Welcome to the mess

It felt good, getting some action again, letting himself do and be done to, instead of thinking of the past all the time. An approving groan leaves his mouth and into the bird's when she cups him through his jeans, one of his legs adjusting to slot between her thighs, calloused hands guiding her hips down against the rough fabric.

His lips leave hers only to drag along her jaw, wet kisses and licks making a path to her ear, his voice gravely and caught when he manages to get his words out. "Should head back if you don't want me to fuck you in the alleyway, pretty."

Shit, for a second he's sure she's going to agree to it, given the glassy look in her eyes and the way she keeps on grinding against his thigh, starting to leave a wet patch on the fabric. But she manages to snap out of it, taking another greedy kiss from him before guiding him through the crowd and outside.

The drive goes by quickly, mouths and hands exploring enough of each other's bodies to have the driver clearing his throat and announcing the arrival.

There's no prep needed, her underwear is completely ruined and forgotten somewhere close to the suite's entrance, dress hastily tugged down and off before he's bent her over the foot of the bed.

John gets rid of his clothes just as quickly, groaning when he springs out of the sticky fabric, hard as a rock and flush red from restraining himself. She lets out a small quip, a little smart remark as she sways her hips from side to side, and it's all he needs to crowd close to her again.

One of his hands moves to the space between her shoulder blades, pushing her forward so her chest is flush against the expensive sheets. The free one moves to grip himself, first swiping a thumb over the weeping tip —feeling a shiver run down his spine at the very awaited pleasure— and then giving himself a couple jerks before he's lining himself up.

He takes his time then, sliding his cock back and forth to get as much of her slick on it, making sure that his tips nudges her puffy clit every time. It's until she starts begging, letting out slurred pleas that mix between moans and whines. He pushes in, all of his girth stretching her out in one single thrust.

"Shit, gonna chock me, so fucking tight." Both of his hands go to her hips now, barely giving her time to get used to the fullness before he's thrusting, fast and sharp, making wet plaps echo all around the room.

She's an absolute mess for him, hands holding onto the silk of the bed for dear life, back arching into the perfect curve while a creamy ring quickly forms around the base of his cock. Her loud moans and whimpers cover his own voice, the way he murmurs more to himself than he does her, the praise and… something else.

It's fine for a bit, he gets a couple spanks in, seeing how her cheeks ripple with each of them, how the tender flesh bounces with every snap of his hips. She's more than willing too, now fully showing the eagerness she had tried to subdue in the club, doing her best to push herself back and meet every thrust.

That is until he presses closer, making her legs give out and her body end up prone. His sweaty chest is flush to her back, his weight keeping her in place while his cock hits that gummy spot inside her again and again. And it could be perfect, if it weren't for the fact that his mouth is now right beside her ear, and every time he moans or groans a name, it isn't hers.

She tries to shrug it off, she really does. Eyes closed as she focuses on the drag of his hips, on how good he stretches her gummy walls and how easy he finds her g-spot, on how he keeps her down with his weight to make her take every inch.

But then he does it again, and then one more time.

Before she can try to convince herself any further she's reaching a hand back, pushing at his shoulder as she shifts from under him at the same time. "Stop, get off."

John does so as soon as the words leave her, eyes widening a bit as they scan over her body to make sure he hasn't been too rough. Unknowing to the fact that the damage hasn't been physical. "Everything okay, pretty girl?"

She ignores his question, instead sitting up to look at him with a frown. "What were you moaning?"

Fuck. Shit. This can't be. The one time John lets himself be, lose his inhibitions and go for something new and he fucks it up in this way.

He tries to hide the realisation the best he can, but the way her expression just hardens and she pulls a little further back proves that he has more of a career in music than he could ever have in acting. "Look i-"

She raises a hand to cut his excuses, "Don't want to know. Answer this instead, what's my name?"

If it had been bad then, it's horrible now. Because for the live of him he can’t remember. He knows she told him, when he leaned in the bar beside her, calling the bartender over to get the both of them a refill. But now he's blanking, seeing the moment but not being able to hear, as if the audio feed had been cut off.

A scoff leaves her then and she's off the bed, getting her dress off the floor and on her body before sliding her shoes on. "You're fucking unbelievable. I know you're a rockstar and all that bullshit, but seriously? Moaning you last hookup's name or whatever?"

"Do not say that. It wasn't a—" He cuts himself off then, because he was about to go off. To make it clear how you're not just a hook up, how you could never be just anything to anyone, much less to him.

Luckily for him, she has already found her underwear and left the room with a slam of the door.

Standing in the sudden quietness he groans, sliding his hands through his hair and resisting the temptation to pull it out to relieve some of frustration burning in him . Instead he sits back on the edge of the bed, eyes closed as he pictures what was happening just moments ago but with you instead.

He imagines he's back home, in your bed and in your arms. That it's your voice the one moaning and murmuring praises and filling his ears, that is you the one begging for him to make you cum and fill you up. His fist is closed around his cock, slick with a mix of precum and his own saliva, while he thrusts up into it imagining it's you wrapped around him instead.

It's absolutely pathetic, the fact that what makes him cum— balls tightening up for the last couple of thrusts before he's spilling over his own fist, milky white now covering his hand, abs and a bit of his thighs— it's the thought of you murmuring «i love you» against his ear.

He gives himself a few extra tugs before laying back, stating blankly at the ceiling while he waits for his heart rate to go back down and for his legs to stop trembling.

Barely bothered to wipe himself with his discarded shirt, he reaches for his phone. By now it seems like the night for bad decisions, so before he can change his mind he's hitting the call button and holding the phone to his ear.

"Hey, i uhm… i didn't expect you to pick up—" He sniffles for a moment, almost like that would make the words come out easier. "Don't think i expect you to listen to this, either. But i just wanted, you know, to reach out. Things are… they're not good between us, are they? Don't think they'll ever be." Another pause, this time to clear his throat. Although it sounds just as strained and raspy when he continues. "But still, you deserve to be celebrated, even if it shouldn't come from me. So yeah, i just- Happy birthday, love. Hope you have the best day."

He pulls the phone away from his ear, staring at the screen for a second before making sure the voicemail sends. He stares at it for a little longer, more specifically at your picture in his contacts. Big smile and crinkled eyes that he hadn't gotten to see in so long. After that he runs a hand over his face, letting the device fall somewhere between the sheets when he pulls himself up and to the shower. Feeling like he needs to wash off all of the night's fuck ups.