RAURA/AUSLLY SMUT

Guitar PART 1

Ok so I was GONNA do this whole thing in just one part so I could get it out the way but this shits long as fuck if I put it in just one part so there's 3 PARTS to this story 😊
[NOT MINE]

It was 10 at night. And it was loud.
His fingers worked their way across the strings quickly, with no hesitation. His hips rolled with the pleasure, the heat, the thrill of the moment. His shifted his weight from one leg to the other, bobbing his head to the beat. His shook his head, letting the hair flop out of his face He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and he was grinning, his forearms tensing, his muscles clenching.
He was in the zone. This was where he loved to be.
This was where I liked to be, too. Not on stage of course; in the wings. Watching, cheering him on, enjoying the little glances he gave me every so often as if making sure I was still there.
He liked that I came along to watch the concerts; almost as much as I liked coming to watch the concerts.
And I did. Like coming to watch him, I mean. And the rest of the band, of course. But there was something about Ross...
A flash of lacy pink lingerie was all I saw before the bra landed on Ross' shoulder. I saw him throw his head back in laughter, searching for who had thrown it and winking at her. An orgasmic scream was the result.
Turning, not for the first time, to look at me, he picked it off his shoulder and threw it at me instead. Glad that where I was standing, I couldn't be seen, I rolled my eyes and tossed it onto the floor. It was a shame it wasn't my size. It was a cute bra.
I watched his fingers work the guitar strings, and I could feel it happening; the slack-jawed admiration that always crept in whenever I came out to his shows. The intense pride - the burning desire.
It was always a mixture of these things, and they only served to make the actual desire that much stronger.
Long story short; I was jealous of Ross' guitar.
Even as I watched, I saw him stroke his hands over the neck, his teeth wedged in his bottom lip as he played it with a mixture of reverence and adoration, his hips nearly grinding against it.
God, I wanted to be that guitar.
I was aware that if I ever expressed this... jealousy, there was a chance of strange stares and of the end of my friendship with Ross altogether because it was crazy, right? To be envious of an inanimate object?
I didn't even care anymore.
Guitar solo.
Ross dropped to his knees, utterly consumed by the music, playing his solo, his head back. And when it was done, and Riker was singing, his mouth was open and from the bottom of the neck of the guitar to the top, he was gliding his tongue - wet and pink - against.
I choked and even staggered a little, a small whimper escaping me.
The security guard next to me gave me a look. I tried to laugh it off. His face remained blank.
Fuck, I wanted him. More that I had ever wanted anyone. I couldn't help but think of the consequences; the fact that if we did anything, our friendship could fall apart afterwards. Fuck and Forget was not a system I operated with.
I sighed, and looked back, and he was on his feet again and his hips were just fucking gyrating against the instrument and I swear to God I heard him moan.
I gave the security guard a I'm gonna just go sign, and he nodded, handing me the keys to the lounge room.
I sighed and marched over, key in my sweaty palm, making plans about when and where I could change my underwear because they were soaked.
Okay, so if you can get someone to drive you over to Target or something, you can get underwear there... Wait, is there a Target near here?... Of course, there's Target's everywhere... But how am I going to explain my underwear emergency?
I shook my head, trying to clear, trying not to think of Ross' tongue and how good I bet it'd feel against things other than his guitar, and how sweaty he was, and how upset he'd be when he inevitably glanced into the wings again and saw that I wasn't there... And how the freaking lounge key wasn't opening the lounge door...
Gah. I had been trying to stick the key into the lock for the past minute. My plan was to wait in the lounge until the boys and Rydel were done freshening up and whatever in their dressing rooms and then to hijack someone - definitely not Ross - and get them to bring me to Target.
I sighed in frustration, raising the key to m face to read the tiny writing on it.
Room 103.
Well done, Mr. Security Guard, you couldn't even give me the right key.
I started to go back to the wing I'd come from to get the right key, but remembered Ross and his shitdamn guitar.
Annoyed and flustered and more than a little damp, I began my search for Room 103.
I stomped through the halls, looking at room numbers, yearning for Ross to treat me like he treated his damn guitar, consequences be damned.
I found the room eventually, jamming my key in the lock and turning, flicking on the lights as I stepped in. I heard a loud, husky voice in the distance, telling the audience how much they were appreciated, and I could tell the concert was winding down.
The room looked pretty much like a dressing room, with clothes hung on a silver rack and a table with a mirror and everything. I slumped down into a comfortable-looking couch and waited.
One minute... Two...
The sounds of their voices, loud and excited in the halls.
Three minutes... Four...
A very familiar voice outside my door.
I turned to look He stepped in, amusement on his face, a bottle of water in his hand, nothing but a pair of ripped jeans and sneakers on his body.
He cocked his head to the side. "Laura? What're you doing in my dressing room?"