No Shame •C.H•

"Who says I haven't been getting dick?

Calum's dream took place in his childhood bedroom of all places. He was looking over his many football trophies throughout the years, out on display upon the shelves of the room.

"Good morning, Cal," a voice purred at the closed doorway. Had they been there the whole time?

And there stood Fiona Rivers, dressed in nothing but his red and black football jersey from Madrid and black knee high socks. Her crimson hair was down and curly, possibly his favorite way her hair can be done.

"What are you doing in here?" He asks, but let's be honest, he doesn't truly care.

"I don't know. Why do you want me in here, Bubba?"

"Never said I did. If anything, you being in here corrupts this place."

"Then why do you have your hands on my hips?"

He looked down to see that he did in fact have his hands on her hips. He didn't remember it happening but it was a dream.

"They were meant to be there, love," he answers slyly before leaning down to peck her on the lips.

Then he does it again. And again. And a third time a little longer. By the fourth time it has reached beyond a kiss, but in true Fiona fashion, she pulls back with her eyes closed.

His lips leave attacks of small kisses below her jaw, making her giggle.

'Damn, what an addictive sound.'

"Baby, your mom and sister are just outside," she whines, softly.

Calum doesn't know why they'd be here, if anything it pulls him out of dream a little. He ignores it though and plays along.

"Then you'll have to be quiet, sweetheart."

He picks Fiona up from behind the knees, so her thighs can wrap around his waist. Fiona was never that heavy to Calum, but at the moment she was weightless.

Calum sits her on his old desk and stands between her legs. His hand travels up her thigh, feeling the soft skin below it and his dick immediately hardens when he doesn't feel her wearing any panties. He grounds his hips against hers, desperate for his dick to get some relief.

"Calum," Fiona whines loudly.

"Calum."

"Calum!"

"Calum Thomas Hood, will you please get up! You're gonna be late!" A voice exclaims, pulling him from his sleep.

"What is it?" Calum groans, voice groggy from sleep.

"You told me to wake you up in time for brunch with Mitch," Fiona explains.

Unfortunately, she was not wearing that old jersey and knee highs with perfectly curled hair. Instead she had thrown on a Chase Atlantic hoodie and had her hair in two braids.

'Still a fucking sight for sore eyes,' Calum thinks, despite wishing for his dream to continue.

"What time is it?" He asks, rubbing his eyes.

"Nine thirty."

"I don't have to be there until eleven."

"Yes but you don't bring any spare clothes and you probably want a shower and..."

"And...what?"

Her eyes trail down and Calum follows her eyes, staring right at his bulge that was not well hidden underneath her duvet.

"Ya' need me to handle that?" She smirks, straddling his thighs.

She always acted so confidently, so boldly, that it threw Calum off. He tried to hide that his cheeks were heating up by giving her a lazy smirk of his own.