Softie

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⚠️ Warning: foul language/mature themes. Do not read if you are uncomfortable with either of these. ⚠️

(That's my 'Hey! There's a lot of dirty stuff (but not full-blown smut) in this chapter so, like, maybe don't read it with your family nearby. Or do, idk you. Maybe you like the danger...

 Maybe you like the danger

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Yes, I did that. God, I hate myself. Anywayyyy back to the actual topic of this chapter...)


"I'm am not going soft!" Lauren pouts, crossing her arms. The pout is unintentional, you know that much, so you decide to use it to your advantage and lean in as though you are going to kiss her, stopping just millimetres from her lips. Her breathing hitches and her arms make a move to uncross themselves, and you smirk. Mission accomplished.

"I don't know anyone who isn't a softie but pouts like a child when she knows she's wrong." Your voice is quiet and your smirk a little broader, but then she quickly makes a move, taking your wrists and holding them down by your sides, pushing them further down until your knees almost buckle, and pulling you further towards her; all in less than a second. Your smirk falters for a moment but then returns full force. Second mission accomplished (or, you guess, first, seeing as getting to see this side of her is what made you spark up this whole debate in the first place).

"Would a 'softie' do this?" She asks, and when you don't respond within a heartbeat she tugs you further and bites down gently on your earlobe, whispering her question again, making her voice low and raspy.

You can't deny the shivers it sends down your spine; now you just need some of her infamous dirty talk and all of your dreams will have come true. Well, maybe not all... but perhaps that would come later.

"How come you can literally go from the cutest thing to exist to the sexiest person in the entire universe?" You retort in lieu of an answer, but when her hands move down and gentle fingers start drawing delicate patterns on your palms, you almost choke on the rest of the semi-sarcastic remark, "It's not fair."

"Life's not fair, baby." She says, leaning back a little and looking at you with puppy-dog eyes and a seductive smirk. How the hell does she do it? That's when your own smirk drops entirely. In fact, your whole jaw does, lips parting with a slight smacking sound as you try to remember how to breathe. What you did to deserve her your not sure, but you sure as hell were grateful.

She saw this and winked, grabbing your hands again and using them to spin you around so your back was flush against her front, your arms crossed over your stomach and held tight by her hands. She let go of one to brush your hair to the side, letting it fall over one shoulder, but quickly grabbed it again. She places a feather soft kiss on the skin of your now exposed neck and hummed against you. Shit, why had you thought this would be a good idea?

"Babe, you gotta stop tempting me while I'm at work." She growls.

"You say that like you work 9 'till 5 and I can expect you home every night, Lo." You manage to breathe out, and she buries her face in your neck.

"I know." Is her response, and you can what she means.

"But it's so hard not having you all to myself." You say innocently, though the way you were slowly twisting your hips, grinding against her, showed that your intention is anything but. She kisses your neck again, a little sloppier this time.

"It's hard for me too, baby. I- god," She tenses, and for a second you do too in fear of why she had, but then an answer to your unspoken question comes and you quickly relax, "I'm so fucking tempted to just bend you over and fuck you right here." She breathes out all at once.

Okay, maybe you didn't relax, but you weren't worried about her anymore. Now you are worried about yourself. She has - how long? Not very long now, surely - until she and her girls go on stage, not enough time to do what you both want. Even if there was enough time, fucking each other backstage is probably not a great idea anyway... but that's what makes it such a great idea. And all that meant was you'd be left incredibly turned on and sexually frustrated and you'd have to watch their concert whilst in that state. Surely it's not humanly possible, especially when your specially-allocated spot (off to the side of the stage where there are fewer people and not just fans, but the crew, opening acts, a few reporters and interviewers every now and then) was on Lauren's side this time.

But still, you hummed in response and checked the watch she had given you for your birthday (you'd wanted one for years and they weren't that expensive, you'd just never gotten around to getting one until Lauren beat you to it), "You've only got... 45 minutes 'till your on stage."

She growls again, a real growl this time, no words. That's when your eyes close softly.

"It'd only take me five with the state you're in," she insists. Oh, she's right. Her words alone are enough to make you feel your underwear dampen. The way she then uncrossed your arms and grasped your wrists with one hand so that her other could sneak up and take a fistful of your hair and pull your head down onto her shoulder only made things worse. She didn't do it so much it would hurt, she knew your boundaries and your pain threshold pretty well. She did do it just enough for a few rebellious tears to sting your eyes though, but whether out of frustration or pain or impatience you're not entirely sure.

The heavy bass of the current performer seeps into the room, meaning someone may have opened the hallway door and could be heading towards you as with it closed the sound is barely audible, but neither of you moves. You just stay there breathing in each other's very presence, Lauren beginning to nibble your ear again.

"I'd fuck you so hard you'd barely be able to stand long enough to watch the show," the very prospect makes you whimper, "But I'd leave you right on the edge and make you stay to watch me sing. You wouldn't be able to touch yourself in front of the other people, but even if you tried I'd be watching you all night, anyway."

Your eyes flicker open to see a shadow under the doorway now. Crap.

"Laur-" you try, but she quickly hushes you and you couldn't help but shut up right away, letting your eyes shut again. Whoever it was would likely hear you in here anyway and walk away, or knock before the came in.

"Then after the show, I'd fuck you even harder and leave you right there again, and you'd have to be carried back to our hotel room." Her hand started snaking its way from your arms (which you kept behind you anyway) and around your waist, one finger dipping beneath your waistband as it made its way around. Another sound entered your ears but it took a while for you to register what it was.

A knock, and then the door opening.

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