charli

The bass from the stage vibrated through the floor, through the soles of Billie's sneakers, up into her bones. She stood in the VIP section of the O2 Arena, surrounded by the people who mattered most—Ava, Jane, Quen, Odessa, her brother Finneas, Claudia, Alex, Rozzi—all of them packed together on the elevated platform, drinks in hand, eyes fixed on the stage. On you.

You were in the middle of your third song, the one that always brought the house down. The one where you changed into that bodysuit.

It was barely anything. A shimmering piece of fabric that hugged every curve, cut so high on your hips that the bottom swell of your ass peeked out, so low-cut that the valley between your breasts was practically on display. The material was sheer enough to hint at the dark circles of your nipples beneath. And when you moved—when you dropped into that slow, rolling grind that made the crowd roar—the suit rode up, exposing the crease where your thigh met your hip.

Billie's throat went dry.

She felt it before she could stop it. That familiar stir low in her belly, the thickening between her legs as her blood rushed south. She tried to shift her weight, cross her arms, do something to hide what was happening, but the baggy black sweatpants she'd worn suddenly felt like they were made of tissue paper. Her cock began to fill, pressing against the soft cotton, and she knew—knew—it was only a matter of seconds before it became unmistakable.

On stage, you dropped to your knees, arching your back, running your hands down your own thighs as you bounced in time with the beat. The crowd screamed. Billie bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted copper. Her dick swelled further, the head now clearly outlined through the fabric, a thick ridge that pointed upward and to the left. She tried to adjust herself discreetly, but her hand only made it worse, pressing the fabric tighter against the shaft.

"Whoa," Alex said, elbowing Finneas. He didn't bother to lower his voice. "Dude, did you know she was packing that much heat? Look at that thing. That's not just a chub, that's a full-on boner."

Finneas glanced at his sister, then quickly looked away, a mix of embarrassment and brotherly concern on his face. "Bro, keep it in your pants. Or everyone's gonna see. Seriously. There are cameras everywhere." He lowered his voice to a sharp whisper. "Mom would kill me if she saw this on Twitter."

Billie let out a strangled laugh, trying to play it cool. "Shut up, it's fine. I'm fine. It's just... the adrenaline. The lights. Whatever."

But it wasn't fine. Her dick was now at full mast, a clear, thick tent stretching the front of her sweats. The tip was so hard it looked like it might poke through. She could feel the weight of it pushing against her waistband, the way her balls tightened up against her body. She tugged at the elastic, tried to angle it downward, but it sprang back up immediately. The lights from the stage swept over the VIP area, and she could feel eyes flickering to her crotch, then away.

Ava leaned closer, her voice soft and teasing. "I mean, I get it. I'd be like that too if my girl was up there doing that." She giggled, bumping her shoulder against Billie's. "Don't worry, we're all friends here. But seriously, your girlfriend knows exactly what she's doing. She's looking right at you."

She was right. On stage, you had turned around, bent over, and were shaking your ass directly at the VIP section. The sheer fabric of the bodysuit pulled so tight. You glanced over your shoulder, caught Billie's eye, and winked.

Billie groaned. A real, audible groan.

"I'm not worried," Billie muttered, but her voice cracked. Her hands were clammy. She couldn't take her eyes off you as you stood up, spun around, and began to grind your hips in a slow, deep circle that made your ass bounce with each rotation. The crowd roared. Billie's cock twitched, and she saw a small, dark spot appear at the tip of her sweats—precum soaking through.

Finneas noticed too. He leaned in, his voice a harsh whisper. "Billie, for real. You're leaking. Go to the bathroom or something. I'm not kidding."

"I can't just leave," she hissed back. "She'll think something's wrong."

"Something is wrong," Alex said, grinning. "You've got a fucking fire hydrant in your pants and she's on stage spreading her legs like she's offering you dessert."

"Alex, shut up," Rozzi said, slapping his arm. But she was laughing too.

The song ended. The lights dimmed. Billie exhaled a shaky breath, her entire body trembling with the effort of not touching herself. She watched you take your bow, then blow a kiss directly at her. The crowd went wild.

Backstage was chaos. Crew members rushed past, the hum of the crowd still vibrating through the walls. The hallway was narrow, packed with equipment cases and people. Billie stood near the door to your dressing room, hands shoved in her pockets, trying to will her erection down. It didn't work. If anything, the anticipation made it harder.

And then you appeared, still in that bodysuit, glistening with sweat, your face lit up with post-show adrenaline. Your hair was damp, your skin flushed. The thin fabric of the bodysuit clung to every curve, the triangle of your pussy clearly visible beneath it.

"Billie!" You ran to her, throwing your arms around her neck. She hugged you back, but her body was stiff, her breathing uneven. When you pulled away, you saw it—the strain in her jaw, the way her hips were tilted back as if trying to hide something. Her eyes were dark, pupils blown.

You glanced down. The tent in her sweats was impossible to miss. A dark wet spot had formed at the tip, right where the head pressed against the fabric, subtle for the rest, but you recognized it the second you saw it. You could see the outline of the corona, the slight curve of the shaft.

"Oh," you breathed, a smile spreading across your face. "Someone had a good show."

Billie groaned, a low sound of pure misery. "Baby, I'm literally dying over here. I mean it. I think I'm going to pass out. My balls hurt."

You giggled and grabbed her hand, lacing your fingers with hers. "Hold on, let me just say hi to everyone. Then we can go."

You moved through your friends, hugging Ava, high-fiving Alex, thanking Finneas for coming. Claudia asked about the encore, Rozzi complimented your vocals, Odessa and Quen pulled you aside to talk about the lighting. Billie stood behind you, her hand still in yours, her entire body thrumming with tension. Every time you moved, the scent of your sweat wafted toward her. She could see the sheen on your skin, the way the bodysuit rode up your ass crack every time you bent to pick something up.

Finally, you were done. "Okay, let's go back to the hotel now."

The car ride was torture for Billie. She sat with her legs pressed together, her hands clasped in her lap, trying to think about anything other than the way your thighs had looked under those lights. The chauffeur was a professional—he kept his eyes on the road, his face impassive. But Billie couldn't relax. Her cock was still painfully hard, the head now fully wet, the precum soaking through her boxers.

You were scrolling through your phone, the glow illuminating your face. Then you stopped.

"Babe," you said slowly, a smirk curling your lips. "Look at this."

You turned the phone toward her. It was a fan video from the show, but the camera wasn't on you. It was zoomed in on the VIP section. On Billie. The caption read: "bro billie's about to put that to good use, wish we could see it."

In the video, Billie was visibly adjusting herself, the outline of her erection painfully clear against the black fabric of her sweats. Her hand moved, but it only made it worse. A few people around her were sneaking glances, laughing.

Billie's face went red. "Fucking hell. I'm going to kill them."

"Don't worry," you whispered, leaning close, your lips brushing her ear. "You're gonna put it to good use tonight. I promise."

The chauffeur didn't react. But Billie felt your hand slide onto her thigh, squeezing, and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning. Your fingers moved higher, brushing against the bulge in her sweats. The fabric was damp. She felt your fingertips trace the outline of her cock, from the base to the tip.

"So hard," you murmured. "How long have you been like this?"

"Since the third song," she admitted, her voice strained. "Maybe earlier. I don't remember. I can't think."

"Good." Your hand squeezed harder. "I want you to stay hard until we get to the room. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," she breathed.

You smiled in the darkness of the car, your hand remaining on her thigh, fingers tracing slow patterns. Billie squirmed in her seat, her cock twitching under your touch. The car hit a bump, and she jolted, the friction making her gasp.

"Easy," you said.

She shook her head frantically. "I can’t."

The hotel suite was all glass and marble, with a king-sized bed dominating the center of the room. The moment the door clicked shut, you pushed Billie against it, your body pressed against hers. She was taller than you, not a lot, but you had her pinned, your hand sliding down her stomach to the waistband of her sweats.

"Not yet," you said, pulling away. You held up a finger, a wicked glint in your eyes. "I'm in charge. Got it?"

Billie's breath hitched. "Yeah. Okay."

"You're gonna do exactly what I tell you. And you're not gonna cum until I say so."

"Fuck," Billie whispered, her hips bucking toward you involuntarily.

You made her undress slowly. First the hoodie, then the t-shirt, revealing the lean muscle of her torso, the curve of her hips. She was toned, her stomach tight, her shoulders broad.

When she pulled down her sweats and boxers together, her cock sprang free—thick, hard, the tip already glistening with precum. It stood at attention, curved slightly upward, the veins visible along the shaft. Her balls were tight against her body, heavy and full.

You circled her, running a single finger down the length of her shaft. She shuddered, her eyes closed. The touch was feather-light, tracing the ridge of the head down to the base. You did it again, and again, until she was trembling.

"Look at me," you commanded and she opened her eyes.

"Get on the bed. On your back. Hands above your head."

She obeyed immediately, crawling onto the massive bed, lying down with her arms stretched out. Her cock lay against her stomach, thick and wet, a drop of precum gathering at the tip. You climbed on top of her, straddling her thighs, still wearing your bodysuit. The fabric was damp from sweat, clinging to you like a second skin. You leaned forward, letting your breasts brush against her chest, and whispered, "I want you to watch me take this off. Slowly."

And you did. You peeled the straps down, one by one, revealing your breasts, your nipples hard and dark. The fabric caught on your skin, peeling away with a soft sound. Billie's hands twitched at her sides, desperate to touch. You took her hands and brought them to your chest, letting her cup your breasts for a moment before pulling away.

"No touching," you said firmly. "Not yet."

You shimmied the bodysuit down your hips, over your ass, your thighs. The fabric gathered at your knees, then fell away. Finally, you were naked, your pussy slick and glistening, inches from her cock. The scent of your arousal filled the air.

"You're so wet," Billie breathed. Her voice was hoarse.

"All for you. But you don't get to fuck me yet." You reached down, wrapping your hand around her shaft, stroking her slowly. Her hips bucked into your grip. The skin was hot, smooth, the precum making your hand glide easily. "First, I want you to eat me out."

Billie's eyes widened, but she didn't argue. You shifted forward, positioning yourself over her face. Your knees on either side of her head, you lowered yourself, feeling her warm breath on your thighs. Her hands came up to grip your ass, pulling you closer.

And then her tongue was on you.Warm, flat, dragging through your folds in a long, slow stroke. You moaned, grinding against her mouth. She lapped at your clit, circled around it, then sucked it between her lips. The sensation shot through you like electricity.

"Fuck, Billie. Just like that."

She obeyed, her tongue diving deeper, fucking you as you rode her face. You grabbed her hair, pulling, guiding her rhythm. The pleasure built fast, coiling tight in your belly. Your thighs trembled, your breath coming in short gasps.

"I'm gonna cum," you gasped. "Don't stop."

She didn't. She doubled down, her lips sealed around your clit, her tongue flicking fast. One hand came up, two fingers sliding into your pussy without warning, curling up toward your g-spot. You cried out, your whole body tensing as the orgasm hit you. Waves of pleasure crashed through you, your pussy clenching around her fingers, your juices soaking her chin. She kept licking you through it, gentler now, until you slumped forward, panting.

You slid off her face, collapsing onto the bed beside her. Her chin was slick with you, her eyes hazy with lust. Her cock was still standing, wet at the tip, a bead of precum rolling down the shaft.

"Good girl," you said, your voice hoarse. You crawled over to her, taking her cock in your hand again. "Now. I want to ride you."

She started to sit up, but you pushed her back down. "No. Stay like that."

She obeyed, her eyes locked on you. You straddled her again, not over her face this time, but over her cock. You lined it up with your entrance, the head pressing against your slick folds. The tip caught on your clit, and you both moaned. You held there, teasing, barely pushing in before pulling away.

"Please," Billie whimpered. Her whole body was shaking.

"Please what?"

"Please let me fuck you."

You smiled, then sank down.

The stretch was perfect. She filled you completely, the length of her sliding deep, hitting that spot that made your vision blur. You both cried out together—a raw, primal sound. Her cock pulsed inside you, and you felt her hands grip the sheets, fighting the urge to grab you.

You started to move. A slow, deliberate grind, your hips rolling in circles. The friction was incredible, the head of her cock nudging against your g-spot with every rotation. Billie's hips bucked up to meet you, but you slapped her thigh.

"Don't. I'm in control."

"Fuck, you're so—" She couldn't finish. Her head fell back, her mouth open, as you rode her. The sound of your wetness, the slap of your ass against her thighs, filled the room. You picked up the pace, bouncing on her cock, taking her deeper.

You reached for your phone on the nightstand, clicked the camera open. Billie's eyes flew open. "What are you—"

"Recording," you said, breathless. "So we never forget." You panned the camera down to where your bodies connected, the wet sounds loud in the speaker. Then you turned it to her face. "You thought she was the one in control? Look at her. Look at how desperate she is."

Billie's face was flushed, her lips parted, her eyes half-closed. She was panting, her chest heaving.

"Say something," you commanded.

"I—I need—" She swallowed. "Please, let me—"

"Let you what?"

"Let me fuck you. I need to fuck you. Hard."

"Not yet." You kept riding her, your thighs burning, your clit aching. The pleasure was building again, coiling deeper this time. You reached down to rub your clit, your fingers wet with her precum and your own juices. "I'm going to cum on your cock. And then—"

But you were losing rhythm. The pleasure was too much. Your thighs burned, your clit ached for more friction. Billie saw the crack in your resolve.

Without warning, she flipped you.

You landed on your stomach, a gasp escaping your lips. Before you could protest, she was behind you, her body covering yours, her cock pressing against your ass. She grabbed the back of your neck, pushing your face into the pillow.

"Change of plans," she growled, her voice low, different. Possessive. "I'm taking over."

She didn't ask. She grabbed your hips and slammed into you, all the way to the hilt. You screamed—a raw, broken sound—as she started fucking you hard, fast, desperate. The bed frame banged against the hotel wall. Her balls slapped against your clit with every thrust.

"That's right," she panted, her hand gripping your hair, pulling your head back. "You think you can tease me all night? Make me hard in front of everyone? Spray precum in my pants like a teenager?"

"Billie—fuck—I'm gonna—"

"Cum for me. Now."

She reached under you, her fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles. The pressure was perfect, her thrusts slamming into your g-spot, her fingers on your clit. You came undone, your orgasm ripping through you, your pussy clenching around her cock. You screamed into the pillow as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your whole body shaking.

She kept fucking you through it, chasing her own. The sound of her hips slapping against your ass was wet, obscene. Her breathing was ragged, her grip on your hips bruising.

"I'm close," she gasped. "Fuck, I'm gonna—"

"Cum inside me. Fill me up."

With a roar, she buried herself deep, her whole body shuddering as she emptied into you. You felt it—hot ropes of cum painting your walls, filling you, the sensation triggering another mini-orgasm. She pulsed inside you, her cock twitching, her breath coming in gasps.

She collapsed on top of you, both of you panting, drenched in sweat. The weight of her was comforting, her body pressing you into the mattress.

But it wasn't over. She stayed inside you, still hard, still thick. She shifted, and you felt her cock twitch again.

"Round two," she whispered.

She pulled out slowly, turned you onto your back, and spread your legs wide. Your pussy was messy, cum leaking out, mixing with your own juices. She knelt between your legs, took her cock in her hand, and smeared the head through your folds, collecting the wetness.

"Look at you," she said, her voice full of wonder. "Look at what I did to you."

She drove into you again, slow and deep. This time it was different—no urgency, no desperation. It was deliberate. She watched your face as she fucked you, watched your eyes roll back, watched your mouth fall open.

"I love watching you fall apart," she said, her thrusts growing faster. "I love that I can do this to you."

You couldn't speak. You could only lie there and take it, your hands clawing at the sheets, your legs wrapped around her waist. She leaned down, kissing you, her tongue sliding into your mouth as her cock slid into you.

"Don't stop," you managed to whisper. "Please don't stop."

She didn't. She fucked you through the next buildup, her pace relentless. Her hand found your clit again, rubbing in time with her thrusts. The second orgasm built slower, deeper, an avalanche threatening to bury you.

"Come on," she murmured against your ear. "One more. One more for me."

"Billie—I can't—"

"You can. Let go. I've got you."

And you did. The orgasm hit you like a freight train, your entire body arching off the bed, a scream tearing from your throat. Your pussy milked her cock, the clenching too much for her. She buried herself deep one last time and came again, her hot cum flooding you, adding to the pool already inside you. She kept thrusting, shallow, riding out the aftershocks.

Finally, she pulled out, collapsing beside you. Your cum-slicked thighs pressed together, the sheets a mess beneath you. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, just breathing, just existing.

After a few minutes, Billie got up. Her legs were shaky. She walked to the bathroom, and you heard the faucet run. She came back with a warm, damp towel. Gently, she spread your legs and cleaned you, wiping away the cum and sweat from your thighs, your pussy, your stomach. The towel was warm against your sensitive skin. She was careful, tender, her touch soft.

Then she cleaned herself, wiping her dick and balls, the towel coming away stained. She tossed it into the hamper and climbed back into bed, pulling you into her arms.

You nestled against her, your head on her chest, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin. The room was quiet now, the only sound was the hum of the city outside.

"Thank you," she whispered, her lips pressed to your hair. "Thank you for letting me ruin your pretty pussy, mama."

You laughed softly, the sound muffled against her skin. "God, I need to let you be more in charge, Billie. That was amazing."

She kissed the top of your head. "Any time. I mean it."

You lay there, tangled together, the warmth of her body seeping into yours. The hum of the London night filtered through the curtains. Outside, a siren wailed in the distance, but inside the room, everything was perfect.

Then your stomach growled. Loudly. Making you both burst out laughing.

"Room service?" you asked, your voice hopeful.

"Hell fucking yeah."

She reached for the phone on the nightstand, her arm stretching over your head. You watched her dial, her fingers moving lazily over the numbers. She ordered a feast—vegan burgers, fries, an insane amount of water—and when she hung up, she pulled you closer.

"Best night in a long time," she said.

"Best night in a looooooong time," you agreed, and snuggled deeper into her arms, ready for round three—or at least, ready for the food to arrive.