"Baby, baby, baby!" You squealed, feeling yourself get pushed forward, the edge of the counter pressing into your body.

"What, what, what?" He cooed, standing behind you, placing one hand on each side of your body, firmly caging you against the counter.

You spun around to look at him, placing an exaggerated pout on your lips and a emphasized cross of your arms. You even pushed your chest up with an added, "Hmph!" for extra drama.

He just laughed, that goofy and sweet sound echoing throughout the empty hotel suite the two of you were calling a temporary home. It was a wreck, frankly, displaying a museum of items ranging from performance notes and doodles on napkins to candy wrappers and graphic t-shirts with kiss marks. While touring did suck, especially when you were thrown into a shitty motel for the night, for some reason Susan, their tour manager, booked a very nice room just for the two of you this time around. She informed of you with a giggle and a wink before you arrived, nudging your arm before rushing off with a wave to Chris, who just smirked as he watched the woman run off to "attend her duties".

But despite that, the shrugs Chris gave you, and the whines at their rooms being "lame" from the boys, you didn't mind. After all, you got more space and a decent heater... who would've known that winter in Japan would've been so brutal?

However, you knew better than to think Chris hadn't influenced Susan's decision to get you a very nice room... the sparkle in his eyes and the smirk he hid at every turn said a lot.

"Look at you, playing house..." he murmured, eyes raking over your body. You were in the middle of cleaning the counter tops, trying to get the room look less like a tornado ran through it before check out tomorrow.

"I'm cleaning... because somebody here has to do it and it doesn't seem like you!"

He gasped, leaning back with wide eyes and a hand to his chest, "I washed the dishes last night, my darling!"

"Dishes? Chris we had takeout-" you paused as a slow grin made it's way onto his face, the wink he just gave you making you realize exactly why he must have begged Susan, on his hands and knees, to give you this fancy hotel room equipped with a master bath and a kitchenette during the longest stationary period of the tour.

"Oh you fucker!" you threw the cloth rag you were using to wipe the counters at him, a flush spreading over your cheeks.

He stepped back, throwing himself to the side to dodge the towel with a laugh. Finally, he gave you an out to rush away with an erratic giggle, scrambling around the corner and toward the bed.

"You did this all so we could do some husband and wife roleplay?!" your bare feet pounded on the carpet as you ran, echoed as a second pair were hot at your heels.

"Me? Have ulterior motives? No, never!" he declared, watching as you scrambled up the king sized bed from the foot, searching for escape at the headboard. But you were too slow and he caught you with one hand snapping around your ankle.

"NO!" you screeched, listening to him laugh triumphantly as he pulled you back to the edge.

You gave a fair fight, at least, pushing away with broad arms and gripping the silky, once made, sheets. But the scuffle ended when he managed to pin you back against the bed, resting one knee beside your hips to lean over and kiss you.

Despite your lip getting slightly bit (and your muffled screech at the pain) and him getting punched in the shoulder (and his warm groan when it happened), the kiss slowly softened the longer the two of you laid there, relaxing in one another's grip. He turned his head, deepening the kiss and caressing your jawline as he did so.

After pulling away for a desperately needed gulp of breath, he looked down at you with swollen lips and half-lidded eyes, "Yes, honey, I worked so hard for this wonderful house, all for my pretty wife to do whatever she wants in. Hell, you don't even have to cook or clean, I'll hire you a maid as long as it means i get to come home to you..."

You could only whine softly, the feel of his hands running up and down your sides as he spoke along with the direct eye contact made you melt into a puddle. The embarrassment at the fact that Susan was probably given an earful of his plan to seduce you in a hotel suite via husband and wife roleplay faded into the background, the sound of his smooth voice right up against your ear making the thought disappear within seconds.

"I'll take care of you, i'll cook for you, clean for you, work for you..." he murmured, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear after.

With a soft moan, you spoke, "Tour getting to you already? We just started and your booked until the end of the year..."

He chuckled, the sound making a shiver go down your spine and goosebumps erupt over your skin, "I know... but i can always pretend..."

Your eyes flickered open as you glanced to see him lean back a bit, peeling off the long sleeved tee he had on. He pulled it off slowly, making you snicker as his head popped out, "I didn't know husbands gave their wives lap dances."

"Oh? You didn't know?" he quirked a brow, leaning down so your faces were inches apart again, "This is what husbands do all the time... it's how they say thank you to their wives. Doesn't matter who the breadwinner is..."

He pulled back, wiggling a bit as he did so, hands raking down his toned chest. It looked equal parts hot and ridiculous... but much more hotter than you were willing to fully admit. He just winked, hands ghosting over his belt, "We'll get a house, get married, and i'll do this every night..."

"Oh yes please," you laughed, pulling your arms to the back of your head, giving you a much better view once propped up.

"Oh yea... and i'll also do this..."

The second he started sinking down to his knees, your brows went up into your hairline. Every second he got lower, you pushed yourself higher and higher up on your elbows.

With a flick of the wrist, your jeans were unbuttoned and your zipper was pulled down. With the slow pull of an arm, denim was rubbing down your legs and bunching around your ankles. He sat at the foot of the bed and in front of your legs, perked and watching your face for every miniscule change on your face, like the most loyal dog.

"Taking care of you includes this," he murmurs, mouthing kisses from your knee up to your thigh, pausing with a hum once he reached the bottom hem of your panties. He slid his hands from where they gripped your thighs up, fingers sliding under the cotton fabric. But instead of pulling them down, like you so desperately wanted him to, he instead nuzzled your fabric covered hip, "This was a good idea then... yea?

You were biting your lip so hard, you swore it tasted metallic. Dumbly, you just nodded.

"Admit it."

"Great idea babe, oh god yea, thank you for thinking ahead Chrissy... I'm sure we can find a way to swear Susan to secrecy so that she never tells any of the guys that she specifically booked us the nicest room so we could fuhhhhhhhuck!" your babble was interrupted by him mouthing the crotch, tongue wetting the cotton flower pattern.

"Holy shit just take them off!" you fall back, eyes screwing shut and chest arching as even the lightest bit of pressure began driving you insane.

"Fuck," you choked, knee jerking at the feel of his breath at your clit. It would've fully knocked right into his face, if he didn't shift at the last minute.

"Jesus," he grinned, glancing up at you, placing a gentle hand on your knee, ushering your leg back down.

Your cheeks burned instantly, the wave of embarrassment taking over the pleasure you were feeling seconds prior, "Sorry, sorry, sorry!"

"Shhh, it's okay... I get it," he murmured, mouthing at your hip, "New feeling... good i hope?"

"Very good, very super ultra good, Chris, I swear! I-i just-"

"Shhhhh," he shushed you again, chuckling as he sat up on your bed. His hands shifted from gently holding your hips to sliding up your sides as he shifted to kneel between your legs, still fully clothed despite you being left in just your bra.

"You don't have to apologize for anything... this is your time to just... feel, okay?"

You could only nod, tight throat and the threaten of tears at your waterline making it impossible to respond without a cry. And while you thought your fast blinks would help hide the tears, they only made it all the more clear to Chris that his girl wasn't exactly feeling as excited as he was in that second.

"Oh baby," he cooed, shoulders sagging as he reached out to cup your cheeks.

You turned your face, trying to look away. You didn't want him to see your watery eyes and the slight quiver on your bottom lip betraying the confident act you had earlier.

You had waltzed into Chris' room (thank god no one else was home), earlier that night wearing an oversized sweatshirt with lingerie underneath, the very kind you bought with the loney you worked so hard to earn at your shitty job.

But despite blowing almost the entirety of your paycheck on lace and string you thought was way too expensive, you yanked it on anyways and rushed to his, hands shaking at your steering wheel.

He loved it, honestly, eyes wide and lips parted as he looked up to see his pretty girl standing at his doorway, letting her sweatshirt fall to reveal the neat bow decorating the present she had on underneath.

After shoving his guitar to the floor with an unharmonious bang and tripping over some wires from his amp, he made it to stand before you, hands in the air as he glanced at you for permission to touch.

You gently grabbed his fingers, guiding them onto the soft fabric decorating your skin with a whispered, "I want to lose my virginity to you."

Full discretion, he nearly came in his pants the second you uttered those words, brraths stuttering as you stared at one another, unsure what the first move would be.

So, with sweet kisses and gentle touches, he coaxed you to sit between his legs as his fingers explored your body, testing what felt right and what felt meh, fingers brushing along your skin in a strumming motion that made you giggle.

"I-i don't know if e-eating me out is the best idea right now..." you murmured, fingers twisting in the sheets.

You'd heard the stories from friends of wild pleasure, of them riding the shit out of their lovers until they bursted, eyes rolling to the backs of their heads and hands scrambling to touch them. They made the stories seem powerful and delicious, the concept of taking your own pleasure AND making them feel their own a combination that was the subject of your late night fantasies, as of recent. And while the idea sounded good in theory... it turned out that imagining ones touch was a lot different than actually feeling.

You were wanting, wrestling with your own eagerness to please and be pleased and the very real (and normal) nerves of a first time experience you realize now that you had no proficiency in. Sure, you've had your share of makeout sessions in the back of shows and dry humping during a moment alone in the backseat of a friend's van, but this was different.... because it was with CHRIS.

You shouldn't have been so nervous with your boyfriend of two months yet you were... and there was no hiding it from him either.

He could see you wrestling with yourself behind your eyes, his ramble of coos fading as he realized that you were stuck in your head, not listening to him. It made him suppress a sigh, seeing as the experience you both seemed to have high hopes for wasn't exactly going as planned. He wanted this to be a moment the both of you could look back fondly on... and one that could definitely be used as personal material during those lonely nights when he was at a show and you were at home.

He chewed his bottom lip, glancing around for what to do... before it clicked. He had an idea. A very very very good idea.

"Come here," he reached his hands out, gently pushing you to one side of his bed with a suppressed grin.

"Wh-what is it-"

"Let's try something... yea? You trust me?"

You nodded, lips glued shut.

He just smiled, brushing a finger over your cheek before pressing a kiss to your lips, "Let me spoon you, okay?

You sighed, hesitantly nodding. Despite his reassurances, you didn't want to fuck this up anymore than it felt like you had. And if the previous moments of nearly smacking him in the face were a pattern, then it didn't seem like you were going to have that empowering 'take-and-give-pleasure' moment your friends described.

But thank god you were dead wrong.

You panted, face turned into the pillows as you lay on your side, one hand fisting the sheets until they stretched while the other was laced with Chris'. He had his arm, whose hand you held, hooked under your leg, pulling it up against you in a way that you knew would have you sore tomorrow...but you didn't care too much about that right now.

The squealch that echoed the room was obscene, sounding as if it came straight out of a shitty VCR porn tape that felt too faked to enjoy. But it wasn't fake here, the sound loud as he rolled his hips back and forth to meet your own, the blunt head of his throbbing cock nudging up against your achy clit with every thrust.

Hot dogging is what your friend described to you as something you needed to try with Chris when you finally got the courage to become physical. Described in anatomically correct terms, for some reason, as the act of a penis sliding back and forth between the vulva. It was all the dry humping with none of the clothes. And while the medical terms made you giggle and shrug the idea off, the actual act changed your mind about dismissing it real quick.

"Holy shit your so fuckin... wet," Chris groaned, mouth right by your ear. His gravely voice made you shiver, whimpering as his leaky cock nudged up against your clit again, hips stuttering as he took a second to give shallow little thrusts.

Each jerk pressed him against you, both sticky and wet with a mixture of your wetness and his precum. Every jolt sent a shock of pleasure down your spine, a twisting in your belly signaling the ever growing need to get closer and closer to cumming.

"F-fuck, more," you choked, squeezing his hand harder.

He chuckled breathlessly, nuzzling his nose to your ear, "My girl want more?"

You coughed slightly as a particularly hard thrust made your hips snap back, "Y-yes! Chris, please, please want moreeee..."