── . ✦ shining star, i'll follow
⊹ ࣪ ˖ summary: while finn is missing you a month into his common side effects tour, you decide to surprise him by showing up to a show without him knowing. what you don't know is how far that one decision will lead you.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ warnings: fem!afab!reader, not proofread, established relationship, insane amts of fluff, and eventual smut (totally fine to skip past it!)
⊹ ࣪ ˖ a/n: based off many reqs i included so thank u!! ily all sm i really hope this is ok im scared pls don't slime me out
Everyday that Finn calls you from his tour bus after his show is another day that you have to fight to conceal a secret that you know would cheer him up and end all his complaints.
"I just miss you. I got so used to being home with you, I just... I don't know. I miss you."
You're not sure how many times you'd heard that same speech with that same line to top it off, but it's been since his tour started at the very least. A month.
It's not that you don't miss him, too. Hell, he'd been home with you from filming, photoshoots, promotions, everything, all for months on end. It was hard to say goodbye when he began going to the studio to record everyday, let alone when he left for this tour. Months away from him. It was cruel. Necessary, but cruel.
So you soothe him with the familiar reassurance of, "you'll be home before you know it. I'll be here waiting for you, okay? Don't let missing me affect how much fun you're having on tour."
Then, he'd sigh, yawning from where he lie in bed with messy hair on your screen, all before nodding in agreement. "I know baby. I won't. It's hard, though, without my favorite person."
"You should get some rest, honey. You had a long day. We can talk tomorrow when you're not on the verge of falling asleep." You tease softly, catching the way his eyelids weigh him down, blinks and breathing slowing in tandem. He's always been pretty before he falls asleep, one of the few times he gets to fully relax. It's a sight for sore eyes.
"Mhm. I'll talk to you in the morning..." He yawns again into the back of his palm, "I love you so much. Text me when you get up, m'kay?"
Humming in agreement, you reply, "of course I will. First thing in the morning. I love you so, so much. Sleep well. You've got another long concert ahead of you tomorrow."
With some nearly incoherent mumbles of agreement and confessions of love on his end, Finn finally ends the call and goes to sleep for the night. And while you weren't eagerly awaiting it, you did hope it was sooner rather than later.
You had somewhere to be in the morning.
With how your schedules lined up, him with tour and you with a long weekend, it only felt right to take advantage of your free time. You'd had enough time alone and with friends with him being gone that you just wanted to see your boyfriend again. You both were clingy. That wasn't anything new, nor was it changing anytime soon.
So now, with his next stop in Seattle, you felt it'd be the easiest stop to make it to from where you two lived together in Vancouver. Not only that, but it aligned with your long weekend perfectly.
So, with one call to his tour manager, you had everything planned. First things first would be making the two and a half hour drive there the day of. Thankfully, you already had a hotel booked near the venue and a small bag ready to stay overnight.
You get two final texts from Finn telling you that he's actually going to bed now.
I love and miss you so much
Shooting an equally loving text back, you finally feel ready to put your phone down and call it a night. Bringing your blanket over your body, you find warmth in the knowledge that he would only be one more day away despite the cold, empty feeling coming from the other side of the bed.
The morning that follows is, thankfully, nowhere near as stressful as you'd expected it to be. There was nobody to try and hassle into the car apart from yourself, and with your bag already packed and car's gas tank on full, you felt ready for once.
You look far from put together, but you supposed that could wait for when you get to the hotel. It wouldn't be nice to show up front row to his concert without looking the part, right?
Thank god for his tour manager pulling strings. Especially in a venue with standing room only.
The drive into the city that comes after the beautiful views of the north is a sharp but welcome contrast. A different kind of beautiful. Seattle is chaotic, overwhelming, and bustling. The abundance of nature balances it out well, trees lining some city streets despite the tall buildings on every corner.
You finally let out a breath when you're pulling into the parking garage right beside your hotel. An expensive hotel, given the location, but nothing that wouldn't be worth it.
You were hoping he would come back with you to it after his show, anyway. Just to spend a night together in the same bed, cuddled up close and feeling that closeness you've lacked for almost a month now. Sweet, gentle love.
No, a month wasn't that long in the grand scheme of things. But to you two? It felt like centuries.
Walking from your car to the building, you hear the familiar buzz of your phone in your bag. You already have a feeling of who this could be.
"Hi, baby. Good morning." You hum into your phone, trying to speak over the city life that threatens to ruin your surprise, "did you just wake up?"
"Mmhm." He hums, dragging it out as he presumably yawns again. "Finally made it, though. We're finally in the same timezone again, isn't that nice? I just wish I was back in Vancouver already for the final show... I wanna go home." He rambles. He's good at that. Rambling.
"I know, I wish you were here, too. Just a few more weeks." You hum, holding the phone close to your ear to hear him better, "I'm glad we're in the same timezone, though. It'll be easier for me when we call after your show."
"Yeah. And you'll actually be tired too. It won't be, like... Hours later for me. It's almost harder knowing how close you are to me though." He snorts softly at the thought, "well, did you have any plans today?"
"No, not really. I might run some errands." You fumble with the sleeve of your shirt to focus on not saying the wrong thing, "I'll probably just get some stuff done around the house. Nothing exciting you're missing out on."
"What do you mean? That sounds very exciting." He hums back, almost teasingly, and you can already picture his stupid grin and sleepy look.
"Yeah, yeah." You smile simply at the thought of him. "I know. Hard not to just drive right back home and join me, huh?"
"Yeah." He laughs. "Alright, well, I just wanted to say hi and hear your voice. I miss you and I love you, okay?"
"I miss and love you too, honey." You nod back as if he could see you. "I'll talk to you later."
"I'll talk to you soon. I love you." He replies sweetly before the call ends.
He always does that. He always makes sure the last words he says to you when he's leaving are "I love you" and nothing less than. It's intentional and, inarguably, one of your favorite things he does. The beeping of traffic brings you out of your distracted daze, people passing you on the sidewalk like you weren't even there.
Getting there is easy. It's the part that comes after once you're situated in your room that's hard. Quite frankly, you feel like a teenage girl about to go on her first date again. Or, better yet, to a concert for her biggest celebrity crush. That's not so far off from the truth, though.
It's still early, and you're sure you have time before you have to head to The Showbox, the venue you had to be at in...
Approximately 4 hours, if you wanted to be there in time to meet his tour manager and land yourself in the front row. Well, at least you're definitely getting the concert goer experience by getting there hours before he goes on. Authenticity.
Unzipping your travel bag, you find the outfit you have ready to wear. It's nothing too out there since you don't want to stand out too much. Changing out of the comfortable clothes you were relaxing in, you slip on what'll soon be the first thing your boyfriend's seen you in for a month now.
There's only one person you're trying to catch the attention of, and you have quite the upper hand on everyone else already.
Seattle is scorching in its peak of summer. More than you'd expected, but you're thankful for the lack of downpour. It's always raining when you come down here with Finn so luck must have been your side today.
The nerves that you'd once sworn away had started to bubble back up, making your stomach twist with anxiety. Even though there was practically no way for this to go wrong, your mind still had a way of thinking the worst.
Then again, waiting in line alongside fans of your boyfriend that haven't the slightest clue of who you were was also nerve wracking. Maybe it was just the nerves of being undercover. Probably.
If you remember correctly, the doors open in less an hour and all you were told was to wait until you saw security sweep by for you under the guise of sorting out a ticketing issue.
Your job was easy enough, but it didn't serve to relieve your stress anymore.
Checking your phone for the tenth time in the last five minutes, you check your notifications only to see a text from Finn along with a missed call. Shit.
Still out running errands babe?
Right. Allegedly, that's what you were doing. Running errands. Thank god he reminded you before you let another excuse slip. Regardless, you felt bad for missing his call before he went onstage. He was probably finishing up sound check and wanting to get in whatever time he could to talk to you before the show.
It take everything in you not to call him back. But you do text back telling him that you were still out along with an apology for missing his call, because you're not cruel.
We just finished sound check and I wanted to hear your voice again before the show :-)
You immediately type back—You don't even know the half of it. You're sure he'll only understand the extent of it once he sees you face to face, though.
He's typing, but you're interrupted by a security guard passing by you just as you'd recalled. Her eyes meet yours and you immediately step out of line to address her, eyes wide and a bit unsure as you ask, "hi there, um, I think I was told to check with security about a ticketing issue?"
Blinking, she immediately nods in agreement, muttering, "oh, yes, yes, of course. We'll get you inside and figure that issue out before the show."
It's loud enough for the people around you to hear and hopefully not question the special treatment you're receiving in the process.
Following her in her footsteps, all black clad to her figure like a shadow just waiting to be lost, you're stepping into the venue from a side door you hadn't even known was there. From there, you're entering a staff only area that makes you feel like you're trespassing.
Nothing about this feels right, so you just have to hope it is right.
Your name is being called from down the hall before you can register who it is, only to land eyes on Finn's tour manager. You're not sure you've ever been so grateful to see someone you've never truly met before until now.
"There you are!" The grin on his face is damn near intoxicating, "the woman of the hour. We've all been waiting for you. Well, except Finn and the band, obviously. Couldn't let that slip now, could we?" He laughs, "doors open in about an hour, a little less actually, so we're aiming to have you situated by the stage around then. I'll have you hang around in the back until an assistant comes and gets you. How does that sound?"
You've also never been so overwhelmed by how one person could say so much without waiting for a response. Nodding blankly, you smile wide out of compliance.
Normally you would've started with a hello, how are you, nice to meet you, but that all works too.
He's guiding you to a back room that's presumably used as a dressing room given the setup of it. Giving him a small thank you, you watch as the door shuts behind him and you're left all on your own.
God, you're nervous, and this isn't even the worst of the waiting yet. It's another hour for the show to start after doors open, and you can't even distract yourself with the idea of the merch line like you might at any other show.
Because, quite frankly, you have a spot to hold, and you already own every single piece of merch that you ever hinted at liking. The perks of an attentive, thoughtful boyfriend, you suppose. And a musician. That too.
Bringing your phone back out to check your texts, you see what Finn had sent as you got swept away by security. Two photos of two different outfits, both fairly similar in style.
One is a white graphic tee with plaid pants, the other a plain pair of grey pants and a different band tee. All you can focus on are his dark curls and the little smile on his face. How cute.
You type back, writing—I like the first one. It's more you.
Shaking your head at how corny he is, your smile sets when your met with his next text.
Gotta go get ready now :/
Humming, you agree—If I don't get to you before then, yeah :)
You can already hear his scoff from here. A reminder you were in the same building as him. So close, yet so far. This was so unfair.
He replies just as you'd expect.
You recount the same words, reminding him of how much you love him, too, before setting your phone down and moving to look in the mirror across the room. The least you could do is touch your hair and any makeup you have on up.
Gently fixing your hair and every little strand that threatens to fall out of place, you sigh.
So much time to fill, but with what?
The time passes achingly slow. Slow in the way that has left your mind to wander and doubt and, now, you're nearly convinced this was a bad idea. You two weren't even public, yet you were gonna surprise him like this.
At a public show, front row, where you two are probably gonna make heart eyes at each other the whole time in front of a whole venue of people—nearly 2,000 people that came for him.
For someone who loves privacy, is he going to hate this?
You're in too deep now, because you're hearing a soft knock on the door followed by a head peeking in to check on you. That must be the assistant escorting you. When you check your phone, after all, it's time for the doors to open.
"Hey, there," the man greets, "uh, front row for Finn, right? Doors are opening in a few minutes so about now we should be able to open you to the standing room, if that's alright."
Nodding back, you grab your bag and phone and move to stand, not wanting to waste another second of his time.
"That all sounds perfect, thank you." You agree easily, crossing the room to exit and follow him down the long expanse of the hall. It's a back way, you think, judging by the lack of supplies, decoration, and people.
You make it to the floor from backstage with ease, thanks to the help of the assistant. Only now, your stomach is churning at the realization that you're actually doing this.
Excitement outweighs any other emotion.
People come crowding in, first come first serve, spare you who the assistant lingers by as they begin to line the stage. Hopefully so nobody gets enraged at the fact you got in first. Maybe they'll make assumptions, so long as it's not that you're dating the very person they came to see.
"Alright, well, are you all sorted then?" He asks one final time. Your small nod in agreement and bids of thankfulness are what lead him to leave you standing alone, surrounded by the crowd.
It's overwhelming to say the least, if not daunting. You're not sure how Finn looks down at this every night knowing all that attention is on him.
Thankfully, but also scarily, you're smack dab in the front row, right in the middle. No opportunity to even blend into the crowd, no. Not when you're front and center for him to see first.
The instruments are all set up, some technicians from the back coming out periodically to tune or adjust them as needed, but the sight of one for sore eyes. The stage looks perfect. Sure, it looks like it does at every concert of his, but it's perfect.
Checking your phone and making sure to dim you screens brightness so no one can catch a peek of your wallpaper, the one of you two together, the time reads a mere five minutes later than the last time you checked.
Yet another waiting game. It's like a loop you both never want to escape and hope ends sooner rather than later. The anticipation is killing you.
The long scrolling session spent on your phone is drawn to an abrupt stop what feels like mere minutes later when the lights dim, the stage lights slowly come on, people begin to chatter and excitement builds, and the only light left on you is coming from the small, bright screen in your hand.
It almost feels weird being alone in this position. Not a single friend there for you to turn to and exchange murmurs of excitement towards. Though, you can't complain. You aren't complaining. You're just very aware of it in the moment because focusing on what's to come only makes your stomach sink and heart beat quicker.
You almost freeze when you see his band taking the stage. These are people you recognize, people you know, though you're sure they don't register or even notice you. You've never actually met past brief hello's in the background of a video call and following each other online.
That's somewhat relieving, knowing you have a moment to prepare. Even if it's a short one. Some take their seats while others pick up their instruments like they've done this thousands of times before.
Maybe it's the fact that everyone cheers when he comes out, or maybe it's the fact that he's wearing the same clothing you'd chosen out of a lineup a few hours ago. Graphic tee, plaid pants. Him.
If not either of those, it's definitely his face when he steps up to the microphone with his grown out dark hair hanging low.
Brown eyes, freckled cheeks, with a smile yet to grace his face. Must be his nerves. They're always strongest at the start of his shows. He's always told you that.
He doesn't look over the crowd entirely. Not yet, at least. He just moves to find his guitar and slip it on over his head, strap resting on his shoulder as he gets comfortable. Regardless, you stand tall (though a little awkwardly from your own lurking nerves) while your hands fumble with one another.
You also remember him telling you his nerves are why he starts with a song before saying anything. It helps get him in the zone. That's why you're not caught off guard when the instrumentals start and he's reaching up to grasp the microphone within its stand.
Feeling ripped off, feeling struck by you
It still drags on, am I terrible?
You've missed that voice. You've missed hearing that voice talk sweet to you and sing like he so loved to. It wasn't the same over a speaker and through a screen.
You're almost so caught up in it that you don't realize when his gaze flickers down to the front row, scanning slowly and taking in who he'd be closest to for the next hour.
It's only when he's staring right at you, eyes wide and breath caught in his throat at the mere sight. Heat rises to your cheeks and you give a small, tentative wave because you're not sure what to do in this situation now that you're living it and it's escaped your dreams. He's processing. Very slowly, and probably very anxiously, because he's so flustered that he missed part of the next line as if it's not part of the chorus.
You wanna go dancin' every night
We'll go out next week, never mind
Trying to laugh it off once the instrumental part hits, people loudly cheer despite having no clue what had him fumbling over himself.
He returns a wide eyed look to you, staring at you with the dorkiest smile you're sure you've ever seen on him. If it weren't for the stage lighting, you're sure everyone in the venue would've picked up on it.
You can tell he wants to say something, to mouth questions and greetings and everything in between, but he's hesitant because of the crowd of people it'd peak the curiosity of. People he doesn't want to welcome into your relationship after managing to keep it just yours for so long.
Then, he mouths it. His lips curled at one corner and he's trying to pretend nobody else exists right now, now that you're here.
You catch him mouthing the words like a whisper. He only has so long before he has to get back to singing, so you return it with a cheeky smile.
It's playfully vague and he can only shake his head at the ridiculousness of it. People look around and raise their eyebrows, wondering who he's speaking to, thinking it's them he's so intrigued by, but they're so lost in looking around that they don't see your mouth moving back and his eyes on yours. You're sure this is the most lucky you've ever been, to not have been caught.
You feel like a girl trying to flirt with her favorite musician amongst a sea of people doing the same. Only there's no fight to be had; he's yours.
His eyes are practically glued to yours the entire time. He can't stop staring. Periodically, he'll look up, look into the rest of the occupied venue, but it's like a magnet is drawing him to you. The look of love that conquers his face is electric.
He's playing with a newfound vigor, the guitar hanging over his shoulder taking the spotlight as his guitar pick meets its strings.
The first song passes by fast. Afterwards, he finally speaks to the crowd—giddy, too.
"Hey, everyone, I'm glad you could all be here tonight," he smiles, adjusting how his guitar sits on his shoulder as he briefly glances down at you, "how are we doing tonight, Seattle?"
The eruption of cheers that follow are expected, but electric nonetheless.
"Yeah? Good." He laughs, far more loosened up than he usually would be by now, "heard you didn't get any rain while waiting in line today. Got lucky, didn't you guys?"
His little laugh that comes after is so endearing. He can't stop smiling and laughing and glancing down at you whenever he can. It's like he doesn't even care about getting caught, even though you know he does.
"How about another song, Seattle?" He proposes into the mic, trying to maintain his composure with a soft shake of his head. It takes everything in his power to tear his eyes off yours, but he finally does and, before you know it, the band is starting to play the next song on the setlist without a second wasted.
When they do, Finn turns to face them, getting ready for his cue as he murmurs something their way. Or, you think he does, at least. That's what you hear from a girl beside you, asking her friend if she could read his lips.
You're fairly certain what it was when the eyes of the band seem to flit to you right after he turns back with a stupid grin on his face.
Even while your boyfriend was front and center with a spotlight gleaming down on him on stage, you managed to feel like a spectacle of your own, albeit to a crowd of one.
Finn fixes his in-ears before beginning to strum his guitar in a practiced manner, like he'd done hundreds of times before.
One glance down at you seems to ease any and all of his nerves as his shoulders visibly relax followed by a soft exhale away from the microphone.
That's what makes all of this so worth it.
You're not sure if you've ever been to a better show than that. No, actually—you're more than sure. Because, even in a venue full of nearly 2,000 people, Finn managed to make it feel like both a performance for them but also a one on one, intimate experience between the two of you.
He's been in the public eye his entire life with everyone watching him under a microscope, dissecting everything that was and wasn't there. It was only natural that he grew to be an expert at hiding what he wanted. Tonight that included every look and smile he gave you and only you.
You wait for everybody to clear out before even thinking of going backstage. Though, your body is ringing with the anticipation of seeing your boyfriend past the persona he showcases on stage.
When the crowd disperses, you're finally heading back through the same door you entered through. You hadn't a clue where you were going, but you assumed it had to be somewhere through here. If no one would guide you, you'd just have to guide yourself.
People, unlike earlier, have filled the halls as they transport equipment on rolling carts and confer with one another in the process. Staff, obviously. You don't fit in one bit around them.
But you persist, passing them down the halls while they don't even take a second glance at you. Maybe they don't get paid enough to question what a random person is doing backstage amongst them. Or perhaps they can tell by the determined look in your eyes that you have a good reason for being back here. It must be that, yeah.
Turning the corner, finally, you're met with the dressing rooms that the band stand outside of while they talk amongst themselves. It must be a riveting conversation, judging by their laughs and the way your presence does nothing to stop them.
Beside them, Finn is there, too. He's less enthused, less enthralled, and far more alert. Alert enough to perk up when he sees a figure, more specifically your figure, as his heart skips a beat and he nearly lunges your way.
His smile is so far gone and the crinkle of his eyes makes your heart swell up as every doubt in your mind and nerve in your bone fizzles away almost immediately.
"Holy shit, there you are, babe—" he huffs out a small, weak breath as he approaches quickly. He's extending his arms out, less as an invitation and more as a warning as he crowds you. His arms wrap around you tight and he buries his face in your shoulder like he's been waiting to do so all night. He's overworked and exhausted but so, so warm and welcoming at the same time.
"I almost thought I hallucinated you when I couldn't find you after the show." He weakly laughs, head lifting to press an immediate, rushed kiss to your lips. It softens merely seconds in when he realizes you're not going anywhere.
"I'm right here." You laugh softly, grinning just as hard as you beam at him and cup either of his cheeks, "I missed you too much. Couldn't wait."
"Pfft, like I could. I was getting pretty lonely even though I was far from it. I missed you like crazy." He rambles, hands finding your waist and bringing you closer as he holds you in a close, tight embrace, "you don't understand.... How much I missed you. And how happy I was when I saw you in the crowd. Oh my god. Top ten moments of my life, I think." He laughs, breathy, eyes closed as he takes in this once in a lifetime moment.
He's practically taking up space in the hallway, keeping you close to his chest as he rubs his hands up and down your back lovingly. Neither of you can find it in you to care.
"Haven't seen him light up like that since his first day on tour." One of the band members, the drummer, speaks up teasingly. The idea was heartwarming, that you had such an impact on him.
"Yeah?" You glance back at him with a genuinely surprised laugh as you run a hand through his dark, grown out hair, some curls forming with the newfound length. It's the little things that stand out most in moments like these.
"Yeah." He huffs out a weak laugh of his own, "I guess you could say that."
He pulls away from the tight embrace and stares at you like he's taking in every feature of yours and committing it to memory. Under his intensive gaze, heat quickly rises to your cheeks.
"I coordinated everything with your tour manager." You admit, fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck as you stare back at him with an equally eager eye, "he got me entry and made sure I was in the front row. Thank him, not me. I just booked a hotel downtown and did the drive."
"Yeah, a nearly three hour drive." He says as if it's not a totally reasonable distance before registering your words, "wait—you booked a hotel? Here? You're staying the night? Not that I'd really want you to drive back through those roads this late, I just..."
"Yes, I have a hotel." You laugh, nodding back as he stumbles over his words in shock, "you can never be too safe in the city. Wanted somewhere to stay the night. Seattle traffic sucks after concerts. We've gone to enough here for me to know that."
"I know, I know..." He gently runs his hands up and down your waist, just to feel and assure himself that you're really here, "so I'm just supposed to go back to my tour bus and stay the night here in Seattle like you aren't a block over in a hotel room all alone? That's unfair."
He's joking, of course. But you can tell part of him wants to hear otherwise as he leans in to press a fleeting kiss to your lips.
"Just come back with me, then." You shrug softly, "there's a way in through the parking garage. It's a nice hotel. I bet famous people stay there all the time. Should be private enough just for one night."
It almost sounds like you're trying to convince him, and that's because you are. Not that you have to do much of it.
"I can ask my tour manager..." He trails off, like the idea was far too appealing to decline, "you think he'd let me? Just for one night?"
"Just for one night... I think he'd make an exception. He already has for me, hasn't he?" You hum, arms wrapping around his shoulders in a familiar, natural way, "couldn't hurt to ask."
"People would be confused when they don't see you walk out to the tour bus, though." Another band member interferes, "they wait hours to catch a glimpse of you, after all."
"Let them be." The drummer from earlier shrugs, "I bet bits and pieces of tonight's show are already gonna be online for them to over analyze. That'll just be the cherry on top." She snickers, though she seems genuine despite the teasing undertones that lie beneath her words.
"Yeah..." Finn hums, "I don't really care about that stuff so much. People do that anyway, y'know? Just don't wanna fuck up the schedules 'n stuff with my manager. I'll ask him he drops by."
Gently squeezing your waist, Finn steps back and sighs with a hand on the small of your back, "c'mon, I have to get changed and cleaned up before it gets too late." He gestures to his dressing room. You're a bit caught off guard by the abruptness of it, but you simply nod and follow because you're not one to argue with that.
He guides you easily, steering you to his room from beside you with that same hand on the small of your back. A small, minuscule gesture of dominance. Soft dominance that warms your heart.
The door reads his name, and when it opens, it resembles the same room you'd been waiting in prior to the show. Only in here, it was ready to be occupied, undoubtedly for his arrival.
When the door clicks shut and the lock is turned, you're soon being crowded again by Finn as his arms wrap around you warmly. Without a second to waste, he leans in to press another long, definite kiss to your lips that screams need. His tongue is licking over your lower lip and soon brushing against yours all while he gently guides you back until you're fully making out with your back flush against the wall of his dressing room. It'd almost be risqué if it weren't for the earnest, gentle touches that linger all over your body.
"I love you so goddamn much," he breathes out against your lips, only taking the time to catch his breath before leaning back in. You let him, kissing back without hesitation.
Your body is burning with desire. It's not the stereotypical heated need, but rather a need to be close and feel him like you haven't in so long. It's pathetic and drawn out because that's what you two have been craving.
"I love you." The words leave your lips in a breathy, whispered exhale. His forehead presses against yours and everything feels like it fits in place in that moment.
"I actually do have to get changed and stuff, I just don't really want to get." He admits with a sheepish grin, gaze flickering between you and the rest of the room behind the both of you, "I should probably do that. Probably."
"...Technically, yeah." You nod back, biting your lower lip, "the sooner you get everything done, the more time we have together before you have to go. Just in case you can't stay with me."
"Like I'd take no as an answer on that." He snorts, and you can tell he means it. "I'll still ask him, though. For forgiveness, anyway. Not permission."
"Sounds like a deal." You roll your eyes playfully at his remark, gently pushing his chest back so he would get to moving. Part of you just wanted him to be ready sooner. You wanted all the time with him that you could get by the morning.
He crosses the room, rummaging through his own travel bag before finding the clothes he'd had ready to change into after his show. A pair of casual, comfortable sweatpants and a graphic tee. The warm jacket he brings out must be a precaution for the inevitable chill night brought.
"I liked your 'cover' song, if you can call it that." You say as you find purchase on the comfortable, plushy sofa across the room from him. "I had a feeling that was more of a... Last minute choice."
"What gave that away?" He huffs out a small laugh, glancing back at you before slipping off his graphic tee and replacing it with another.
"I don't know, maybe the fact that you don't ever play your own songs for the cover song?" Teasing, you pry, "not so much a cover, then."
"It only felt right. I wrote a song about you, obviously I had to perform it while you were there. I'd honestly be a bad boyfriend if I didn't." He snickers, changing out of his plaid pants into the more comfortable sweatpants as he says it.
During the part of the show where he'd usually cover a song he loves, he instead played his own song, You, from his debut album. You remember when he'd written it for you before you two were together and the lines blurred, encapsulating his infatuation in the one way he knew how. Music.
"I liked it." You hum, smoothing over the fabric of your own outfit, increasingly aware of your own clothing as he changes his, "it made me happy."
"Then asking my band to improvise it live with me for the first time was the right choice."
Finally, he turns to you as he zips up the jacket he's slipped on and walks back over to you and settles on the sofa. He has no care for how messy his hair is or how much of a mess he looks, but you can't blame him. You're sure you look similarly.
"I'm really glad you came." He murmurs a little more vulnerably, "but now that I'm seeing you, there's no way I'm gonna want you to leave again."
"I know." You rub his thigh reassuringly, nodding back in understanding, "but don't focus on that yet. Just focus on the fact that I'm here and I'm yours after an entire month." It's a reminder to step out of his head and live in the moment, one that's much needed.
Taking a deep breath, he nods in agreement.
A knock on the door that brings you two out of the moment must be his tour manager, you think, because Finn doesn't falter or question it. He just moves to stand, heads over to the door, and lingers in the doorway as he converses with the familiarly voiced man behind it.
Distracting yourself with your phone for the moment, you try not to listen, to give him privacy. It's hard when he's not really trying to hide much.
The door clicks shut and you watch Finn make his way to the vanity to pack up the last of his stuff into the duffel bag he travels with. When you ask him about it, he replies with few words.
Blinking, you slowly register his words and realize what that really means for you.
Your boyfriend's staying a full night with you in a nice hotel room.
An entire month without a single touch.
Heated kisses and wandering hands are the first thing to greet you as you shut and lock the door of your hotel room. It's abrupt. Far from unwelcome, but still sudden. It leaves your heart pounding and the key card once in your hand fallen to the ground. He only takes the time to drop his duffel bag to the floor before his lips are on yours.
You only think to kiss back once your mind has caught up with your senses. Leaning both into his touch and the back of the door, your hands wrap around his shoulders to secure yourself somewhere. Then, your hands are in his hair, and you're soon lost on where you begin and he ends.
"Fuck, I'm sorry—" Finn pulls away with a soft murmur, his forehead pressing to yours like it had earlier when you'd kissed, "I'm sorry. I just missed you." He interrupts every word with a soft peck to your face. On your cheek, your lips, your nose, everywhere.
"Why are you sorry?" Your hands run down to cup either of his cheeks before giving a soft huff, "don't be sorry. I missed you too. So much. This is all I've wanted for the past month. Don't stop now. Don't stop at all."
His eyes stay on yours before flitting back down to your lips. You know what he's thinking, it's just a matter of whether he'll go for it or not.
"When do you have to be back on the tour bus in the morning? When do you guys leave for California?" You hum, moving to squeeze his shoulders. Really, you're just trying to gauge how many hours you have left with him.
"Uh..." He blinks, thinking hard about it before running a hand through his hair and estimating, "usually we head out by eight, which is... Way less time than I anticipated."
Glancing over his shoulder as best you can, you try and make out what the analog clock across the room reads with squinted, trying eyes.
The clock reads 12:00 AM.
"That's not too bad... If we go to bed now, you'd get a whole eight hours." You poke at him, catching his gaze again. There's a part of you, an inkling, even, that figures he has other ideas, though.
"And waste my time with you by being unconscious?" He scoffs, shaking his head and pressing a kiss to your temple, "no. Don't be ridiculous... I can handle only getting a few hours of sleep if it means spending time with you. I mean, if you want. You had a long day, too."
"Yeah, but I'd be a little bummed out if all of this was just to get to sleep next to you in a hotel bed for a night. Not that I wouldn't like that. I really would. I'd just... Prefer being awake and present." Humming, you nod at him, assuring him.
"Yeah?" He asks, stepping closer into your personal space and invading it.
Nodding again, harder, you agree, "yeah."
His long, wanting arms wrap around your figure and bring your chests flush against one another, "I've really missed touching you. God, I hate how that sounds, but you know what I mean. Right? It's just... We talk everyday, I get to see your pretty face everyday, but I can't feel you like this through a screen."
"I know..." You reply, resting your hands on his chest, "and I've missed your touch."
Nose gently nudging against your jaw, Finn presses the faintest kiss to your neck. Experimentally, they get a little more comfortable, a little more meticulous, and heat rushes to your face at the realization of what he's starting.
Tangling your hands in his hair again, you arch your neck and rest your head back against the door, sighing audibly at the relieving feeling of having his lips on your skin. He leaves sloppy kisses over the column of your throat before soon promoting them to hickeys that he sucks hard and laves over with his tongue to soothe them. Your mind is far from here, clouded by the sounds his mouth are making, his soft huffs of breath out of his nose, and your own sighs of satisfaction.
"Bed," Finn breathes out in a soft exhale, catching his breath against the crook of your neck as he peeks up at you, "now..."
He wants to sound demanding, authoritative, but he's so weak for you that he can't keep his resolve. His voice shakes and it comes out as a question rather than an order.
"Yeah, okay," you agree regardless, "please."
He's slow yet sure not to waste time in his movements because he's trying to savor this moment for the weeks to come. His hands leave your waist as he steps back, only to find your forearm and gently grab you to guide you after him to the bed. As you sit on the edge of it, he moves to close the curtains nearby. Then, he turns on the lamp on the bedside table.
"Good?" He asks after turning off the overhead light, the dim ambience from the lamp adding to the intimate atmosphere.
"Perfect." The word comes out under your breath as you glance around the room, nice and quiet spare the footsteps coming from the man approaching you for the hundredth time tonight.
His forefinger hooks under your chin when he comes to stand over you, forcing your gaze on him as he cups your chin. The soft smile on his face is like a reward for your compliance.
Your hands gently rest on his thighs before grazing the hem of the sweatpants he'd changed into earlier. You're met with his hands on his wrist as he stops you, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
"No—I, uh, I wanna go down on you," he confesses, swallowing thickly before regaining his composure and standing tall again, "lie back on the bed for me, honey?"
The words settle somewhere low in your core and heavy on your heart as it races. You're not one to complain with that, so you gently maneuver yourself so you can scoot back enough to where your head hits the pillow. His gaze is intense, watching your every twitch and shift.
He follows, slipping his shoes off before settling on the bed below you and moving to do the same for you. He slips your shoes off and lets them fall to the floor beside the mattress without much care where they end up. Slipping his wallet out from the walker of his sweatpants, he's quick to abandon it and throw it to the nightstand near you. Then, he's soon parting your thighs so he can kneel between them, all while at a loss for words. Just his soft, unsteady breaths.
"...I think I'm in love with you." He weakly laughs as he stares down at you, hands running up and under your top as they ghost over the warm skin and send shivers down your spine. "No, yeah, very in love with you. Like, big time."
"We've been dating for almost two years now. I'd hope you were." You tease back, gently nudging him with your knee before his hands slip down to find your thighs and hold them to keep them steady and stable.
"Good point." Shaking his head with a crooked grin, he's finally moving to grip at your waistband and get off your pants as efficiently as he can. He doesn't bother asking. He knew he had your permission from the second you lifted your hips.
"...God, I am so lucky. Look at you. Just the prettiest fucking girl in the world." He curses under his breath once he's face to face with your exposed skin, not even sparing your undergarments. He left no time to stall.
Lifting your hips again, this time out of need and the arousal building within you with every passing second, Finn murmurs, "you need it? Need me?"
"Need you," you sigh out, knowing he wanted the verbal confirmation, "I do, baby. Please."
Lying flat on his stomach in between your thighs, you swear you have the best view of him like this. His hair back longer than ever, his eyes hazy with his own arousal, and his lips swollen and glossy from your makeouts.
It's even better when those same lips are latching around your clit and slowly satiating that need you've been craving so desperately—the tip of his tongue circles the nerves, taking his time as he tries not to startle you.
It's almost too slow, you think, but he's proving you wrong a second later by parting from you and licking a long stripe over your clit before lapping at it with that desperation you expected from someone who loved to eat you out as badly as he did.
"F-fuck, right there—" the words tumble past your lips without hesitation, head falling back against the plush of the hotel pillow as your hand reaches down to tangle in his soft, messy locks.
"Shh..." He reminds you as he pulls away, thumb replacing his tongue as it incessantly rubs those same circles, "I wanna hear you, just gotta stay quiet. Can you do that for me?"
Eyes rolling back at the rough pad of his finger against your clit, you nod weakly with a quieter whine. He takes it as enough of an answer, thankfully, moving down to make use of his mouth elsewhere.
His tongue gently laps at the entrance of your pussy like he knows what he wants. But, instead of diving right in and risking ruining the build up, he lets you feel his tongue ghosting over where you want him deeper. A weak pull at his scalp tells him that his foreplay—if this could even be called foreplay at this point—is undoubtedly working.
The only reason he's not rambling, talking sweet in your ear through every up and down coursing through your body right now, is because he's so preoccupied with making you feel that way in the first place. His tongue is buried deep inside of your pussy by now and he's letting your hips press down and grind against him like you so desire.
When you whine and mumble his name like you just need a reminder that he's there, he hums in response, the vibration only serving to make your hips lift further against the source.
His spare hand comes to rest on your hip, thumb stroking your skin as he grounds you through it.
Your head is so dazed that it's hard to focus on much. But when you finally do look back down, it's then that you finally see it.
While his mouth stays eager between your thighs and his hands fixate on the same, and with tousled hair and a somewhat wrinkled tee adorning his frame—he's weakly grinding against the mattress for relief because he just can't wait.
Moaning aloud at the revelation, Finn must realize that you noticed, his eyes flickering up to meet yours despite the obscene noises coming from where you two meet. Humming again, he relishes in that knowledge that you're getting off on this.
His ministrations increase to what can only be described as him humping the bed, aching for any sort of friction that can stave him off until he can have you.
Fuck, can he really get off like this?
The question doesn't linger long, interrupted when he moans against you and sends yet another wave of pleasure through your body.
God, well you can, and you're just about to.
"Finn..." You moan softly, careful not to be too loud despite the pit of pleasure pooling low in your stomach. This time, stronger and faster.
He nods back, insistent on not pulling away from you. He's breathing heavy through his nose to compensate for it but all it does it make his movements messier and less efficient in the hottest way possible, both his mouth and his hips.
"Gonna cum," you warn, taking in a sharp breath as your head falls back against the pillow, body tensing up and teetering on the edge, "fuck, Finn, I'm gonna cum..."
He gives the sweetest nod and the biggest puppy dog eyes you've ever seen as he hums in agreement, ensuring that you understand him.
Not only that, but his hips start stuttering against the mattress and part of you, just for a second, wonders if that means he's close, too.
The thought doesn't last long, just like you, because he's refocusing on your clit and circling it harder and more concentrated than before. His messiness is long gone and replaced with nothing short of perfection.
It's worth it, too. Because in the time that he does that, you're moaning out far too loud as your back curves into an arch against the bed. It hits you hard. You're acutely aware of his nose nudging your clit alongside his persistent thumb, his tongue thrusting in and out of your pussy like a moment without would be a crime, and his hand resting over your lower stomach throughout it all.
The waves of your orgasm are intense, partially because you've gone so long without him, but also because of how stupidly hot it is to watch him fuck and rut against the mattress like he can't even wait for you.
Your mind clouds and head spins with the accumulation of everything flooding over you. Pleasure, satisfaction, and relief. It all comes together and soon lets you melt into the mattress like never before.
Finn parts from you just as worn, breathing heavy and sitting up on his elbows to look up at you. He's still pressed against the mattress, you notice, and in your fuzzy mind, you find it in you to speak.
"Keep going..." You gently reach up to grip at his long curls, lower lip drawn between your teeth as you encourage him, "want you to cum."
"W-what?" He breathes out, far too gone to think what you're saying is real, "me?"
"I saw you, while you were..." Words are too hard right now and they fail you. So you just weakly tug on his hair and wrap your legs around his back to remind him that you're there.
The added weight has him giving in and resting his head against your bare thigh, returning to his humping against the mattress as he looks you over. At the rise and fall of your chest, the tremble in your thighs, and the beautiful afterglow that's come over you post-orgasm.
"...You like going down on me that much, yeah?" You instigate, gauging his reaction as he nods back against your inner thigh and leans into the touch. He hums back a small agreement and his hips stutter and you know you've got him.
"Made me feel so good," you praise, "I've wanted this since the last time I saw you. You know that? That I've wanted you that whole time, every single night? Missed seeing you like this."
All of it seems to go to his head as his cheek nuzzles your thigh and his body tightens like it pains him to keep going. He lets out a low, loud groan as he gives one more harsh thrust against the bed. It's arousing yet heartwarming watching him be so affected by you.
As he hits his high, you make sure not to stop the series and mantras of praise. You want to draw it out as long as possible, cupping his jaw and stroking his cheek with your thumb.
He lets out a shaky exhale and a huff of laughter as he sits back up on his elbows. It's strenuous, and it takes a lot out of him, but he's finally moving to sit back up on the bed with a new damp patch on the front of his sweatpants to make for it. It's like the orgasm hit him like a punch. He runs a hand through his hair, getting it out of his eyes as he looks down at you.
"...Hey." The word comes out exasperated and unserious as you two come out of the moment. He shifts to lay beside you, collapsing on the bed with the pillow to land on.
"Hi." You smile, head turning to watch him as he faces you and rests an arm over your somehow still clothed stomach, "tired?"
"Just need a minute." He huffs, shaking his head as he rests his head in the crook of your neck while he catches his breath. His breathing slowly begins to match yours as his hand curls around your waist. Just to hold. To feel.
"Just a minute?" You tease, feeling him playfully nip at your exposed collarbone at the very much targeted comment, "hey—I'm asking a question."
"Stupid questions get stupid answers. Like a bite to the neck." He jokes, peeking out from your neck to look up at you.
"You sure have a lot of audacity for someone who just came in his pants." You comment, poking fun at him as he audibly groans at the reminder.
Sitting up to rest on his elbow beside you with his head in his palm, he retorts, "and you liked it."
Scoffing, you return the energy, "and you didn't?"
"...You talk too much." You smile, rolling your eyes and relaxing back against the pillow like a girl wrung satisfied.
You're not sure you've ever felt better than you did in this moment; a small moment in time spent being loved and doted on by the one you love, coming down from a bliss with the promise of another one to come. What could possibly be better than that?
"I should have a condom in my wallet," he hums, a bit out of the blue, "can you reach it for me, babe? I think it's in the back pocket."
"You think?" You hum, reaching over to grab the leather wallet off the nightstand beside you and hand it off to him. He flips it open, rummages through the furthest back slot, before retrieving the small plastic wrapping he'd been looking for.
"I knew." He jokes, closing his wallet and throwing it to the nightstand on his side now before
Retaliating with a soft scoff, you struggle to hide the smile making its way to your lips. He's leaning in to kiss it off of you in record time, throwing the plastic aside for a moment so he can focus on devouring you.
He tastes of you, still. You're aware of it when he's pushing his tongue past your lips and against yours, and you're aware of it when he's letting his hands drift down again to slip your shirt up over your chest as best he can one handed.
You pull away only to sit up and let him slip your shirt off completely, leaving you only in your bra while he's still fully clothed. A mess, sure, but clothed.
"You're too clothed," you comment before teasing, running a hand over his clothed chest in return, "take something off and I'll maybe think about kissing you again."
"I guess I have to earn it, huh?" With a crooked smile, he sits up on the bed and reaches to take his own top off. Every inch of skin exposed is another second you can't wait to have him.
Running your hand over his chest and down to his stomach, you fumble with the drawstring of his waistband, far too eager to wait. He must catch it, because he's helping you undo them before slipping them off and over his legs until he's just left in his boxers. He's so painfully hard, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide that fact. He doesn't try to, either, just moving back between your legs and leaning down to kiss you as he hovers above.
"You want me? I've got you. I can do that." He whispers against your lips, nodding softly.
One thing you love about him is that he always seems to read your mind. You barely have to ask for what you want when a shared look works just the same, if not more effectively.
Wrapping your arms around his shoulders and interlocking your fingers with his hair, you take in the feeling and run them through the long curls. He's pressing against your thigh and you can just tell he's slowly getting hard again with every second you two are on each other.
It takes a few more minutes of kissing for him to be hard and keening against your thigh, this time opting for subtle grinding motions against it rather than the mattress. Definitely an upgrade.
He parts from your lips, leaving a final kiss to the corner of your lips before sitting up and situating himself between your thighs. Slipping down his boxers without much to say about it, he shucks them down his thighs and lets them fall somewhere off to the side of the bed like every other piece of clothing that's been shed tonight. You take the opportunity to take your own bra off as you sit up and unclasp it, abandoning it, too.
Handing him the condom he'd gotten out moments earlier, he uses his teeth to rip open the top. There's no moment wasted by hesitation or reluctance when he's running solely off pure arousal and attraction right now.
Discarding the wrapper, he reaches down to roll the condom on over his hard, newly exposed cock. Sucking in a sharp breath, he pumps himself a few times before gently parting your thighs with his hands. Holding them apart, he scoots closer until his cock is begging to touch.
"How're you doing?" He asks, looking up at you as he rubs his hands over your inner thighs, sending shivers through your spine.
"Good," you sigh, "but I'd probably be better if you were inside of me already. It's been a month, baby." The words are meant to convince, to which you hope they're doing well. Your hands tangle in the blankets, the bed still somewhat neatly made despite everything.
"I know, I know." He coos as he slowly taps himself against your entrance, whether to prepare you or himself, you're not sure, "so impatient... I'm gonna take care of you, okay? Promise. When don't I?"
Reaching down to rest one of your hands atop his, he locks his fingers with yours, and that's when you finally feel it.
Every inch of him is familiar, though it's been a minute so your body is taking a moment to recognize it. That doesn't mean it doesn't feel amazing. Just being this close to him, watching him struggle to keep his cool, it's all a big turn on. Not to mention how breathless you are when he slowly pushes in to the hilt—
"Taking it so well, babe..." He mutters under his breath, half consciously, half out of instinct.
Letting out a huge exhale, you feel his hips meet the back of your thighs, telling you he's fully sheathed inside of you and taking a moment so he doesn't cum from that fact alone.
"Is it too much? Need a minute?" He asks, squeezing your hand as a reminder that he's there. His other hand, once on your thigh, moves to rub your clit in slow circular motions to try and ease the stretch as best he can for you.
It is a lot, but it's far from unpleasant. That, and the last thing you wanna do now is wait.
"No—I'm okay. I'm so okay. Feels good. You can move." You nod in return, squeezing his hand back as your gaze flickers between his face and where you two are connected. It's so hard to know where to focus with so much of him to ogle at.
"Okay," he nods back, "just let me know."
After what feels like forever, he's pulling out until just the tip of his cock is sheathed inside of you. It's slow and drawn out and debilitating. But then, with twice as much vigor, he's thrusting back inside of you and making your jaw drop at how well he knows your body. So much so that how knows exactly to angle himself so that you're thrumming with pleasure.
"Fuck," you moan out, unsure of how many times you'd cursed it already tonight, "that's so..."
"Good?" He grins, nodding back, "I know. Keep quiet for me, okay? I know it feels good but we might have neighbors here, yeah? Can you do that for me?"
It doesn't help that he's grinding somewhere deep inside of you as he utters those words, all whilst you're on the verge of moaning even louder. You swear you're not this reactive normally. It's like all your senses are heightened, just for this night.
"Mhm—I can. I'll try." You nod, so so sure in yourself that you can handle stifling a few moans here and there.
Biting your lower lip, you're immediately put to the test. Finn slowly brings his cock out of you again, until just the head is inside, before fucking back into you and brushing against that spot that feels so sensitive yet so good. Jaw dropping, your eyes fall shut before his hand clamps down over your mouth and stifles whatever noise threatened to escape you.
"You're not good at this whole quiet thing. Has anyone ever told you that?" He weakly jokes, starting a slow pace while keeping his hand over your mouth, "don't think I can trust you just yet."
Mumbling something muffled against his palm, he gives a small little laugh before shaking his head, "no, you've gotta prove it to me that you can be quiet. If you can't be, that's okay, too. I can keep my hand over this pretty mouth all night if I have to. Would hate to lose the sight, though."
When the hell did he get so flirty, and since when were you this into this soft sort of dominance?
When you hum in agreement, not even thinking to argue with him like this, he huffs in a sarcastic kind of acknowledgment, "good. Glad we got that settled."
He starts fucking into you a little harder, making sure his every thrust is intentional and aimed and utterly breathtaking. Your breathing stutters here and there and you can guarantee he can feel it against his palm and enjoys knowing it.
One thing he does, though, is make sure that you know every single thought he has about you.
"You're so fucking pretty, shit, I can't..." He sighs as he gently removes his hand from yours to grip your thighs a little harder, sure to leave faint marks by the morning.
"Being so good for me, staying so quiet, so proud of you... Knew you could do it." He groans quietly when that same hand moves to grasp at your chest, tweaking your nipple softly.
"Don't even have to think. I'll do it for you, okay? Just lie there and look pretty." Those words are whispered under his breath when you're already fucked out and surely looking the part, too.
His hand doesn't leave your mouth once.
That is, until he's asking with furrowed brows and increasingly uncoordinated, "can you behave for me now? Will you be quiet for me?"
Humming again with a direct nod, he finally acquiesces and removes his hand from your mouth. Heaving in relief, you take in a few sharp breaths to try and give quieter whines with every thrust he doesn't let up.
"Good girl..." He finally praises, rewarding you with a thumb to your clit that circles like it knows exactly what makes you tick. He knows that when your thighs twitch, you're getting closer, and everytime you blink hard, you're focusing on reaching that high a little more for a moment.
"Being so, so good for me. God, I don't deserve you, do I?" Your space is crowded when he leans over you and holds himself up with both elbows on either side of your head.
You're boxed in in the most delectable way possible. He even opts for grinding deep inside of you in this position. It's dizzying and satisfying and all you can—or rather, want—to focus on is the way he looks at you like there's nowhere else he'd rather be than right here.
"You're getting close," he exhales. It's not a question, but rather a statement. An observation.
"Mhm," you hum, "I'm close... So, so close. Need a little more, please. Something." It comes out as more of a plead than you mean for it to, but nonetheless, it's effective.
"So demanding." He scoffs, but complies.
Though he can't use one of his hands to rub your clit, he does try and press himself flush against you so his pubic bone is grinding against your clit. The limited friction is both agonizing and just enough to satiate that low throbbing in your core that craved something more.
Wrapping your legs around his hips and trying to bring him as close as possible without an inch to spare, Finn lets out a low moan as his head falls to rest in the crook of your neck.
"Oh, shit," he sucks in a sharp breath, the new position seeming to get a rise out of him as he eagerly grinds in and out of you as best he can without the ability to move.
In a heated manner, Finn leaves a plethora of wet, rushed kisses against your bare neck, throwing hickeys in here and there to keep you on your toes.
Clenching around his, you struggle to give much of a warning when your thighs tighten around him and arms dig into his back because your body is drawn so taut. It's intense and unwavering and you're sure, by the way he lets out a choked groan, he can feel it too.
"C'mon, honey, cum for me. I've got you..." He insists, face still buried in your neck. Kissing up your neck to jaw then to your lips, his tongue licks over yours and he quite literally nips at your lip without paying much mind afterward.
Gasping out and muffling your inevitable moans with his mouth, he swallows every single one up as he grinds against your g-spot until you're absolutely writhing beneath him. This orgasm is much more than the one prior, curling in on him and pulsing like you never want him to leave.
He cums, too. It's immediate. The second you're tightening around him and kissing him hard, his hips are stuttering inside of you and he's fighting between stilling and fucking into you until he's absolutely exhausted you.
Meanwhile, you're sure you're in heaven. Your head is light and your body feels heavy like you'd just overexerted yourself to the max. In a way, you have. In the best way possible.
"...I am so goddamn in love with you." Finn whispers as he gently collapses on top of you, burying his face in your neck and reveling in the beautiful, blissful aftermath of loving you.
Threading your fingers through his hair, your legs loosely intertwine with his as you further relax into the bed, thoroughly spent from your orgasm. Truly, the only thing on your mind was lying here and basking in this moment like it was fleeting.
Your overcome with this gut wrenching feeling that you really, really didn't want your boyfriend to leave again in the morning.
"I don't want you to go again." You selfishly murmur, kissing the top of his head as you keep him impossibly close. "I wish I could just... Follow you every time you went on tour so we never had to go entire months without each other."
"Maybe if you didn't have a job..." He weakly jokes, muffled against your skin, "and not that I'm approving of the idea of you quitting, but logistically, right now, it doesn't sound half bad. I'd really like if you came on every single tour with me for the rest of my life."
Slowly pulling out and rolling off of you, Finn sighs as he discards the condom he'd almost forgotten about before wrapping his arms around you again. He's tight and unforgiving, refusing to let up.
"Gonna get some washcloths and clothes because I doubt either of us have the energy to shower or take a bath right now." He presses a kiss to your shoulder with a soft yawn, "we'll deal with it in the morning. Just need you and this bed."
"Mkay," you reluctantly agree, letting him slip out of bed and away from you as he moves to cross the room. You're not sure what he's doing first because your eyes are fluttering shut in record time. Not to sleep, no, definitely not without him, but rather to cherish this moment while it's here.
Your eyes only flutter back open when the bed dips with the weight of your boyfriend and the feeling of a warm washcloth running over your neck, first. Then, your thighs and wherever else he deems needs it. You come first. He worries about himself after and makes way less of an effort to be careful and tentative with the towel.
Slowly sitting up, Finn yawns before helping you slip into a loose tee he found in your bag. He brought over shorts, too, but once he gets your underwear on, you seem to be satisfied enough.
He lets it be quiet for now because he knows better than most that silence can be nice and relaxing. It isn't something that has to be filled, nor is it always awkward. Sometimes it's cleaning up the love of your life after making love before helping them into clothes before yourself. Sometimes it's lying in an unfamiliar bed yet still feeling at home because of the person beside you.
"I don't think you know how much I appreciated you coming tonight." Finn murmurs as he slips his own shirt on next, the same one from earlier, only now with a new pair of boxers. "I'm never gonna forget that, y'know. This was one of the most meaningful things someone's ever done for me."
"You deserve it. So." Your words are short and limited but no less important. "I just... Really love you. And I hate being away from you. So much."
"I'm telling you, the only thing between you and me this next month is your job." He jokes weakly, bringing the blankets over the two of you as he turns his head to face you again, "think they'd let you call out if you told them I asked you to? For the sake of the tour. It's for mankind, really."
Snorting, you playfully hit his chest before rolling over to lie halfway on top of him.
"I wish. I really, really wish." You sigh, already picturing it now. Going along with him for every stop, staying in the tour bus with him, watching every show alongside his friends and family that make every other stop, too. There's something special about the thought.
"...Me too." He rubs his eyes. A soft, comfortable silence follows. One that neither of you feel the need to fill.
Sleepy, he remembers to murmur between a yawn, "you should use the bathroom before you fall asleep, honey. I know you're tired, I know. Just real quick. I won't move an inch, okay?"
You both love and hate how caring he has to be sometimes. Because how the hell are you supposed to let him go in the morning now?
The small whisper while he's half asleep of I love you is just the nail in the coffin.
The morning after is like taking the rose tinted glasses off of a dream you never want to wake up from.
On one hand, you're waking up next to your boyfriend like you've so ached to do for the past month. In a warm, comforting bed that doesn't exactly speak home but it feels close enough to it when he's in it. On the other hand, you won't get to do that again for at least another month.
It's taunting in the worst way imaginable.
You two woke up a bit ago, freshly showered yet exhausted from the lack of sleep you two got. Falling asleep at two in the morning to wake up merely four hours later was not ideal after a long night. But that doesn't mean you two aren't rejuvenated from being together, totally whipped and lingering on every last touch from last night.
Reality only settled in when Finn got the text that the tour bus was heading over to pick him up. That lurking feeling of sadness that you'd have to say bye was finally coming to the surface as you packed up your own bag to return to Vancouver for the rest of your weekend.
"Do you have to go?" He's the one sighing now, watching you pack your bag as he hugs you from behind and watches your movements over your shoulder. You can't remember when he got to be so clingy, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.
"Do you?" You ask back, equally as upset at the thought, "you don't know how close I am to calling my boss and begging for a whole month off right now. Full on begging. This is the worst feeling of my life."
You're being dramatic. You know you are. It's hard not to be when, in this moment, it really felt as serious as you two were making it out to be in your heads. As if you two haven't already been apart for a month, so what harm would another do?
According to you two, a lot, apparently.
"Why don't you try?" He hums before snorting and squeezing your waist, "oh, god, can you tell I haven't worked a job like yours before? That sounds so stupid. Pretend I never said that."
"I'd feel ridiculous if I asked." You huff out a small laugh, "hey, could I get a month off to follow my hot celebrity musician boyfriend around on his tour? Thanks!" Slipping your charger into your bag, you zip up the smaller pocket and move to the larger one.
Scoffing, he shakes his head and nudges you, "maybe a text would give you a better shot, because you managed to make it sound even worse than I did. And that takes skill."
"...It wouldn't hurt." You mumble, unable to believe that you're actually considering such a ridiculous thing. But you had the sweetest boss to grace this world, and you're sure she wouldn't totally fire you. Maybe she'd think it's stupid. Maybe she'd roll her eyes. Maybe she'd flat out ignore you. But your job wouldn't be in jeopardy, right?
Fishing your phone out from your pocket, you let Finn watch from over your shoulder as you open your texts with her and really consider it.
"If you're serious about wanting to come along with me, which you totally don't have to do, what's the worst that could happen?" He presses a kiss to your cheek before parting from you and going to tidy up the room a little more before his departure.
"I shouldn't." You murmur under your breath, not quite expecting him to catch it. It wasn't for him to hear. It was a warning to yourself.
You don't have long before his tour bus gets here. Hell, you didn't even ask his manager. Neither of you asked anyone. Probably because you're anticipating a big, immediate "no" before you've even bothered asking.
You click send with lots of hesitation and plenty of doubt. Setting your phone down almost immediately after, you continue packing your bag. This time, you're folding up the clothes you slept in along with anything else that you brought out this morning. Toiletries, electronics, and whatnot.
"Is it too late for me to quit my job and stay?" He jokes softly, an attempt to lighten up the air of sadness that stuck around in the room. His hands are finding your waist again and he's burying his face in the nape of your neck like a clingy, defeated puppy.
Zipping your bag closed for the final time, you turn in his grasp so you're facing him and wrap your arms around his shoulders. His nose gently nudges yours when he leans in ever so close and all you can focus on is how nice this is.
"I don't know, is it?" You squeeze his shoulders before pulling him into a slow, steady kiss. One that neither of you want to pull away from.
"...Don't tempt me." He sighs against your lips, "you have way more power here than you think."
"So you're saying I should use my power for good," you hum, feigning deep thought, "and not persuade my boyfriend to selfishly stay with me instead of go make all his fans happy? God, I don't know, this is hard..."
"Shut up." He playfully pokes your side before rubbing it soothingly.
"I love you too." You smile, unable to contain it.
Finn's phone vibrates in his pocket, and when he reaches for it and reads the screen, you can practically see his expression fall into a less joyful and care free one. Sighing, he signals to the door.
"Time to head down." He slips his phone back in his pocket before parting to grab his bag, "one more kiss before we're not so alone?"
Fighting back that aching, overbearing feeling in your chest, you grab your bag, too, before crossing the room to stand in front of him. Leaning in, he meets you halfway and lets his free hand move to cup your cheek in the sweetest way. Heat blooms in your chest as your heart beats ever so slightly faster and he clutches onto you like he's memorizing every curve of your face.
Neither of you make an effort to end it until you're desperate for air and parting to catch some. Pressing his forehead to yours, Finn exhales.
"I love you. Thank you again. For planning this, for coming, for spending the night with me, I just—" he shakes his head, struggling to form the right words, "now that you're here, I don't know how I'm supposed do it without you again."
"It's only another month." Your nose brushes against his as you hold his gaze. The words don't feel as small as you try to make them sound.
"Only a month." He sighs before laughing weakly, "I wish that made me feel any better. But it doesn't. That's still a long time apart."
"...You've done it once. You've done it your entire life before meeting me, let alone before dating me. You can do it again." The words are meant to be reassuring, and you hope they are. Because the smile on your face is only you wanting to make him feel better, a facade that hides just how similarly you feel.
You know that'll only make him feel worse, to know you feel just as badly about this as he does.
"C'mon. They're waiting, and you have places to be. California's waiting for you, then Canada." You gently pull away, resting a hand on his chest and pressing one more kiss to his lips before prompting him, "do you have everything?"
Nodding, he returns it, "do you? Phone, bag, chargers?"
Patting your pocket, your gaze flickers back to the bed your phone lay on. You'd forgotten about that in the heat of the moment. Moving to grab it, you hurry back over to him, but not without catching a glimpse of your screen.
Faltering, you only make it halfway across the room before getting sucked into your phone and opening the response to a text you blocked out sending a mere five minutes ago. Nerves, you blame.
"Everything okay?" He asks, careful not to rush when he sees the mixture of emotions written all over your face. Even you're not sure how to feel.
Sucking in a sharp breath, you look back up.
"She said yes." You slowly reply, lacking much context when disbelief clouds your judgement. He comes up to you when you don't move forward, meeting you halfway as he questions.
"Who?" He asks, before pausing in realization and returning an equally shocked expression, "wait—"
"My boss said yes. I–I texted her asking about getting some time off this month, however much I could, really, to tag along with you on your tour. Because I told her about this whole... Thing. I really didn't think she'd let me but she just said I could use my paid time off for the next month if I wanted and she'll pull some strings for me."
You're rambling, if this could even be considered that anymore. The words are coming out faster than Finn can process them so when he pauses after you're done to blink in thought, it's only seconds later that he's reacting.
"Are you telling me you can come with us?" He asks, furrowing his brows in concentration as he sets his bag down on the floor beside him.
"I mean, my cars still here, and I don't have any clothes for the next month. I don't know—" It doesn't quite make sense in your mind yet, all of this coming so last minute that you're not sure that it's even happening.
"I have clothes. We can get you some stuff on one of our free days if you want, too. We can get the car back in a month if we need to keep it here somewhere. I'm sure I have a friend around here who wouldn't mind keeping it in their driveway for you." He shakes his head, rubbing your shoulders as he weighs your options for you, "and if the battery dies while we're gone because we haven't driven it, we'll jump start it. Get a new battery. We can deal with it when that happens."
He's serious about this. Like he's considered this possibility before and was waiting for all his planning to come into play. Though, this time, you're still not quite sure it's real.
"...You're serious." You murmur, eyes set on his and gauging his reaction, "and your tour manager? The band? We never asked anybody."
"Like they'd ever say no to you." He huffs out a small laugh, "I talk about you like I'm your husband at war while you wait for me at home. I should have a picture of you in my hat at this point. If anything, they'll be happy I'm not moping around missing you here and there."
He's definitely thought about this before, and it doesn't take much for you to come to your final verdict.
"Well, let's not waste anymore time then."
⊹ ࣪ ˖ a/n: genuinely don't know how i feel abt this but maybe it's bc i've been writing it for daaaaays.. i think it's buns in my head now bc of it!! but i hope someone enjoys it bc that'll make it worth every second 😭 anyways i need this man in both the sweetest and worst ways ever. put me in coach i've always wanted to be a gf on tour 😫
taglist: @welcomesatan @calls-sovereign @unicornkweef69 @zaylarae @veeweepeeknee @kailyndavillier @maddesolationwill @sophiamikaela13 @teacup-thoughts @rimonjinn @kunklefunkle @samomalovaa @gyattmaster2002 @cciessuzi @fwluverr @dontmentionitseriouslyy @vodka-baby @geminizmoonz @bloodytragedyblog @mikes-sorcerer @velvetaux @pissylivvie @romanroyapoligist @okayparkers @cravingforvik @kc-skye @antivenus @k-hirf-rv @lanadelrae-wrld @planetsophiet @crying2hs @babybyers08132 @skywalker987 @fleetingpulp @scturne19 @lexi8712 @revlayn916 @byleraisa @colettebrown088 @0nlybitt3r4may @owlwingsstuff @mattbymills @pinkie1pie @ammacrellinlover @sturngrande @minsingular @finjascherry @bl3ssedp0etry @pinkcatbow @veloraee
my taglist already knows how i feel about them... i would do anything for u all. i love u so much and that only grows every time u for some reason let me tag u in some bullshit!! iktr!! 🤍
