#68- You Catch Them During Their "Alone Time"
that title was the most tactful way I could word it. I'm not sure what an appropriate closing would be here so just... READ.
not sure if this is an appropriate chapter to dedicate someone but 5soshawnm likes every chapter so thank you lovely
Ashton: After your long grueling workout with your longtime best friend and self-appointed personal trainer, you are more than ready for a hot shower and quality time with your even longer time best friend, who also just happens to be your husband. When you come in, your five year old daughter is watching Elmo and giggling wildly with elation. "Hi Momma!" she pipes up without looking away from the television. "Hi sweetheart. Where's Daddy?" "He was downstairs playing drums then he came up and said he had to potty but that he'd be right back," she replies with a shrug of her shoulders. You walk upstairs, chuck your gym bag on your bed and walk towards your bathroom. Just as you go to turn the knob, you hear a groan that sounds quite a bit like your name. You open the door slowly and your free hand flies up to cover your mouth as your eyes fall on Ashton. His jeans sit in gathers at his ankles while his right hand is positioned quite comfortably in his boxers. "A-Ashton?" you stammer out. He jumps up at the sudden interruption and hits his head on the light fixture above him. "Mother of fuck!" you hear him exclaim after he's readjusted himself and is rubbing the tender spot on his head. It takes every ounce of self-control you have to not laugh at him. "I-I thought you were working out," he says once he's gotten himself together enough. "Yeah, I was," you say, now laughing quietly in between words, "but I do have to come home and shower at some point. You are welcome to join me, though, Mr. Irwin," you say with a wink. "It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Irwin," he replies with a near carnal grin. You realize that you are probably going to end up somehow helping him solve his "little" problem.
Luke: You, Calum, Ashton and Luke have spent months planning Michael's surprise party. Everything was properly put into place. There were about two minutes left before Michael was supposed to arrive and you can't help but notice Luke has had his hands all over you all day, including right now. You whisper to him to wait until later and although he nods, he keeps you close against his body until it's time for you to jump out and yell surprise. Michael nearly has a heart attack when he comes through the door, but laughs it off, "You guys scared the shit out of me!" About twenty minutes into the party, Luke kisses your cheek and leaves your side. You watch him walk over to Michael, talk to him for a moment and then disappear upstairs. When he doesn't reappear fifteen minutes later, you ask Michael what's going on. "Oh, he wasn't feeling well so I told him he was more than welcome to go lay down in my guest room." Being the good girlfriend that you are, you venture upstairs to check on your boyfriend, to make sure he's okay. From just outside the guest room door, you hear quiet little grunts and a slight squeaking sound. You open the door slowly and peek your head inside, a slow grin forming on your lips as your eyes fall on Luke. You can't help but watch his wrist movements but decide to speak up just as you detect in his voice that he's on edge. "So, you're not feeling well, eh?" "Fuck!" he nearly yells, his face flushing a crimson red. He yanks you inside, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss while he pleads against them for you to help him finish the job.
Michael: Michael is always at level one hundred, and usually the only one with enough stamina to keep up with him is— "Y/N!" Their manager yells to you five minutes before the meet and greet. —you. "Yeah?" you reply, pulling your hair back into a high, messy bun as you look up at him. "Have you seen our little punk princess?" "No, but I'll find him," you reply, darting off to find Michael. You pop your head in a few tents he'd likely be in and when you don't locate him there, you decide the bus is your next best option. You use your key to open the door, shocked when all is mostly silent. You hear a soft, sexy little pant that you know belongs to your boyfriend and you nearly silence your footsteps, determined to locate the source of the sound. You spot him in the back lounge, eyes shut tightly, head tilted back, lips parted and jeans unzipped. You stand motionless, damn near mesmerized by the rhythmic bucking of his hips and, bite down on your lower lip, but not before dragging your tongue over it slowly in uncontrolled lust. Damn your nervous habit, you shift slightly on your feet, making the floor creak. His eyes shoot open and he lets out a slight yelp once they fall on you. He makes a rather foolish attempt to cover himself up but you simply saunter over to him, telling him you'd be more than glad to offer your services for the next five minutes—or until their manager realizes it was not very wise of him to leave to two of you alone for such a long period of time.
Calum: After a long day at work, you want nothing more than to cuddle with your fiancé and bitch about how stupid some of your co-workers can be. You notice all the curtains are drawn and figure Calum must be concentrating on a new song, so you open the front door nearly silently, knowing the consequences would be severe tickling should you distract him. You see the back of Calum's head and just as you're about to say his name, he says something. "F-fuck, Y/N, baby." Your face turns an unfamiliar shade of red as you realize what he's doing. You linger for a moment before clearing your throat. "Holy Swiss fucking cheese!" Calum yells, jumping nearly two feet in the air, "Babe, why are you home so early? Oh my... Ahh, fuck!" He readjusts his clothing and lays face down on the floor in front of the couch. "Uhh..." you say slowly, unsure of how else to react. "Don't look at me, I'm a whore! A dirty, dirty whore." "So, you don't want my help?" you ask with a grin. "I never said that!" he pipes up, springing to his feet. You giggle as he scoops you up bridal style, 'whisking you away to have his way with you,' as he's so quietly murmuring to you.
