He catches you off guard, just when you think it's okay to breathe again. But, no. There's Channing right behind you, pushing you against the door to your hotel room. You haven't even gotten your key out yet, and there he is. You can feel his breath against the back of your neck and you're having trouble breathing. You shift, but that just lets Channing in closer. He's got his knee between your legs and you fumble, almost dropping the key. But you get it out, into the lock and push the door open.
You stumble and then Channing's arm's around your waist, holding you up and you think that you really have to stop thinking. Your hat falls off, bouncing off your shoulder, off Channing's arm, then onto the floor. The door slams shut and now Channing's pushing you against the wall. His mouth on your neck and you twisting your fingers in his shirt, pulling him closer. He bites along your jaw, up toward your mouth and then you're kissing him. He sucks at your bottom lip, but you don't want just that. You tug at his shirt, pulling at it now, fingers scraping along his skin.
You glance up, his hat's still on. Somehow. You free your hand from under his shirt, reaching up and tipping the hat back. It doesn't fall off and he kisses you again. This time you knock it off and you can feel him grinning. He breathes into your mouth and you're already hard and panting. You spent most of the drive trying not to look at him. Trying not to watch the curve of his jaw, the way you wanted to press your fingers against the back of his neck. Desperately trying to ignore the fact that you wanted to kiss him. And now you're thinking too much, because Channing's laughing against your ear, then biting the skin just below.
You arch up and against him, hands all the way under his shirt and you already know what he looks like. And he's seen you. It's not like there's a surprise, but this is different. Well, maybe just a little different. He pulls back, peeling off his shirt and dropping it onto the floor. You should take yours off, but you don't, you just scrape your hands along his chest. He grips your shoulders, pulling you in. He could lift me up, you think, but he doesn't.
Instead, you push him back, onto the bed, and you crawl on top of him. He looks up at you and on anyone else, there'd be a smirk. But not Channing. Instead, he grabs you again, pulling you down until you're straddling him, then kissing him. Hard, then harder. He lifts his hips, meeting yours and Jesus, you cannot get enough. You think, I have to get out of these clothes, but you can't move away from him. His hands, under your shirt, then down against your ass. You want to fuck him, maybe have him fuck you, but you don't know if you're going to be able to get your trousers off in time.
You pull back, trying to get into some state of undress, but Channing's hands are there. He's half sitting up and you've got your knees on either side of his hips. He kisses you, biting at your mouth and then pulls your sweater off. Your scarf stays and you blink down at it, then at him. He shrugs and so you slide back, trying to unfasten your jeans. You do kick your shoes off, but you don't get any further because Channing grabs your scarf, pulling you hard. You fall on top of him.
His shoes fall to the floor with two loud thumps, far louder than your trainers. You kiss him, like you wanted to do in the car. Like you wanted to do on set. He slides his hands down your back, toward your arse. You shift, pressing against him. He squeezes and you're slightly ashamed of the noise you make. He laughs, then shifts, pushing you up a bit. He slides one hand, then the other, between you, fumbling with your jeans. He gets them unfastened then tries to push them down your hips. They don't move, well, they do, but not a lot.
"Why'd you have to wear these tight ass jeans, Bell." Channing growls the words out, but you know he's trying not to laugh.
"Makes my arse look good." You reply, kissing him when he starts laughing again.
He kisses you back, sliding his hand down the front of your underwear, curling his fingers around your cock. You gasp a little and next time, you think, you're going to get undressed a lot faster. You fumble with his jeans, but they're far easier than yours. You think, you'd like sex, something more than this, but you can't wait. It's clear now. You lean forward, pushing your hand inside his jeans, then into his boxers. You twist your fingers around his cock and he rewards you with a gasp, then a soft moan.
You kiss him again as he pulls at your cock, as you do the same to his. You press close to him, at least as close as you can. You think, this is something you can do without any sort of training. Maybe you don't ride horses well and swords aren't your thing, but this you can do. You bite at his mouth, along his jaw. He tips his head back and you bite his throat, too. He twists his fingers in your scarf, pulling you closer yet.
Channing arches his back under you, shifting. You're practically in his lap now, no more lying down. He jerks your cock harder as you try not to leave marks on his chest, his shoulders. He moves his hand from your scarf to your hair, twisting his fingers in that. He pulls and you let him, leaning in kiss him when he jerks your head forward. You like this and so does he. You kiss him harder still, and you're close, shuddering against his hand. You barely remember to move yours, but Channing doesn't let you forget.
He thrusts into your hand as you thumb the tip of his cock. He shifts, now it's his turn. Mouth against your neck, your shoulder. He ducks his head, biting your chest a bit. You tip your head back and he slides his hand down from your hair to your back, holding onto you. You lean back, almost testing his hold on you, but it doesn't give way. You pull his cock harder, for a moment forgetting that you're desperate to come. You twisting your hand, then stroke, long and slow, but speeding up when he whines at you.
You move your hand faster and he bites your shoulder when he comes. His hand tightens around your cock, moving harder and you're shuddering, face against his shoulder when you come with a gasp. His fingers twist up into your hair again, not pulling but just holding. You rest their, sticky with come and sweat. You think, this is probably wrong, that you might regret this, that he might. But then Channing's pulling your head up and kissing you. You return the kiss, hands against his chest, then his sides. He slides his hand out of your hair, the other from between you. He wraps both of them around you, pulling you in until both your legs are around his waist.
You press your face against his neck, fingers curled against his back. Neither of you talk, which is fine because you're not sure you can form complete sentences at the moment. But it's also okay because you don't want to know if he regrets this. The moment doesn't last, because he's reaching for tissues, handing you a few and you both clean yourselves off. You're about to slide off of him when he grabs your scarf again. You glance at him, not moving.
“This is your room, but stay.” It's not so much a request as it is a command, but even then you know he wouldn't be mad if you kicked him out.
You don't answer, just shift until you can shove your jeans and underwear off. He glances at you, hand still around your scarf, then he lets go. You watch as he takes his own jeans off, boxers following. You're both naked, except for your scarf. After a moment you pull back, trying to decide what to do, but then his hand is on your scarf and you think you want to wear this fucking thing every damn day. You let him pull you close.
“Stay.” You finally say and the smile he gives you is worth everything.