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May 9

off the record — ashton x calum

MDNI—18+

calum will neither confirm nor deny where the background audio of the creaking bedframe and moaning on Moving Along came from.

warnings: top!ashton irwin. bottom!calum hood. smut. romance. youngblood era 5sos. drinking. mentions of anxiety and burnout. consensual (audio) recording. grinding. dry humping. dirty talk. riding. banter. canon-compliant (?).

wc: 4.8k

author's note: cashton i think about u sooo much ❤️

come find me on twitter!

“Something’s missing,” Calum says for the fourth time, as their Moving Along mix comes to an end over the studio speakers.

Luke drops his head into his hands and groans. It’s touching their sixteenth consecutive hour locked in their recording and production studio, almost 11 in the night, and everyone’s exhausted. The room is littered with tissues and water bottles and empty packets of chips. A slice of cold pizza sits alone in a cardboard box on the couch. Michael has been complaining about a ringing in his ear for the past hour. And Calum’s about to start ripping his hair out strand by strand, because he just can’t figure out what’s not right with their final mix of Moving Along.

“Mate,” Michael sighs, “If you say that one more time, the next thing you’ll be missing is your front tooth.”

Ashton huffs a laugh from where he’s reclining on the couch. He’s got an arm thrown over the backrest, phone in hand as he ignores his bandmates in favour of scrolling through Instagram or something. His thighs look good. Calum shakes his head.

“Y’don’t get it,” Calum frowns. “It feels empty—”

“It’s got everything!” Luke exclaims. “It’s—we’ve been here since morning, Cal. I’m tired.”

“Go home, then,” Calum crosses his arms. Fuck them. They don’t respect Calum’s artistic vision.

“Your artistic vision is wearing Coke-bottle glasses, buddy,” Michael snaps. Calum didn’t realize he’d said any of that aloud, but hell if he’s taking it back anytime soon.

“If you would just get y’head out of your ass for a s—”

“Alright!” Ashton interjects loudly from the couch. He draws the attention of the room as he stands up and brushes off his trousers.

“I think we’re done for today, boys,” He says, looking pointedly between Michael and Calum. Luke sighs, relieved, and immediately starts gathering his things.

“Nah, I’m staying back,” Calum declares stubbornly. Michael shoots him a drained look from where he’d been scooting his chair towards his laptop. Calum stares. Without another word, Michael gives in.

“Whatever,” Michael says. “Lock up when you’re done. Text me if you figure out the phantom missing piece or…whatever.”

Ashton tosses Michael his wallet from under one of the couch pillows. Together, Michael and Luke head out, Luke’s arm thrown over Michael’s shoulder.

“G’night, guys,” Luke calls back. “Good luck.”

And then they’re gone, the door falling shut behind them as the sounds of their footsteps disappear down the hallway.

Calum turns to Ashton. “You’re not leaving?”

Ash stretches his arms over his head and yawns. His shirt rides up a little, revealing tan skin and his happy trail. Calum’s mouth waters. He looks away quickly.

“Not until you do,” Ashton says. “It’s late, ‘won’t leave you alone.”

“Aw,” Calum cracks a shit-eating grin. “It’s okay. I’m a big boy. I’ll handle myself.”

Ash just chuckles softly.

“Alright, big boy,” He says, and something about the way those words roll off his tongue have Calum’s toes curling. “Let me know when you’re done yelling into the void over that song.”

He falls back onto the couch, reclines with a sigh, and takes his bottom lip between his teeth as he unlocks his phone. Calum can’t stare too hard without being obvious about it, so he turns back to the mixing console, pulls on the headphones, and hits play on Moving Along. Again.

—

It takes all of half an hour before Calum is exasperatedly tugging the headphones off and groaning. He rolls his shoulder, agitated and tense, and looks over the timeline. Everything is in place. Everything sounds perfect. Not a note out of place, and yet…there’s something he can’t put his finger on. Something that would make the song complete. Something buzzing around in his head, too fast for him to catch, too loud for him to ignore.

And then suddenly there’s warm hands coming around his shoulders, gently massaging the muscles there, pressing warm fingers into the knots along the base of his neck. Immediately, his head lolls back, and he moans softly under his breath at the relief.

“Ash,” he sighs. He could’ve imagined it, but those hands freeze for a second as he does.

“Feel better?” Ashton asks, voice heavy with…something.

“Yeah,” Cal says. “Thank you.”

“Time t’ wrap up?”

Calum hesitates. He glances at the timeline. He doesn’t even need to play the song out loud anymore, it's ringing in his ears. He’s tired and frustrated.

“Right,” he says. “Let's go.”

He saves the track file. Ashton helps him dump their day’s mess into the trash and lock up the studio. The lights flicker shut, and Calum’s exhaustion finally catches up to him as they walk to the parking lot outside.

“Wanna get a drink at my place?” Ashton offers into the night air. Calum looks at the man. Traces the curls falling over his forehead with his eyes.

“Yeah,” Calum says. “I’ll crash in your spare room?”

Ashton hums in agreement. “We can brainstorm over a few beers if you’re up for it.”

Calum is up for it. Calum’s always up to staying awake with Ashton, chatting into the late hours of the night with the buzz of alcohol shooting through his veins. He voices his agreement.

—

Calum is settled into Ashton’s sofa, condensation from his chilled beer dripping over his fingers, when Ash presses record on his voice-memo app and sets his phone on the table between them.

This isn’t out of the ordinary for them. As a band, they like to sit together and talk about their creative process, and having a recording of their brainstorming sessions helps them keep track of their decisions when they’re actually in the Studio. Calum doesn’t mind. They did agree to talk over drinks, so.

“So,” Ashton starts. He leans back against the backrest of his seat and stretches his legs out. “What’s the problem with Moving Along?”

He takes a swig from his own bottle as Calum sighs in response. There’s an acoustic guitar in the loveseat beside him, so he sets his beer down and reaches for the instrument.

“I don’t know,” Calum says, picking gently at the strings. “I don’t…I can’t figure out what’s missing.”

“Why d’you think something’s missing?”

“I don’t know,” Calum repeats. He digs his index finger into the guitar string, hard enough for it to sting. “The track feels hollow. Like there’s space to put something else in, but I can’t figure out what it’s asking for.”

The tension is back in the line of his shoulders, the curve of his spine. He feels the furrows between his brows like a heavy weight, pulling him down headfirst into a chasm of disappointment and discomfort. Again and again, he’s always falling back into it.

“It's—I feel like it could be better,” he says. His fingertips are turning red against the guitar fretboard. “It’s a good song but…I don’t want it to be incomplete. I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s weighing me down and I feel like I can’t move on until this is done and—”

“Hey,” Ashton prompts softly, and Calum’s eyes rise to meet him. Ash gestures towards where his fingers meet the strings. “Don’t do that.”

Calum lets out a shaky breath. “I…I just…”

His fingers are locked around the guitar. His breath feels heavy in his lungs. He loves this—he does. He loves how he lives, loves spending his time scribbling lyrics onto any surface that’ll have him, turning the shades of all his emotions into poetry. But when he gets like this…he feels small. Inadequate. He wants to make something beautiful, but he wants it to be right too. For it to fit in. For it to be complete before the whole world sees it.

But when he looks up, Ashton’s moved from his place to come sit near Calum. Their knees brush.

All of a sudden, Ashton is so close. His eyes are so warm, filled with concern that Calum put there. God, he wishes his hands would let go of this guitar. He wishes he could let go. For just a while.

And Ashton’s carding his fingers through Calum’s hair. Calum, who leans into the touch, whose eyes fall shut like they’d been waiting for just this moment. Then Ashton’s palm finds Calum’s cheek, rests along the line of his jaw. Brushes against his cheekbone.

Calum opens his eyes. They flit down to Ashton’s lips, then back up to those eyes. Whirlpools of hazel. Like looking-glass, Calum sees himself reflected in them. Sees the line between his eyebrows, the mess of his hair. The black of his eyes.

Ash reaches for the beer set on the table between them, never looking away from Calum.

He brushes his thumb against Calum’s bottom lip, and Calum parts them slightly, exhaling.

“Fuck,” Ashton mutters. The sound lands somewhere low in Calum’s belly, curling into a ball.

Ash brings the lip of the bottle to Calum’s lips. Tips it slightly. Watches him.

Calum drinks.

Eyes never leaving Ashton’s, Calum sips deeply from the bottle, the bitter taste curdling all the miserable words on his tongue. It spills a little from his lips, down his chin, drawing a trickle down the side of his neck. He swirls the taste around his mouth. Memorizes the sight of Ashton’s pupils dilating.

“Swallow,” Ashton breathes. Calum does.

Ashton inhales sharply, eyes following the bob of Calum’s throat. The rise and fall of his chest.

He leans in, and Calum’s breath catches. His heart drops into his stomach as Ash’s breath ghosts his lips, instead to nose his way down the column of Calum’s throat.

The sticky-sweet rivulet of alcohol.

Ashton licks at his collarbone. Laps up the taste. Trails his tongue back up along Calum’s neck. Calum tilts his head, inviting. His eyes fall shut as he gasps lowly. He’s hard as all hell in his jeans.

“Calum” Ashton murmurs, lips just so close to Calum’s—but not close enough.

“Calum,” he says again. “Let me take the weight off your shoulders.”

Calum can barely breathe.

“Let me make it go away,” Ashton says—begs—his lips just brushing Calum’s own as he speaks. “Fuck, please—let me make it better.”

So Calum kisses him.

Ashton melts into the kiss. He exhales like he’s breathing for the first time as his hands immediately go around Calum’s waist. The guitar slips from his hands in Calum’s hurry to climb over into Ashton’s lap. He cups Ashton’s face with both hands, barely breathing. Ashton’s hands go up and down Calum’s sides, exploring, reveling in the way Calum shivers in response.

Calum licks underneath the line of Ashton’s teeth and Ash groans so deeply that the vibrations travel straight down Calum’s spine, to the painful bulge he’s sporting. He presses down into the man’s lap, catches the shape of Ash’s cock and grinds into him incessantly. They part for air. Calum whines when Ash’s eyes flutter open.

“Calum,” Ashton sighs, as though he can’t believe what's happening. “Fuck, baby, look at you.”

Calum just kisses along Ashton’s jaw as he continues rolling his hips. Ash’s hands come up to palm his ass and he arches into the touch. He nips at Ashton’s earlobe, grinning when he earns a whispered string of curses in response.

“Y’fuckin’ minx,” Ash accuses, but his voice is gravelly with how turned on he is. “Want it so bad, don’t you?”

Calum inhales. He’s sure he’s ruined his underwear already. Ashton rolls his hips upward and Calum blacks out for a moment. He slaps Calum’s ass lightly, chiding.

“Still with me, princess?”

The nickname flusters him more than it should. “D-don’t call me that.”

“No? Takin’ what you want from me without asking… grinding on my lap like a bitch in heat…don’t think you’re in much place to be making demands.”

Fuck.

“Keep talking and see where it gets y–ah,” Calum says, intending to sound commandeering, but the end of his sentence dissolves into a hushed moan when Ashton grinds upward just as Calum presses down.

“Didn’t catch that,” Ashton grins, eyes glinting, and Calum kind of wants to slap him. But he’d probably be into that. Freak.

“F–fuh…fuck you,” Calum says, even as Ashton guides his movements up and down on his lap.

“That’s the plan, baby.”

Calum fists his hands in the front of Ashton’s shirt and drags him in for a kiss. He sucks at Ashton’s bottom lip, nips at them hard enough to sting a little. Ash only chuckles into the kiss, his hand moving lower to pop the button on Calum’s jeans and reach in to palm at his erection. He hisses.

“All this for me?” Ashton asks, stroking Calum through his underwear. Calum’s head falls into the crook of Ash’s shoulder.

“Yeah?” Ash mutters into Calum’s ear. “Gonna use me to get yourself off?”

“I’m gonna put my dick in your mouth if you don’t shut the f–”

Ash pushes past Calum’s underwear to grasp his cock fully. He squeezes gently, looking Calum in the eye as he grins. His hand is dry, so it hurts a little. It shuts Calum up.

Ash lets go of Calum’s shaft and brings his hand up to Calum.

“Spit,” he orders.

Calum looks at him. Really looks. How the moonlight from the window behind him frames his curls into a halo. How the flush on his cheeks dips down past his unbuttoned shirt. How his hands are so big, so kind even despite all that strength.

So he takes Ashton’s hand in his own, and watches for Ash’s reaction as he brings the man’s fingers into his mouth.

Ash’s breath hitches.

He sucks gently at the digits, swirls his tongue around until they’re moist with spit. Hollows his cheeks, meeting Ashton’s dazed look with a sly one of his own.

“Shit,” Ash says.

“I’ve got lube,” Calum replies, bringing Ash’s fingers out of his mouth, licking his lips at the string of saliva between them.

Ashton lets out a surprised chuckle. “Y’got lube on you right now?”

Calum flushes. It’s not like he carries it around, it’s just…it happened to be in his bag.

When he tells Ashton this, he chuckles and leans in to peck Calum’s lips sweetly.

“Go get it, then, gorgeous?”

Calum’s a little chuffed about getting off his very comfortable seat in Ashton’s lap, but Ash guides him off with hands wrapped around his waist, so really, he can’t complain. Ashton helps him find his footing on the floors, and as Calum turns to go hunting for his bag, his eyes fall on the coffee table.

Ashton’s phone.

Still recording.

He freezes. His eyes widen, breath dropping out from his lungs. Ash catches the look on his face, follows his line of sight.

“Oh,” Ashton says.

“Um,” Cal ventures, “Think it got all of that?”

A wicked, predatory grin spreads over Ashton’s face as he meets Calum’s eyes. “I hope it did.”

Calum gently shoves his shoulder. “Fuck off.”

In response, Ashton gently taps Calum’s ass. “Jus’ go get the stuff, Cal.”

And Calum’s still hard and leaking in his unbuttoned jeans, so he complies. Traipses across the room and goes digging into his haversack. When he finds the little bottle, he lets out a little ‘aha!’, and turns to smile at Ashton, whose hooded eyes are fixed on him, drunk on the vision like he’s painting a picture in his head.

Calum swallows the saliva pooling in his mouth. “Bedroom?”

Ashton snaps out of his daze.

“Yeah,” he agrees, standing to pocket his phone. “Bedroom.”

It takes them longer than it should have to get to Ashton’s room. They kept stopping to make out against walls, tables, lean against doorways, giggling like teenagers. Once or twice, Calum trips over a carpet or something, and Ashton laughs at him even as he catches him before he falls. Somewhere, Calum thinks that Ashton has always been like this—a steadying force, a guiding light.

They fall into bed together, Calum cackling when Ashton tickles him as he traces a line of kisses down his belly. Mouths at the outline of his cock. He drags Calum’s jeans and underwear down painfully slow, uncapping the lube and pouring it over his fingers. Towering over Calum, he licks his lips.

“I’m gonna make sure you feel me for days,” he grins.

Calum hums.

“All bark, no bite,” he says, even as his stomach turns with anticipation and his cock twitches against his abdomen.

“Shut the fuck up before I put that pretty mouth to some good use.”

Calum parts his lips to make a snark rebuttal but it turns into a soft whimper when Ash’s cold fingers circle his rim, just teasing. Never giving him what he wants.

“Shit, Ash,” Calum breathes. “Please.”

“Gonna have to do better than that, baby,” Ashton smiles, almost pushing inside, but drawing away when Calum grinds his hips down.

“Ashton,” Calum says. “I thought—I thought y’were gonna take care of me.”

“Oh, I am,” Ashton says, pushing his index finger past the ring of muscle, watching as Calum’s brows furrow in a moan. “I’m taking real good care of you, angel.”

And Calum should've known—he should’ve known. Ashton fingers him open slowly, intentionally, over half an hour, catching every little sound he makes. Watches as Calum worries his lip, squeezes his eyes shut, grapples for something to hold on the bedsheets. Kisses his hip when Calum writhes at the feeling of Ashton’s fingers against his prostate. Shushes him gently when his eyes fill with tears from being teased.

“Ashton,” Calum gasps, when he’s three fingers in. Calum is starting to believe his heart is going to stop if Ash doesn’t get his cock inside him right now.

“Yeah?” Ash responds, all innocent like his fingers aren’t making obscene sounds inside Calum.

“Fuck me.”

“Aw,” Ashton coos, condescending. “Thought you wanted me to take care of you.”

“Putting your dick inside me would take care of me,” Calum breathes, eyes locked on the ceiling because he thinks he’ll come on the spot if he looks at Ashton right now. Ashton scissors his finger cruelly in response, and Calum gasps.

“Oh my god, Ash,” Calum whines. “Please. Please, please, f—”

Ashton pulls his fingers out.

Calum feels empty almost immediately. He rises on his elbows just in time to catch the gorgeous sight of Ashton pulling his shirt over his head. He tosses it to the side and unbuckles his belt. Calum sits up to help, hands shaking. It makes Ashton laugh. Just before Calum can tug the offending garment fully off, Ash grabs his phone out of the trouser pockets.

He unlocks it. Calum watches curiously as Ashton taps on the screen for a moment. The phone chimes softly, and Calum recognizes the sound.

“Why are you making a voice memo?” he asks.

Ash doesn’t reply. He sets the phone on the bed and pushes his trousers all the way off. He leans in to kiss Calum, crawls over him as he joins him on the bed. Calum spreads his legs to make space for Ash, and they both hiss as their cocks brush against each other. Ashton conjures a condom from somewhere, rolls it on without detaching their lips.

Ashton grinds down onto him and Calum sighs into his mouth, all wet and slick with the taste of cheap beer and lust. Ashton’s hands go around his hips again, grip so tight that it’s sure to leave bruises.

Then Calum’s sight is pivoting and all of a sudden Ashton is underneath him and he’s on top.

Ashton laughs at the bewildered look on Calum’s face.

He brackets his hands behind his head. His biceps flex as he does, and Calum is momentarily distracted.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, angel,” Ashton grins up at Calum. “You’re going to fuck yourself on my cock. You’re going to take what you want from me, and you’re going to be loud about it.”

Calum flushes. He tries to curl in on himself, but his thighs are bracketing Ashton’s hips, and the delicious pressure from Ash’s hard-on is making him borderline delirious.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” Ashton chides. “C’mon, darling. I wanna hear you sing f’me.”

“God,” Calum breathes, rising on his knees so he can reach under himself for Ash’s cock. ‘Y’piss me off.”

He takes Ash in his hand, pumps him a few times. Inhales deeply, because he knows Ash is big, knows it's going to punch the breath out his lungs.

Ashton soothingly drags his hands up and down Calum’s thighs as he waits, muttering encouragement and praise. It makes him blush deeply.

Calum lines himself up, traces his rim with the tip. Ashton hisses, hips tense with the effort of holding still as Calum begins sinking down.

It’s like being split in two, Calum thinks. Ashton is so—big.

“Breathe, Calum,” Ashton reminds him, and Calum does.

He goes slow, inch by inch until his ass is snug against Ashton’s lap. Ashton is so patient, so gentle with him. He waits, even as Calum’ eyes trace the lines of tension in his shoulders, as feels it underneath his hands in Ashton’s abs.

When the discomfort finally fades, Calum rises just a bit, and drops back down. They both moan at the feeling. Ash’s hands fly to Calum’s hips, then upwards, fingers tracing patterns into his skin.

“So tight,” Ashton grits. “Fuck, y’look beautiful.”

Calum whines in embarrassment. “Shit, I feel…” he brushes his hand against his belly, where he feels it. “I can feel you so fucking deep inside.”

“Calum,” Ash breathes, as Calum rolls his hips. “Don’t talk like that, jeez.”

Calum rises up on his knees, almost all the way off, and drops down fully. His eyes fall shut in pleasure. When he opens them, Ash is biting his lips, looking down at the point where his cock disappears inside Calum. Calum’s mesmerized by the look on his face, until Ashton suddenly gasps like he’s realized something.

He looks across the bed, reaches for his phone, still recording the voice memo.

“Ashton,” Calum says. “What are you doing?”

Ashton ignores him. Places the phone nearby, then grins up at Calum. Conspirationally.

“Calum,” Ash says. He sounds giddy. “Baby, what’s the beat on Moving Along?”

Calum blinks.

“What?”

“What’s the beat on—” “No, I heard you. Why?”

Ash tilts his head. He just looks at Calum, waiting for him to let himself into whatever scheme Ashton’s cooking up. When Calum doesn’t get it, Ash thumbs along Calum’s inner thigh, watching the goosebumps rise.

“Use that pretty head of yours, angel,” He says. “What d’you think we’re doing here?”

He gestures vaguely towards his phone, recording this whole conversation.

It clicks.

Ashton watches the realization dawn on Calum’s face.

“So, tell me, Calum,” Ash grins up at him, “What’s the beat on Moving Along?”

Calum bites his lip. “I know.”

“Oh?” Ashton says, long fingers grazing Calum’s dick. “Then bounce.”

And Calum does.

He starts moving with intention, grinding and rolling his hips, trying to find the right spot. Ash’s hands go to his ass, holding him for leverage while he fucks upwards into Calum. He uses his thighs, working himself up and down on Ash’s cock, he starts riding him properly.

“Feel so good on my cock, baby,” Ashton grits, rising to chase Calum’s lips. Calum’s hands go around Ashton’s shoulders, the new angle reaching even deeper. Hard and leaking against Ashton’s stomach, Calum lifts himself again and again, up and down, like music. Ashton thrusts into him, searching, and Calum whines when he brushes against his prostate.

“Shit—there,” Calum gasps. “There, there, there.”

“Yeah? Right there?” Ashton leaves open-mouthed kisses along Calum’s collarbone, hands traveling across his back, memorizing every inch of Calum’s skin. “C’mon angel, work for it.”

The room fills with the slick sound of Calum opening up to take Ashton. He bounces in Ashton’s lap, whimpers and gasps like he’s putting on a show. He feels drunk on the feeling, impaled on Ash’s cock like this is everything he’d needed all along.

“The—fuck, the bed,” Ash gasps a laugh. Calum registers the soft creaking of the bedframe and smiles into Ashton’s shoulder.

“S’okay,” he whispers. “Wouldn’t be my first time.”

He feels Ashton twitch inside him at that and mewls at the feeling. But he’s getting tired, his movements slowing down, and Ashton can tell, so he flips them over gently, pulling out in the process. He hovers over Calum, taking in his flushed face, the sweat on his brow, the messy hair.

“Shit, y’look wrecked,” he mutters. “Taking me so good, angel. I wanna bend you over every day.”

He sits back on his haunches, trails his hands down and hooks them under Calum’s knees. When he pushes in, he brings Calum’s knees up and folds him in half.

Ashton’s hips are merciless, fucking Calum further up the bed, the wood creaking in warning. Calum reaches upward blindly, takes hold of the headboard, holds on for dear life as Ashton aims his thrusts directly at his prostate.

“You’re so fucking perfect, fuck,” Ashton bites into Calum’s shoulder, and Calum whines, clawing down Ashton’s back. He hisses, wincing at the sting, but he doesn’t let up on his pace.

“Yeah, mark me up, baby,” He breathes. Calum clenches down around him and Ashton groans at the feeling.

“Ashton, I’m gonna—” ,

“Yeah,” Ash agrees. His movements grow sloppy, little droplets of sweat dripping from his curls. “Yeah. Fuck, c’mon, gorgeous.”

Calum shuts his eyes, loses himself completely to the pleasure building in his belly. The pornographic noises of Ashton’s hips slamming into him. The bed, creaking so loudly now, thudding against the wall. His cock weeping, trapped between their bodies as they rut into each other.

“Make a mess f’me, Calum,” Ash nips at his ear. “Soak my cock. Come for me, angel.”

The coil in his stomach tightens. He gasps, reaching blindly, and finds Ashton’s hand somewhere beside his head. Instantly their fingers interlock. It's as easy as breathing. He’s so close to the edge.

“Come for me, baby, c’mon, wanna see you—”

He bites against Calum’s neck again, and Calum comes all over his stomach with a broken shout of his name. He arches beautifully off the bed, fingers tightening around Ashton’s. Ashton fucks him through it, nips at his sensitive skin, and Calum just takes it, gives himself completely to Ashton, until his movements falter and he drops his head, groaning deeply as he empties himself into the condom.

He collapses on top of Calum, who giggles. His hands come up to stroke at Ashton’s hair. Ash turns into his neck, peppers kisses there. They’re exhausted, but Calum feels like he’s floating on cloud nine.

“Hey,” Calum whispers into his shoulder, smiling.

“Hi, baby,” Ashton replies, voice tender as he crawls off Calum and lies on his side. As he pulls out, Calum whimpers at the stimulation, but Ash pulls him across the bed by his waist and kisses him lazily.

“Y’were so good,” Ashton whispers into his mouth, and Calum can’t help his shy smile. He sighs softly as Ashton’s warmth leaves him when Ashton climbs off the bed to get a wet cloth and clean them up. Calum watches him go, checks him out shamelessly as he bends over to loosely tug on his trousers. He clumsily wolf-whistles, only to get flipped off in response.

He rolls over and starfishes across the bed, sighing, loose-limbed, feeling light and giddy. Something pokes him in the hip, so he reaches for it and pulls it out from under him.

Ashton’s phone. Recording still.

He laughs incredulously. He ends the recording and saves the file. Then, pausing only a second to consider it, he sends it to himself.

When Ashton comes back, Calum‘s tossing the phone at him.

“Found your missing piece?” Ashton asks, catching it with a smile.

“Maybe,” Calum says. But he knows the next morning he’s going to overlay this to the track timeline and find that it feels complete.

For now, he lets Ashton clean him up, press kisses and praise into his skin. They fall asleep like that, barely under the covers, tangled in each other.

—

The next morning, Calum gets to the studio early and uploads the voice-memo from last night. He mixes it into the timeline until it sounds just right.

When he plays it for the others later that day, they can’t tell what’s different, but they like it. He catches Ashton’s eye, blushes slightly at the wolfish grin on his face.

And if—maybe, if he’s left in a gentle sigh, a muttered ‘fuck, Calum,’ somewhere on the track where he’d be the only one to hear it…well, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

—

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