ashleftstick

[ashleftstick]

In the Heat of You (Ash)

The air between you and Ashton feels thick, charged with something unspoken. It’s the kind of tension that hums in the silence, a pull that neither of you can ignore. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, the moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting soft shadows across his face. But there’s nothing soft about the way he’s looking at you.

His gaze is dark, intense, like he’s trying to read you, to decode something inside you, but it’s clear there’s more on his mind than just figuring you out. His body is tense, his jaw set tight, and every time his eyes flick to your lips, you feel your pulse quicken, a spark of heat running through you.

It’s the quiet after the chaos of the tour, and for the first time in a long while, it’s just the two of you—alone in a room, with no distractions. But this silence... it feels like it’s about to crack.

You can’t stand it anymore.

“Ashton,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. You know he’s listening, can feel every muscle in his body tuned to your voice. “What’s going on with you tonight?”

He lets out a slow breath, eyes never leaving yours. His hands, resting on his knees, are clenched tight. You can feel the energy between you—raw, untamed, thick with something deeper. He doesn’t answer immediately, and the pause stretches long, the tension building with each second that passes.

Finally, his voice breaks the silence, low and gravelly. “I’m trying not to lose control.”

You lean forward, your heart pounding in your chest, the words igniting something in you. "Control over what?" you ask, your breath catching in your throat.

He shifts, a slight movement that feels like a warning. “You,” he admits, his voice rougher now, edged with frustration. “Every time I’m near you, it’s like I can’t breathe. I can’t think. And I—” He cuts himself off with a sharp exhale, standing abruptly. The air between you crackles with the shift, the space between you now brimming with heat and restraint.

He turns to face the window, his back to you, his shoulders tense. You can see the muscles in his back ripple under the fabric of his shirt, and it drives a new kind of hunger in you—an ache deep in your chest. You know what he means, feel the same pull, the same desperate desire. But you’re not sure how much longer you can wait for him to make the first move.

“Why don’t you just let go?” you challenge softly, your voice a little daring, a little breathless. “You don’t have to fight it anymore. I’m here.”

Ashton spins back around to face you, his eyes dark and stormy, his body vibrating with tension. The look in his eyes sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. Without another word, he closes the distance between you in a heartbeat, his hands gripping the sides of your face, tilting your head back with a fierce urgency.

And then, he kisses you.

It’s not soft. It’s not gentle. It’s desperate, hungry, a collision of lips and heat. His mouth crashes against yours, his hands pulling you to him so fast that you gasp. The kiss is bruising, intense, every part of him demanding and consuming. His tongue slips into your mouth, stroking and tasting, as if he’s trying to drink you in.

You kiss him back with everything inside you, your hands finding their way to his chest, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him even closer. His breath is ragged against your lips, each exhale a sound of frustration and want. You can feel the muscles in his arms tense, like he’s holding back from doing something more, something that might break you both apart in the best way.

His hands slide down your back, pulling you flush against him, and the heat of his body makes your heart race. You can feel him—feel the hard, undeniable evidence of how much he wants you. The tension between your bodies is explosive, and it’s all you can do not to completely lose yourself in him.

Ashton pulls away for a split second, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting, trying to catch your breath. “I need you,” he breathes, the words barely a whisper, but they strike like lightning in the stillness of the room. “God, I can’t think about anything else. All I can think about is you.”

You exhale shakily, your hands trailing down his chest, the desire between you two more than you can handle. The pressure is building, and you know you’re both on the edge of something that could consume you both completely.

Without thinking, you tug at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head. The moment the fabric leaves his body, you feel the warmth of his skin under your fingertips, and your body responds instantly, an electric pulse running through you.

Ashton lets out a low, tortured sound at the touch, and his hands fly to your waist, pulling you closer, if that’s even possible, the heat between you intensifying. His lips are on you again—this time slower, deeper, more insistent as his hands slide up your back, guiding you into a rhythm that matches the frantic beat of your heart.

"Don’t hold back," you breathe against his lips, your hands gripping the sides of his face as you pull him closer. "Not now. Not ever."

The words break something inside him. Ashton groans against your lips, a sound of raw need, and the last of his restraint shatters. He kisses you again, this time with an intensity that feels like it might set you both on fire. His hands roam across your body, every touch, every caress setting your skin alight. He’s not asking anymore—he’s taking, and you’re giving, both of you drowning in the raw need of it all.

The world outside doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is Ashton. The heat, the need, the burning tension between you. It’s everything. And as his hands slide under your shirt, you know, without a doubt, that nothing will ever feel as electric as this.

[ashleftstick]

Ashton Irwin Comfort

The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a gentle light on the room, creating a comforting, warm atmosphere. You sit on the edge of the bed, your legs tucked under you, as Ashton lounges beside you, his hand resting on his chest. The rhythm of his breathing is steady, but you can tell he’s deep in thought. There’s a quietness between you two that’s rare in the bustle of life on the road.

His voice breaks the silence, low and a little hesitant.

“As much as I hate to admit it, sometimes I forget how much I need moments like this.” He chuckles softly, though it’s tinged with a touch of melancholy. “Just you and me, no crowd, no noise… just us.”

You glance over at him, noticing how his usually playful demeanor softens in these quiet moments, how his eyes—those deep, expressive eyes—are full of something more than just his usual confidence. They’re filled with a rawness, an openness that makes your heart flutter.

You lean over, resting your head on his shoulder. Ashton tilts his head slightly, his lips brushing the top of your head as he exhales slowly.

"I don’t think I tell you enough," he starts, his fingers gently threading through your hair, “but I... I need you in ways I didn’t even know I could need someone.”

You lift your head to meet his gaze, searching for any sign of doubt in his words. But there’s none. Only sincerity, the kind that makes your chest tighten with affection.

"I’m not always good with words," he continues, his thumb lightly tracing the outline of your hand. "But when I look at you, all I feel is this... overwhelming sense of love. It’s not something I can easily explain. It’s like you’ve become the song I can’t stop playing, the rhythm that keeps me going, even when everything else is chaos."

His voice drops a little, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes the world around you fade.

“I don’t deserve you, you know that, right? You make me better, you make me whole, and... I just—" He pauses, biting his lip before continuing, voice barely above a whisper. "I love you. More than I’ve ever known how to say."

The words hit you like a wave, unexpected but powerful. There’s a vulnerability in his tone that you don’t hear often, a moment of complete honesty. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of it settle between you, and you move closer to him.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back, your fingers brushing his cheek gently, tracing the line of his jaw as if to confirm he’s real, that this moment is real.

His eyes soften, the corners of his lips curling up into that familiar smile—the one that always makes your heart skip a beat.

“I’ll never stop showing you, you know,” he says with a quiet laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s in every song, every look, every moment I get to spend with you.”

Ashton pulls you into a gentle embrace, the warmth of his arms surrounding you like a safe haven. His heartbeat is steady against your cheek, and for a moment, you both just exist in this quiet space, the outside world forgotten.

You close your eyes, breathing in the scent of him—comforting, familiar—and you know that this love is real. You’ve found something rare, something worth holding onto.