#how am I supposed to watch CL final knowing it's his last match?

[melissa-leaf]

this man just broke my heart

[ditch-witches]

Eyeliner II (Dean-Charles Chapman Smut)

thank you to the darling @chokopieeater​ for the gorgeous moodboard. i love you

(PART ONE)

requested: yes/no (I am but y'all's humble servant.)

pairing: band member!Dean-Charles Chapman x reader

warnings: smut shit, lots of filler crap as well

word count: 4k (º-º)

a/n: I just wanna thank my girl, Iv, again and that superior 5sos album for getting me through this.

After your first date, you and Dean became inseparable, quickly falling head over heels into your relationship. It had gotten to the point where even when you weren’t with him, he was always on your mind. Little things reminded you of him like the incessant pencil tapping or pen clicking from the guy sitting beside you during lab or your green sweater that he always seems to compliment and can’t stop touching whenever you wear it.

You could be gone for hours on end, not intentionally, but because of Dean’s shitty car. You didn’t know what make or model but it was some kind of Frankenstein’s motor-monster and you never complained about it. Most of the time it had a mind of its own, and Dean had made it his mission in life to tango with its independence from him. There would be times when he’d be driving the two of you to a movie or dinner---the both of you attempting to talk over the loud radio that had only two volumes: ear rape and silent---when it would just sputter out and die, leaving the two of you to walk towards the next town over in hopes of finding a gas station. In complete honesty, you enjoyed the car. It gave you more time with Dean, who never seemed to get frustrated at it. Whenever it did break down, you always expected to look over and see him red in the face, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel too hard, but instead you received a shrug and him holding his hand out to help you out of the piece of shit. That was another thing, the passenger side door was stuck shut so you had gotten pretty good at slipping in and out of the window. Dean claimed it was because the car was meant to race; “a stallion” to be more specific.

You knew the door was just rusted shut.

When you weren’t pushing the stallion to the nearest auto parts store on a Friday night, you and Dean found yourselves cooped up in one of your apartments or out with a group. Your friend still insisted on going to each of the band’s shows, which you really didn’t mind anymore, especially since you got to experience Dean’s confidence on stage being the one that mirrors his confidence in the bedroom. Your friend knew you and Dean had gone out a few times, but you were positive she wasn’t aware of just how much the two of you were together. And that you were thankful of, knowing full well she would blow everything completely out of proportion and make you think too much about having him around.

One day, when your late afternoon classes were canceled due to the professor’s spontaneous trips to Israel, you had the perfect opportunity to tangle yourself up with Dean. The warm glow in the room mixed with your after sex bliss as Dean lazily strummed a guitar (often finding ways to catch your attention with old riffs from The Cure, his favorite being Lovesong), propped up on the window seat tucked in the corner beside his bed. His curls, rather wild and untamed from the lack of hair product and working from your fingers. His eyes seeming brighter as the light from outside drew lines across his face. You twisted in his comforter to stretch your back as you watched him furrow his brows in an attempt at pulling chords from his memory and matching them with others.

You could prop your chin in your hand and listen to him hum slightly, in his own little world, until the end of time if you were given the opportunity. His voice was always slightly raspier, especially in moments like this. His acoustic versions, especially of the Cure, had become your favorite, mainly because you knew they were just for your ears and something about having such intimate gifts from him made your moods fuzzy and soft. The first time you stayed over, you were surprised there hadn’t been sheet music thrown about, expecting to find it shoved in awkward hiding spots of his room, but it was mainly on the window seat, where he usually played, or his desk on the other side of the room. You loved seeing him finally getting something he was happy with or constructing a lyric he liked and feverishly looking for clean space in his notebook to write it down before he forgot and it was gone forever. He seemed to have been writing a lot lately.

“Did you ever play an instrument?” He asked, his eyes darting up to look at you through his long eyelashes as he threw the notebook and pencil on the ground next to him. “I mean, besides in marching band.”

You snorted at his question. “Oh gosh. You’re gonna make fun of me,” you quipped.

“I thought that’s what we did, gorgeous?” He answered with a smug look on his face. “Come on, tell me.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “I used to be really into the Dixie Chicks, so I learned how to play the banjo.”

He laughed in disbelief. “No.”

“Yes,” you nodded, wincing slightly.

He giggled. “Wait,” he wet his lips and sat up slightly, beginning to strum an all too familiar song. “You’re going to have to help me with the words.”

“Dean, stop-”

“CoWbOy, TAKE ME AWAY-” You bolted from his bed and took the guitar from him as he giggled, grinning at you like an idiot. You took a seat across from him, tucking one of your ankles under your leg and shivering slightly, only Dean’s t-shirt and your shorts to keep you warm after being bundled up for so long. You rested the guitar in your lap and Dean crossed his legs, scooting closer to you.

“Never do that again,” you grumbled and he laughed again, lacing his fingers together. “Since you always play for me…” You strummed your hand across the wires, the instrument feeling more foreign than when you picked up a flute last year for the first time since high school. You chuckled shortly, “I’m a little rusty.” Dean couldn’t help but beam as you blushed mildly, beginning to play what you could remember of I Believe in Love’s chorus. As you sang lightly, trying not to seem like you were putting much effort behind what you were doing, you caught his gaze and he inhaled rather sharply, his eyes dancing with softness as he watched you. You smirked slightly as he watched you closely, seemingly loving every second of your short song, physically gushing as he usually bright smile eased blissfully. You finished, looking at him with a sarcastic, “Taddah.”

He leaned forward, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to close the space between you, searing the moment into your memory with a kiss you could feel in your toes. He always kissed you like everything was relying on the way he did it. With Dean, every kiss mattered, but this kiss seemed to encompass everything he wanted to say. The sweet taste of your vanilla chapstick blended with the smell of his cologne as his warm breath flared over your cheek. You sighed against his lips moving your hands into his hair and relishing his actions.

You don’t remember getting home that night, but as you damn near floated into your apartment, you figured not even your essay due the next day could ruin your mood. Of course, that was until you realized your friend had gotten home before you and was standing in the kitchen with a juice box. Your eyes went slightly wide at the shock and she tilted her head. “Where’ve you been?” Her smirk meant she knew exactly where you were.

You shrugged slightly, “Studying. I had the afternoon off.”

“It’s seven.”

“...Right…” Your eyes darted around the room.

She bit back a wider grin before moving around the counter towards you. “Must have gotten a lot of homework done then. What subject? Anatomy?” You rolled your eyes at her joke and she pulled you into a hug, fully welcoming you home before leaning back from you quickly. You looked at her with furrowed brows and she narrowed her eyes. “You smell familiar…”

You chuckled. “Am I not supposed to?”

“No, you smell familiar, but not like you. You smell like Dean.” You pursed your lips together, looking at her like she was crazy. “Dean’s still the one you’re sneaking around with!” Her expression flipped on a dime to excitement and she giggled. “I KNEW IT.”

“STOP.”

“Jeez, that’s why he’s so happy. I mean, more than usual.” You sighed as she continued. “God it totally makes sense though. That why he ALWAYS LOOKS AT YOU LIKE HE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU-”

“QUIT. HE’S NOT IN LOVE WITH ME.”

“Dean wants to marry you. He wants to kiss you. He wants to lOooVe you,” she teased, dancing slightly to her own song. You closed your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose between your index finger and thumb. “How is your boyfriend, anyway? I’m assuming that’s where you were today.” You threw your bag down on one of the kitchen chairs.

“He’s not my boyfriend, cut it out,” you grumbled.

“Sure seems like it. You blush every time I say his name,” she jeered, her voice still sing-songy as she moved back into the kitchen.

The fact that Dean wasn’t your boyfriend seemed to echo through your mind until his next show, which happened to be in a much larger venue. You weren’t sure how you felt about coming to the realization that the two of you had never really set a label. Did you even want a label? The two of you hadn’t really been keeping your relationship private, but maybe it was for a bigger reason that you had given thought to. You and your little sidekick in the shape of your best friend made your way to the venue, her almost tripping over her shoes a few times with excitement. There weren’t any seats, in fact, the place reminded you of a warehouse and it made complete sense having been set up by the bassist and the drummer when Dean and the other guitar player just had to trust the guys. You couldn’t help but smile at the fact that it was incredibly packed. A sense of pride rushed through you, proud of the band slowly climbing the ladder yet still keeping it fun. You also knew Dean would be feeding off this high for at least a week after the show.

Your friend dragged you to the front by the tight grip she had on your arm, landing the two of you in almost the front row. The people around you smelled like beer and were already cheering and yelling, making you laugh slightly. Anytime college kids had the opportunity to throw each other around to punk music, they would. Your friend smiled at her phone before clicking it off and shoving it in her pocket, looking over the crowd and waving her arm in the air. You furrowed your brows, attempting to see who or what she was trying to wave down. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” she commented, biting back a grin and putting her arm down. You shook your head at her and someone came around you to pull her into his arms. She giggled wildly as he kissed her. You recognized him as the drummer. The two had been very vocal about their whereabouts after she had given him her number. Dean was at your side, giving your arm a nudge and furrowing his brows at the two, probably mimicking your expression. “What are you guys doing out here?” She asked, through a bright smile. You scoffed like she didn’t just wave them down.

“Relax, no one knows it’s us,” Dean joked from beside you. “They came for the booze.” He seemed oddly calm for such a big event, but there was something off about him. The two laughed at him before joining in their own conversation. Dean leaned closer to your ear, “Can we go somewhere?” You nodded and followed him away from the crowd and towards the backstage area before turning towards a bathroom. You looked around the space, it was disgusting but you didn’t mind.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. There was definitely something wrong. Was he nervous? “Are you okay?” His usually bright face was smothered with slight worry. You could tell he wanted to reach out to you.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

He bit his lip. “I don’t know, you’ve gotten weird… Did I do something?”

You scoffed, shaking your head quickly. “No, I just…” You ran a hand through your hair and he watched you closely, the same look flashing behind his eyes as when you were playing for him. “She found out about us and,” you shrugged, “it just got me thinking.”

Dean fought against his smirk as he took a step towards you. “That’s never a good thing, love,” he joked, making the tension lighten. “What were you thinking about?”

You scoffed. “It’s not really a big deal-”

His eyebrows picked up. “Quit.”

“Did I become a groupie?” You asked, a smile playing on your lips, causing him to give into his grin. You hated to do this before his show, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

“Are you also fucking the other guys?” He sarcastically quizzed, his arms finally moving to rest on your shoulders before sliding down so his hands settled on your neck, the cool metal of his rings bringing enticing goosebumps to litter your skin. You looked up at him, quietly wishing you could take him home around this time. Damn, were you really this whipped?

“I mean, the bass guy has been looking awfully yummy lately…” You mocked, your eyes dancing between his lips and his bright blue eyes. He chuckled at your answer.

“Do you wanna be just a groupie?” He asked in more of a whisper.

You were surprised as your tone matched his. “No…”

“Fine, can I be your boyfriend?” He smiled into his question and your gaze snapped to his. “I wanna be your fucking boyfriend, okay.” His tone was so light you couldn’t help but laugh.

His thumb brushed against your jaw, making you melt. “Good.” You grabbed onto the front of his jacket, finally bringing his lips to yours. You made sure this kiss counted more than all your previous ones for him. You could practically taste the relief pulsing through him as his hands moved into your hand. The noise around you died away as you stood on your toes, feet fitting between his sneakers to bring him closer to your body.

He pulled away rather reluctantly, pressing his lips against yours a few times between attempting to talk to you. “I have to quit before I get carried away,” he groaned, kissing your cheek and jaw.

You chuckled. “Promise to get carried away later then?”

“I swear on my life,” he practically growled in your ear. He was back to being Dean again. He pulled away to look you in the eye. “You are so beautiful, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him away from you. He giggled. “Alright, go get on stage, lover boy.”

He leaned forward to kiss you briefly again before beginning to back out of the bathroom. “To be clear, I’m not going because you told me to. I’m going because I have to, okay?” He joked.

“Dean.” He sent you one last wink before slipping out the door, leaving you to finally grin like an idiot in peace. You joined your friend’s side again and the look she gave you was more than all-knowing as you shook your head at her again. As the band took to the stage, the crowd roared with excitement. Dean was wrong. They had come for them. Maybe it was Dean’s accent because each time he attempted to talk or swore during a song, the girls in the crowd would scream their heads off.

There was something about Dean’s performance tonight that was different for you. Maybe it was the rise he was getting out of everyone and the fact that he was going home with you. You bobbed to the music slightly, your mind flashing to the afternoons with Dean. The grungy man before you, eyeliner smudging from the heat of the lights and exertion of adrenaline, looked different and oozed with confidence that was somehow even more attractive to you now, but when he would grin at one of his bandmates or a sign in the crowd, he was exactly the same. He had made sure to find you in the crowd rather quickly, sending you flirty smirks and a wink every so often. God, he really knew what he was doing. There were times during the set when the bassist would introduce the next song as Dean would take a sip of beer or a puff of the guitarist’s cigarette and the girls behind you would make a comment about being jealous of whatever his lips had touched, making you laugh slightly---a fact you would have told him if you hadn’t known he would bring it up every chance he got.

After the show, the two of you barely made it up the stairs to his apartment before wrapping around each other, hungry to relieve the sexual tension between you during the show. You knew Dean was still running on performer’s high, and you were thankful. Your hands knotted in his hair as the taste of alcohol and cigarettes invaded your senses to blend with the smell of the concert on you both. Your back pressed against his bedroom door as you practically yanked his jacket off his arms, tugging his shirt over his head as he smashed his lips against yours in a disarray of teeth and hair. He slipped his hands under your shirt, pulling it off as well, his lips finding his favorite part of your neck. You moaned as his teeth clashed against your skin, his hand moving to grasp at your breast as he pressed you harder against the door. You ground your hips against him, feeling the wetness between your legs begin to pool.

You pushed off the wall, dragging him with you to the bed. As you fell back into the soft comforter, Dean climbed over you smiling before you locked your lips against his, your tongue pressing into his mouth with a neediness that he seemed to reciprocate as his fingers moved to your zipper, lightly unfastening your pants before dragging them down your thighs and over your ankles. He stood between your legs, getting ready to remove his rings. “Uh-uh,” you almost hissed, making him look up at you smugly. “Leave ‘em on.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, his smirk making you melt as he hooked his arms around your thighs, his head dipping down.

“As you wish,” he divulged, his breath hot against your core before he began nipping at the skin of your inner thigh. He was in complete control as his mouth moved to press against your clothed center. You moaned slightly, a grin spreading across your face as your head tilted back, his tongue moving against you, drawing patterns as he applied pressure with it. He broke away from you sliding his hands between the fabric of your waistband and skin, your underwear soon falling to the floor. As he settled back into his previous position, you ran your fingers into his hair, pushing it off his forehead so you could fully see his eyes. He flashed you another smug look before attaching his lips to your clit, sucking slightly before slipping his middle finger into you.

“Fuck,” you hissed, your legs wanting to clamp shut around him as he began to curl his finger inside of you, moving to draw a reaction out of you with each of his actions. He flattened his tongue against your core and moved his head from side to side for more friction. You groaned again, needing more of him, which he seemed to notice as he added another digit. You could now feel the rings at the edge of your entrance, giving you a new sensation to moan over. The tension within you tightened as he continued, his tongue lapping against you, bringing you closer to the edge. “Dean, I’m close,” you almost whined, moving your hips to grind against his tongue.

He chuckled and leaned away from you, slipping his fingers into his as you leaned up to tug off his jeans. You scoffed as he connected your lips together again. “You haven’t been wearing underwear this whole time?”

He smiled into your kiss, pushing you back onto the mattress. “No one but you has to know,” he joked.

“Ew, Dean!” You giggled as he kissed your jaw and laughed at your comment. He pulled one of your legs to rest against his hip and positioned himself before you as you drug a hand through his hair. He met your gaze again and despite the fact that he still looked like his rockstar persona, the sparkle in his eye was consistent with the Dean that you would be confident in introducing to your parents one day. He reached a thumb up to brush against your cheek before kissing you softly, a sweet gesture that forced you to wrap yourself around his arms. He pressed into you, fitting against you almost too perfectly as he moaned, bringing music to your ears. He broke away from you only to settle a kiss beside your ear and against your shoulder, beginning to thrust into you. His breath fanned over your chest and you sighed in pleasure. His hand fisted the sheets beside the two of you as he ground his hips against yours. You moved beneath him wanting to find the right angle to push yourself over the edge. You tightened around him, drawing another moan out of him. If the man could be in your ear for the rest of your life, you would thank whatever higher being allowed it to happen every second you could.

He pulled your hips towards him more, driving himself deeper into you and reaching where you needed him most. “Don’t stop,” you moaned, kissing him again as he smiled. You began to feel every inch of him as he moved inside of you, hitting your sweet spot with each of his thrusts. You kissed his jaw softly, your fingers drifting to the curls at the base of his head again. Your toes curled as you finally reached your orgasm, calling out his name and feeling him release as well, riding out your pleasure. As he sank into the covers next to you, you couldn’t fight the smile playing on your lips. One of his arms jutted out to pull your back against his chest, wrapping himself around you and sighing into your hair. His lips brushed against your shoulder blade softly and you tucked into his arms more.

“Thank you for coming to my show,” he mumbled from behind you.

You smirked. “It was like pulling teeth, getting me there,” you answered sarcastically, hearing him laugh lightly.

“I meant the first time. I’m glad you didn’t end up as a groupie,” he hummed, joking rather lazily and you knew he was drifting off. You rolled your eyes with a grin, your hand moving to rest over his, lacing your fingers together.

“I’m glad, too,” you quipped, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep as well.

[mariahschoices]

One Night Out

This is a slightly AU TRR fanfic revolving around the night that MC met Liam, Drake, Maxwell, and Tariq. Characters and some dialogue have been borrowed from Pixelberry.

Pairing: MC (Riley Brooks) x Drake

Rating: NC17 / NSFW towards the end

Word count: 6,817

__________________________________________________________

Riley Brooks stared at her own reflection in the grungy, cracked bathroom mirror of the dive bar where she’d found herself working for the last two years. Her eyes were greeted with the image of the dark circles under her blue eyes, a half-hazard mess of brown hair that she’d flopped into a bun on top of her head, and what looked like a sliver of spinach from her salad at lunch that she’d hurriedly consumed between waiting tables. 

She picked the food out of her teeth, splashed her face, and stood up a little straighter. Her shift was almost over, and damn if she couldn’t accomplish something if she set her mind to it. She had a date scheduled with her bed tonight that she didn’t want to delay any further by wallowing around in the bathroom.

Riley reentered the main room, narrowly avoiding a collision with Daniel, her work husband and main confidant, with whom she could always bitch about their boss over double margaritas.

“Shit! Sorry, Riley,” he quickly apologized. “I was actually just looking for you!”

“Looks like you found me! What’s up, Daniel?” Riley asked, intrigued by Daniel’s sudden sense of urgency and nervous mannerisms, watching as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“Actually, see, what I wanted was.... I kinda wanted to ask you... but I know you’re tired and you’ve worked a double as it is and....”

“Spit it out, Daniel. I think we know each other well enough at this point to be straight with one another? What’s up?” Riley questioned, becoming slightly more concerned with his erratic behavior.

“Well, a table of three just came in, and I really need to jet. I finally matched with that h-o-t hottie on Grindr, and our date is in -” he paused to study his watch, “ten minutes ago.”

“You mean the guy with abs you could grate cheese on?” Daniel reddened under Riley’s questioning. “Is it really a date if you met on Grindr?” Riley continued, before rolling her eyes and nudging him on the shoulder towards the direction of the staff exit.

“Go, man! Who am I to stop true love?”

Daniel responded with an eye roll of his own before an ear to ear smile overtook his whole face.

“Thank youuuuu! I won’t forget this!”

“Yea, yea. Don’t forget to send me a wedding invite!” Riley chirped, before heading over to attend to her late night guests who would probably, hopefully, be her final table of the evening.

“Hello, gentlemen. I’m Riley, and I’ll be serving you this evening. It looks like Daniel already brought out some waters for you, but what else can I get you all to drink? Or, if you’re ready to order food?” Riley paused, analyzing the motley crew that had assembled in the booth.

The first man on the inside of the far booth was extremely overdressed, in a fancy Italian suit that probably cost more than she’d brought home the past month. He certainly looked out of place, but also comfortable enough around the other two, which ruled out the possibility that he was a kidnap victim being held up in her bar by the others until the extortion money came through.

The second man, on the outside of the same booth, was still certainly overdressed, though he had a few buttons undone for a more a more casual appearance. He looked younger than the other man - maybe a little brother? No, the family resemblance wasn’t there.

Finally, Riley’s eyes rested on the last man, sitting alone on the opposite side of the table. He wore a casual, blue denim button down over a white t-shirt with black jeans. A Canadian tuxedo. Oh, well, everyone does formal wear in their own way, she supposed.

The second man suddenly spoke up, interrupting her inner evaluation of the three men.

“Steaks for the table!” he cheered with a smile. 

“How about some filet mignon, medium rare and prepared with a bearnaise sauce?” the first man added. He spoke with a posh, preppy accent, enunciating each letter of every word as if everything he’d said was of the utmost importance.

“Er, well, filet mignon does sound good! Unfortunately, the closest thing we have to that in our fine establishment would be the deluxe burger. It’s two half pound patties covered with swiss cheese and loaded with tomato, onion, lettuce, and special sauce. And the whole thing is topped off with bacon! Who doesn’t love bacon?!” she spun the house dish with as much pizzazz as possible in an attempt to appease the men. She really hoped Daniel was enjoying his date, because these men were going to be a pain in her -”

“We’ll be fine with a bottle of whiskey... and four deluxe burgers,” the third man finally chimed in, saving her from any further attempts at having to up-sell the bar’s humble menu options.

“Excellent choice!” Riley chirped, quickly making her way to the kitchen to put in their order and gather their drinks before any complaints could be made.

Riley made her way back to the table with a tray of whiskeys. Alcohol would surely make the burgers go down a little easier for the two men who were clearly more accustomed to eating truffle mushrooms and caviar for dinner. Upon arrival, Riley realized that another diner had joined their party of three.

“Oh! Hello there. Looks like I’ll need to grab another tumbler for you gentlemen. I’m your server, Riley.”

She took a look at the newest addition to the table. He dressed similarly to the two men on the opposite side, yet he had a casual air about him like Mr. Denim Shirt, whom he’d seated himself beside.

“Hello, Riley. I’m Liam. These are my friends, Tariq, Maxwell, and Drake,” he motioned towards each one as he spoke their names in the same order she had scrutinized them in. “Sorry I was late. I hope I didn’t disturb your work flow.”

“Disturb my...?” she stumbled slightly in her response, taken slightly aback by his formal way of speaking. “Oh, no problem at all! The more the merrier! Nice to meet you Liam,” she smiled, “and the rest of you too.”

Ding. “That’ll be your burgers now! Let me just go get those for you.” Riley scurried off quickly towards to kitchen, evading Liam’s bright-eyed, awestruck gaze.

______________________________________________________________________

The rest of the evening went by quickly and relatively uneventfully, with Liam seeming to reign in the rest of the group’s behavior with a princely ease. The bar’s only other customer had been a single man who’d had two double shots, complained about his wife, and then had to bounce after receiving a decibel shattering, eardrum bursting phone call from aforementioned wife.

Riley wiped down the counters and removed her apron, ready to turn off the lights and lock up for the evening when she heard the front door chime, alerting her of a new customer entering the bar.

“I’m sorry, we’re cl-” she turned around, locking eyes once again with Liam.

“Oh, hey! Did you forget something. I was just closing up. I didn’t see a wallet or anything in your booth, but I can double ch -”

“No, no. Nothing like that! Thank you so much for being patient with us tonight. I know we probably overstayed our welcome,��� Liam paused, but Riley remained silent, neither confirming nor denying that she’d very much wanted to go home and promptly hibernate for a week straight.

“Anyway, I just wanted to see if - well, I wanted to invite you to go out with us tonight. Maybe to another bar or club? We’re not from around here and you seemed to really mesh well with the other guys, which isn’t always easy to do, and so... I thought maybe we could repay you with a drink or two.”

Riley pondered his offer, wagering the pros and cons in her head. She really wasn’t interested in Liam, as nice as he had been. He just seemed so.... safe. Boring, really. As if reading her thoughts, Liam interrupted.

“Just as friends. No pressure or anything. Just a thank you. And as a way to celebrate the end of your shift?” he smiled friendly.

“Ah, hell. Why not. I’ve been working non-stop lately. It’d probably do me some good to go out in a social setting and see some people other than my coworkers for once,” Riley agreed, returning Liam’s kind smile. “Just let me go to my locker first. I keep a change of clothes here at work just in case. I’ll meet you out front!” 

Riley mulled over her decision as she made her way over to her locker. Why had she told Liam yes? Sure, she had told him it was for socialization purposes, but if she were honest with herself, there was only one thing she wanted to socialize with - her bed. However, Drake was a close second. He had been mostly silent throughout their meal, simply sipping his whisky and digging into his burger with his sleeves pushed up around his elbows. It was what he hadn’t said that intrigued her. Every time she came by and spoke to their table, he had watched her with interest as if he were studying her - like he could read her inner thoughts if he merely looked hard enough. She could tell he was most certainly the strong but silent type. How did he fit into this group of outspoken, fancily dressed men? Who was he to them? She had to find out.

Riley changed into an emerald green dress that smelled slightly of stale french fries, but hey, that’s what she got for storing it in her work locker. In fact, smelling like french fries could be a bonus for some people.

She stepped back to examine herself in the mirror. She still looked banging if she said so herself, the fabric clinging to every curve of her corn-fed figure. It didn’t matter how much running around she did at the bar. Her mother had always told her that she had “baby making hips.” Finally, she slipped out of her work shoes, trading them in for a pair of low, black heels.

Finally, she turned the lights off, locking the door and slamming it shut behind her. She walked around to the front of the building, where a black stretch limousine was parked. Wow, these boys are even more bougee than I thought. She crossed the street quickly, making sure to press down her skirt as a gust of wind hit her out of nowhere, threatening to give the boys a free peep show. The window rolled down slightly, allowing Liam to peek out at her.

“Hey, Riley! Please come in. I hope you don’t mind the limo?” Riley stepped into the limo, trying to refrain the eye roll that was threatening to make itself evident on her face.

“Mind? Oh, no. I don’t mind. I haven’t been in a limo since senior prom, but uh, your average Thursday night seems like a perfect occasion for riding in one.”

“Heh,” Drake chuckled, barely audible from where she was seated. Liam looked up at him with a slightly shocked look, glancing back and forth between the two of them as if they were sharing some inside joke that he couldn’t understand.

“So, waitress, where are we headed?” the young one, Maxwell, piped up.

“It’s Riley, and are you even old enough to drink, Maxwell?”

That remark got the entire group laughing, Max’s face turning redder by the moment.

“I’ll have you know that I’m 23,” he protested, “I just happen to have a baby face.”

Riley chuckled in response, letting Maxwell off the hook from any further ribbing.

“Oh, well that makes two of us! Let’s run down to the corner store for some booze, and I’ll take you guys to my secret spot.”

"Surely you don’t expect me to frequent such an establishment?” Tariq barked, suddenly inserting himself in the conversation.

“Of course she doesn’t, Tariq. She’s much too smart for that,” Drake interjected, suddenly coming to her defense. “I’ll go in with you Riley,” he continued, “if you want, I mean. There’s no need to bring the whole parade into the store.”

“Sure, Drake,” she agreed, surprised that he had offered. The limo rolled to a stop and they hauled their way out and into the shop to get the goods for an evening of adult fun.

____________________________________________

The limo driver pulled up and parked beside of the beach lot. Riley sat up front with the driver to give directions of course, making herself useful. After all, she would be more help up there than in the back, with Liam making goo-goo eyes all over her.

Meanwhile Drake put bags of ice in the cooler, filling it with their drinks so they would keep cool for the duration of their evening at the beach.

Drake didn’t know how the others would be manage that evening, but he loved the beach. He loved the woods. He loved the mountains. He loved being outdoors in general and being one with nature in any capacity. Drake didn’t have to pretend to be somebody else when it was just him and nature.

Drake dragged the cooler out onto the sand, leaving it behind to start gathering sticks for a fire. A small fire pit was already set up from previous party-goers - he just needed to gather some kindling. He figured it would also give Liam a chance to chat up Riley.

Drake saw how Liam had looked at her. As royalty, Liam had always gotten exactly what he wanted and more. Everything had always been given to him before he even had the chance ask for it. Personally, Drake could tell that Riley was too humble for a guy like Liam. She would never be wowed by the limo, or any of his other symbols of lavish overindulgence. But, Drake could also tell that Liam wanted her, so he left it alone.

The boys threw back drink after drink, continuing the party that they’d started at the bar. By the time Drake came back and got the fire going strong, Liam and the others were talking out of their ass with Riley. She seemed to take it all in stride, laughing and taking slow sips of her beer, making eye contact with Drake above the roaring flames of the fire.

The fire seemed to dance in her eyes, warming Drake from the inside out way more than the flames did themselves. He shook his head, knocking those thoughts loose from his mind. The group would be leaving soon to go back to Cordonia, and he would never see her again. There was no sense in entertaining the desire that was bubbling under the surface for this beautiful, young waitress who had no idea who they any of them were.

Liam continued telling stories, more-so to hear himself speak than for any other reason. Maxwell and Tariq had already broken off into their own conversation, and Riley had tuned Liam out ages ago, merely offering the occasional, “mmmhmm,” or, “oh, really?” to keep the charade that she was listening going along. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of Drake all night, since they’d arrived at the beach. She knew he felt it too. When they’d locked eyes before, she swore she saw a blush reach his cheeks, right before he quickly looked away and brushed his jeans off, pretending that a grain of sand needed addressing right away, requiring his full attention for the task.

It took a few more “mmhmms” from Riley without a response from Liam before she realized that he had exhausted himself. He laid back on a piece of driftwood, his mouth slightly agape as he snored lightly. Riley chucked, looking around to see how the rest of the group was getting along. Maxwell and Tariq were over 100 yards away, entertaining themselves on the pier with a game of ad-libs. Well, Maxwell was ad-libbling. Tariq seemed like he was just confused, and more than ready to return to whatever ritzy hotel they were staying at to enjoy the mint on his pillow that awaited him.

Looking out across the fire, Riley admired Drake’s rugged handsomeness. His shaggy, wavy brown hair. His dark brown eyes with a story to tell behind them. His slightly crooked nose. The smattering of two-day-old stubble along his jaw. He looked up with a smile, as if he knew that Riley had been studying him. She blushed, quickly rising from her seat as he did the same. She walked a few paces over to where he sat.

“I want to dip my toes in the water. Will you join me?” she requested.

“Are you nuts? That water is going to be freezing, Brooks.”

“Brooks? How did you-”

“Your name tag at the bar. First and last name. Kind of encourages people to stalk you, ya know. You should rethink the idea,” he jested, given Riley a lopsided grin to distract her from any potential thoughts of stalkers.

“How very observant of you, Drake. I think this is the most you’ve said to me all night.”

“Must be the whiskey,” he responded. He’d only had one shot at the bar, and two beers at the beach, but Riley didn’t need to know that he just wanted to talk to her. Liam passing out had been the perfect “in” for him.

Riley gave him a knowing look, but she didn’t push the issue. She kicked off her shoes and headed towards the water, glancing over her shoulder at Drake. “Are you coming?”

Her question floated towards him like a whisper in the ocean breeze, and he felt himself being pulled towards her as if he were powerless to deny her request.

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself, kicking off his own shoes and socks, feeling the sand between his toes. The sand was warm, and he loved being barefoot as much as possible, so he figured this plan wasn’t so bad. He joined Riley a few feet from the tide, where the sand was starting to get wetter, but not quite stepping into the water just yet.

Riley reached out to grab his hand, shocking him and distracting his inner battle with himself about how cold the water was about to be.

“Let’s do it together. I’ll count down from three, and we’ll step into the water at the same time, okay?” Riley announced, and Drake nodded absentmindedly.

“3, 2, 1....” Riley stepped forward, pulling Drake into the water along with her, causing the bottom of his pants to get wet.

“Shit!” Riley yelled, high stepping back out of the water with Drake before releasing his hand. “You were right, that was cold as hell!”

“Heh, actually I think hell is supposed to be hot?” he smirked at her, lifting an arm to run his hand through his hair - a nervous habit. The truth was, he hadn’t felt the chill of the water. All he could feel was her hand in his.

They stood together, collecting themselves silently. Riley watched him with renewed interest, his profile lit up by the light of the moon. She reached out without thinking, lightly pressing the side of his nose and drawing a short line. 

“Your nose is crooked,” she noted. “What happened?”

“Ah, it was a long time ago. You don’t want to hear about that,” he waved his hand, trying to dismiss her line of questioning. He didn’t like to talk about himself, and the last thing he wanted was for Riley to pity him.

“Please tell me,” she continued. He looked at her, unable to deny the request in her pleading eyes. She seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say. Genuinely interested in him. It had been a long time since someone had shown him such interest.

“I -” he hesitated, looking out over his shoulder to Liam, who was still dozing out of earshot. “Liam. He punched me and broke my nose when we were teenagers.”

“What?!” she squeaked, shocked by his admission. “What a dick. What happened? Why are you still friends with him? What the fuck?!” an onslaught of questions barreled out of her, causing him to chuckle, regardless of the topic at hand. He touched her arm, quieting her.

“It was a long time ago. I’m over it now.”

She quieted, urging him to continue elaborating.

“A girl he liked.... liked me instead. Liam is used to getting what he wants and he didn’t take “us” very well. So he punched me.”

Riley’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. “So what if he didn’t like it. I don’t like onions, but I’m not going to punch you in the nose if you eat them around me.”

Drake gave Riley a soft smile in return that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I don’t think those are the same thing, but I appreciate it. Like I said, I’m over it now.”

“I just don’t get it,” Riley continued, “Liam seems like such a nice guy. A little into himself, but fine enough. Why did he think that the girl he liked not liking him back warranted a punch in the nose?”

Deciding that it was time to tell Riley the full truth, Drake sighed before admitting, “Well, because Liam is a royal. He’s the prince of a small country in Europe called Cordonia. He’s used to getting everything he wants, even if he doesn’t necessarily deserve it or need it.”

“Yea, you’re funny, and I’m the Queen of England,” Riley rolled off sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she paced along the beach with Drake. When his expression didn’t change, she stopped. “Wait - you’re serious?”

“As a heart attack. The only reason I’m still part of his inner circle is because Liam and I have been friends since we were kids. My father served his father, and he died in the line of duty. Liam’s family took in me and my sister when my mother abandoned us and we had nowhere else to go,” Drake hesitated, realizing that he might be oversharing a bit too much with this woman who he barely knew anything about. He rarely met someone who didn’t know who he was, and he rarely talked about his feelings with the people who did know him, so it all just kind of came out with Riley.

“Sorry, to lay all that on you. But yea, that’s why he is the way he is, and that’s why my nose is crooked,” he finished, walking back to douse the remaining embers of the fire before Riley could stop him. This hiss of the dying flame was enough to jolt Liam out of his slumber.

Maxwell and Tariq rejoined the group, each holding onto one of Liam’s arms as he struggled to stay upright.

“Poor Liam doesn’t get out of the palace much to let loose. He can’t really handle his liquor very well,” Maxwell joked, smiling at Riley.

“Maxwell! Liam wanted us to remain undercover, remember. Now Riley knows he’s a royal!” Tariq scolded.

“Don’t worry about it, Max,” he interrupted Maxwell’s quickly escalating panic, letting him off the hook. “I already told her.”

“I don’t know why he keeps you around. The whole lot of you. You can’t do the one thing he asked,” Tariq sneered as he stomped off with Liam in tow, depositing him into the back of the limo with Maxwell.

“Ignore him,” Drake said to Riley. “Can we give you a ride home?”

“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. I just live a few blocks from here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s late. I’ll walk you. I can take a cab back to the hotel from there or something.”

Riley started to protest, but he was already ducking his head down into the limo to tell the guys to go on without him, and that he would get his own ride back.

The limo drove off and Drake started to make his way down the sidewalk. Riley scurried in her heels to keep pace, admonishing him once she arrived beside him.

“I didn’t even tell you which way it was!”

Drake gave her a sideways smirk and asked, “Well, which way is your place?”

Begrudgingly, she admitted that they were headed in the right direction. “It just so happens that it’s this way. You got lucky.”

Drake chuckled in response, but he didn’t push her any further.

A few more steps into their walk, he realized that their time together was quickly coming to an end. He had to get her talking. To get the most out of their time together.

“So, tell me about you. What’s your story? Did you always want to work at a bar?” he seriously doubted it, but he wanted to find out more about her.

She laughed sadly, shaking her head no. “Is that anyone’s dream job?” she glanced his way before continuing. “No, I was in college for political science. My parents didn’t have a lot of money, but they supported me financially through school. They both worked two jobs to makes ends meet,” Riley paused, growing a little quieter. “The summer after my third year, they were in a train accident. The train derailed and they,” she sniffled, a tear streaming down her cheek, “they died.”

“I’m so sorry, Riley. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business,” Drake apologized, feeling like an asshole for ruining their fun night by bringing up sad topics.

“No,” she wiped her cheek, gathering herself. “It’s okay, Drake,” she smiled softly at him. “I know that you know how it feels to lose a parent.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, not letting go.

“So, no, to answer your question, I did not want to be a waitress or a bartender for the rest of my life, but I had to quit uni to support myself after they passed. I haven’t found my way back yet,” she finished, stopping in front of a brown brick building. “Well, this is my building,” she pulled Drake into her arms, breathing in the scent of him, a mix of crisp pine and campfire smoke.

He stalled, taken slightly aback at first, before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a the safe cocoon of his arms. He burrowed his nose in her hair, soaking in as much of the moment as he could before he knew he’d have to leave her. He released her reluctantly, taking a step back. “It was great meeting you, Brooks.”

Riley took the few steps that led up to the door, pausing with her keys in her hand. She couldn’t let him go yet, and before she could stop herself, she looked over her shoulder at him and uttered, “Would you like to come up?”

She wasn’t the type for one night stands. She’d only had two long term boyfriends, and she knew that she’d probably never see him again, but she felt magnetically drawn to this man. Before she could withdrawn her offer, he took a few steps up to meet her, pressed his hand to her lower back, and nodded subtly in agreement.

She gulped, her heart racing as she inserted her key into the door and turned the knob. What the hell was she doing? Riley, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Maybe he just wants to come up for coffee. You’re being an idiot. She glanced up again at him, and he smirked at her. She gulped. This man does not want coffee. He wants...

Before she could overthink the situation any more, they were already in front of her apartment door.

Cognizant of her nervous energy, Drake stalled, turning Riley to look him in the eye.

“We don’t have to do anything, Brooks. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, but I can tell you’re nervous,” he smiled sympathetically. “I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

His gentlemanly admission calmed her nerves, and renewed the fire in her loins. She studied him with renewed vigor. Tall, broad shoulders, muscular, rugged, handsome... and hers for at least the next hour. She unlocked her apartment and moved aside to let him in behind her.

He looked around for moment, taking in their surroundings. Humble, but cozy, Organized, but adorned with sentimental tchotchkes here and there. A small sofa, easily convertible into a full size bed, making the most of the studio space.

Riley wrung her hands, watching him as he took in their surroundings, finally settling on her face. “I like your place. It’s very you.”

“Simple and unassuming?” she quipped.

“Cute,” he responded, leaning in to kiss her softly.

__________________________________

Riley darted off to the kitchen, pouring drinks for the both of them. She was nervous. She wanted Drake, but she’d also never been in a position where the future was so cloudy. She liked to research things, weigh pros and cons, and make well thought out decisions. She wasn’t used to thinking with her vag.

They took their drinks into the living room, which also happened to be her bedroom. Riley turned on the TV, and she settled on watching MasterChef.

“Is this okay?” Riley asked. She hadn’t really asked Drake what he wanted to watch. She had just picked a program that she wanted to catch up on.

“Oh yea, I love cooking,” Drake responded, smiling at Riley in response.

They sat together on the couch, drinking and watching the show in mostly silence. They gradually started to get more comfortable, with Drake sitting up while Riley laid back along the couch with her legs across his lap. Absentmindedly, Drake began to rub slow circles along the inside of her ankle, his hand drifting up her calf throughout the episode. While innocent enough, it was enough to wake up Riley’s senses and distract her entirely from the show.

Two can play at this game. Riley matched the pace of his hand’s ascension. As his hand rose up her leg, she gripped the side of her dress and lifted it, keeping pace with his hand, slowly revealing more and more of her thigh, until the side of her underwear was peaking out.

“Do you see this idiot? Can’t cook to save his fuc -” Drake finally glanced in her direction, noticing the predicament that they were in. “Fuck,” he finished.

Drake reared back, simultaneously losing all interest in the show and repositioning his body to lay over Riley’s, positioning a leg between hers. He kissed her, leaving a soft trail of kisses along her jar and up to her ear.

“That dish looked fucking disgusting, I think I have something better to eat right...” his hand traveled the remaining distance to the apex of her thighs, “here.”

Riley shuddered under his hand, feeling as he grew hard against the exposed skin of her thigh.

“Is this okay?” Drake whispered, moving his arms to either side of her, hovering above her body before continuing his movements.

“Yes,” Riley responded, nodding her head urgently and wrapping her hands around one of Drake’s to relocate it, moving it back to her crotch.

He growled with hunger, leaning over her body to suck the soft flesh of her neck, working across her collarbone as he rubbed her softly through her underwear. He wrapped one arm under her back, pulling her into an upright position. 

She was confused, but only for a moment, quickly coming up to speed as he slipped his hand under her dress, alongside her thigh. She raised her arms, allowing him to pull the dress up her body and over her head.

Riley pushed herself up further, now on her knees. “You’re not nearly naked enough,” she admonished Drake, pushing him down to lay on the couch as she straddled his thighs. She slowly unbuttoned his shirt, opening it to reveal the thin white tee beneath. She pulled the shirt out from the waistband of his pants, raising the fabric to reveal his hard abs and a smattering of hair.

Drake wrapped his arms around her, picking her up as he stood from the couch, depositing her safely to the ground to pull out the bed before things progressed any further. Tinkering around until he was finally satisfied with his efforts, he picked her up again and threw her on the newly constructed bed. She laughed momentarily at his caveman antics, but quickly quieted once he took off his button down and pulled his t-shirt over his head, leaving him half naked. No wonder her could throw her around like she was a pillow. This man was solid as a rock. She’d have to ask him later how he stayed so fit.

Drake leaned over her to unhook her bra, pausing to suck each nipple and kiss each breast for a few moments, a sense of urgency taking over as he shifted further down the bed.

He leaned between Riley’s legs, wrapping an arm around each thigh and holding onto her luscious hips. He kissed her through her panties that were thoroughly soaked by this point. Satisfied by how aroused she was, he hooked his teeth onto them and peeled them down her legs, resuming his place between her thighs once it was done.

He licked his way up her slit, causing her to jolt forward into his mouth as her hips lifted off the bed. He gripped her hips tighter and began to lick her. Slow and gentle at first, from bottom to top. He stiffened his tongue and inserted the full length of it into her, siphoning in and out, lapping up all of her juices as her head fell back and she started to moan.

“Drake!” she gasped. Her moans added further fuel to the fire, encouraging him to work twice as hard so that he could hear more of them. He wanted her to unravel under his mouth before he ravaged her body.

He removed his tongue, replacing the empty space with two fingers, leaning down to suck on her bundle of nerves at the same time. He alternated between sucking and licking her clit, curling his fingers as he pumped in and out of her.

With one final, “Drake!” he felt the dam burst within her, and she coated his fingers with her sweet cream. He paused to look at her as he sucked his fingers clean of her.

He stood from the bed, unbuckling his belt and carefully unzipping his pants, sliding them down his legs. His dick was as big and as firm as the rest of his body, and Riley’s mouth instantly started salivating like it was a cold popsicle on a hot summer day. Wordlessly, she leapt off the bed and got down on her knees in front of him.

“Riley, you don’t have to - oh!” she took him in her mouth and quickly got to work, taking him deep into her mouth and throat as far as she could go, her saliva getting it nice and wet for the next stage of the evening. She leaned back until just the head was in her mouth, swirling her tongue around and suctioning the tip and she simultaneously pumped up and down his girth with her hand. She felt a slight twitch before he gently pressed her chest, releasing himself from her mouth and urging her to lay back on the bed.

She leaned back with anticipation as he hovered over her body, his member pressing between her legs, a thigh on either side of him. He leaned down to kiss her, slipping his tongue in her mouth and sucking on her bottom lip gently before asking, “Condom?”

“Oh, uh, yes...” she dug around in her bedside drawer for a moment, retrieving what they needed. She tore open the foil and slid it down the length of him as quickly as she could, unwilling to wait much longer for him to be inside of her.

He leaned over her body, offering one last soft kiss as he positioned himself at her entrance. Swiftly, he slid himself inside her body, causing her to gasp.

“Are you okay?” he asked, pausing as she adjusted to his girth, stilling his movements entirely.

“Yes, yes! More than okay! Move!” she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him into her further. He needed no more encouragement. He grasped onto the sides of her thighs, positioning her body to meet his every thrust as he pounded into her, causing her to howl in pleasure.

“Oooohhh, Drake. Fuck!” she groaned deliriously, generating a cocky smirk to rest on his face.

“That’s what we’re doing,” he responded sarcastically. Before she was able to return his quip with one of her own, he doubled down and leaned over her body, resting his weight on his forearms for stability. He slid in an out of her body, almost coming out of her entirely before thrusting deep within her, making her feel so empty and then instantly filling the void within her, bringing her to the edge of delirium. She felt so good, he was having trouble containing himself. He tried to think of anything and everything that would keep him from getting off. He wanted this to last as long as possible.

He withdrew, causing her to whimper instantly. “Drake, what -“

“On your knees,” he commanded smoothly, and she followed his instructions right away. He pressed himself against her until she started to squirm, pressing herself back against him until he went inside just a little. He slid his arm underneath her body, angling her sweet ass so he could reach her from the back. He started to rock inside of her as she groaned and wailed with pleasure, rubbing his hand in circles and winding her body tighter than a spring. It didn’t take long before she burst, her muscles spasming down around him as she climaxed.

“Thank god,” he murmured, too quiet for Riley to hear, quickly finding release of his own after taking a few final pumps within her.

He withdrew from her body slowly, discarding the condom in the bin and cleaning himself off. He lay beside her, wrapping his arm around her safely as they both recovered, feeling happier than he had in a very long time.

__________________________

Drake woke up a few hours later in an unfamiliar place, momentarily forgetting what had occurred until her saw Riley laying beside him, hair fanned out across the pillow. He found a blanket on the lounge chair beside of the bed, and he draped it across her body so she wouldn’t get cold.

Hmmm... that’s a nice chair. Maybe we could trying doing it there next time. Next time? What was he thinking. As amazing as Riley was, he didn’t see how they could possibly make a real relationship happen between them. Everybody knows that long distance relationships never work. Drake started to get dressed, fumbling around for his clothes in the dim lighting.

“Drake?” Riley whispered, her voice barely audible with sleep. “Are you leaving?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you yet. I was going to wake you before I slipped out. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Our flight home is actually scheduled for tomorrow morning, er, I guess it’s this morning now.”

“Oh,” she stated sadly. “Well, let me give you my number. Maybe we can text or Facetime or something?” she asked hopefully.

“Sure, Brooks. I’d love that.”

He typed her number into his phone and she walked him to the door, the blanket he’d covered her with wrapped around her body. He leaned down to kiss her, sweet and soft, pouring so much emotion into it that you would have thought he was her longtime lover going off to war or something. She shook off the thought. She knew what she had been getting into, after all.

After Drake left, she tried to go back to sleep to no avail. Drake had really lit a fire within her - mind, body, and soul. She truly hoped that he would call.

About 15 minutes after Drake left, Riley thought she heard a knock at the door. Who would be bothering her this early? It wasn’t even light out yet. Surely enough she heard it again, three more raps at the door. Could it be him?

She quickly burritoed herself, covering all of her exciting bits with the blanket around her. She opened the door, expecting to see Drake, but...

Maxwell waited behind the door, perking up with interest as she opened it, trying not to let his eyes wonder once he realized what she was wearing.

“Um, hi, Riley! How would you feel about taking a trip to Cordonia?”