it’s the first show you’ve been to of their new tour. you’ve been working and unable to travel. so you’re all really excited that you are here, except michael. you guys got off on the wrong foot, and never recovered.

you can stand being around each other at group hangouts, but the two of you have never hung out alone. which brings you to your current point, you and michael are currently stuck in an elevator.

the power went out in the area, a huge lightning storm currently raging. you happened to be in the elevator, helping him take some of his stuff to his dressing room. he had the most out of the boys, and you were forced to help.

now you each have a guitar case, and there’s 3 luggage’s, and the both of you, crammed into a tiny elevator. these were not ideal circumstances.

you and michael sat a few feet apart from each other, neither of you saying anything since the shock passed, and realization set in. there’s an awkward tension in the air, you two have never been alone before.

“the guys are really happy you’re here.” you hear michael’s voice beside you, and you look at him. “yeah? i’m glad i got to come finally. i can’t wait to hear the new songs live.”

michael looks up at you, and you see the slightest smile on his face. “we worked really hard on them, they’re good ones.” you nod.

it’s silent for a moment, before you decide to speak. “what’s your favorite off the new album?” you ask, and michael looks surprised.

“i- uh, probably istillfeelthesame. i think the song is super fun to sing live. the fans love it too.” he says, as his hands are playing with his rings. sliding them off and on his fingers.

“i love that one.” you say, and he smiles again. “i guess we have something in common after all.” michael says softly, and now it’s your turn to smile.

“i guess so.” you reply, and lean your head back against the wall. “how long do you think we’ll be stuck for?” you ask, and michael shrugs. “could be a couple hours, it still sounds like it’s storming.”

“i think the universe hates us.” you sigh dramatically. michael stays quiet next to you. you look down at your knees, pressed into your chest, your arms wrapped around them. you tap gently on your leg.

“why uh- why don’t you like me?” you ask quietly, keeping your gaze forward. “i just, i wonder, what the reason is.” you hear michael swallow a gulp down. keeping his gaze down at his hands.

“it’s not that i don’t like you.” michael says, and then is silent. you wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. “then what is it?” you ask softly.

michael lets out a breath, closing his eyes. “we’re stuck in an elevator, is this seriously this best conversation you could think of?” he has a slight edge to his voice.

“you know, considering we’re the best of friends, i guess i do know plenty of things we could talk about.” michael looks at you, and you shrug. “oh. no. i guess not. because you have a problem with me for some reas-“

“i don’t have a problem with you! god.. could you actually listen? you’re insufferable sometimes..” he rubs his head. “oh, really nice of you michael.” you bite back. “you are the worst person i could’ve gotten stuck in this elevator with.”

“well thanks, i could say the same to you!” michael exclaims. you both sigh, slouching further down. “this is ridiculous (y/n).. we should be able to handle this. we’re around each other all the time..”

“you’re the one who made it like that!!” you shriek, and he sighs. “quit arguing with me!! that’s making it worse.”

“then tell me.” you say sternly. michael looks over at you. “dude, what-“ he starts, but you cut him off. “tell me what it is then, why we don’t get along.”

“i said i don’t-“ he tries to plead his case, and you stop him again. “no, it’s been like this since i first started coming around. there’s obviously something. i need to know.” your stern tone slips away, coming off more like begging this time.

“i..” michael sighs, breaking eye contact. “the boys and i, we had a dynamic. we were all friends..” you suck in a breath. “i’m your guy’s friend now too..”

“i don’t want you to be.” michael says immediately, and your facial expression falls. you figured there was a problem, but you didn’t realize michael hadn’t wanted you around at all.

“so what? it was better when i wasn’t around? you liked it better without me.” his eyes soften, and they look up at you.

“no. i can’t stand the fact that you’re, just, my friend. i liked you from the moment i laid eyes on you, but you’re our friend, you’re part of the group. that kills me..” he hesitantly adds.

your eyes widen at michael’s confession, shock rushing through you. “michael, i.. you shouldn’t say that.” you finally say. and he looks hurt. “why? i-“ he starts, and you cut him off.

“we can’t come back from that.” you whisper. michael reaches a hand out to you, slowly, hesitant. you nod, and he places a hand on your knee. “i don’t want to. i don’t want to pretend anymore. i want you to know how i feel about you..”

you look at his hand that’s on you, bringing yours up to lay gently over his. he looks over at you, and you realize how close you two had gotten. his face is inches away from yours now.

“what do you think the guys will say?” you ask quietly. “we’ll figure it out together, promise.” he says softly, and you nod.

“okay.”

“okay.”

michael’s hand slowly comes up, brushing your hair out of your face, and behind your ears. “you are so beautiful.. it’s so hard not to stare.” he whispers, looking around your face. you suck in a breath, eyes moving down to his lips.

he doesn’t waste anymore time, his lips quickly pressing into yours. the kiss is gentle, something you never thought michael could be with you.

it’s quickly over when you both hear the elevator door opening, the boys standing there. you and michael are apart before they can see anything.

“thank god! you guys are all good.” luke says, a sigh of relief. calum chuckles. “i’m just glad it wasn’t me.” he adds. ashton is standing there shaking his head.

“come on, shows about to start now.” ashton says, and you and michael stand up off the floor. you grab the luggage and guitar case again, rolling them out. “here. we got it, go get ready.” the boys say to you, waving you off.

Calum came to pick you up at your house in his car. He doesn't usually use it because he's not in town, but this occasion was special; he wanted to see you.

From the window it seemed that the natural landscape blended with the sky because of the speed at which you were going, the wheels producing a constant sound against the pavement.

The radio was on for a while until you realized that "Moving Along" was playing. You looked at him to see his reaction, but he turned it off before you could say anything. He pretended to look towards the window on his side of the car, but you could see his cheeks turn red. He was embarrassed, and it was too cute.

A sweet smile appeared on your face but you didn't say a word, there was no need, this was all you needed, Calum enjoying the time by your side.

You traveled for a while along the lonely road until you stopped on the side.

The confusion didn't last long when you saw his face come closer to yours and give you a kiss on the jaw. He was gentle, his hand resting confidently on your thigh, giving you that security you were used to.

The shade of the trees in the forest beside the road cast a cool shadow on the car, you could hear them when the wind shook the calm of the day. The green complemented the blue of the clear sky. It was midday and the world kept turning, but inside that car, everything belonged to you.

"Do you really want to eat? 'Cause I really want to eat you right now." His sincerity pierced you like a dagger, Calum's voice was low and deep at that moment, different from how you heard him on television.

"I think lunch can wait a little while." The nervousness was accompanied by a genuine desire to be back in his arms, especially after receiving a small taste.

Calum's hand, which was on your thigh, slid to grab your hand and bring it to his lips, leaving a firm and loving kiss while looking into your eyes. Maybe it was difficult for him to say "I love you," but this was his best way of showing it to you, being patient, affectionate, and protective.

After a couple of minutes of shared calm and silence, in an environment that, although practically outdoors, felt private, Calum approached and positioned himself above you, just a second before reclining the seat, you fell along with it.

"Can you do something for me, sweetheart?" Calum moved away a little, giving you space, you'll need it. "Turn around"

You looked him straight in the eyes trying to figure out exactly what he wanted, if he wanted to take you from behind he would have simply asked you, but this time he asked for something more, something in parts.

"'Kay..." Your voice trembled as you turned the seat around, ending up face down.

"Now get on all fours." Cal gave you orders while observing every part of your figure, he was clear about it.

Your body was supported by your palms and knees, but you didn't stay like that for long because Calum began to push your torso down.

"Okay, now just breathe and... lean back a little more." His hand moved up your back with a soft, warm pressure, pressing your cheek against the seat, while his other hand held your hips up.

The strength in your arms faltered until the upper half of your body was practically surrendered to the seat, the lower half remaining up, leaving your ass in Calum's view.

Your legs buckled, you tried to adjust yourself in that position, your knees would have slipped down the leather seat if it weren't for Calum's hand.

You heard his low laugh, "Hey, trust me." He adjusted you again, this time with both hands, his movements patient, not rough for now. "I'm going to lift your skirt and I want you to stay very quiet, okay?" And he did as he said, his fingers moving to hold the edge of your dress and lift it up.

When he lifted it and pulled it towards your back, you were exposed, but Calum wasn't shy. He knew what he wanted and he had to do it to get it. "I know you can be a little noisy sometimes when I touch you... I'll be gentle, I promise."

His thumbs began to caress your pussy from top to bottom over the fabric of your panties, each time his touch sank deeper inside, he could feel your folds opening naturally due to the stimulation.

It was more difficult to regain your composure in that situation, you tried to obey Calum, but every caress made you shudder and your legs tremble.

The tension only increased when Calum carefully lowered you. "Are you ready, babe?"

His voice was a private whisper that could have been lost in the ambient noise around them, but you heard it loud and clear, and for a moment you tensed up, could you really resist it?

You nodded, squinting without realizing it, you didn't think about anything else.

Calum unzipped his pants and unbuttoned them slowly; you had all the time in the world. Following that, you clearly saw him lower his boxers enough to reveal his hard cock.

But his expression seemed calm compared to yours, which was attentive to every detail and almost desperate to have a little. It was enormous; you didn't even know how it would feel if he put it all the way in, but you were willing to find out with pleasure.

Cal took it in his hand to place it between your folds and then just plunged it inside you at least halfway, just to see if you could take it. You trembled and moaned, but you endured it like a good girl, so in a slow move he began to push it in deeper and deeper, becoming tight and wet as your folds let it in.

Only then did you understand why he had chosen that position, he wanted to have you at his mercy. Your cheek pressed against the seat muffled your moans. It wasn't enough to have you kneeling or on all fours; he wanted you surrendered and exposed. Calum's hands on your hips and buttocks were heavy and warm, holding you closer or pulling you away from time to time, slapping you when he tried a little harder than normal to get in or out of you because of how tight you were even though you were wet.

Calum loved seeing how soft and malleable you were in his hands, he massaged and caressed your ass without a problem and that only turned you on more, his thickness had you delirious.

He wanted to kiss you and bury his face in your neck, but he'd have time for that later; for now, he was more than happy just fucking you.

Your feet trembled as you tried to maintain strength in your legs to avoid collapsing, because Calum lifted you slightly to penetrate you, but this made it impossible to fully support yourself on your knees.

Your heart beat even harder than when it was racing, keeping you in constant tension and anticipation, an expectation that was fulfilled slowly and painfully, something your numb senses could only feel to the core and let themselves go.

When rhythm and sweat had taken over both of them, their movements became more careless and direct. Calum's hands freely grabbed your ass to separate you and pull out faster, only to put it back in a couple of seconds later.

"Fuck, I can't..." you gasped, you didn't have the strength in your arms to get up and settle yourself, a thread of saliva escaped from your mouth.

"Just a little more, beautiful" It sounded broken, Calum was clearly affected too, his grip was getting weaker, he ran his hand through his hair but it was impossible to hide that he was losing control.

At one point, one of his hands slid down to your waist and pulled your body towards his cock. Cal wasn't trying to be gentle anymore, he just needed to break you somehow because you looked so good like that, a mess, with your dress wrinkled and your eyes clouded, so fucking beautiful.

You let out a moan mixed with your ragged breath, only the shiver that ran through you made you realize the trickle spilling down your thigh, Calum had filled you with his cum.

He didn't stop, he thrust it back in from behind, a wave of heat hit you, you tried to stay on your elbows but it was impossible, your body felt heavy and your legs trembled as Calum fucked you deeper, a drop of sweat rolled from your forehead to the edge of your jaw, you were looking face down with your forehead against the leather of the seat, your gasps hit the material uncontrollably, you were losing it.

"Yeah, you're doing well... keep going a little longer." But ach of his thrusts shook you and left you breathless, even he was having trouble keeping up.

After a couple of minutes he finally gave up, he stayed upright by pure willpower, otherwise he would have collapsed and he didn't want to bother you, it had already been enough to leave you full and sore.

From the way his body relaxed and the low moan you heard from him, you assumed he was finished. You just let out a sigh when he pulled out; suddenly you felt empty without the warmth of his cock against your walls.

"I hope you're pleased 'cause I'm completely exhausted..." He sighed, his voice was warm, even a little animated, he wanted to make sure you were okay.

"Yes, I just need a break... and a shower." You sounded hoarse and breathless as you struggled to calm your breathing. The sex was over, but you were still sensitive and clingy, and you weren't the only one.

You put your panties back on, although now they were wet. Calum saw everything perfectly as he pulled up his pants, his skin was glistening with sweat and still warm, you even could see the bulge between his thighs.

His heavy hand anchored itself on the car window handle, when it opened, a cool breeze entered along with the white sound of the wind shaking the forest trees, Calum's breathing began to calm down.

You turned around to get some fresh air and finally relax, falling heavily, with your hair a little messy.

"Okay, then... we'll go back to your place and take a shower before going to dinner." He didn't even try to hide his smile, his stupid, cute smile.

Your eyes softened with affection and a smile also formed on your lips.

Speaking of lips, he brought his lips close to yours to trap you in a kiss, he definitely wasn't planning on letting you go.

The heavy dressing room door closed behind him with a dull thud.

“Ashton,” you purred. You’d been waiting for the show to finish, perched on a small couch in the corner of the room.

“Baby,” he replied, moving to align himself with a mirror and finger through his dirty-blond curls. The warm spirals clung to his forehead and neck in an endearing and hazardous pattern. They were like honey, sticky with sweat, glistening.

The sweat.

The sweat hugged his meaty biceps, the nape of his neck, and the small sliver of skin visible at his lower back from where his tank-top was adhered to him by that same luster. The front read “feeling like a god.”

Your eyes devoured the expanse of his back; Ashton’s big shoulders, plush thighs trapped behind a layer of dark leather, and large, spanning arms all enough to render you useless to do anything more than imagine his body significantly less clothed. And significantly less far away from your own. You could partially see his face in the mirror. He was all smudged eyeliner and teeth (that shit-eating grin you couldn’t help but love). He went to turn around, apparently deciding his hair was a lost cause, but you found yourself closing the space between your body and his, desperate to feel and prove.

“Hey,” he started in a low, enchanted tone, yet ultimately just observed.

Your warm chest and stomach quickly became snug against his back; you wrapped your arms around his front, greedy hands pushing up his shirt and having it pool up over his chest. Those hands pawed at his soft abdomen, squeezing and letting go and then squeezing again. One traveled up and gripped his fleshy peck, his nipple being pinched inside the gap between your pointer and middle finger. He sucked in a breath, sarcastically asking, “‘someone miss me?”

You could only manage to answer with a weak whine and a quick, tighter squeeze of your arms around his torso, face pressed into his shiny neck and tongue barely pushed past your lips to taste his damp, briny skin. He shivered at the contact on his neck, bending slightly, having his wide palms hit the vanity in front of him. A couple of stray bottles of product and random belongings tipped over noisily at his weight. You pulled your mouth off him, then pushed your nose forward, nestling it in a grove of his neck and inhaling deeply.

Ashton let out a shuddering huff; you could physically feel his heart rate quicken with the way your hands were all over him, kneading and pressing and groping. He let a groan pass his lips, realizing you weren’t just congratulating him after a good show, you were evidently trying to find a way to melt into and devour him.

You focused more attention to his flushing nipples, pinching the newly red buds between your fingers with each hand and moaning quietly in his ear when he reacted with a jolt of his hips. You felt your way across the fine field of hair covering his chest, following the hair further, over and past his belly.

“Mmg… B—baby, what are you…?” He trailed off, too distracted by the way your hands frantically yanked at his belt.

“Needy, huh?” he reprimanded rather incredulously. His belly sat over his belt buckle with the way his body bent forward; your eyes fluttered shut involuntarily upon feeling his hands overtop of yours, aiding you in your pursuit to tear his belt off. Your mouth hung open ever-so-slightly, tongue damp and heavy.

Then, his belt hit the floor, and you made quick work of the button and zipper on the front of those devilishly tight pants. Your fingers shoved the fabric down feverishly, revealing the spot where his dark blond happy trail greeted his pubes.

“Takeyourshirtoff… please,” you tenderly demanded, voice all muffled as your lips were smushed against his neck.

“Fuck— okay,” he huffed; his persisting confusion with your sudden rapacious behavior was apparent.

His palms left the vanity and stretched over his head, pulling off his sweat-soaked tank top. With the motion his forearms and biceps were on full display, flexing and spanning. The ink lining them gleamed: large phases of the moon lining his inner forearms and a blacked out star decorating his bicep. He discarded the fabric randomly then met his own eyes in the mirror opposite. After a spell of feeling mildly embarrassed from facing such a vulnerable version of himself— blissed out, slack, jutted-out jaw, body being claimed and ravaged— his hazel eyes blinked then traveled and found your own. Your eyes were glassy and peaking over his broad shoulder, a disbelieving grin from his pink lips greeted them.

With his eyes drawing a direct line to your own, he watched your teeth clamp down on the junction of his shoulder and neck, and felt your hand massage his bicep. You perceived the way his hard, taut muscle felt projected under a layer of soft flesh. Your other hand, however, was significantly lower and more capable of making his head spin; your warm palm caressed his bulge over the leather restricting it. A noise clawed at the back of his throat but escaped as pitiful little bursts of air. And you would've thought he didn't have any water left in his body to sweat out, but a few droplets gathered at his temples and the side of his neck.

The sides of your mouth curled up around his flesh, teeth visible and crushing. His brows furrowed together but his eyes stayed trained on your face. Your teeth trailed down his bicep, often stopping to pinch down and feel his slick, briny skin fill your mouth. The salty luster and musk were fucking intoxicating; you felt crazy and addicted to dragging your tongue across his skin in a hazy, careless manner, collecting stray droplets and reveling in it.

“You’re so weird…” he chuckled, “Fuckin’ love that shit,” he muttered the last part under his breath, tongue in cheek, while he admired you worshiping him.

“Played such a good show, deserve it…everything— you’re so fucking hot,” you speak right up against his bicep darkly.

“Yeah, that right? M’so hot you needa touch me, fuckin’ lick all over me the second I step off stage?”

“Mhm, need to,” you nodded rapidly, finally dipping a hand into his boxers.

His chest constricted and his hips bucked forward, dick begging your hand for pressure and attention. You, obviously, obliged and exposed his fully-hard cock to the mirror. You admired the way your hand looked wrapped around it and squeezing; the tip was flushed an angry red, balls heavy and full, his dark blond bush was thick and unruly. You slowly dragged your fingers up his length, watching his foreskin squish up around the head with an open mouth, exhaling. You pulled down again and his bottom lip jumped in between his teeth with a hiss.

You babbled, finally pumping his cock in a steady pace; the pre oozing from his warm slit and dribbling down the side of his dick aided your efforts. “Sh…shit, Ash, look at you, baby, so big and hard for me…” you breathe. You observed his own eyes rake over his body and his fat, leaky cock— you swore you could feel him twitch in your hand. His ragged breathes and groans increase in frequency and intensity. That, and the way his hips shuttered and more and more pre-cum spilt from his slit, warned you of his pending orgasm. You peppered kisses on his bare shoulder blade and let your lips rest on his skin, the way you pant in time with your strokes causes drool to seep out onto his already shiny flesh. You took to the small kisses again, moving downwards. You felt utterly brainless, just wanting to drown in him, so you pressed further, nose running along the spot where his shoulder descended down into his armpit. You feel his back straighten, hands leave the vanity and arms press flush with his sides.

You kept one hand on his cock, taking to thumb over the head and paying it extra attention, and the other took hold of his wrist, urging him to allow you access.

He blinked, hips still chasing every movement of your hand.

“Babe— wha, no, I’m filthy.”

“wanna—needa feel,” you pouted. “Plea..please, just let me, Ash.”

He couldn’t contain the low moan that fought so desperately to slip past his wet lips.

“You’re a sicko.”

But you knew from that noise alone he’d let you do anything you wanted. So, you used your clutch on his wrist to pry his arm away from his sticky body, despite his half-assed efforts of shaking your grip, while moving closer to his side. He gave in, throwing a massive arm around your shoulders, allowing you to bury your face in the hair underneath his arm and feel the details of his body under your tongue.

“Such a dirty bitch…,” he chided, laughing lightly and in a patronizing manner. He even pressed his hand firmly at the nape of your neck, hauling you forward and keeping you there. Every breath you took you inhaled him, his essence, something so divinely him. The musk, the liquid manifestation of his hard work and talent.

All the while, your digits held firmly against his dick. You pulled in long, languid strokes, just how he liked when he was close. Then, just a couple of wrist flicks when you got to the tip of his cock and he was spilling out everywhere, all over your hands, the vanity, his own stomach. The pearly beads of cum clung to his pubes and happy trail. You watched it all in the mirror, face turned to the side, still nuzzled under his arm.

“Fuck, look at that. You came everywhere for yourself, all for you…”

And he fucking whimpered. He whimpered and ran a hand over his face, coloring deeply.

You quickly pulled his shielding hand away, clasping it at his side and having him watch his cock soften between his thighs.

“I hate you,” he complained.

Bare moments had passed since he had commanded the stage, and he was already on his knees in front of her. 

“Please?” He nearly whines, his hand resting on her hip as she leans comfortably against the vanity. 

She looks down at him. Cheeks still flushed from the adrenaline, curls damp and sticking to his forehead, plump lips forming into a slight pout – the one thing that always undid her. Her eyes drift back to his, “‘Please’, what?” 

The whimper that leaves him is obscene, unexpected from a man of his stature. 

“Please, touch me,” his eyes flicker down to her arms crossed firmly across her chest, “I’ve been so good, I-”

“Yeah?” 

He nods eagerly. 

“If you’ve been so good, why have you been acting like a slut on stage every night?” 

His breath hitches. His lips part and close as he tries to process her accusation all while trying to come up with an excuse, because she’s right. He has been acting up on stage, but he swears it’s just for her. All he wants is a little bit of her attention. 

“No, no,” he shakes his head furiously, “No, baby, please,” he tugs at the belt loop of her denims, “I haven’t, I swear. You know what happens to me when I’m up there. I just lose myself in the music.” 

The laugh that leaves her lips is cruel, but his excuse is pitiful. Almost comical. 

“Did you ‘lose yourself in the music’ when you got on your knees for Luke?” His eyes widen, but before he can spit out another excuse she continues, “When you made sure your skirt lifted up after every move? Or maybe when you-”

“Not on purpose!” He cuts her off with a whine. His grip on the waistband of her jeans tightening, seeking any form of stability to ground him before he loses it entirely and starts rutting into the air. 

“Had I finished speaking?” Her eyes bore into his.

“I’m sorry,” he winces, head dropping, “I’m sorry, baby. I just- it was all for you. I did it just for you, I promise…” his voice shakes as he continues, “I only saw you, only looked at you… Please…” 

He’s always so riled up after a show. Making him wait so long without any contact should be punishment enough. But she likes him on his knees too much. 

She finally touches him, her fingers gently carding through the damp curls. He shudders at the contact, body straightening, eyes still trained on the floor. She gives him a minute. When he still doesn’t move, her grip on his hair tightens ever so slightly, making him tilt his head up to look up at her. 

The sight is sinful. Eyeshadow smudged around his eyes, from sweat or tears, neither of them knows anymore. Lips bitten raw from trying to keep himself quiet for as long as possible while she reprimanded him. And that look in his eyes that was just as good as him begging for hours on end. 

“Poor baby,” she murmurs, his eyes fluttering shut as she gently scratches his scalp, “You did all that just for my attention?” 

He nods, subconsciously leaning further into her touch. His skirt hikes up as he moves, the exposed expanse of his inner thighs revealing the marks she’d left on him just days before. 

She tugs at his hair gently to bring him to his feet. His eyes follow her gaze to his thighs, heat flushing through his cheeks as he tries to pull the hem of his skirt lower. 

“Oh, don’t be shy now,” nudging his hand away with her knee, “That’s what you wanted people to see, hm?” 

He looks down, nodding timidly, his fingers toying with a stray thread on the tweed. “Wanted them to know I’m yours,” he mumbles. 

“Look at me,” she waits until his eyes are back on her, “You have ten minutes.” 

His eyes light up, hand shooting out to touch her before he stops abruptly. He needs to get permission first. 

“Can I? Please?” 

And with a curt nod his hands are on her, lifting her up onto the vanity as he immediately drops to his knees again. Eyes frantic, fingers fumbling with her jeans, shakily pulling them down before she can change her mind again. 

“Slow down,” she murmurs, her fingers finding purchase in his hair. 

He does as she says. Placing soft kisses from her ankles to the apex of her thighs, making the most of his allowance. Her breath hitches as he gently nips at her inner thigh, sucking gently on the thin skin. He takes his time, working on her other thigh before pulling back with a proud smile as he eyes his work. “Now we match,” he looks up at her through his dark lashes, pupils blown.

“Mm, we do,” her lips turn up to a soft smile, “Thank you, baby.” 

The blush travels down his neck as he squeaks out a meek “you’re welcome” before returning to the task at hand. 

His fingers gently trace the developing bruises as he kisses along the lace trim of her panties, taking a deep breath of satisfaction as he finally reaches the spot he’s been thinking about all day. 

But she had told him to slow down. 

So his lips trail back up to her waist, nipping gently at the skin before leaving a mark on her hip bone. His touch is reverent, the disbelief of her allowing this clear as he shakily moves to the other end of her waist, starting to leave a bruise there too. 

“What are you doing?” She hisses, her grip on his curls tightening briefly. 

His brows furrow as he pulls back, resting his chin on her thigh to look up at her, “Nothing.”

“You’re teasing.” She huffs frustratedly. 

Curls fall in front of his wide eyes as he shakes his head in denial, “I’m not!” Quickly changing his tune when he sees the look in her eye, “I’m sorry,” he whimpers, nuzzling into the space between her thigh and stomach, “I’m so sorry. Just wanna make you feel good. May I? Please?”

Her eyes soften as his arms wrap around her waist, gripping onto her as if she’d slip right through his fingers if he let go even a little bit. 

“This could be your only chance to touch me tonight.” Her thumb gently pries at his lower lip as he pulls back with a frown, “You better make the most of it.”

He glances at the clock. He still has seven minutes. That’s enough time to pull out every reaction and sound he’s been dying to hear from her. She can see the gears shifting in his head as he refocuses, nipping at her hip bone again. This time, instead of sucking at the skin, he bites onto the lace dragging it down her legs in one swift motion.

“No teasing,” he reminds himself under his breath as he settles between her thighs again. 

His shoulders drop at the sight in front of him, relief flooding his body. He forgets where he is, who he is, as his lips latch onto her. 

Once he starts, he doesn’t let go. He can’t. His fingers dig into her thighs, holding her in place, sure to leave bruises along with the marks he had scattered earlier. He laps at her like a man starved, uncertain of when he’ll be allowed to have his next meal. But he knows he’s doing good. He can tell in the way her grip on his hair tightens, the way she arches to his touch, the way she bites the inside of her cheek to keep quiet. 

“Wanna hear you. Need to,” he pleads, his voice muffled against her, “Please, let me hear you.” 

He can feel her hesitate. He knows he’ll be punished for it later, but it’ll be worth it– so he gently scrapes his teeth against her clit. She gasps, her hips bucking up to his face. The grin she can feel between all the friction is absurd. She tugs his hair as a reminder, whispering breathlessly, “Watch it.” 

“Mhm,” he hums unapologetically, the vibration sending a chill up her spine. 

He doubles down on his efforts, damned if she leaves unsatisfied at his hands once the time is up. The soft mewls slipping through her lips become increasingly loud, gasping out a moan when he starts to suckle on her. His fingers dig deeper into her thighs, forcing them apart when she tries to squirm away. 

His eyes flicker up to her, tongue and lips never stopping, muffling a quiet, “Am I doing good?” 

She looks down at him in awe, his eyes wide and wanting as he desperately awaits her response. “So good,” she nods, her voice breathless, “Being such a good boy for me.” 

He groans against her, the throbbing pain between his legs sending his hips bucking into thin air at her words. This isn’t about him, but he can’t help himself when she continues to praise his efforts, voice strained from trying not to finish too fast. 

“So well behaved until you get on that stage.” 

He whimpers. 

“But you put on a good show.” 

“Only for you,” he moans against her, his knees buckling under the efforts of trying to hold himself back, “Always only for you.”

He nips at her clit, soothing it over with his tongue before suckling on it again, determined to send her over the edge. When her thighs start to tremble around him, he knows she’s almost there. He looks up at her, nose still buried deep, dick twitching as her lips part in a silent cry.

“Please,” he whines, voice muffled against her, “Need it so bad. Let me have it.” 

With one look down at him, she’s done. Back hitting the vanity mirror, eyes squeezing shut, scattering the makeup she put on him just hours before all over the dressing room floor. Hips rolling up to his touch, he continues to work her through it. Kitten licks to take as long as possible to clean her up before peppering soft kisses all over her flushed skin. 

Once he’s content with his efforts he sits back on his calves, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes crinkling as he smiles up at her, “Thank you.” 

She sits up to glance him over, chest still heaving as she catches up on her breath. Her gaze stops just below the hem of his skirt, seeing the evidence of his own satisfaction dripping down his thighs. “Did you–?” The amused look in her eyes sending heat flushing straight to his cheeks. 

“Didn’t touch, I promise. Just couldn’t help myself,” he murmurs sheepishly, eyes dropping to the floor. 

She laughs, fingers hooking into the collar of his tank to bring him up to her eye level. His hands warily rest on her thighs as he stands between them, lowering his face to hers. Carefully parting his lips with her tongue, she gently nips at his lower lip.

“Think you can be good until we get to the hotel?”

you’re sitting in their hangout room backstage, assuming the boys are all in their collective rooms, getting dressed. you have your hands folded in your lap, looking around the room. enjoying the silence ahead of the show tonight.

suddenly, the door opens, michael walking in. “hey!” you say happily, looking at michael. “hey, are you ready already?” you nod your head, standing up, and spinning around, showing off your outfit. “what do you think?”

“great, but i have a shirt we need you to wear tonight. it’ll make sense later. please don’t ask questions, and please just agree.” michael says quickly, and you blink at him.

“uh, yeah, of course, whatever y’all need.” you nod, and he hands you the shirt. you go to unfold it, but michael stops you. “before you read it, please just know it’s important for the show tonight.”

you unravel it, looking at the front. “i’ll call the bassist” it reads. your eyes widen. “michael! what is this?” you exclaim, looking up at him. “i know! i know! but i promise it’ll make sense later, please do it for us.” he pleads, and you sigh.

“what is calum even going to think? does he know about this?” you ask, and michael hesitates. “don’t worry about him, it’ll work out. thank you for doing this.” he says, quickly exiting the room.

you sigh, taking off your shirt, and pulling your new one on. it’s white, and the words are in pink. you’re wondering what the boys are up to, for you to have to wear a shirt, basically saying you’ll hit on calum, your best friend calum.

the calum you have been desperately trying to hide your feelings from. and this shirt has them in full display across your chest. you sigh, running your hands over your skirt.

“it’ll be fine.” you say to yourself, looking in the mirror. you exit the locker room, walking around backstage. you turn a corner and run into luke.

“sorry!”

“whoops!”

you both exclaim at the same time, one of his hands coming to steady your arm. “i see michael convinced you to wear the shirt.” you nod. “would you happen to tell me what this is about?” he sighs. “it’s just something fun to tie into the show, but we’re keeping it from calum.”

you let out a breath, shaking your head. “luke, this is an awful idea.” luke is the only one you’ve told about your feelings for calum, so you know he understands. “i promise, you just have to trust me.” he explains, and you nod once.

“i hope this is worth it.” you say, and he smiles. “i absolutely think it will be.” he then walks off. “make sure calum doesn’t see that shirt.” you nod.

you continue to walk around the hallways, when you see calum stepping out of his dressing room. you immediately fold your arms over your chest, as calum turns to look at you. he raises an eyebrow at you.

“are you good?” he asks, and you nod quickly. “yeah, i, uh, totally. i forgot to wear a bra and my shirt is really tight.” you say quickly, realizing you came up with a horrible excuse. he nods, looking back at the door that he still has a hand on.

“come here.” he says, motions you forward, you walk into the room. he follows behind you, walking around the table, and grabbing his shirt from earlier. “you can wear it around the arena, until the show.” he says, and you smile.

“thank you, cal.” you say, sweetly. he walks over to you holding the shirt by the neck, he pulls it over your head, it immediately slides down your body, and you put your arms through.

“no problem, sweetheart.” he says, that gentle tone he always has with you. calum has always had a soft spot for you. you find it endearing how delicate he is with you.

“though i’m excited to see the full outfit later, your outfits are always perfect.” calum says, and you let out a laugh. “thank you. but i think you’re beating me in the outfit department.” you say, looking over calum’s outfit.

he’s wearing a sleeveless top, and a skirt, and has his makeup done. he looks breath taking. “thank you, doll, but not a chance.” he says, slinging an arm over your shoulders.

you both start walking towards the stage area, as the boys are about to go on. “you’re staying on the stage tonight, right?” he asks, and you nod. “yes, off to your side. i’ll be next to you all night.” you say, and he smiles wide.

“i like it when you watch me play. it makes me happy having you right there.” the both of you stop walking, and he gives you a quick hug. “i’ll see you out there, mkay?” you nod against his chest.

“bye cal!” you say as he goes off. you make your way over to where you watch the show from, when you get there, you pull calum’s shirt over your head, tucking it into the side of your skirt.

the band comes out, and the show starts. calum looks over at you often as he moves through the performance. you’re singing along to the songs, dancing around, and watching them perform intently.

soon enough, it’s the end of the show, and they’re playing everyone’s a star. it’s one of your favorites. before the second verse, you see luke walking over to calum.

calum is going to his knees. your jaw drops. he has his bass standing straight up, and he’s looking up at luke, as luke starts singing.

“someone call the bassist, feelin like a god.” you hear luke sing, calum is nodding his head, a very adorning look on his face. your mouth is dropped open, staring at the sight in front of you.

calum stands up toward the end of the verse, locking eyes with you as he’s rising, your breath catches in your throat. the eye contact is intense, then he turns to his microphone.

the show quickly wraps up after, and the second calum gets a chance, he comes right up to you. he immediately gives you a hug, and bring your arms around him. “amazing as always! you guys continue to blow my mind every time.” you say into his chest.

“thanks, doll.” he says, pulling back slightly, keeping an arm around you, as you walk back to his dressing room together. you make it into his dressing room, walking in first, turning around.

you face calum, as he closes the door behind him. his eyes widen as he looks at you. a deep blush creeps onto calum’s face. “i, uh..” you start to mumble. calum’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again.

“that shirt looks good on you.” calum suddenly says, and now you’re blushing as well. “thank you, cal.” you manage to get out, words still shaky. he takes a step forward, closing the distance between you two.

“so.. luke’s lyrics change, and then i come back here and see your shirt..” he starts to say, hesitantly. you look up at him, and suck in a breath. “cal-“ you start, and he cuts you off.

“i think it’s really sweet that you did all of that, for me..” he says softly, his hand grabs yours gently, holding it. you look down at your hands, and back up at calum. “i think the boys set us up together..” you whisper.

calum’s eyes go wide. “huh?” he asks, and you look up at him. “michael, uh, found me before the show, told me to wear this shirt, said they had a surprise. i think this is what he meant by that..” you explain.

calum has a shocked expression on his face, his mouth falling open. “i should’ve known they would do something like this.” he whispers, and you shake your head.

“no, i totally think it’s my fault, i, uh, i told luke that i have feelings for you.” you quickly say, and then realize what you said.

“well, the boys have all known for awhile that i’m into you. i guess they got tired of neither of us making a move.” he adds.

the both of you immediately start laughing. “i cannot believe them!” you exclaim, as calum shakes his head. “they’re always up to something..”

the laughter dies down, and you both realize the situation you’re now in. calum still has your hand in his, gently rubbing the back of yours with his thumb. “if it’s okay with you.. i don’t want to waste anymore time, going around this..” calum says, and you quickly nod.

he moves his free hand up, caressing your cheek. his eyes go down to your lips, before meeting yours again. “can i-“ he starts, and you nod again. he leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. the kiss is sweet, his thumb rubbing along your cheek.

the kiss starts to deepen, as you and calum end up moving backwards, you hit the couch, which causes you both to topple over. calum’s arms catch around your waist, the two of you falling down next to each other. you start to laugh again, as the door opens.

the boys walk in, seeing you and calum draped over each other, in a fit of laughter. the boys stand in front of the couch, looking at you two. “did our plan work, or are these two idiots still being friends?” ashton asks.

you and calum look up at them, still giggling. calum’s hand is holding onto your thigh, making sure to keep your skirt in place even through the chaos. luke’s eyes go to his hand on you. “yep, our plan worked. congratulations lovebirds!!” luke says, and the other two boys sing their praise.

calum smiles at you, before turning to the boys. “you guys don’t get credit for this, it was all us.” he says, and you nod. “yep, i agree, wholeheartedly.”

michael scoffs. “uhh, absolutely not. this wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t intervened.” he explains.

“whatever dude. now you guys get out of here. we still have stuff to talk about.” calum says, and the boys smirk. “yeah, come on boys, they have to “talk.”” ashton says, the boys giggle and walk out the door. with a mix of “oohs.” and a “use protection” thrown in there, before the door closes behind them.