There's a lot of things about Calum that turn you on. The way his voice sounds in morning, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and his hands when he plays the piano. Especially, how he looks after he gets out the shower, a towel slung low on his hips, dripping wet and his hair extra curly. But nothing, nothing, turns you on like seeing Cal, on stage, in his element. His head bopping to the beat, the way his fingers fly over his bass, how good he looks in that night's outfit, and how at ease he is up there, with his brothers, content and happy.
There's also what usually happens after shows that gets your blood pumping quicker. You know how restless Cal gets after shows, how all that adrenaline and energy, has got to go somewhere. So when Cal glances at you with a smirk as Youngblood is about to end, you feel your body tighten up with anticipation. The boys finish up the song, take their bow, and spend a few minutes with the audience before jogging off stage.
You're bouncing on your toes a little, excited to get your hands on him. He slows his jog to a stroll as he nears you and you can't help but trail your eyes down his body. He's wearing that damn Playboy button up, that he looks practically edible in, tucked into black pants, and a pair of black, leather boots. Such a simple outfit yet he pulls it off so fucking well. He's in front of you now and he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him.
"Hey, baby girl," he says, low, raspy. He gives you no time to respond before he leans down and presses his lips to yours. Your knees go a little slack and you melt into him. Pulling away with a smile, he slings his arm over your shoulder, walking you two back to the green room. "How'd you like the show?" he asks as you both turn down a random hallway. You silently hope Calum knows where he's going, because, honestly, all these hallways looks the same to you.
"Ehhh, it was alright," you say, shrugging your shoulders gently.
"Just alright? Really?" he questions, looking down at you, furrowing his brows. You look up at him, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible. "I mean, honestly? I got so distracted by the hot bass player that I kind of forgot to pay attention to the songs." His face breaks into a grin, chuckling.
"Oh, yeah?" he mutters as he stops walking and you have no idea where you are, some random hallway that you don't think is anywhere near the green room. He stops walking and looks around, looking for any onlookers. Once he sees it's clear, he walks you backwards into the wall behind you, a smirk on his face. "You thought this bass player was hot, eh?" His voice is low and rough and it goes straight to your core. You instinctively tilt your head back to lean against the wall, baring your throat to the man in front of you. An act of submission or plea for him to put his lips on you, you're not really sure. Maybe a little of both.
You nod, widening your eyes. "Oh, yeah. He was an absolute babe! Couldn't stop staring at his fingers while he was playing. I just kept wondering what else those fingers were good at." His body is pressed up against yours now, hand sitting just under your breasts, and you swear you can feel his heart racing against your chest. Then again that could just been your own furious heartbeat. You need to have your hands on him now, so you wrap both arms around his neck, pulling his face down to yours. You kiss this cheek, and then the corner of his mouth before finally pressing your lips to his. Taking his bottom lip in between your teeth, tugging on it slightly, you hear him groan. His hands move to sit under the hem of your shirt, on your hips, and his nails are digging into your skin. You welcome the sting for it's a relief from the throbbing in between your legs.
"What'd you want him to do with his fingers, Y/N? Tell me what you wanted those fingers to do to you." You bite down on your bottom lip, tugging slightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. You feel the flush on your chest work it's way up to your face, but you're quick to respond.
