fading to nothing, mustn’t allow that he thought, no wonder you forgot your place when you didn’t have a mark on you, no branding to show who you’d belonged to. You being so dumb, so forgetful, needed the reminder; he could do that for you, it would be his pleasure. He bit down on the soft skin of your throat, sucking vigorously, swirling his tongue over the indents his teeth had left in their wake. Your cries vibrated against his mouth, your vein also creating a pumping sensation in your throat, just below his tongue. A reminder of your life being so precious, right in his hands for him to play with.

 “Want you to show him who you belong to.” He hummed into the skin of your neck. His hands started to run gently around your waist, tucked under your skirt, roaming freely, groping at you wherever he could. He slowed his movements, coming to a complete stand still when his hand hovered over your lower stomach, more precisely, the bulge in the pit of it. He swore under his breath, an unusual response for him considering he usually let the world hear his foul mouth. “Fuck, I’m so deep in you.” He said to himself more than anything. He was shocked, he’d known he was big, known he was deep but had never pictured himself quite filling you there, never thought he’d feel himself pressing into your stomach.

It turned him on so much he felt his cock twitching, his eyes flew wide open with the realisation. He was going to cum. He was going cum, just from that, just from the way he was buried deep inside of you and the way his fingers had been tracing over you. He wanted to retaliate, to punish you somehow, your fucking fault for not fitting him, your fucking fault for not being able to conceal his length inside of you. You should do better, should try harder. He had to finish the fun he’d just started and for such a bratty little girl too. You owed him so very badly.

 “Baby I’m gonna cum,” He buried his head in the crook of your neck, not embarrassed exactly, he knew you’d never judge him, he could do enough of that himself. He wasn’t best pleased with himself, he wanted to destroy you, taint you, make you regret fucking with him but no, you’d turned him into a fucking loser with less stamina than a virgin. “God, look what you do to me.” He kissed over your neck; you hum under his lips enjoying any attention he was giving you. You’d felt an enormity of pride for his reaction, but you wouldn’t dare communicate that to him.

“Got me emptying myself so soon.” He shook his head disappointedly. His hands float around your front, searching for you, your clit, wanting to push you along with him. He shouldn’t even reward you, he knew that, but he’d be damned if he came this fast and never let you see the same opportunity. His eyes were closed, mouth still pressing wet kisses into your neck, you were startled, shell shocked at how he’d crumbled, one minute vowing to end you, the next shaking, cock about to explode.

You instinctively rock your hips back over him as his hands trace your clit, rubbing rough circles, just the way you liked, even better than how you did it yourself, unable to shy away from the over sensitivity since he hadn’t felt it himself. He just consistently glided his fingers against you, a perfect mixture of rough touch but preciseness. He sighed into your neck each time you twitched around him. “Gonna fuckin cum.” He moaned, head falling backwards. You were surprised he’d managed to hold it those few extra seconds with the way he was biting back his sobs.

He wanted to thrust his hips, to fuck his release so far inside of you, you’d be panicking the next day, wondering if it would take, if he’d ruined you for good. You’d never let him do that before, never even spoke about it, always had the unspoken understanding that he’d wear a condom or pull out the best he could. It had been fine before now. He’d never struggled with it until today. He was so desperate, he wanted to stuff you, wanted to fill you.

You’d been waiting on him to pull out, to stop his edging, him trying to finish you off just as he was about to finish himself. You couldn’t deny you’d wanted him to stay, wanted him to paint your insides, mark you up for good. You felt him slowly retracting his hips and in a state of panic you pushed yourself back over him, sending his hip jolting. “Finish inside me, please.” You rush, his hands released yours as he ran his fingers through his hair, stilling his movements just enough to halt his orgasm. Time was of the essence, he had seconds to consider your proposal. “Baby you don’t have to.” He tried to keep his tone as steady as he could, not allowing you to pick up on his willingness to take your offer. You had to be sure, you had to be clear with him.

“Thought about it so much.” You let out, hips starting to grind down over his length. It took every muscle in his body to keep him in place, not giving himself into the motion. “Need you to fill me.” You continue, painting him the picture of the perfect ending. “Want you to fill me, want you to cum in me so bad Calum.” You feel your thighs clenching at your own words, no doubt he felt it too. “Are you sure?” He asks as calmly as he can, hands caressing your hips the gentlest he’d touched you in hours. “I wanna cum in you so bad princess, you have no fucking idea what you do to me.” He pressed soft kisses into the stop of your spine. “Do it Calum, want your cum, want you to fucking ruin me.” He nearly emptied his load just at your words.

He shifted you, he held you close, and you pushed back against him, burying him deep, no space between your bodies at all. You still your hips, no longer moving yourself over him, instead just clenching down hard, forcing his release just from the sheer pleasure of being in you. “Fuck baby, fuck, take it, feel it.” His cock throbbed inside of you, hot spurts of his arousal shooting into you. You had to bite down on your lips, wanting to cry at how wonderful it felt. You were in heaven, him trusting you like this, wanting to give you everything he had. Your thighs clenched tightly together, trying to find your own release, so close, so turned on from him filling you, his cum dripping into you, oh you were nearly there, wanted him there, didn’t want him to move away from you. You wished he could stay inside of you forever. Wanted him to corrupt you permanently. “Fuck you’re turned on aren’t you.” He manages to spank you even through the exhaustion washing over him.

You nod and you whine, leading him to take action. His fingers speed up their assault on your clit. He loved how this was getting you off, never pictured how much you’d enjoy him fucking his release into you. If he could finish again he would, oh he knows he would. It was the hottest thing you’d ever done. He wanted to fuck you so hard, push his cum so deep inside you. He wanted you knocked up so bad. Shit, he was still cumming, still releasing as he thought about it.

He snapped his hips, thrusting into you the best he could now his cock was softening. “You want me to stay inside you? Want to warm my cock, keep it for another round.” He needed to feel you cum, needed your squeeze. You gasp as he attempts to thrust into you, cock so sensitive, still dripping, how was it that he was still dripping? Had he always finished this hard? No, no he hadn’t, he could honestly say that this was the most he’d ever given before.

You could have sworn some of his release had already started trickling down between you, leaking out down your thighs. “Like how full you are?” You sigh. You feel it, the heat, the butterflies, the eruption of chaos between your legs. “Can barely stand, knees buckling for me, you fucking deserve it.” He kept muttering, cursing, punishing you, his words were just as impactful to you as yours were to him.

“Don’t hold back baby, let it go.” You concentrated, really focused, his fingers were messy, but they were working for you, they were getting you there. You felt yourself letting go, so much pressure building inside you, you let a scream rip from your throat when you came, his hand covering your mouth, preventing your sound from traveling, cutting you off from taking a breath. Your thighs shook, your cunt pulsated, you felt goosebumps but at the same time, fire licking your skin.

With his hand over your mouth, partially blocking your nose, you couldn’t breathe, so oxygen deprived, you felt your eyes closing, body going numb, feeling heavy, feeling far away, out of your own grasp. He’d fucked you into oblivion, out of this world. He felt you going limp in his arms, immediately pulling you close. He pressed kisses all over your neck, your cheeks, begging you to come round, urging you. “Stay with me, come on, good girl.” He cooed, fingers even playing with your hair affectionately, his fear for your safety more important than the twisted dynamic between you sexually.

“Open your eyes sweets.” He shook you a little, panicking as to what to do, he knew you’d come round eventually, but it still shook him. You managed to squeeze his hand, letting him know you were okay, just spaced out for a second or two. He kissed your neck repeatedly, sighing into your skin with the relief that washed over him. You’d never quite blacked out for him before; you’d been close sure, but he never had to worry that you would actually collapse, struggling to come round for him.

“Scared me baby.” He squeezed you tight, his words hitting you hard, a pang of guilt flooding your body even if it was something you could never have prevented. “I’m okay baby, I’m good.” You reassure him. Your throat was so dry, so scratchy, but he’d loved to hear your voice regardless, it soothed him to no end, reassuring him better than your touch had. He was all for words of affirmation.

It took him ages to move you, too worried you’d drop the minute his hands left your waist. He couldn’t take his eyes off you while you straightened up, urging you to lean against the wall, lean against him if you had to. He was so whipped for you. He could laugh at how dumb he was jumping to fix your every need, but he hadn’t even minded. You might be a brat and a royal pain in his ass but you were his brat, his pain, he loved you.

You’d tried to convince him you were fine, stood up straight by yourself, counting how many fingers he held up because of course he was pedantic and untrusting enough to ask you the question in the first place. “Let me clean you up.” He mollycoddled you, if it was anyone else you’d hate it, but it wasn’t, you allowed him, seeing his need to leap to your rescue. He tears some tissue, cleaning your thighs, cleaning between your legs, your orgasm still sending your pussy into overdrive at each touch, your body trying to run from his hands.

“Really did a number on you.” He allowed himself to boast. He tossed the tissue in the bin, heading to wash his hands before helping you to do the same. He stood behind you as you washed your hands in the sink, watching you intently as you rinse the suds from your fingers while his arms wrapped around your waist, head resting on top of yours. He then stared at you longingly in the mirror, still concerned for you but mostly just infatuated with you and every single thing that you did. You were some kind of mage, he’d swear it. He came in here wanted to fuck you dumb, make you forget your name, forget his even, but he’d ended up forgetting himself instead, only knowing you, only feeling you, wanting to carry you home and tuck you into bed or something equally as mushy. You were all up in his headspace, hell you’d moved in so quickly he had a whole portion of his brain dedicated just to you, never to be open to anything or anyone else ever again.

He kissed your hair sweetly, you leant back into his touch lazily, your hands covering his as they rested on your stomach. You’d calmed down, felt the aching like you’d been thrown around, hips inflamed, burning you to the ground. You in yourself were content though, you were sleepy, you were dreading heading out of the bathroom and doing the walk of indefinite shame, but you were so sickeningly happy.  

You smiled at him through the mirror, finally allowing yourself to look back up to him, into him. His eyes were so large, brown pigment non-existent from the dilation of his pupils, the black space so prominent anyone would think he was some kind of demon but no, he wasn’t, he was just so in love, needed to take you in, the girl that made him crumble like no other could before. “You’re staring.” You smile as you say it,  your fingers starting to toy with his as they held you. “Am I?” You roll your eyes as much as you could manage. “Just so fucking cute.” He shrugs.

You feel your heart leap. “So, fucking in trouble too, don’t think I’m forgetting what you did just because you made me cum quick.” He kissed the back of your head with a kindness, but you knew to perceive his threat as anything but. He warned you playfully but there was enough intent behind it for you to know it certainly wasn’t over between you two. “Fucking perfect pussy, gets me every time.” He faked his disappointment, though if you were being explicitly honest, you knew he somewhat held a grudge but only against himself.