Fic: Fantasy, 1/1, Rated NC-17
Title: Fantasy
Author: courts
Disclaimer: If I owned them, Archie would wear the shirt and tie during the whole concert. So, no, not mine. Lyrics in the summary belong to 30 Seconds to Mars from the song The Fantasy.
Rated: NC-17
Summary: Maybe tonight we can forget about it all . . . it could be just like heaven
Notes: I'm infatuated with Archie's new tour clothes, in case you guys can't tell.
Thanks: mrs_viola_swamp, beta to the stars (and, uh, me). And to everyone over at cookleta who always leave me such lovely feedback and assure me that I am not the only one reading these stories, lol. Thanks all :)
-=-=-=-=-
Fantasy
Crawling into your seat on the plane, you pull down the shade and immediately close your eyes. You'd been excited about the two day break to go back to Los Angeles and work on your album, but with the time constraints you'd barely gotten more than a few hours of sleep the entire time. That, combined with the fact that you had spoken to David once for five minutes was making you surly and, probably, not very nice to be around.
You plan to sleep for the entire flight, closing your eyes and thinking about David and how you can't wait to see him again.
-=-=-=-=-
The Idol tour can't slow down for anyone, so by the time you get to St. Louis it is time to get started with the meet and greets. You are the last to arrive and end up at the opposite end of the table from David, so you are more than a little unhappy throughout the hour and a half.
By the time you've signed your name at least two hundred times, it's time to get going to the venue and you all pile onto one of the buses together. With ten people in a space usually occupied by five, it's tough to get a minute alone with the boy you've been missing. But, you manage to pull him into the bathroom for a second and kiss him breathless, covering his lips with yours before he has a chance to protest.
"Damn, these have been the longest two days of my life," you pout as your mouth travels down his neck and you lick at his pulse point.
"Mmm, Cook, we can't do this now," he says, but he's leaning into the touch and lets you continue for a moment before he finally pushes you away.
"We're staying in the hotel tonight," you tell him and his eyes light up at the prospect. His dad gets his own room in the hotels and you're really good at slipping out unnoticed before the others wake in the morning.
He leans in to kiss you again, then whispers, "Tonight," in your ear. You shiver as his breath ghosts over your skin and you suddenly can't wait for tonight.
-=-=-=-=-
The show is going well, you think. The crowd is awesome and a couple of your relatives made it and you smile at them in the front row seats you were able to procure for them. It's unbelievable . . . a high you don’t think you ever want to get used to.
Your last song ends and you descend from the stage, then quickly rush to get ready for the last group number that closes the show. You're getting fucking sick of that Rhianna song, but the crowds still eat it up and you and Michael keep coming up with new, ridiculous dance moves to keep yourselves from going crazy. You figure it's only a few more months and then you never have to sing it again. And then you'll probably miss it like hell.
You get into your outfit for the final song and Chikezie and Ramiele are already going on. Michael is waiting in the wings for his cue. You turn and see Syesha and Jason and Brooke standing together and Carly and Kristy are a few feet away, but no sign of David.
"Where's Archie?" you ask Carly and she shrugs, walking over to get ready to go out on stage.
"I think they were fixing something on his new costume," Jason says.
"New costume?" you say aloud. You didn't know about that and you wonder if it will be worse than the Harry Potter cardigan or the suit that looks like one of your dad's hand me downs. It's a shame they can't seem to dress him right, because you know for a fact that the body under all those overly mature clothes is seriously a sight to behold.
Everyone has gone out now but Jason and Syesha and they go to opposite sides of the stage to wait for their entrances. You look around again and see the dressing room door open. David sticks his head out and you smile and start, "Hey, I was wondering where you-" Your mouth drops open when he steps out completely and you see his new outfit. "Fuck me," you whisper with wide eyes.
You've thought about seeing David in a lot of things. Everything from his swim trunks to a tuxedo to just your beat up leather jacket has crossed your mind at some point. But this . . . you never thought that a simple shirt and tie and trousers could be so . . . damn. Every fantasy you've ever had suddenly gets bumped down a notch as this particular image climbs directly to the number one spot on your list.
"Hey," he says shyly as he smoothes his hands over his button down shirt and straightens the tie he's wearing. The shirt is tight in all the right places and his shoulders fill it perfectly. You think about that surprisingly broad chest beneath the little flaps of his pockets and bite the inside of your cheeks to keep from groaning. As he steps up to the lift in front of you, you get a perfect view of his ass in the snug, black trousers and you aren't actually sure how you keep from reaching forward and grabbing him. But, then he's rising up to the stage and his voice is already booming to the crowd and you're on next.
You think about Barbara Bush, naked, and try to squelch your desire. The whole time you're on stage, you avert your eyes from him because, damn, your cousin Marsha is in the audience. If she calls your mom to say that you had a hard-on on stage you will never live this down.
David is, of course, oblivious to your lurid thoughts. Or, at least you assume so as he dances around in front of you and smiles shyly in your directions. His cheeks are flushed and he's breathing hard as he uses all of his lung capacity to push out that shockingly vibrant voice that you've come to love so very much.
As the song drags on (and on, and on) you notice that he's dancing in front of you a little more than usually, casting a few more sidelong glances in your direction than you are accustomed to. And then, he's standing on the stage catching his breath and looking over at you and he smirks, fucking smirks, and suddenly you realize it. David Archuleta is fucking teasing you! You are biting your tongue so hard to quell your desire that you taste blood.
And, really, you never thought you could hate Rhianna more, but suddenly you really, really do. By the time the song ends and you have managed to thank the crowd and say good night to St. Louis, your forehead is beaded with sweat and you hope the hotel is really close to the venue; really, really close.
-=-=-=-=-
"Great show, guys!" one of the production crew calls as you all pile in backstage. You can still hear the crowd roaring and you feel light-headed, probably due to all of the blood in your body pooling below your waist as you see David bend over to tie his fucking shoe! Damn, the boy is trying to kill you, you're sure of it now.
You walk over, skirting between Brooke and Chikezie and fitting your palm to the small of David's back as he starts to straighten. You bend forward a little and whisper, "Don't change."
He looks back at you and you still kind of expect to see the stunned, innocent look that you usually get from him in these situations, but not tonight. Tonight, your boy just glances over his shoulder at you and smirks and licks his fucking lips. You almost come in your pants and now you really need that bus driver to hurry up and get the two of you back to the fucking hotel.
You strip out of your jacket and change into a white tee shirt, but leave on the black slacks and boots. You figure, in your current state, jeans would be a very bad idea.
The others change, partially or fully, into street clothes, all but David. He's still wearing the short-sleeved oxford and black tie, his legs and ass molding the black dress pants into your own personal wet dream. You try to put a few people between the two of you in the line on the way back to the bus because, really, it would not be good to attack him while he's signing autographs for twelve-year olds.
By the time you finally arrive on the bus, you think you might be dying. You want him so bad you can taste it and he's still teasing, still looking back at you every couple of minutes and licking those perfect lips and turning his mouth up at the corner and enticing you and dammit! Even naked Barbara isn't doing it anymore.
"You okay, mate?" Michael asks you from his seat next to you on the bus. You have a pillow over your lap (real subtle, Cook) and you realize when he speaks that you are smashing the damned thing down. You ease up a little on the cushion and nod.
"Yeah, yeah, tired," you mutter and Michael gives you a weird look before turning back to whatever conversation he was having with Carly.
The bus pulls to a stop at the hotel and you bound off of it, grabbing the key you're given and throwing your duffel bag over your shoulder as you trot into the lobby ahead of the others.
"Doesn't seem too tired to me," you hear Michael say behind you and then he and Carly are laughing. You don’t even slow down, just hoping that David gets his ass upstairs really fucking quick.
-=-=-=-=-
Your room is right next door to David's, mostly because you switched with Chikezie earlier in the night, but you still think it might be fate. Because you have a connecting door between your room and his and thank God you don’t have to walk back out into the hallway.
You've already taken your boots and shirt off and you're sitting barefoot on your bed in just the black pants you wore on stage that night. Your ears perk up when you hear David moving around in the next room and you listen for just a moment more to make sure that Jeff hasn't come back with him. When you are sure he's alone, you go to the connecting door and knock.
David opens the door smiling, still in that fucking outfit and his grin lights his entire face. His eyes move from your face to your bare chest, all the way down to your bare feet and you see him gulp in a mouthful of air as his tongue swipes over his lips again.
"Fuck, Archie," you growl, unable to hold back for one more second. You swoop forward, pulling him into your room and against you, your mouth landing hard against his and sucking the air from his lungs. You sway slightly when you finally come up for oxygen, feeling dizzy and intoxicated by him.
"Mmm, missed you," he purrs against your neck and your knees nearly buckle as his tongue comes out to lick your skin, and your eyes flutter shut as you arch beneath him.
"Good lord . . ." you moan. "Archie . . ." you hiss as you manage to walk the two of you backwards until your knees hit the mattress. "God, baby, between you and that fucking outfit, I'm gonna have to sit down," you tell him huskily.
He giggles and pulls back to look down at you. His hands reach up to travel down the front of his shirt and he grins as he asks, "You like it, huh?"
"You little tease," you chide, but you can't help returning the smile. And then, he's biting his lip and sitting in your lap and you're playing with his tie and he's looking at you with that playful smirk and it's almost too much. "Fuck, Arch, you look so damned sexy . . ." you hiss as you wrap the tie through your fingers and give it a gentle tug, pulling his mouth down to yours.
You fall back onto the bed, David coming down atop you and kissing you hungrily. You explore each other's mouths and your hand travels down his chest, fondling the buttons on his shirt and ending at his belt buckle. His hands are busy, too, one tangling in your hair and the other sliding down your chest and caressing the heated skin.
He pulls back first this time, panting against you as he rests his forehead to yours. "Wow . . . if I'd known you would like this outfit so much I would have complained about the cardigan much sooner," he says.
"What, too hot?" you ask and you can't think of anything hotter than what he's wearing now, but that's another story entirely.
"Itchy," he says. "And, you know, I was tired of Michael calling me 'the boy who lived'," he giggles.
"Hmm, I guess I owe Mikey a beer, then," you say as you capture his lips again.
"You really like this so much?" he asks after the kiss ends. "I mean, it's just a shirt and tie. You've seen me in one before."
You shake your head and your eyes travel over him again. Then you push him over to lie next to you and roll to kneel above him, hands wandering down his body as you say, "Not like this, babe. Not all . . . tight, and . . . damn, just fucking hot." He blushes and you can't help but laugh. "And what was that out on stage tonight?" you ask. "You were fucking teasing me, Archuleta," you accuse and his blush deepens as another giggle bubbles up.
"I . . . I dunno, you were looking at me and . . . I just, I really missed you in L.A.," he admits and you know the feeling. You thought two days would be fine, no big deal. But, fuck, two days lasted forever. It was kind of ridiculous how much you missed him, really.
"We're screwed when the tour's over," you tell him.
He looks sad, suddenly, and you instantly regret the words. "I . . . I know," he stutters and his eyes dart down, looking at your hands pressed to his chest and you feel him draw in a shaky breath and bite his lower lip and, God, you love him so much.
"Hey," you say softly as you reach up to touch his cheek. He meets your eyes again and you smile as you say, "We'll work it out." He smiles a little, too, and you lean in to kiss him again.
This time the kiss is slow and sensual, your tongues tangling and your hands roaming over each other, mapping each other's bodies. You swivel your hips and brush his erection with you own and he squirms deliciously as you swallow both of your moans. He's bucking upward, straining for more contact, and you can't deny him anything. You reach down and rub his cock through those pants and he arches into your hand, his lips leaving yours as his head falls back, his eyes shut.
"Archie," you murmur as you lick and suck at his exposed neck. "I wanna make you feel good . . . I wanna show you how much I've missed you." He looks up at you with lust-clouded eyes and your heart clenches again because, fuck, he's beautiful. "I wanna show you how much I love you," you say softly and his eyes grow soft as he puts his hands around your neck and pulls you forward for another toe-curling kiss.
You travel down his body slowly, along his jaw, down the pale column of his throat, over his Adam's apple and into the dent of his collarbone through his shirt. You carefully pull the tie free and undo a few of the buttons on his shirt, running your mouth back over that spot again, now unbidden. Your tongue travels over the soft skin and he's keening against you, making little whimpering noises and pressing his hips up in desperation. You smile against his skin and move lower, turning your attention to his chest as you slowly expose it.
You're careful with the buttons because you don’t want there to be any reason that he can't wear this outfit for the remainder of the tour. You know that, on the days when the two of you are pulled apart for reasons beyond either of your control, the thought of David in this outfit is going to provide much fuel for your fantasies. You stop thinking about that now, though. Who needs fantasies when reality is right here, writhing against you and begging you to touch him, anywhere, everywhere . . . You groan and lower your mouth to his chest.
He moans when you circle his nipple with your lips, your teeth scraping the sensitive bud to pull an even louder sound from his throat. He reaches down and runs his fingers through your hair and the gentle tugging urges you on. You move to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment and pulling the same strangled moans from David's mouth.
"Uhhhh, yeah . . ." he cries as his erection brushes your belly and you can feel the heat even through two layers of clothing. You almost give in and reach down to push his pants aside, but you want to make this last, to make him beg. Just the thought almost makes you lose control on the spot.
"Taste so good, baby," you say over the skin of his tight belly. "Missed you . . . so much." You swirl your tongue in his belly button and he bucks against you, one hand fisted in your hair and the other fisted in the sheets. "I'm gonna make you scream, Archie," you say with a quirk of your lips and his reply is a guttural groan that makes you throb.
You move all the way down the bed, making him let go of your hair as you move all the way to his feet and slowly untie his shoes and slip them off. You pull off his socks as well and then crawl back onto the bed. You're crouched between his knees and looking down at him and, again, you are struck by how gorgeous this boy really is. He's lying there with his shirt unbuttoned and his tie hanging loose, his chest exposed and still glistening from the trail your mouth had taken down it moments before. His erection is pressing against those tight pants and he's squirming a little, looking up at you with hooded eyes and panting breath and then he says, "Please," and you're fucking lost.
You run your hands up the outside of his thighs and lean forward to lick at the skin below his navel. He's arching against you again and his clothed dick bumps your chin, making you both groan.
"Oh, I . . . oh gosh . . . please, Cook . . ." His words and his voice are your undoing and you unhook the belt and unbutton his trousers, pulling down the zipper and giving him a little relief from the tight confines of the cotton.
You mouth his dick through the black boxers and he cries out sharply and his hand is back in your hair in an instant. He smells so good, sort of sweaty and musky and Archie. You've never been turned on by the way a guy fucking smells, but you're coming to realize that damned near everything about David Archuelta turns you on. You've learned not to fight it; it's easier to just give in.
"Ohhhh, please," he implores in a breathy whisper and you look up at him, your hand rubbing him lightly as you meet his eyes.
"Tell me what you want, baby," you say and David's eyes darken with lust. You can see him struggling; he's still not entirely comfortable with these words. But you have to hear him say it; you need to hear it from his lips.
"Ohhh, gosh . . . mmm, please."
"Please what, Archie? What do you want me to do to you?" you ask hoarsely and when he looks back at you, you know he's going to say it and it's probably the hottest thing you've ever heard.
"Suck me," he breathes. "Please . . . please . . ."
It's you who groans at the words and your hands yank at his boxers to shove them down and you lower yourself to the junction of his thighs and take him into your mouth. He whines out a low cry of pleasure and you go lower, taking him as deep as you can, running your tongue and lips over him and losing yourself completely to your desire.
He pushes upward and you keep one hand on his hip and the other wrapped around the base of his cock as you lick and suck and tease him to the brink. He's making these noises that are driving you insane and you actually think you might lose it and come in your pants and, fuck, that would be embarrassing. And, probably, a little hot, too.
You let your hand slide from his hip and bring it to his lips, letting him suck your fingers and that, too, makes your pants grow tighter. You bring the slick fingers to his entrance and run the tip of your finger around the muscle and he bucks into your mouth at the touch. You take him all the way into your mouth as you slide one finger into him and push forward.
"Uhhhhh," he groans. "Oh, yeah, ohhhh."
You find that sensitive spot inside him and he's clenching around you and coming and screaming and you hold onto him and ride out the pleasure with him. When it's over, he collapses back onto the bed and you crawl back up to lay beside him, laying kisses over his face and pulling him to curl against you.
He nuzzles into you, his body warm and pliant, and says, "I love you," in a hushed, reverent tone. You press your lips to his forehead, just at his hairline, and your throat closes around the same words.
Later, after he's stripped you out of your dress pants and used his tongue on you in ways that you are sure the church would never approve of, you roll him onto his side and curl up behind him and enter him. And it's good and right and perfect, the way he fits against you and the way he pushes back as you push forward and the way your head on his shoulder and your arm around his waist feel like they were made for each other.
"Love you," you rasp against his skin and he reaches his hand up to cover yours on his hip and you fall, spilling into him and clutching him and wrapping your whole world up in this perfect, perfect boy that means everything. You fall asleep with him still fit against you, warm and soft and yours.
-=-=-=-=-
The End
July 26, 2008
-=-=-=-=-
Author: courts
Disclaimer: If I owned them, Archie would wear the shirt and tie during the whole concert. So, no, not mine. Lyrics in the summary belong to 30 Seconds to Mars from the song The Fantasy.
Rated: NC-17
Summary: Maybe tonight we can forget about it all . . . it could be just like heaven
Notes: I'm infatuated with Archie's new tour clothes, in case you guys can't tell.
Thanks: mrs_viola_swamp, beta to the stars (and, uh, me). And to everyone over at cookleta who always leave me such lovely feedback and assure me that I am not the only one reading these stories, lol. Thanks all :)
-=-=-=-=-
Fantasy
Crawling into your seat on the plane, you pull down the shade and immediately close your eyes. You'd been excited about the two day break to go back to Los Angeles and work on your album, but with the time constraints you'd barely gotten more than a few hours of sleep the entire time. That, combined with the fact that you had spoken to David once for five minutes was making you surly and, probably, not very nice to be around.
You plan to sleep for the entire flight, closing your eyes and thinking about David and how you can't wait to see him again.
-=-=-=-=-
The Idol tour can't slow down for anyone, so by the time you get to St. Louis it is time to get started with the meet and greets. You are the last to arrive and end up at the opposite end of the table from David, so you are more than a little unhappy throughout the hour and a half.
By the time you've signed your name at least two hundred times, it's time to get going to the venue and you all pile onto one of the buses together. With ten people in a space usually occupied by five, it's tough to get a minute alone with the boy you've been missing. But, you manage to pull him into the bathroom for a second and kiss him breathless, covering his lips with yours before he has a chance to protest.
"Damn, these have been the longest two days of my life," you pout as your mouth travels down his neck and you lick at his pulse point.
"Mmm, Cook, we can't do this now," he says, but he's leaning into the touch and lets you continue for a moment before he finally pushes you away.
"We're staying in the hotel tonight," you tell him and his eyes light up at the prospect. His dad gets his own room in the hotels and you're really good at slipping out unnoticed before the others wake in the morning.
He leans in to kiss you again, then whispers, "Tonight," in your ear. You shiver as his breath ghosts over your skin and you suddenly can't wait for tonight.
-=-=-=-=-
The show is going well, you think. The crowd is awesome and a couple of your relatives made it and you smile at them in the front row seats you were able to procure for them. It's unbelievable . . . a high you don’t think you ever want to get used to.
Your last song ends and you descend from the stage, then quickly rush to get ready for the last group number that closes the show. You're getting fucking sick of that Rhianna song, but the crowds still eat it up and you and Michael keep coming up with new, ridiculous dance moves to keep yourselves from going crazy. You figure it's only a few more months and then you never have to sing it again. And then you'll probably miss it like hell.
You get into your outfit for the final song and Chikezie and Ramiele are already going on. Michael is waiting in the wings for his cue. You turn and see Syesha and Jason and Brooke standing together and Carly and Kristy are a few feet away, but no sign of David.
"Where's Archie?" you ask Carly and she shrugs, walking over to get ready to go out on stage.
"I think they were fixing something on his new costume," Jason says.
"New costume?" you say aloud. You didn't know about that and you wonder if it will be worse than the Harry Potter cardigan or the suit that looks like one of your dad's hand me downs. It's a shame they can't seem to dress him right, because you know for a fact that the body under all those overly mature clothes is seriously a sight to behold.
Everyone has gone out now but Jason and Syesha and they go to opposite sides of the stage to wait for their entrances. You look around again and see the dressing room door open. David sticks his head out and you smile and start, "Hey, I was wondering where you-" Your mouth drops open when he steps out completely and you see his new outfit. "Fuck me," you whisper with wide eyes.
You've thought about seeing David in a lot of things. Everything from his swim trunks to a tuxedo to just your beat up leather jacket has crossed your mind at some point. But this . . . you never thought that a simple shirt and tie and trousers could be so . . . damn. Every fantasy you've ever had suddenly gets bumped down a notch as this particular image climbs directly to the number one spot on your list.
"Hey," he says shyly as he smoothes his hands over his button down shirt and straightens the tie he's wearing. The shirt is tight in all the right places and his shoulders fill it perfectly. You think about that surprisingly broad chest beneath the little flaps of his pockets and bite the inside of your cheeks to keep from groaning. As he steps up to the lift in front of you, you get a perfect view of his ass in the snug, black trousers and you aren't actually sure how you keep from reaching forward and grabbing him. But, then he's rising up to the stage and his voice is already booming to the crowd and you're on next.
You think about Barbara Bush, naked, and try to squelch your desire. The whole time you're on stage, you avert your eyes from him because, damn, your cousin Marsha is in the audience. If she calls your mom to say that you had a hard-on on stage you will never live this down.
David is, of course, oblivious to your lurid thoughts. Or, at least you assume so as he dances around in front of you and smiles shyly in your directions. His cheeks are flushed and he's breathing hard as he uses all of his lung capacity to push out that shockingly vibrant voice that you've come to love so very much.
As the song drags on (and on, and on) you notice that he's dancing in front of you a little more than usually, casting a few more sidelong glances in your direction than you are accustomed to. And then, he's standing on the stage catching his breath and looking over at you and he smirks, fucking smirks, and suddenly you realize it. David Archuleta is fucking teasing you! You are biting your tongue so hard to quell your desire that you taste blood.
And, really, you never thought you could hate Rhianna more, but suddenly you really, really do. By the time the song ends and you have managed to thank the crowd and say good night to St. Louis, your forehead is beaded with sweat and you hope the hotel is really close to the venue; really, really close.
-=-=-=-=-
"Great show, guys!" one of the production crew calls as you all pile in backstage. You can still hear the crowd roaring and you feel light-headed, probably due to all of the blood in your body pooling below your waist as you see David bend over to tie his fucking shoe! Damn, the boy is trying to kill you, you're sure of it now.
You walk over, skirting between Brooke and Chikezie and fitting your palm to the small of David's back as he starts to straighten. You bend forward a little and whisper, "Don't change."
He looks back at you and you still kind of expect to see the stunned, innocent look that you usually get from him in these situations, but not tonight. Tonight, your boy just glances over his shoulder at you and smirks and licks his fucking lips. You almost come in your pants and now you really need that bus driver to hurry up and get the two of you back to the fucking hotel.
You strip out of your jacket and change into a white tee shirt, but leave on the black slacks and boots. You figure, in your current state, jeans would be a very bad idea.
The others change, partially or fully, into street clothes, all but David. He's still wearing the short-sleeved oxford and black tie, his legs and ass molding the black dress pants into your own personal wet dream. You try to put a few people between the two of you in the line on the way back to the bus because, really, it would not be good to attack him while he's signing autographs for twelve-year olds.
By the time you finally arrive on the bus, you think you might be dying. You want him so bad you can taste it and he's still teasing, still looking back at you every couple of minutes and licking those perfect lips and turning his mouth up at the corner and enticing you and dammit! Even naked Barbara isn't doing it anymore.
"You okay, mate?" Michael asks you from his seat next to you on the bus. You have a pillow over your lap (real subtle, Cook) and you realize when he speaks that you are smashing the damned thing down. You ease up a little on the cushion and nod.
"Yeah, yeah, tired," you mutter and Michael gives you a weird look before turning back to whatever conversation he was having with Carly.
The bus pulls to a stop at the hotel and you bound off of it, grabbing the key you're given and throwing your duffel bag over your shoulder as you trot into the lobby ahead of the others.
"Doesn't seem too tired to me," you hear Michael say behind you and then he and Carly are laughing. You don’t even slow down, just hoping that David gets his ass upstairs really fucking quick.
-=-=-=-=-
Your room is right next door to David's, mostly because you switched with Chikezie earlier in the night, but you still think it might be fate. Because you have a connecting door between your room and his and thank God you don’t have to walk back out into the hallway.
You've already taken your boots and shirt off and you're sitting barefoot on your bed in just the black pants you wore on stage that night. Your ears perk up when you hear David moving around in the next room and you listen for just a moment more to make sure that Jeff hasn't come back with him. When you are sure he's alone, you go to the connecting door and knock.
David opens the door smiling, still in that fucking outfit and his grin lights his entire face. His eyes move from your face to your bare chest, all the way down to your bare feet and you see him gulp in a mouthful of air as his tongue swipes over his lips again.
"Fuck, Archie," you growl, unable to hold back for one more second. You swoop forward, pulling him into your room and against you, your mouth landing hard against his and sucking the air from his lungs. You sway slightly when you finally come up for oxygen, feeling dizzy and intoxicated by him.
"Mmm, missed you," he purrs against your neck and your knees nearly buckle as his tongue comes out to lick your skin, and your eyes flutter shut as you arch beneath him.
"Good lord . . ." you moan. "Archie . . ." you hiss as you manage to walk the two of you backwards until your knees hit the mattress. "God, baby, between you and that fucking outfit, I'm gonna have to sit down," you tell him huskily.
He giggles and pulls back to look down at you. His hands reach up to travel down the front of his shirt and he grins as he asks, "You like it, huh?"
"You little tease," you chide, but you can't help returning the smile. And then, he's biting his lip and sitting in your lap and you're playing with his tie and he's looking at you with that playful smirk and it's almost too much. "Fuck, Arch, you look so damned sexy . . ." you hiss as you wrap the tie through your fingers and give it a gentle tug, pulling his mouth down to yours.
You fall back onto the bed, David coming down atop you and kissing you hungrily. You explore each other's mouths and your hand travels down his chest, fondling the buttons on his shirt and ending at his belt buckle. His hands are busy, too, one tangling in your hair and the other sliding down your chest and caressing the heated skin.
He pulls back first this time, panting against you as he rests his forehead to yours. "Wow . . . if I'd known you would like this outfit so much I would have complained about the cardigan much sooner," he says.
"What, too hot?" you ask and you can't think of anything hotter than what he's wearing now, but that's another story entirely.
"Itchy," he says. "And, you know, I was tired of Michael calling me 'the boy who lived'," he giggles.
"Hmm, I guess I owe Mikey a beer, then," you say as you capture his lips again.
"You really like this so much?" he asks after the kiss ends. "I mean, it's just a shirt and tie. You've seen me in one before."
You shake your head and your eyes travel over him again. Then you push him over to lie next to you and roll to kneel above him, hands wandering down his body as you say, "Not like this, babe. Not all . . . tight, and . . . damn, just fucking hot." He blushes and you can't help but laugh. "And what was that out on stage tonight?" you ask. "You were fucking teasing me, Archuleta," you accuse and his blush deepens as another giggle bubbles up.
"I . . . I dunno, you were looking at me and . . . I just, I really missed you in L.A.," he admits and you know the feeling. You thought two days would be fine, no big deal. But, fuck, two days lasted forever. It was kind of ridiculous how much you missed him, really.
"We're screwed when the tour's over," you tell him.
He looks sad, suddenly, and you instantly regret the words. "I . . . I know," he stutters and his eyes dart down, looking at your hands pressed to his chest and you feel him draw in a shaky breath and bite his lower lip and, God, you love him so much.
"Hey," you say softly as you reach up to touch his cheek. He meets your eyes again and you smile as you say, "We'll work it out." He smiles a little, too, and you lean in to kiss him again.
This time the kiss is slow and sensual, your tongues tangling and your hands roaming over each other, mapping each other's bodies. You swivel your hips and brush his erection with you own and he squirms deliciously as you swallow both of your moans. He's bucking upward, straining for more contact, and you can't deny him anything. You reach down and rub his cock through those pants and he arches into your hand, his lips leaving yours as his head falls back, his eyes shut.
"Archie," you murmur as you lick and suck at his exposed neck. "I wanna make you feel good . . . I wanna show you how much I've missed you." He looks up at you with lust-clouded eyes and your heart clenches again because, fuck, he's beautiful. "I wanna show you how much I love you," you say softly and his eyes grow soft as he puts his hands around your neck and pulls you forward for another toe-curling kiss.
You travel down his body slowly, along his jaw, down the pale column of his throat, over his Adam's apple and into the dent of his collarbone through his shirt. You carefully pull the tie free and undo a few of the buttons on his shirt, running your mouth back over that spot again, now unbidden. Your tongue travels over the soft skin and he's keening against you, making little whimpering noises and pressing his hips up in desperation. You smile against his skin and move lower, turning your attention to his chest as you slowly expose it.
You're careful with the buttons because you don’t want there to be any reason that he can't wear this outfit for the remainder of the tour. You know that, on the days when the two of you are pulled apart for reasons beyond either of your control, the thought of David in this outfit is going to provide much fuel for your fantasies. You stop thinking about that now, though. Who needs fantasies when reality is right here, writhing against you and begging you to touch him, anywhere, everywhere . . . You groan and lower your mouth to his chest.
He moans when you circle his nipple with your lips, your teeth scraping the sensitive bud to pull an even louder sound from his throat. He reaches down and runs his fingers through your hair and the gentle tugging urges you on. You move to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment and pulling the same strangled moans from David's mouth.
"Uhhhh, yeah . . ." he cries as his erection brushes your belly and you can feel the heat even through two layers of clothing. You almost give in and reach down to push his pants aside, but you want to make this last, to make him beg. Just the thought almost makes you lose control on the spot.
"Taste so good, baby," you say over the skin of his tight belly. "Missed you . . . so much." You swirl your tongue in his belly button and he bucks against you, one hand fisted in your hair and the other fisted in the sheets. "I'm gonna make you scream, Archie," you say with a quirk of your lips and his reply is a guttural groan that makes you throb.
You move all the way down the bed, making him let go of your hair as you move all the way to his feet and slowly untie his shoes and slip them off. You pull off his socks as well and then crawl back onto the bed. You're crouched between his knees and looking down at him and, again, you are struck by how gorgeous this boy really is. He's lying there with his shirt unbuttoned and his tie hanging loose, his chest exposed and still glistening from the trail your mouth had taken down it moments before. His erection is pressing against those tight pants and he's squirming a little, looking up at you with hooded eyes and panting breath and then he says, "Please," and you're fucking lost.
You run your hands up the outside of his thighs and lean forward to lick at the skin below his navel. He's arching against you again and his clothed dick bumps your chin, making you both groan.
"Oh, I . . . oh gosh . . . please, Cook . . ." His words and his voice are your undoing and you unhook the belt and unbutton his trousers, pulling down the zipper and giving him a little relief from the tight confines of the cotton.
You mouth his dick through the black boxers and he cries out sharply and his hand is back in your hair in an instant. He smells so good, sort of sweaty and musky and Archie. You've never been turned on by the way a guy fucking smells, but you're coming to realize that damned near everything about David Archuelta turns you on. You've learned not to fight it; it's easier to just give in.
"Ohhhh, please," he implores in a breathy whisper and you look up at him, your hand rubbing him lightly as you meet his eyes.
"Tell me what you want, baby," you say and David's eyes darken with lust. You can see him struggling; he's still not entirely comfortable with these words. But you have to hear him say it; you need to hear it from his lips.
"Ohhh, gosh . . . mmm, please."
"Please what, Archie? What do you want me to do to you?" you ask hoarsely and when he looks back at you, you know he's going to say it and it's probably the hottest thing you've ever heard.
"Suck me," he breathes. "Please . . . please . . ."
It's you who groans at the words and your hands yank at his boxers to shove them down and you lower yourself to the junction of his thighs and take him into your mouth. He whines out a low cry of pleasure and you go lower, taking him as deep as you can, running your tongue and lips over him and losing yourself completely to your desire.
He pushes upward and you keep one hand on his hip and the other wrapped around the base of his cock as you lick and suck and tease him to the brink. He's making these noises that are driving you insane and you actually think you might lose it and come in your pants and, fuck, that would be embarrassing. And, probably, a little hot, too.
You let your hand slide from his hip and bring it to his lips, letting him suck your fingers and that, too, makes your pants grow tighter. You bring the slick fingers to his entrance and run the tip of your finger around the muscle and he bucks into your mouth at the touch. You take him all the way into your mouth as you slide one finger into him and push forward.
"Uhhhhh," he groans. "Oh, yeah, ohhhh."
You find that sensitive spot inside him and he's clenching around you and coming and screaming and you hold onto him and ride out the pleasure with him. When it's over, he collapses back onto the bed and you crawl back up to lay beside him, laying kisses over his face and pulling him to curl against you.
He nuzzles into you, his body warm and pliant, and says, "I love you," in a hushed, reverent tone. You press your lips to his forehead, just at his hairline, and your throat closes around the same words.
Later, after he's stripped you out of your dress pants and used his tongue on you in ways that you are sure the church would never approve of, you roll him onto his side and curl up behind him and enter him. And it's good and right and perfect, the way he fits against you and the way he pushes back as you push forward and the way your head on his shoulder and your arm around his waist feel like they were made for each other.
"Love you," you rasp against his skin and he reaches his hand up to cover yours on his hip and you fall, spilling into him and clutching him and wrapping your whole world up in this perfect, perfect boy that means everything. You fall asleep with him still fit against you, warm and soft and yours.
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The End
July 26, 2008
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