need you most / calum hood
summary: all of a sudden your best friend looks realllllly hot.
tags/warnings: calum hood x reader smutttt. curly hair!cal. friends to lovers? he's stupid? ur both stupid? but i love u anyways???? we are all rooting for u. also i love house party ash it's like 2014 all over again. p in v! anyways. not proofread that's my baddddddd hope you enjoy i'm sorry it's been a bit!!! more next week on luke...
calum: u coming to ash's tn?
calum: okkk ill pick u up :)
you slid a heart emoji across the screen and locked your phone, replacing it in your hand with a makeup brush as you swiped on your base products. it wouldn't be a friday night without a house party at ashton's packed with 200 of his closest friends; always including you and cal. the music in your room pumped loudly, and you sipped on a drink as you got ready. glitter packed onto your lids, alcohol slid past your lips and settled into your stomach; if calum was texting that meant he'd be at yours soon.
you had met calum a couple years ago, just two twenty-somethings in l.a. that orbited the music space; you worked at a recording studio and had mutual friends with michael, which eventually led you to meeting cal at one of their album releases. they welcomed you into their friend group readily, but the one you had really gotten close to was calum. you went to his studio sessions, he brought you lunch at work, you took long drives together when life got too heavy. he was a constant in your ever-changing world, and you were the same in his.
your phone buzzed again a couple minutes later while you were packing your purse in the kitchen, your countertop messy with lime wedges and empty seltzer cans. a grin stretched across your face reading the message calum had sent.
you grabbed your bag and keys, fixing any stray hairs as you passed the mirror next to your front door. the ride down the lift was agonising, the alcohol you had already drank making you sway on your feet a bit. it became harder to stand when you opened the front door of your apartment building to see calum leaning against the hood of his car, arms crossed over a black button down that stretched at the biceps, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tattoos peeking out. a cigarette rested loosely between his lips, puffing slightly as he looked sideways down the street, not seeing you yet; his dark curls fell messy across his forehead and neck.
his eyes caught yours and he crushed his cigarette under the toe of his boot, reaching out to pull you into a hug, smile so wide his eyes crinkled at the edges. his cologne engulfed you, and it sobered you slightly, comfortably. his hands came to rest on your back, eyes travelling down your body unapologetically, a smirk on his face.
"i like this," he comments casually, gesturing to your outfit, your hair, your makeup. a grin spreads across your face, turning in a small circle.
"thank you, thank you," you nod sagely, slipping into the passenger seat. the streets blur by as he drives to ashton's, radio up loud and windows down. the street outside of ash's house is packed, cars filling the long driveway, so calum parks down the block.
the door of the house swings open when you walk up, michael's bright smile greeting you both. he pulls each of you into a hug before leading you through the masses of people into the kitchen. the music thumps through the house, and you can hear the large chandelier in the front room shaking.
"tequila? tequila?" he points to each of you in turn, operating as if the house is his own, pulling two plastic cups from a sleeve of them opened on the counter. bottles are scattered around the countertops, the kitchen island completely covered at this rate. he pours you both tequila and a mixer he recovers from the depths of the fridge. you're too busy watching calum giggle at his friend's behaviour, a smile plastered across his face as he shakes his head. you down the cup as it's given to you, the bitter taste settling in the back of your throat as warmth settles in your stomach. you give your cup back to michael, who happily pours you another one.
"here, let's go find ash," michael leads the two of you back through the kitchen, calum's hand splayed on the small of your back as you weave through the crowd. "i swear he disappears every five minutes."
you find ashton and luke setting up beer pong in one of the front rooms, a small group of people already gravitating around them. music pounds through the walls, hard, and luke pulls you into a messy hug when he sees you.
"was wondering when you'd show up!" he shouts over the music, swaying on his feet a bit. ashton comes over and says something similar, greeting you and calum happily. the body heat in the room is overwhelming; someone shouts your name from across the room, someone else hands you a drink you don’t question, and in the middle of it all, the familiar sight of a folding table set up with red cups makes you grin like you're back at college.
“teams?” ashton calls with a half-full cup in his hand, cheeks already flushed. his smile is stretched wide, hair slicked and shirt half unbuttoned.
"you and me?" calum nods to you quietly, nudging your shoulder. he points to you obnoxiously, "i've got this one." luke and ashton are already coming up with game plans across the table.
you glance back at him, eyebrow raised. “oh, you’ve got me, do you?”
he shrugs, a lazy smirk tugging at his mouth as he sips his drink. “yeah. you’re shit at this, you need carrying.” you shove his shoulder lightly, scoffing. you open your mouth to interject but— "it's okay, i'll make us look good." his smirk pulls into a full grin as he sets up across from ashton, pulling faces at each other like schoolboys. michael pulls up a chair that is quickly forgotten as he paces up and down the table, switching between half-assed refereeing and hyping up the crowd.
calum stands close, his shoulder brushing yours as he leans forward to line up his shot, arm coming across slightly in front of you, and for a second you’re surrounded by him; his cologne, the warmth of his body, the low hum of his voice when he mutters, “watch this” before sinking the first shot like an absolute prick. you smack his chest in excitement as luke downs the shot in the cup, grimacing as ash pats his back through it. you step forward and drop the other ball into the water cup before rolling it in your fingers, attempting to line up a shot. it bounces once and off the rim of one of the nearest cups and you roll your eyes, scoffing, muttering something about the vibes being off.
“tragic,” ash says immediately, and you flip him off, earning shouts of laughter from michael and calum. you take your place stood back a bit next to calum, comfortably leaning towards him without noticing.
he nudges your hip lightly with his. “told you i’m carrying.” you roll your eyes and watch as luke lines up his shot next as michael pats his back excitedly, clearly being a very partial referee. you find yourself looking at calum, his messy curls, his chain dangling out of his button down shirt that seems to have one more button undone than it did earlier. he catches your eye and smiles softly, hitting your shoulder with his as his eyes scrunch up around his smile and he sips his drink. the moment is gone when ashton loudly misses his shot, and the room breaks into laughter again.
by the second round, people are pressing in around the table, shouting, cheering, knocking into you every time someone makes or misses a shot. the music gets louder, or maybe you’re just more aware of it now, bass thudding through your chest in time with the alcohol settling warm in your system. you’ve had at least two drinks, maybe three, and michael keeps refilling the cup he gave you earlier; it's a miracle when you make your next shot. at some point calum's hand finds your lower back, and the warmth there is nearly unbearable and you don't know why.
the game drags on, cups disappearing one by one, rules getting looser, michael getting louder. you down the cups like your life depends on it, trying hard to get rid of the buzz in your lower back. calum's missing shots now, throwing his hands up in the air every time the ball falls off the table and at ashton's feet.
"thought you were carrying?" you tease, eyebrows raised.
he exhales a laugh, dragging a hand through his hair before taking another sip of his drink. “i’m distracted.”
“by what?” you ask, almost choking on your drink when he looks at you pointedly, eyebrows raised back at you.
"no idea." he smirks, turning back to the game as ashton lands his shot and calum has to take another drink from the table. you stare shamelessly at the drips of tequila that spill around his lips and down his chin, and you have an inexplicable urge to wipe it with something. by the final round, you’re leaning more into him than you probably should be, but it doesn't help that his arm keeps finding its way around your shoulders, pulling you into him at every sign of celebration. at one point while ashton and luke are discussing strategy his hand finds your waist casually, and you're pulled into him while he hums around the rim of his cup. you remind yourself of the countless other nights where the two of you have acted as such, you remind yourself he's your best friend.
“last cup,” luke announces, pointing dramatically.
“pressure’s on, loverboy,” ashton adds, sticking his tongue out at calum with a smile. he doesn't answer, just smiles and picks up the ball, squeezing your waist as he steps away. you freeze slightly at the words, chest tight. he turns, lines up his shot, and misses; and the room explodes with noise.
“no way!” ashton shouts, howling with laughter.
“absolutely choked!” luke adds, pointing and handing the last cups to michael to give to you.
calum groans, dropping his head back. “i hate all of you.” you laugh, but take the cup given to you anyway, knocking it back as the bitter burn hits the back of your throat.
when you lower it, the room tilts slightly; not enough to panic but enough to notice. calum's face flashes with concern, mouthing a "you ok?" and nodding when you say you are. but your head feels light, and your body feels warm. you resent the way you’ve been noticing every little thing about him tonight, it's too intense, too much, too real.
“i just—” you shake your head slightly, stepping back from him. “think i need some air or something.”
his brows knit together immediately again. “yeah? we can do that.” you nod, even though the world feels like it’s shifting slightly under your feet.
the second you step outside, the air hits you like a reset. it's cooler, quieter. there’s still music thumping faintly through the walls, voices spilling out through the open back door, but it’s nothing like the suffocating heat of inside.
“jesus,” ashton exhales dramatically behind you, already veering toward the fire pit. “thought i was gonna pass out in there.” he unbuttons his shirt all the way as emphasis.
you let out a small laugh, trailing behind them, your steps just slightly slower than usual. The alcohol has settled properly now, warm and heavy in your limbs, softening the edges of everything. calum stays close behind you as you cross the patio, close enough that you can feel him without looking. you don’t miss the way his hand briefly brushes your lower back again when someone squeezes past, guiding you instinctively toward the open seats around the fire.
you sink into one of the cushioned chairs, exhaling as the warmth of the fire kisses your skin, a different kind of heat now that's steady, grounding. calum drops next to you, his arm thrown across the back of your chair.
michael flops down on the other side of the pit with luke, pulling luke's legs across his lap and immediately launching into a story you only half catch, something about earlier, about someone spilling something, about ashton being an idiot, and no matter how hard you try you can't focus on a word he's saying. you're too aware of the crackle of the fire, the buzz under your skin, calum’s arm resting along the back of your chair. you stare into the fire instead, taking a sip of whatever drink has ended up in your hand now. it’s stronger than the last one, the burn worse as it goes down.
“hey,” calum says quietly beside you. “slow down,” he nods toward your drink.
you blink. “i'm fine, cal, you're not my mum."
"just looking out for you, you seemed off inside." he offers, and it's kind. you wish that he wasn't so sweet to you all the time, it would make it easier to not like him. you roll your eyes, but lower the cup anyway. he nods approvingly.
at some point, luke and ash start arguing about something completely pointless, whether or not a certain song was better live or recorded, and michael is instigating it shamelessly, egging them both on with exaggerated reactions and a thrown arm around luke. they seem to be gravitating further together as the night goes on. you laugh when you’re supposed to, nod when it makes sense, but your attention keeps slipping back to the presence next to you. back to calum.
he's leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, the firelight catching on his tattoos, the lines of them shifting as his forearms flex when he gestures mid-conversation. a thought flits through your head about how absolutely sexy he looks before you push it down quickly. his curls fall into his face, messy from the heat inside, and he keeps pushing them back absently. your eyes catch on his hands. you’ve seen him like this a hundred times, why does it feel different tonight? he laughs at something ash says, head tipping back slightly, and your eyes catch on the line of his throat, and you think about the way the tequila dripped slowly down it earlier, tracing the line with your eyes. he turns, catching you in the act.
“you sure you’re alright?” he asks, quieter now. you nod, not entirely convinced yourself. the conversation around the fire keeps going, but it fades into the background, like you’re sitting in the middle of something separate from it, something just you and him. you take another sip of your drink absentmindedly, and his eyes snap to you.
“hey,” he says, a little firmer this time, reaching out to gently nudge your wrist down. “giveme that for a second?” you let him take it without protesting, obeying immediately. it's unlike you, usually you would argue or protest or tease but the tone of his voice had you weak.
he sets it on the ground beside his foot, out of your reach but not in a way that feels controlling.
“bossy,” you mutter lightly, and a smile tugs at his mouth.
"someone's gotta deal with you later and we both know it's gonna be me." he nods to himself, satisfied.
he grins, softer this time. “make me.” except neither of you laughs. your stomach twists, and for a minute, you think about it. really think about it. what his mouth on yours would feel like, if he'd taste like cigarettes, what your hands tugging through his hair would feel like, how he would hold you. your gaze drops to his mouth without permission and you look away as soon as it happens, heart thudding hard.
“sorry, um,” you shake your head slightly, the world tilting just a little. “i think i need a second.”
his expression shifts immediately, concern cutting through whatever else was there.
he’s already moving, standing up with you, one hand hovering near your back like he’s ready to catch you if you tip too far either way.
“no,” you say quickly, the word slipping out before you can stop it. he pauses, almost hurt.
you soften it, forcing a small smile. “i’ll be fine. just need… water or the bathroom or something.”
he studies you for a second longer, clearly not convinced by your beautiful display of certainty.
“alright,” he says finally. “but i’m checking on you if you disappear.” you nod, and he lets you go reluctantly. and as you turn toward the house, the cool air fading, the noise rising again, you can still feel where he was, like your skin hasn’t caught up to the fact that he’s not touching you anymore.
the bathroom door clicked softly behind you, your palms seeking out the cold surface of the countertop as you searched your own eyes in the mirror for something, but you weren't really sure what. the air conditioning hummed above the window, and you tried to wrestle with the impending nausea that came in waves that had nothing to do with the alcohol. you couldn't get him out of your head, seeing his soft eyes every time you closed yours, the lines of his jaw, his hands invaded your brain and nestled in firmly. the room spun a bit, and you caught yourself before you met the floor, elbows forcing yourself upright on the countertop, taking cold water and running your fingers through your hair roughly, wishing it would tear him out of your head. your lower back still buzzed where his hand had been most of the night.
it would be a lie if you said you never thought about calum like this, but never so intense, never so genuine. in passing, sure, you could recognise he was attractive, but the effect he was having on you tonight in particular was dizzying, rendering you useless, wanting. you needed him and then some. you were genuinely worried that if you went back out and faced him that ashton or michael would have to pull you off him; that your body would somehow become fused to his, not that you'd mind. your head reeled with the thought that you would have to sleep in the same house as him tonight, but it would be more telling if you broke tradition and ran home. no, you had to calm down, regain composure, never think about the million things you imagined him doing to you in ashton's upstairs guest room.
a sharp knock on the door ripped you from your spiralling, spiking your heart rate. at the silence, a second round of knocking came, and then his voice.
"it's me, can i come in?"
how could you say no? you had to keep up the illusion that you were actually sick, though heat stirred in your lower stomach at the thought of him being in such close proximity. you tore the door open and he stepped in carefully, shutting it behind him and flicking shut the lock. the action made your heart jump.
"you okay?" he all but whispered, searching your face for any signs of upset. you nodded, pressing your lips together tightly before you either threw up or said something stupid. he didn't believe you. damn his observational skills, damn that he was your closest friend and of course he would know better. damn that thrumming in your stomach at his closeness.
"just feeling sick?" he continued, brushing hair away from your face as you leaned back against the countertop. he reached behind you and took a washcloth, wetting it with cold water. he wrung it out, and your breath caught when his biceps and forearms flexed with the movement. his eyes flicked towards you with concern, brows knit tight together, pout on his lips, bringing the wet cloth up. he moved in close, thighs touching yours briefly before holding your hair up as he placed the cloth on the back of your neck. the cold made you shudder, eyes fluttering shut, and it cleared a bit of the blur in your brain. when you opened your eyes again he was staring at you, worry in his pretty dark eyes, his curls messy and falling into his face as he leaned over you a bit.
"thank you," you breathed out, meaning it. he nodded, and you realised that he was staring at your mouth, looking dazed yet concentrated. your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip and take it in your teeth, and you didn't miss how his breath stuttered. you weren't sure if it was the alcohol that made you say it, but you rushed out; "you always take such good care of me, cal."
it was barely a whisper, but a smile spread across his face nonetheless. he removed the cloth from your neck, and you sighed involuntarily at the loss of contact. his fingers twitched as if they hated the loss too. he exhaled heavily, coming back up to stand upright in front of you after putting the washcloth down on the countertop, large hand brushing your waist. the room spun again, and you blinked your eyes shut hard, gripping the edge of the counter behind you. he surged forward impossibly closer to grab your arms, steadying you even though he swayed slightly on the spot as well. your hands found his forearms now, taking any opportunity you could for closeness. you leaned forwards, letting your head fall against his shoulder as you breathed heavily through the nausea as well as the way your skin sparked at his touch. he rubbed circles into your elbows sweetly.
"if you get sick on me i might lose it," he laughs, and the sound rumbles through you. you squirm a bit, and he squeezes your arms with his hands as you shake your head violently. you're aware that you're sweating, the closeness starting to become too much and causing you to blink hard and fast. you push your thighs together and sigh out at the friction, immediately flushing with embarassment as you register the absolutely pathetic noise you just let out.
"oh, baby," he mumbles, and you feel the smile that starts to break against your hair. a spark of heat shoots straight through you.“you should’ve just told me,” he continues, his hands coming to rest stable on your waist, thumbs pressing bruising circles into your skin like he might snap if you moved away.
“told you what?” you asked, even though you knew. even though your heart was already racing ahead of you, even though if he touched you right now it'd be absolutely humiliating how turned on you were just from him being around you all night.
his dark eyes flicked back up to yours. “that you needed me.” you all but whine, hands coming to fist in the front of his button down. his grip around your waist tightens, and you cautiously look up at him through your lashes, his breath fanning your face as he pants, the ghost of a smirk still playing on his lips, and you hate how good he looks doing it. your chest heaves with your breath, tequila no longer threatening to come up.
"let's get you upstairs, yeah?" he nods towards the door. "i'm really worried about you." he teases, rubbing his thumb over your stomach once before reaching for the door, his other hand dragging up and down your wrist before catching your hand in his, lacing your fingers. he weaved you through the remnants of the party, music still loud and chatter still ringing through the rooms. the walk up the stairs was dizzying, and cal kept looking back to check on you, hand never leaving yours. he pushed open the door of the guest room where the two of you usually stayed after particularly long parties at ashton's, familiarity clouding your vision even more than it had been. he closes and locks the door behind the two of you.
he hovers over you for a minute, and you let your hands roam up his chest and come to lace around the back of his neck, and he sighs.
"you're sure?" he licks his lips, ever the gentleman.
"please, cal." you nod, your skin set on fire.
apparently that was more than enough affirmation because he's on you then, lips swallowing yours and his hands coming to take rest in the hair on either side of your face. he holds you like something breakable, but with bruising affection. it would be overwhelming if you weren't so enveloped in him already. his hands push up your top, warm on the cold skin of your stomach, and you let him take it off, hiding your face when he takes you all in for a minute. he walks you back to the bed in the center of the room, gently laying you down with him coming to lean over you. each touch is thought about, each movement careful, but you can't care about careful right now. you want him to ruin you.
"calum" you breathe against his mouth, arching up into him. your hands find the open edges of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, your hands trailing harshly down his biceps. you're hoping, wishing, praying he gets the message when you buck your hips up into his, chasing friction after being left wanting the whole evening. he pulls back just enough to look at you, and there's something dark swimming in his pretty brown eyes. his curls fall forward, messy and perfect, and you reach up to push them back without thinking. the gesture feels intimate in a way that makes your chest tight.
"yeah?" his voice is rough, strained. like he's been holding himself back this whole time, keeping something leashed.
"please." you whisper, pulling him back down. your lips brush his as you speak before you kiss him harder, letting your teeth catch his bottom lip. the groan he lets out is felt through your whole body. something shifts. you feel it in the way his breath catches, the way his fingers tighten in your hair. when he kisses you again it's different; deeper, more demanding. his tongue slides against yours and you moan into his mouth, and he swallows the sound like he's been starving for it, licking into you desperately.
"fuck," he mutters against your jaw, kissing down the line of it. "you have no idea how long i've wanted this." his teeth scrape against your pulse point and you gasp. "how long i've thought about you like this."
"tell me," you manage, even though your brain is short-circuiting from the feeling of his mouth on your neck.
"every time you'd fall asleep on my couch." he punctuates each sentence with a kiss, working his way down. "every time you'd laugh at something stupid i said." his hands slide down your sides, fingers pressing into your ribs. "every time you'd look at me like…like you're looking at me right now."
his hands are everywhere now, running over your stomach, your hips, gripping hard enough that you know you'll have marks tomorrow. the thought sends heat pooling low in your belly. you want evidence of this, proof that it's real and not just another fantasy you've conjured up in the dark. he sits back on his heels, shrugging off his shirt completely, and you take him in. the tattoos you've memorized a hundred times but never like this, never with the knowledge that you get to touch them, that they're yours, at least for right now. his chest rises and falls rapidly, and you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way he's still holding back.
"you're staring," he says, but there's no teasing in it now. just heat, just want.
"can't help it." your hands find his chest, tracing the lines of ink, feeling his heart hammering beneath your palms, the way his chest rises and falls so rapidly. "you're so—"
he doesn't let you finish. his mouth is on yours again, one hand sliding behind your back to unclasp your bra with practiced ease. he tosses it somewhere behind him and then his hands are on your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until you're squirming beneath him.
"so what?" he prompts, voice low and dangerous. "finish your sentence, baby."
the pet name makes you clench around nothing. "beautiful," you manage, and he groans like the word physically hurts him.
"you're gonna kill me." his mouth moves lower, kissing down your sternum, between your breasts. he takes his time, like he's mapping every inch of skin. "you know that? gonna fucking kill me."
when his mouth closes around your nipple you arch off the bed, fingers tangling in his hair. he's not gentle about it; teeth scraping, tongue soothing, and the contrast has you gasping his name. he gives the other the same attention, his hand kneading the breast his mouth isn't on, and you're already trembling.
"please what?" he looks up at you through his lashes, and the sight alone is enough to make you whimper. "use your words, pretty."
"touch me," you breathe. "need you to touch me."
"i am touching you." but there's a smirk playing at his lips.
his hand palms down your stomach, fingers hooking into the waistband of your bottoms. he pauses, waiting, and you nod frantically, dignity left miles behind. he makes quick work of the button and zipper, pulling them down your legs along with your underwear until you're completely bare beneath him. for a moment he just looks at you, and you fight the urge to cover yourself under his gaze.
"fucking perfect," he says, almost reverent. his hands slide up your thighs, spreading them wider, and you can feel yourself getting wetter as he studies you, your skin humming. "look at you."
"can i taste you?" he asks, and the question is so direct, so filthy, that you nearly come apart right there.
you nod, not trusting your voice, and he settles between your legs like he belongs there. the first touch of his tongue has you crying out, hand flying to cover your mouth, but he reaches up and pulls it away.
"uh-uh." he looks up at you, eyes dark. "let me hear you. don't care who's downstairs."
he licks a long stripe up your center and you whimper, hips bucking involuntarily. he groans against you, and the vibration makes you gasp. he fucks his tongue into you like he's been thinking about it for years, thumb coming up to rub at your clit. his tongue works you over with devastating precision, finding every spot that makes you whine and pull his hair further into you. he's not rushed about it, taking his time, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit that has you seeing stars. when he slides one finger inside you, curling it just right, you nearly come apart, thighs squeezing together on either side of his head.
"that's it, baby." he adds a second finger, pumping them steadily while his mouth focuses on your clit. "feel how wet you are for me? fuck, you can hear it."
"yes, fuck, cal" you're babbling now, one hand fisted in his hair, the other gripping the sheets.
"good girl." the praise makes you clench around his fingers. "gonna make you come now, okay? want you to come on my tongue."
he doesn't let up after that, fingers pumping steadily while his mouth works you over. the orgasm builds slowly, then all at once, crashing over you so hard you see spots. you cry out his name, hips grinding against his face, and he works you through it, gentler now, until you're pushing back at his head from oversensitivity, whimpering.
when he crawls back up your body, his lips are shining and he's grinning like he just won something. you pull him into a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue, and he groans into your mouth.
"you're so hot when you come," he says against your lips. "wanna see it again."
"need you," you breathe, reaching down to palm him through his jeans. he's hard, straining against the denim, and when you squeeze he drops his forehead to your shoulder with a curse.
"yeah, okay—fuck." he fumbles with his belt, and you help him, both of you clumsy and desperate. he shoves his jeans and boxers down just enough to free himself, and god, he's perfect. flushed and hard and leaking already. you wrap your hand around him and he hisses, hips jerking forward into your grip. you thumb over the tip, collecting precum before using it to ease the slide of your hand on his cock, flicking your wrist
"baby, you gotta—" he covers your hand with his, stilling your movement. "i'm not gonna last if you keep doing that." you pull him into a kiss that feels like it lasts ages.
"condom," he manages, voice strained. "wallet—"
you watch as he digs through his jeans, pulling out his wallet and retrieving a foil packet. his hands are shaking slightly as he tears it open with his teeth, and something about knowing he's just as affected as you are makes your heart do something complicated in your chest. he rolls it on and settles between your thighs again, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance. "still good?" he asks, and even now, even like this, he's checking.
"cal, please, if you don't—"
he pushes in slowly, and the stretch is perfect, overwhelming, everything. you both groan, and he buries his face in your neck, breathing hard against your skin before pressing wet, open kisses on your collarbone.
"jesus christ," he mutters. "fuck, you're so tight."
"move," you urge, wrapping your legs around his waist, your heels digging into his back. "god, please move."
he does, pulling out almost all the way before sliding back in, and the angle has him hitting something deep inside you that makes you lose your breath. he sets a steady rhythm, each thrust deliberate, and you can feel him everywhere; inside you, around you, consuming you completely.
"this okay?" he asks, and you nearly laugh because nothing has ever been more than okay. you nod frantically, words not coming out. he shifts, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, and the new angle has you crying out. he fucks into you harder now, the careful control from earlier completely gone as the bed creaks beneath you, headboard hitting the wall with each thrust, and you distantly hope the music downstairs is loud enough to cover the sounds you're making.
"this what you wanted, baby?" he grits out, voice strained. "wanted me to take care of you?"
"yes—fuck, yeah—" you're not even sure what you're saying anymore, just that you need more, need him deeper, harder, everything. his hand slides between the two of you, thumb finding your clit, and the added stimulation has you spiraling. you're close again, embarrassingly fast, and he can tell.
"that's it, baby." his rhythm doesn't falter, thumb circling steadily. "can feel you squeezing me. you gonna come again?"
"look at me," he demands, and you force your eyes open. he's watching you intently, pupils blown wide, curls stuck to his forehead with sweat, his mouth open in awe. "wanna see your face when you come on my cock."
the combination of his words and his thumb and the angle of his thrusts sends you over the edge. you shatter, clenching around him so hard he chokes on a moan. he fucks you through it, rhythm faltering, and then he's following you over with a broken version of your name. he collapses on top of you, both of you breathing hard, skin slick with sweat. you can feel his heart hammering against your chest, matching the frantic pace of your own, and for a long moment neither of you moves, just lying there tangled together, coming down. finally, he carefully pulls out, and you both wince at the sensitivity. he disposes of the condom and then gathers you against his chest, pulling the blanket over both of you.
"holy shit," you finally say, and he laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest.
"mm." he hums, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your temple, then your cheek. you lie there in the quiet, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your shoulder, and reality starts to creep back in. you just fucked your best friend. your best friend who you've probably been obsessed with for longer than you want to admit. your best friend who might wake up tomorrow and regret this entire thing. your face furrows in thought, heartbeat picking up.
"hey." he tilts your chin up, making you look at him. "don't do that. don't spiral." you go to ask, but— "i know you." he kisses you softly, so different from before. tender and sweet and somehow more intimate than anything else tonight. "this isn't just tonight for me."
your heart does something complicated in your chest. "yeah?"
"yeah." he grins, that familiar, devastating smile that's been undoing you all night. "so maybe we can talk about it tomorrow? when we're both sober and thinking clearly?"
"tomorrow," you agree, snuggling closer into his warmth.
"sleep, baby." he pulls the blanket higher, tucking it around your shoulders. "and then tomorrow, we'll figure it all out, okay?."
you fall asleep wrapped in him, feeling safer and more wanted than you have in years. tomorrow you'll figure out what this means, how to navigate all this. but tonight, you just let yourself have this.
