Temporary Tattoo - Porco Galliard
a/n: I went to a music festival this weekend and well saw the band I fell in love with the first time I went (many years ago) and now I can't stop thinking about band/music AUs (as if I wasn't before with saxophone jean 🤪) but enjoy!
NSFW 18+
“Has anyone seen my pick? Seriously, guys, this isn’t funny anymore.” Colt’s panicked voice filled the small green room backstage. You were curled up on one of the brown leather couches that sat in the room, watching the repeating, precise sequence of events that occurred before every single show of your boyfriend’s band.
“No one took your stupid pick, Colt. Did you check your pocket?” Marcel scoffed from standing in the mirror, putting the finishing touches on his hair.
“Of course I checked my- damn it,” Colt pulled his hand out of the pocket of his pants in defeat, tugging at the neckline of his white T-shirt under his black button-up.
“There you have it.” Marcel straightened the collar of his black and white vertical striped button-down before tucking it into his black jeans with a chain dangling from one of the belt loops. You surveyed the rest of the room; Reiner and Bertholdt sat in their corner of the room with Annie prodding at Bertholdt’s eyes, straddling his lap, applying his eyeliner.
“Hold still,” she huffed, his eyes twitching with each poke of the wand. You rolled your eyes as you sat and looked over your phone until the man you had been waiting for stepped through the door. Porco stood in his usual concert attire, a black shirt with the sleeves cut off by you, tucked into his black jeans, secured with a belt pulled together with a splash of white on the backwards cap sitting on top of his perfectly slicked-back blonde hair. Every show was the same; you sat in the green room, and he would hide in the bathroom for a bit before coming back out to finally greet you again.
“There you are,” you smiled, rising from the couch. He gestured for you to sit in silence, a barely noticeable hint of panic on his face, before turning into relief as he sat beside you.
“Your towel, your bottles, your stickbag, in-ears, and setlists- it’s all here,” you said, massaging his shoulders as he eyed the small table in front of you covered in his belongings.
“Thank you,” he sighed, pulling a Sharpie out of his pocket, wearing a knowing look, your tradition. You had been here since the beginning, discovering the group who called themselves Candidates at a local festival. You stopped and listened for a while, standing against the railing in front of the stage, drawn to the raw wailing guitars, the pounding of the drums, and the raspiness of the vocals, when you spotted him, and he spotted you. A connection was formed, the pounding of your heart in sync with the pounding of the bass drum beneath his foot, taking over your body as your eyes locked. You stayed for both sets, not moving from the barrier at the front. You showed up to two more of their performances after that, the same connection forming as Porco spotted you in the audience from behind the safety of his drum kit, before finally getting the nerve to find you after a show. He didn’t have his phone, and yours was dead; however, he did have a marker on him. You wrote your number on the back of his hand, and after that the rest was history. Each show, you would leave a different marking on his skin in Sharpie, whether it be his hand so only he could see it, or one of his arms so the whole audience could see; your pick, his surprise.
You snatched the marker from him, placing the cap on the table beside you. His arm was twitching from the tickling of the marker along his bicep as you got to work.
“What’s tonight’s?” Porco asked, trying to peek down his arm.
“No looking, you should know better,” you scowled.
“Okay, okay,” he groaned. Your tongue was sticking out of your mouth in concentration as you drew a large heart on his upper bicep, an intricate series of leaves and flowers decorating it as you finally pulled away, admiring your work.
“What do you think?” you bit your lip anxiously. He turned his arm, taking in your creation.
“I’ll feel bad sweating it off,” he frowned.
“You have to get a real tattoo one of these days,” you pouted.
“Where’s the fun in that? What are you going to do then, hmm?” Porco swiped you onto his lap, burying his face into the crook of your neck, sending a chill down your spine as he hummed.
“Stop it, Pock,” you were fighting a laugh with all your might, as his breath tickled you, “you have a show in twenty-five minutes.”
“And?” he pulled back with a cocky smirk across his face.
“Porco,” you sighed.
“Ugh, fine,” he set you back on the couch beside him, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he fixed his jacket that was draped around you. Security came and pulled you and Annie away quickly; your walk to your spot on the upper level was silent. The two of you never really got along; despite spending all of this time together over what was now years, there was no sign of any change. She was quiet, kept to herself, stone-cold serious at all times, and you were just the opposite; you would be dancing at shows, screaming at the top of your lungs while she stood with her arms folded, leaning over the railing, tugging at her dark clothing on occasion, she was very helpful when it came to the aftermath, pushing the two of you through crowds, her grip on your wrist tight not letting you get left behind, even though she would leave immediately as soon as you got to the band.
Now you two stood in the balcony of the building, eyeing the crowd below you as the venue lights dimmed and the stage lights flashed; you screamed along with the rest of the fans below the two of you. Annie let out a small noise of irritation as she clapped slowly beside you before leaning on the railing. The setlist began with a few covers ranging from Harry Styles to Oasis to Arctic Monkeys you knew each word by heart as you danced at the top, in your small secluded corner of the balcony, belting the words along with Marcel and Colt.
“I just wanted to thank you all for being here,” Marcel began shouting into the microphone over the wave of applause after the last cover, “we couldn’t do this without all of you.” You cheered, waving as Porco scanned his surroundings, finding you up top, flashing a small grin before his attention returned to the task at hand. You palmed your cheek, shaking your head as you felt your face heat; the feeling never got old every time he found you.
“We are gonna slow it down now with an original; sing along if you know it,” Marcel grinned, taking a glance at you upstairs as the crowd sparked back up again after dying down. Colt and Reiner’s guitars sang the dreamy intro in harmony as Bertholdt’s bass guided them before Porco brought Marcel in with a small drum fill, keeping the tempo with his feet on the bass and hi-hat, twirling the stick around in his fingers, pointing it at you with a smoldering look, before slamming it on the crash cymbal in front of him. You recognized the song immediately, after weeks on end of sitting in your shared apartment, watching Porco sit hunched over the small keyboard in your spare room, pressing a few chords before cursing under his breath, or scribbling something ferociously on the paper that sat on the stand in front of him, or asking your opinion, which you quickly learned was a trap; it was finally stage-ready. Doubt, a suitable title for how he felt writing it, but it was your favorite by default. You sang along the words practically engraved in your brain from hearing Marcel sing so many times for you as a test audience, tapping the railing infront of you as Porco began to play bolder and stronger as the chorus approached, Annie beside you, finally showing a bit of interest in you.
“He really wrote this?” You didn’t know whether to take her level-headed tone as an insult or a compliment. You nodded as you continued singing along, watching Zeke, the band’s media man, move around with precision in front of the barriers, snapping Porco at all angles.
“It’s good,” she assured you, the corner of her lips turning up slightly before her usual pout returned. You sighed in relief, your already existing smile growing wider, making your cheeks sore, the closest you’d get to a nice moment with Annie. You cheered when the song came to a close, squealing at the top of your lungs as Marcel talked over the roaring crowd below,
“That song was called Doubt, written by our drummer,” he gestured back to Porco, his arm waving grandly, “my brother Porco, come on give him a hand.” Marcel waved his arms egging them on, before wiping the sweat from his brow. The front row was slamming on the barriers, a screaming mob of girls reaching out over the metal blockade as he stood up and waved before flashing the remainder of the marking on his arm, sitting back down on his stool, shrugging at you up top with a smile. You shrugged back; he couldn’t care less about the room of adoring fans despite being the hearthrob of the group; all he cared about was you being there for him. A few more songs and the group took a brief intermission; you looked at Annie, then at the small bar behind you, then back at her. She attempted with you, so you would attempt with her. You knew what she liked from standing beside her at every show; you ordered two of her usual, a Bay Breeze, taking a sip from yours, getting used to the taste, as Porco had converted you to strictly a beer person; you missed the world of mixed drinks.
“Here,” you smiled, handing Annie the drink, her eyes perking up from their usual resting state.
“Thanks,” she nodded, taking a sip, playing with the straw as the two of you stood in the quiet ambiance of the balcony away from all the noise below you.
“Bert’s eyes look good,” you said, trying to keep the conversation alive.
“He looks depressing, right?” she scoffed.
“Depressing?” you raised an eyebrow. “He looks very rock and roll,” you laughed, sipping your drink. “Between the leather jacket and the boots, well-” she cut you off.
“Don’t encourage him,” she shook her head, sighing. “he’s ridiculous, but it keeps him from freaking out on stage. Remember back…” she continued recapping one of the memories of your various concerts together; this was probably the longest conversation you two had ever had. “He was such a klutz, still kind of his,” she pointed at the stage as they were making their way back up, Bertholdt nearly tripping over one of the many cords snaking along the stage. You laughed; slowly, your boundaries with Annie kept being pushed as the two of you had a few more drinks throughout the rest of the concert. You managed to get her to at least bob back and forth beside you as you danced, waving your drink in the air as the band alternated between covers and other originals. You were humming along to the lyrics of Brother by Gerard Way as Marcel gripped the microphone, yanking it off the stand, his sneakers slamming into the stage boards as he moved around the stage, leaning down to the group in front of him, slyly cocking an eyebrow as he sang, Reiner and Colt bobbing, leaning back and forth into each other with their guitars, strumming the blocky chords that worked in unison, before Colt stepped back up to the front joining singing the upper harmony as Marcel continued dancing around the stage as the chorus approached. Marcel rushed back towards the front of the stage as the song built and the audience began singing along with Colt and Marcel. Marcel sang, waving his hand as a command under the guitars, and Colt took the verse before coming back in with the chorus and bridge. Marcel took a step back, sipping his water bottle as Colt and Reiner vamped the chords of the verse to mark time as Colt and Marcel spoke, the audience still waving their hands, you and Annie included.
“We just wanted to thank you all for coming out tonight again; you were an amazing audience.” Marcel raised his hand, gesturing for applause.
“Come on, you could do better than that,” Colt chimed in on the other mic. “You’ve earned it,” he smiled. The audience cheered louder.
“What do you guys think? Could you hear them?” Marcel looked back at the group, Bertholdt off in his own world as he looked down at his hands, Reiner shaking his head, flashing a quick thumbs down, Porco shaking his head as he beat the drums louder.
“Come on one more time,” Colt cheered, leaning towards the audience. Annie whistled beside you; your head snapped at the noise. She shrugged, her cheeks tinted pink, as she raised her drink; you clinked your half-empty glass with hers. Marcel grinned as he made his way around the stage, properly introducing each member rather than just talking about their highlights during their set list.
“Let’s hear it for our bass man Bertholdt Hoover.” Marcel shook him lightly, as Bertholdt quickly slid his hand down the neck of his bass, before going back to the rhythmic thumping, looking up at the two of you in the balcony. You waved; Annie smiled beside you, waiting for her to whistle again, but she abstained.
“Our lead guitar, come on, give him a shout for all his solos tonight, Reiner Braun,” Marcel tapped the side of the mic, clapping along with the audience, as Reiner played a fancy riff to show off, quickly squinting and gritting his teeth as his fingers danced along the frets of the silver electric guitar, before nodding at the audience with a smile.
“You know him, you love him, my brother Porco Galliard on drums,” the crowd erupted, barely letting Marcel finish. You cupped your mouth; if your cheering could even reach his ears over the screaming crowd of fans, he nodded to the audience, doing a complicated series of fills, wearing a grin, leaning into his towel briefly to wipe the sweat dripping from his nose.
“I’m Marcel Galliard,” Marcel waved as the audience died down.
“I’m Colt Grice, and we are Candidates,” the two exchanged a look as they turned back toward Reiner, Bertholdt, and Porco, ending the song with a final run of the chorus.
“Come on,” Annie grabbed your wrist, pulling you down the small staircase you crept up to get to your spot, which was now completely occupied with screaming fans.
“Excuse us…sorry…sorry…” You smiled at different people you were unintentionally crashing into as Annie dragged you along.
“Where’s your pass?” she demanded as you finally got to a slightly open space, as the band began to clean up the stage after taking a final bow, getting a picture together. You fished into your purse, digging until you pulled the thin piece of plastic on a lanyard out, draping it around your neck.
“Got it,” you nodded. She dragged you to the barriers, which were still heavily occupied, fans screaming different names, Marcel stepping down to meet all his fans, taking pictures, signing autographs, and answering questions.
“Oh Marcel,” you squealed, acting as another normal adoring fan.
“I’ll get to you in a second, patience,” he grinned. You rolled your eyes, as dating his brother gave you no special treatment. Colt was next to step down after clipping his guitar case shut, making his way over to the two of you first, his arms tangling around you quickly with the barrier in between you.
“You were awesome,” you smiled as he let go.
“You’re too kind as always,” he blushed, the crowd next to you staring at you and Annie with jaws hung low as Colt made an awkward entrance to the fans beside you. Reiner was next, making his way through the line of fans as Marcel finally finished.
“Photo, autograph, you name it,” Marcel chuckled as he made his way over to you, hugging you over the barriers.
“All of the above,” you teased, “I’ll be rich.” He shoved you playfully as he let go.
“Come on, what are you still doing on that side for?” he moved the metal in front of you, creating a gap for you and Annie to sneak around in. Annie sat on the edge of the stage watching Bertholdt finish packing up his things. Marcel left you headed back up on stage, talking to Zeke, eyeing his camera as Reiner found you.
“Not bad, Rei, not bad,” you smirked as you elbowed him, now sitting on the edge of the stage, waiting for Porco and Bertholdt to finish. You had his routine down to a science; exactly two minutes after Bertholdt would finish, Porco would wipe himself off with the towel draped around his neck, tossing it aside before finding you.
“Whatever,” he elbowed you back, smiling, “you’ve been drinking?”
“Maybe one or two,” you rolled your eyes at him playing his role of being the responsible member. “Oh god, do I smell like it? Porco’s gonna kill me; I strayed from beer,” you said, panicking as you looked back at the stage behind you.
“Relax, it’s just that you and Annie don’t look like you wanna kill each other,” he laughed.
“When do we ever look like that?” Annie snapped at him, leaving her place on the stage.
“You look like you wanna kill me right now,” he rubbed the back of his neck. Her face suddenly lost all tension as you felt the presence of the tall figure behind you. Colt was still chatting it up with fans; being the sweetheart of the group, it was almost impossible for him to get away once they had him.
“Go save Colt,” Bertholdt said, stepping off the stage beside you, gesturing for Reiner to shoo as he met Annie, embracing her quickly. You looked back as Reiner left, standing up on the stage now heading back towards Marcel, who was scanning the stage. Porco had gone, the drum kit almost completely out of sight, the mat below being the last remaining piece to pack up.
“90 seconds,” Marcel smiled, flashing his watch, the second hand ticking down the time until you would see Porco.
“I’m not counting,” you huffed, stuffing your hands into the pockets of Porco’s jacket, swimming on you.
“Sure,” he grinned, “how was Doubt?”
“Unfortunately, nothing will beat the first time you sang the finished product for me in our apartment; there's still a dent of your face on the couch,” you laughed, recalling the memory; Marcel had gotten a little carried away with his mock performance and tripped on your freshly cleaned wood floors, despite all your warnings that it was slippery, and face planted right into the cushion beside where you and Porco were sitting, letting him sing under the track Porco had made.
“You have to let that go,” he sighed.
“You almost stepped on Jaws,” you huffed. Your orange cat that seemed to love the entire band aside from Marcel.
“And he would have gotten over it; he loves me,” he laughed in denial as you smirked, turning over his arm, pointing at a scratch from your cat along his forearm.
“Mhm, sure,” you teased as he shook free of your grip, hiding the scratch.
“It’s a love mark,” he shrugged.
“Right,” your eyes narrowed.
“5…4…3…2…right on cue,” Marcel saluted with two fingers, leaving you standing alone in the center of the stage. The fans erupted behind you, shrill screams of Porco’s name filling your ears as he looked at you, smiling. His towel tossed aside as he slowly stepped closer to you, gripping you tight around your waist under his jacket, a hand moving to cup your face, as the other was pulling you flush against him.
“Porco,” your breath hitched, “your-” he cut you off, grinning as he placed a desperate, hungry kiss on your lips, as your hands found the back of his neck. His hand moved down, securing his grip on you as your feet left the ground, as he pulled back for air, spinning you around once before peppering your face in kisses.
“Do I taste vodka?” he asked, smirking as he kissed you again. “I do,” his eyes narrowed as he set you down.
“Wow, that’s the first thing you notice,” you scoffed.
“Am I wrong?” he rolled his eyes playfully, his fingers running through the ends of your hair, as his head rested against yours.
“No,” you frowned in defeat.
“So?” he kissed you again, barely letting you get the word out; he was beaming.
“Incredible as always,” you sighed dreamily, “you never fail to amaze me.”
“Say it again,” his voice was low, causing your heart to beat faster.
“Porco,” you breathed, your cheeks bright red as his hands roamed your figure, finding your ass, squeezing gently. “You have fans waiting,” you said, laughing nervously as you felt several pairs of eyes on you both.
“They can wait,” he said, almost a whisper as he kissed your cheek, pulling you in for a tighter hug. You heard the gravelly clearing of a throat beside you. Reiner stood watching the two of you, looking flustered after interrupting your moment.
“What?” Porco snapped before his attention turned quickly back to you.
“Hate to break this up, but,” He gestured with his thumb at the group behind. “We’ve stalled them as long as we can, and they’re getting restless.” He rubbed a spot on his arm, looking as if it had been pinched or swatted.
“Don’t move,” Porco demanded, pecking your forehead, letting go of you. You nodded, standing with your arms folded, playing with the baggy sleeves of the jacket.
“Save me, they were gonna steal my shirt,” Colt gasped for air, leaning on Reiner beside you. You barely noticed, your eyes glued to Porco as he signed and took pictures, unamused, trying to ignore how touchy the fans were being, but relieved as he showed nothing in return.
“I think you're safest with me,” you chuckled. “I’m enemy number one to all of your fans right now.” You gestured to the group he was previously trapped with, as Porco became their next victim, clinging onto him over the barriers, fighting and whining over him. As he tried to swiftly make his way back to you, he gritted his teeth, looking back at the three of you. Reiner flashed two thumbs up as a sarcastic means of support as Colt looked at him apologetically.
“A little help would be nice,” he called out, glaring at the group of you. Colt sighed in defeat, stepping forward, but you stopped him.
“I’ll go,” you nodded.
“Those girls are going to eat you alive,” Reiner smirked.
“Not helpful,” you glared at him, slowly making your way to the front of the stage, sitting on the edge behind Porco, your presence being enough to fend the fans off him as they all stared at you, irritated, murmuring amongst themselves as they all stepped back.
“C’mere you,” he smiled, his arm looping around your waist, guiding you off the edge of the stage next to him, catching you as your feet met the floor.
“Oh Porco,” you cooed jokingly, “I’m your biggest fan,” your hand meeting his chest, tracing his collarbone beneath the now sweat-ridden black fabric, “can I get your autograph?” you giggled as the group of fans fully dispersed.
“I’ll give you way more than that,” he breathed, you choked at the way he was looking at you, a fire striking in your heart, your skin suddenly burning under his touch as his hand moved up to your face tucking a loose strand of hair away, you caught his wrist, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, your brows knit together with determination.
“Van,” you said flatly.
“Yeah?” he cocked an eyebrow,
“Come on,” you dragged him back up the stage. He quickly grabbed his towel and the mat for his drum set before filing down the small set of stairs, quickly passing through the green room, grabbing his set of keys from the table.
“Putting this away, don’t wait for us,” Porco called back as the two of you continued your trek as you pushed through the metal door, the crisp cool air hitting you, sending a chill down your spine. You scanned the small lot, finding the large black vehicle. He dashed over, unlocked it, throwing the mat in the cargo hold with the rest of their equipment before slamming the door shut. You moved to the side, waiting patiently, as he climbed into the vehicle, holding out his hand for you to follow, looking around outside before shutting the door. You squeezed through the second row of seats, moving to the back row, your designated spot on every road trip. You clicked on the small battery powered fairy lights you had decorated the van with a while ago, the inside of the car glowing a dim yellow, the black tinted windows trapping the light inside, as he leaned on the seats in front of you, while you sat, pulling his jacket off, revealing your self cropped band tee, and black skirt, his eyes studied you as his jaw fell, although he had seen you several times tonight, in the pale light of the van, as your fingers traced the stitching on the seat, smirking at him kicking your boots off, it completely undid him.
“You gonna join me or what?” you batted your eyelashes.
“Shit,” he huffed, moving from his position between the seats to now leaning over you, laying you down. You pulled his hat off as his forearms met either side of you, tossing it on the van floor beside his jacket, your fingers gliding through his hair as his lips met yours, his tongue sliding through with passion, as his thumb glided across your cheek. You pulled at the damp fabric of his shirt, he caught his breath, tugging it off before revealing his toned figure shimmering from sweat under the pale light, moving to yours a questioning look across his face, you nodded raising your arms, aiding his efforts, as your shirt joined the other articles of clothing on the floor, quickly followed by your bra before leaning back down over you, the sweat from his hair dripping on to you, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, you parted your lips as he got closer, he pulled back teasing you.
“Please,” you squeaked out, your hands falling from his neck as he was out of reach, taking his hands in yours, guiding them up your bare stomach.
“Please what?” he licked his lips, his hands finding your desired place, cupping your breasts as he kneaded them, his thumbs pressing your nipples every so often.
“Porco,” you whined, your chest rising as your breath hitched under his touch, as you gripped his wrists tighter, “Need you,” you breathed.
“You need me? How much?” He asked, teasing you further.
“So much- so damn much, Porco, need you, all of you.” Within an instant he was back on you his lips melding with yours, slow and sloppy as he moved along your jawline down to your neck whispering praises between pecks, tugging at the skin, leaving his own marking on you before moving further, the sweat from his forehead dripping along your collarbone as his mouth wrapped around your nipple, his tongue gliding back and forth over before sucking gently, looking up at you with such admiration, as you gripped his hair, his hand occupying your other breast, his thumb tracing over your nipple to match the sensation of his tongue, before switching sides.
“You're so perfect,” he hummed, listening to the pounding of your heart beneath his ear as he leaned on your chest, pushing your breast into his mouth, continuing to knead it as he sucked on the portion in his mouth with his eyes shut, tugging slightly, which you knew would leave another mark, as you sighed.
“You like that, beautiful?” he smirked, before continuing, more forceful with his mouth taking in more of your breast, clutching your side, sliding down to the waistband of your skirt, pressing circles into your hip. You were already feeling damp between your legs; he knew how to pleasure you.
“Yes, fuck,” you breathed, “you feel- you feel-,” you tugged at his hair, forcing him to look at you, as his tongue continued dancing along your nipple, he stopped, sitting up, his eyes wide, his arms wrapping around you fully, pulling you onto his lap, straddling him as his head hit the window.
“Damn,” he said under his breath, his face scrunching slightly at the short static pain before looking at you.
“You okay?” You frowned, taking him in for a moment, cupping his chin, his brows furrowed as he eyed you, your hand rubbing the back of his head.
“I’m fine,” his voice rough, “I couldn't be better,” he smiled, a breathy toothy grin as he guided you on his lap, your hips creating the desired friction, as his hands slid up your skirt his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, crashing his lips back into yours, he moaned into your mouth, you swallowed the noise, your legs now wrapping around him fully, securing you flush against him as you buried your face in his neck, nipping at his pulse point, as he let out a low hum, his hand now moving to the inside of your thighs, as the other met your neck his index finger gliding along the fabric of your underwear.
“Shit,” he smiled, “you’re so wet for me,” as he dipped his finger under the fabric, tracing your damp opening. You broke away from his neck, moving back to his lips as his finger slowly made its way inside you, your walls clinging around his finger, as he worked another in, pleasuring you as you ran your hands along his chest, then to his stomach, then back up his arms to his shoulders, moaning into his mouth, savoring his figure in your possession.
“Yes,” he said shakily, matching your tone, your hands holding the back of his head, securing him to you as he slowed down, involuntary tears streaming from your eyes from the way he made you feel.
“Don’t stop,” you cried between kisses, “please Pock,” your voice breaking as you spoke, your eyes shutting as you rested your forehead against his, gripping the sides of his head as if he would disappear.
“Oh fuck me,” he cursed through staggered breaths, pulling off your skirt and underwear before you could even get a thought out. You unwrapped your legs, letting your clothes hit the van floor beside you, your pussy already dripping, begging for him. He looked around, pulling out his duffle from under one of the seats. “Sit up for me,” he said, his hand finding the small of your back as you sat on his thigh, a small blue towel in his hand, sliding it underneath the two of you. You undid his belt as you now sat on the towel while he knelt on the seat, straightening the towel. His cock sprang free as he continued to undress, pulling a small wrapper out of the side pocket of his bag, tearing it open, rolling the condom along his length already dripping.
“Come here,” you sighed, gesturing for him to lean over you as you lay back down; he lined himself up before thrusting into you.
“Not too soon?” He asked as his hands gripped your shoulders as he braced himself with his forearms. He was always slow and careful when it came to you, the opposite of how he played the drums, boisterous and aggressive with each strike of the instrument.
“Not too soon,” you smiled, your hands finding his back, guiding his slow, careful movements on top of you.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he grunted, going further into you, finding your sweet spot, sending your body into a frenzy as his lips met yours again; the sound of wet skin slapping against each other filled the car under your exchanges of moans and groans as he continued to fuck you. Your head tilted back as you continued cupping his face, keeping your eyes on him as you both were breathing frantically.
“Porco,” you yelped, “I’m-”
“Me too,” he growled as his head dropped to your neck, the tempo of his hips increasing at a steady rate, as your body began to seize and your back arched as his pelvis rubbed against your clit. You clutched his hair as you came, letting out a whine as your breath steadied.
“Shit,” you sighed as he continued.
“I’m so fucking close,” he said, muffled in your skin, kissing your neck as you traced the muscles along his back, your hips raising to help his efforts, “ah- fuck-fu-” you felt the condom expand inside you, the warmth of him spreading to your walls. He continued, slowing down; his chin met your chest, smiling at you as you ran your hand over his disheveled hair.
“You still want that autograph?” he laughed, catching his breath, pushing loose strands of hair out of your face.
“No, pretty boy,” you cooed, your thumb wiping the bead of sweat dripping down his cheek, “you’ve given me more than enough already.”
“I love you,” he sighed, picking his chin up to close the distance between the two of you again, his fingers buried in your hair, one final passionate kiss for the night. You heard familiar voices in the distance; the two of you in an instant, panicked; he quickly pulled out of you, sliding off the condom, tying it up as he glanced out the window.
“Get dressed,” he said harshly, “they’re coming.”
“Porco I-” you looked down at the towel.
“Okay, okay, grab something to wear while I clean you up,” he kept looking back at the window, “something for me too, you know.”
“Aww,” you pouted, “do I have to?”
“You’re ridiculous,” he balled the towel up, as you handed him gray sweatpants and a black tank top, “subtle.”
“Now is not the time to be picky,” you scoffed, pulling one of his shirts on as you pushed the bag back towards him, pulling yours out from under one of the other seats in the back, pulling out a pair of shorts, and fresh underwear, stuffing your concert attire back into your bag, before shoving it back under the seat, the two of you bumping into each other as you got dressed quickly, before sitting back down as if nothing had happen as the side door slid open. You elbowed Porco, the used rubber sitting atop his exposed bag, which he quickly shoved under the seat.
“Don’t even try to hide it; we know,” Marcel smirked, peeking in and looking at the two of you.
“Fuck you,” Porco flipped him off, draping his arm around you as you cuddled up beside him.
“I guess you don’t want the drinks I saved for you,” Marcel sighed, walking away.
“Hold on,” Porco sat up. Marcel grinned, his head reappearing in the vehicle. “What do you have?” Annie and Bertholdt stepped in as Porco reached for the bottles from his brother. They sat in their paired seat in front of you, while Colt took the bucket seat beside them.
“What’s that?” Colt pointed to the floor in front of you, his face a deep shade of red as his mouth hung open, the wrapper of the condom sitting where he was pointing.
“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Porco laughed, gripping the back of his seat, ruffling his hair.
“I know what it is,” he said, flustered, “but- I-”
“Just hand me the damn can,” Porco rolled his eyes, pointing to the small trash can that sat between Reiner and Marcel in the driver and passenger seats. The can was passed back, the wrapper put inside as well as the cardboard keeping the beer bottles together, hiding the used rubber underneath before he passed it forward.
“Your nosy brother is gonna check, you know,” you whispered.
“Shut up,” he said, cracking open one of the beer bottles while trapping you in his bicep.
“You know I’m right,” you said, taking the bottle from him, taking a sip before handing it back.
“Yes, dear,” he rolled his eyes before taking a big swig from the bottle.
“Everyone good?” Reiner called back from the driver's seat; a collective murmur of yes and go filled the vehicle as you reached over and clicked off the fairy lights. Porco’s legs stretched along the back row, as you lay in between, your head on his chest, exchanging sips from the pile of bottles that sat beside you, before drifting off to sleep to the soft music filling the car and the hum of the engine along the open road.
