“Charlie” You can’t help but whine, lacing your hands around the back of his neck to pull him closer to you. He kisses you on the cheek, before gently moving his lips over to yours. He never comes out for long after gigs- just enough to catch your eye. You’re not sure whether the reassurance is for him or for you, but it always ends the same. You wait until the band meet everyone else, until the fans leave. And then you slip into an alley, wait for him to show up. You’re not so sure what this is, but you don’t really care either - not when you can count on him to arrive with his hair perfect and leave with it an absolute mess.
But you don’t want to think about this moment ending. Not when he’s pressing you into the wall with his body, one hand delicately placed at your hip and the other pressed on the wall by your head. He’s basically trapped you, and you can’t help but shudder slightly. You know that if you wanted to, you could escape. But that’s not the point. The thought of relaxed, laidback Charlie Barnes losing his cool enough to try and keep you? It’s more arousing than it should be.
Even though it’s always rushed and frantic and crazy, there’s something oddly reverent about the way he treats you. He never stops looking - catching your eyes as he performs, as he walks past the line, as he steps into the tour bus. Your eyes meet, he smirks and you smirk back. He hasn’t stopped looking now, as he slowly but firmly shifts his hips against you. And that’s the usual way it goes, both of you shuddering your way through an orgasm fully clothed until he goes back to the bus and you go back to the hotel room.
But it’s the first time it’s been warm enough to wear a skirt instead of trousers, so instead of the dulled sensation you usually get, you can feel the heat of his cock pressed against you. It sends the moment skidding from comfortable grinding to quickfire reactions, and before you can think too hard about it, he’s moving his fingers from your hip to slip them past your underwear and into your wet pussy.
“You feel so fucking good.” He whispers in your ear, and it’s so cliched - but you like it. You’re blaming him and his sure fingers - you’ll never be able to watch him play on stage against, never be able to watch his fingers carefully pluck out a tune. And that was your problem - yelling out dirty pickup lines at him, watching as he turns pink. That’s how it all started - you loved puns and flirting and his music, so it hadn’t taken long before you’d been dared to yell out pickup lines based on his song titles. Originally you’d thought you’d messed up when he flushed a bright pink, lips lifted to the side in a smirk. But when you’d asked the band manager to apologise on your behalf, you’d ended up with Charlie’s number.
But you can’t think about that now, not when your minds still focusing on how his fingers are dipping in and out of you. You’d say he was teasing you, never letting you close enough to experiencing full pleasure before drawing his fingers back and putting more effort into grinding into you. You’re stuck between crying out in pleasure and frustration, thanks to the constant changes between rough friction and delicate swipes, burning heat and cool touches. The rain’s started coming down and you wonder what you look like, two dark figures gasping in an alleyway.
It’s a strange sort of power, the knowledge that you can make Charlie react like you do. You occasionally hear him miss a beat while playing, when you take the time to lick your lips. And especially when you make direct eye contact with him before doing so. Waiting until he pulls back from grinding into you, you catch his eye before you dip a hand beneath his waistband.
It’s not like you haven’t touched him before, but it’s the first time you’ve felt him without all the layers. He’s so warm and hot and even a little bit sticky, you muse as he gasps. You take a moment to capture his open mouth, chasing his tongue with yours as you wrap a spare hand around the back of his neck to steady yourself as you pump him slowly. It’s slightly uncomfortable to keep your hand at this angle, but it’s so worth it when Charlie groans and places his head on your shoulder, pressing his lips to your neck.
He almost can’t keep a rhythm with you touching him, fingers stopping and starting as he traces around your centre. Eventually he gives up entirely, settling for a slow push inside you with his fingers. It feels like he’s trying to capture you, let everyone know that you’re his, with beard burn on your neck and your voice crying out his name. You’ve already got a bruise on your hip from Charlie gripping you too close, a grazed back from the wall when he pushed your top up a few nights ago to mouth at your breasts.
“I’m so close.” He whispers, and suddenly you’re so aware that anyone could see you. Any fan, crew member or random member of the public walking down could see you necking against the wall. But if anything, it makes you proud. Let them see who Charlie spends his nights with, why he’s sneaking away from the bus to meet you. But you think that vocalisation might’ve been meant to be a warning. So you reluctantly let your hand pull away from inside his boxers. Before you can move too far, Charlie’s loosening his belt and undoing the buttons at his crotch. He slowly reveals his cock, jutting out proudly from his body. You’re so close together that it’s practically touching you, and all you can think is that one slight movement forward and he’d be so deep inside you. Your underwear’s already been pushed to the side by Charlie’s fingers, and you can practically feel your wetness welcoming him in.
You let out an involuntary moan, rolling your hips just enough to let him slip along the outside of you. Charlie swears, removing his hands to slam them either side of your head. He stares you down, heaving breaths causing his cock to brush back and forth.
“I’m so tempted right now, don’t test me.” He practically growls, his voice so deep, pushing himself forward so you’re practically nose to nose. You stare into his blue eyes, more black now that they’ve gotten so big. He’s practically wild with desire and you’re the same. All you need to do is tilt your hips.
So you do.
One smooth motion and Charlie’s cock is just inside you, the tip just about breaching you. You get a second to marvel at what’s happened before Charlie swears under his breath and pushed forward, his cock suddenly swallowed by your pussy. Then he’s all motion, scooping up your legs to wrap them around his waist as he pushed forward again and again.
You want to scream or shout or something, but you settle for muffling your cries against his shoulder. You can hear your cries and Charlie’s grunts echoing in the open alley. It’s so dirty and so primal, and yet it feels ridiculously good, letting Charlie take the lead and just push himself inside you. He’s so forceful and desperate, winding a hand into your hair as he trusts you to keep your legs wrapped around him.
Suddenly he speeds up, going faster and faster until you can feel him pulsing inside you. He stills, holding you up by pressing you into the wall. Usually, you get off first, so you have a second of surprise that it’s worked out this way before Charlie’s hand unwraps itself from where it’s settled on your hip. Suddenly there’s delicate pressure of his long fingers against your core, even as Charlie’s cock continues to pulse itself you. You can barely even think about what’s happening before you’re crying out as your orgasm hits you, holding Charlie tighter as you shudder through it.
You come back to yourself, feeling like both an eternity and a second has passed. This is usually the moment when Charlie pulls himself together, and leaves, letting you both go back to your respective places for the night. But instead you’re left staring into his dark eyes, a contented look upon his face. You can’t help it - you smile back, letting your lips curve upwards.
“Stay with me tonight?” He suddenly voices, letting it burst out of him and stream out into the night. And you can’t begin to decipher where this will lead, what the significant of him only asking now will be. But you want to find out.
“Sure.” You reply, letting your hands wind back round his neck and pulling him close. You’re sticky, sweaty and probably not smelling too great - but Charlie’s smile as you pull out of the kiss makes it all seem perfect.