Ed Sheeran [SMUT]

Elevator

You’d been associated with Ed Sheeran for about a month now, and the sexual tension was growing. You had been behind the camera when he’d sung ‘Pony’ and holy shit, shivers had truly gone up and down your spine, zinging between your legs. Now you couldn’t get him out of your mind. 

You were a dynamic in the small team he’d made, organizing most press-appearances, and interviews. It was exhausting, and sometimes, you had no idea why he kept after you, when you snapped at him, the stress finally getting to you. He’d given you this look that seemed far to dirty for words, and your mouth had gone dry regularly for a week when he looked at you; regularly. 

It wasn’t fair. No one could break your professional air like he could. Sitting across from each other on a plane, next to each other, his hand would find your knee, and rest there. You let it happen, because you liked the touch. Maybe he was a tad bit sadistic, making you jump when a hostess came around, by pushing that hand further up your thigh. Once, you’d snapped on a young girl, and she’d looked impossibly miffed. 

Edward had come out looking like an angel, only the slight grin on his face, and the cheek scratch giving away a potential criminal. After that, you’d made sure you were seats apart. He’d talk his way into sitting next to you, giving you this look like, ‘are you going to try that? I’m hurt.’. 

You’d tried not being next to him. It was so hard not to be. You were his coordinator, and you had to stay late nights with him, just to work out schedules. 

This hotel was a choice you both made, mostly you, as Ed had been slightly drunk at the time. He regularly wasn’t big on fancy hotels, but a couple beers lowered his inhibitions. Thankfully. You got tired of sleeping on that damn tour bus. 

“This is the slowest fucking elevator in the world,” you lamented, as it started to clank up all 50 floors of the swanky hotel you’d booked. 

Ed glanced over a you, a tiny smile on his face. 

“Wait till I put in a complaint,” you grumbled, fully uncomfortable being in the same space as he. 

There was a strict, no fooling about policy you kept with yourself. You were sure any young female would’ve had a hard time keeping their hands off him, but you’d had experience in young stars, since you’d turned 18, and gotten out of Hamilton college, Yes, you were smart. And you used this to cater to the highest bidder. It’d worked for 3 years. 

You took your phone out, stamping the digits of the hotel into the phone. You’d only gone up 10 floors in 3 minutes, and you were really beginning to feel warmer than usual, even if you were under the air vent, and were wearing a short sleeved blouse, and knee length pencil skirt.  And Ed Sheeran’s gaze was the entire reason. 

“Hello,” the phone stated. 

“Yes-“

“please hold,” the operator continued. 

“No, no, no!”

You cursed, voice trembling  as Ed moved closer, in the corner of your vision. His fingers brushed against your free hand, slipping up your arm, lightly brushing as the elevator moved up just as slowly. Your breath hitched for a second, and the singer grinned, slightly smug this time.

you snapped your eyes shut, knowing his face would be the breaking of your resolve. His fingers slid over your cheek bone, nudging the hidden bra strap down on your shoulder  You opened your eyes, locating it, and pulling it back into place. Mistake. He took your cheek in his hand, and brought his lips to yours in a kiss that made your toes curl in your slightly non-business like high-heels. 

“Someone could come in,” you breathed. 

“I don’t really think so,” he whispered, kissing you again, everyone of these breaking down your once sturdy wall of resolve. “They could use the bloody stairs and get anywhere faster than in this.”