In Other Words (Niall Fanfic)

Chapter Seventy-Three

Never the less, it was private, well, semi-private. That tiny risk that they could be discovered sparked some hard-to-pronounce part of her brain and sent a jolt rushing down her arms where it landed in her fingertips.  Niall didn’t have a chance to question if her eyes looked a little wild, or if the skin at her collar bones looked a little more flushed than usual before her hands were on him. She tugged at the hair at the back of his head, pulling his mouth onto hers.  He tasted her lip gloss.

Cherry? 

“What…” he said as she drew in a quick breath. Roxy didn’t want to talk, so she bit down a little harder than usual on his bottom lip, quieting his words into a low groan. Her hands were warm as they moved past his waistband, the grip of his belt holding her wrist tight against him as she palmed at his cock which was growing thicker by the second. He reached to rid her of her shirt and she slapped him away, tugging her hand loose and stepping backwards.

His eyes slowly scanned her body, from the tips of her toes upward; something that in the past would make her feel vulnerable, something that would make her want to draw her arms across her body or shift anxiously on the balls of her feet.

 But not anymore.

Barely, just barely, he leaned toward her, and she retreated backward a half a step, halting him. With crossed arms she lifted her shirt, slowly peeling it over her stomach, her chest.  Roxy arched her back just slightly, extending her arms up over head at an agonizingly slow pace, the shirt fluttering to the floor. She knew exactly what she was doing, knew exactly which way to bend so that his eyes fell upon the most beautiful parts of her body. And they did. Niall had the urge to run a hot palm down her torso, feeling the tiny divots between her ribs that were visible now the way she stood there, elongated. He wanted to squeeze both of her ass cheeks through her tight black jeans, forcing her up on her toes as he lifted her.

 But instead he was forced just to think these things as she stood before him, her striptease ending after shedding only a single article of clothing.  Roxy knew what would happen next; she’d played it out in her head during the hour it took between the show’s end and Niall finally being ready to leave the dressing room. The gap between them closed with a few slow steps, her skin perking up as his fingers danced along her shoulders, flicking the strap of her bra down her arm. Before he could reach for the other, she dropped to her knees, quickly releasing his belt from its clasp. His back slammed against the cold, metal post.

“Oh shit.” He choked, looking down at her, realizing what that glint in her eye meant she had in mind. She was pleased by his surprise, gripping the backs of his thighs, admiring the way the cotton strained at the front of his boxers, the eager outline begging to be traced with delicate fingers. Eventually Roxy realized she needed as much relief from the tease as he did, freeing him from the shorts. The pile of clothing now bunched around his ankles, trapped by the shoes still on his feet. He was still coming down from the adrenaline rush of being on stage, and now to have her in front of him like this was sending his brain and his cock into hyperdrive, like he’d taken a hit of cocaine.

He felt her breath wash over him, a single finger pressed against the underside of his shaft to grant her perfect access to run the point of her tongue from the base to the tip, swirling at the spot just beneath the head. He wasn’t sure he’d ever mentioned just how much that little move made his stomach twist, but from the look on her face, she knew.

Roxy pursed her lips and planted them at the head of his cock, letting her tongue dance at the slit, dragging out the tiny bead of arousal, the taste of it triggering something within her that made her throat relax, and to start regulating her breath through her nostrils. Niall felt his heartbeat travel downwards, her tongue flattened outward on the underside of his dick as she took him in, her eyes glued to his in a way that made him feel paralyzed. She rather liked the way she was controlling him, humming against his delicate skin any time his eyes trailed upward, trying to push the image of her from his mind for a brief second so that he could regain his composure. She’d have none of that.

He gave in to her, not caring that his tiny tummy was poking out where his t shirt was pushed up around his waist, his jaw falling slack. She watched his eyebrows scrunch, the wrinkles in his forehead appearing and disappearing as his head fell backward gently, utterly consumed by the pleasure her mouth was bringing him. 

His knees buckled a bit when he hit the very back of her throat the first time, her eyes closing for the briefest of seconds, having to consciously control her gag reflex. How someone could look so blissful in such a circumstance, he would never be able to understand. But she was so perfect on her knees, tits perfectly cupped by that fucking black bra, pink lips wrapped tightly around him. She brushed her hair off to one side as she shifted upward, and he helped himself to a fistful pulling it just taut as she started to work him at a quicker pace now, his ragged breath and his throaty moans both amusing and satisfying her.  Her mind wandered every so often, wondering if someone would come along and lift that little hatch, needing to run a fresh set of wires or check the supports or whatever it is that people do. She almost wished he would moan a little louder, increase their chances of being caught. She thought about what it would be like for Niall tomorrow night, and each show after to stand at this very spot in the dark his mic his hand. Would he be thinking of the way he felt in her hot mouth with the cold metal digging into his shoulders?

She drew her head back and let his sex spring free from her lips with an audible “pop”.  “Fuck, baby.” He spat. “So fucking good.”

“Mmm.” She hummed, twisting her fist along his length, still slick with her spit. He pushed gently on the back of her head, and she smirked, taking him once more, fast and deep, sucking in her cheeks each time she pulled back, her eyes beginning to well up.

Niall felt himself teetering on the edge, his toes curling against the soles of his shoes and his free hand gripping the steel pole behind him, as if otherwise he’d crumple to the floor. He was trying to hold out just a little while longer, but his body was exhausted before she even got to her knees, feeling ever so much more than twenty-two after a full set under the hot stage lights. The pressure was building in the pit of his stomach, a courtesy warning at the ready just behind his teeth.

From the faint numbness in her lips and that familiar taste at the back of her throat, she knew he was close. She worked his base with her fingers, tongue flat against him, focusing on the pace. His face was slowly screwing, eyes slamming shut and then flinging open to watch her as she finished him off,  his breathy “Babe, I’m gunna…” all she needed to hear before sucking one last breath in through her nostrils and relaxing her throat as he flooded her, his fingers twisting in her hair.

The best part about coming wasn’t the orgasm, but the moment just before, on the edge of imminent release, his entire body dedicated to that goal; and the moment just after, when suddenly for a few seconds his mind is crystal-clear, and completely empty. She smiled now, more shy than seductress, replacing his boxers at his hips, careful to avoid jostling him any more than was necessary. He pulled her up by the elbow, the clasp of his belt buckle clanging back against the floor. He was impatient.

His hands found her hair again, in a much more gentle way, and pressed her mouth to his; both of their hearts still racing. She wondered if he could taste himself on her lips, but he didn’t seem to care one way or another. He breathed her in through his nose as he kissed her deeply, lingering bliss still flooding his veins. “My fucking God.” He hummed against her cheek.

“New tradition?” she whispered into his ear. “First night of the tour?”  He knew exactly what sparked her idea, and he grinned, knowing he owed a couple of his friends some drinks in gratitude.