Fic: "Oversleeping"; Robert/Kristen
"Oversleeping"
RPF. Robert Pattinson/Kristen Stewart. NC-17. 1,597 words.
Summary: Why Rob was late to the Cosmo Girl shoot.
Note: I've been wanting to write this since I read that article when Rob was really late to the photoshoot/interview and he said he overslept. Um, I tried a slight different style of writing than my usual. Maybe it works, maybe it doesn't. :/
The first thing he was aware of was soft lips grazing his chest, a back and forth motion that tickled a little, but in a good way. He’d enjoy it more except there was a very loud and very annoying beeping in his ear.
“Make it stop.” A sleepy voice said from his chest.
It was four pm according to his alarm clock. He pressed the button once. It kept beeping. He balled his hand into a fist, slammed it down. Still beeping. He made a violent swipe at the stupid thing and it crashed onto the floor. Silence.
Until the giggling.
“You broke it.”
“It wouldn’t stop. It was broken anyway.”
He looked down, a pair of green eyes met his, her chin propped on his chest.
“You have to go,” she said it matter of factly but he caught the look in her eye, the sad droop of her lips. He was getting good at this.
“No no I don’t.” He ran a hand down her back, feeling the smooth expanse of skin, pushing the sheet down so he could see more of her.
“Cosmo Girl awaits,” she grinned smugly, much too happy that he had to live through the torture while she didn’t. This time.
“I’ll be laughing in your face when they put you on the cover.” He put a finger to her lips. “Don’t protest. You know they will.”
“Hmph.”
“I’ll frame it. Put it right here,” he pointed at his now empty nightstand.
“I’ll give them the exclusive that Robert Pattinson can’t make a girl orgasm-”
His fingers found the sensitive parts of her waist. She squealed and tried to push off of his chest and at the same time fend off his attacking fingers. There was perhaps no greater day in his life than when he found out that Kristen was extremely ticklish. It was the same day that they first had sex.
“That’s not what you said last night. Or this morning. Or a couple hours ago.”
The sheet slipped off completely as she kicked violently, still trying to push his hands off.
“Stop!” She laughed.
He would have continued on like this except that he was distracted by her very arousing nakedness. And so he ceased his torture and pinned her down beneath him, holding her arms above her head.
“Need I remind you that it was only a few hours ago that I had you moaning and panting beneath me and declaring my name as synonymous with God?”
Her eyes darkened. “I think I do need a reminder.”
He dipped his head to her breast, taking her nipple between his lips.
“Ah!” She gasped as he swirled his tongue around the tip.
He released her arms, his hands eager to explore her. He was fascinated by every sound she made, every sigh, every whimper.
She pulled at his hair, forcing him to lift his head.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
“When have I ever had trouble finishing?”
“You’ll be late.”
He dipped one finger into her.
“And you’re very wet,” he pushed two more fingers in. “I can’t leave you like this, can I?”
“Rooob…” She groaned, gripping his shoulders and tossing her head back as he moved. This was where he wanted to stay. Right here in this room, dark in the middle of the day thanks to heavy curtains, on this bed.
He moves down, his mouth joins the fray, his tongue circles her clit. He’s addicted to this, to her. Her taste, her moans, the way she says his name when he applies just the right pressure with his tongue, the way she bucks hard against his face when he curves his fingers just so.
She’s coming hard, her muscles clenching around his fingers, keeping him in her. He laps her up, relishing her taste, her loud moans. Every moment like this deserves to be imprinted in his brain forever.
He moves up her body as she comes down, her muscles relaxing, loosening. He licks the tiny beads of sweat between her breasts, looks up and she’s gazing down at him through hooded eyelids, sated yet wanting.
“Rob,” she whispers.
And it’s one of those moments. Those movie moments that aren’t supposed to exist in real life without the script and the director controlling the story, the people. But he’s looking at her with her messy, tangled hair, beads of sweat on her forehead, bags under eyes because he’s barely let her sleep the whole time she’s been in his bed (almost a full forty-eight hours), and she’s just so achingly beautiful. She’s looking back at him and it just clicks, like every cell of his body intertwines with hers and her mind is completely open to him and there’s electricity crackling between them, connecting their bodies that are barely touching as he hovers over her. And he’s not into that sappy love stuff, not one to wax poetic, but he’s into her so he just doesn’t care about the rest.
He kisses her fiercely and she kisses back just as hard, her mouth parting, tongues tangling. Robert has discovered that when Kristen kisses, she really kisses. It’s like how she acts, turning off that overactive brain, losing herself completely, no room for thinking. She had made a whispered confession, on this very bed, between these sheets, that it hasn’t been like that with anybody else. And he can’t believe that he’s so fucking lucky.
His cock rubs against her thigh, so painfully hard. She moans into his mouth, pushes him until he’s on his back and sits up, straddling him. She positions herself, sinks onto him, bit by bit and fuck. He can never get over how tight she is, how wet. His hands grip her hips and she’s moving, he’s thrusting up, she pushes down and their bodies find a rhythm, moving in tandem. He forces his eyes open, needing to see her. Her tits are bouncing up down, her lips are parted, eyes closed in ecstasy. He wishes he could freeze time and live here, right here, in this moment, inside her.
But fuck, her muscles are clenching, squeezing him and he’s going to come. His hand slips down between them, rubbing her clit and she lets a delicious noise, somewhere between a whimper and a moan, starts moving faster.
“Come with me, Kristen,” he groans. And she’s there, clenching around him and he loses himself, spilling into her as his body shudders. He barely registers that he’s moaning and crying out her name, it intertwines with her moans, his own name spilling from her lips, filling up the silent room. He could blackout from this pleasure, he’s everywhere and nowhere at once but completely hers.
A moment passes. A second. A year. He’s gaining consciousness again, his taut muscles loosening. She slumps down onto him, burying her face in his neck, his arms wrap around her. They stay like that, their breathing slowing down.
“You’re so late,” she murmurs.
His arms tighten around her. “Who cares?”
“Kellan and Taylor might,” she pokes him. “You should shower.”
“We just did this morning.”
“Yeah. Then we fucked. Several times. You smell like sex.” It’s certainly not a complaint because she buries her nose into his chest, breathing him in.
“Join me?”
“You’ll be late.”
“I already am.”
“More late. Go,” she commands but it’s half hearted and she doesn’t move from her place on top of him.
Robert wonders if it’s possible to just exist in this cocoon they’ve been living in this past weekend, to just be and not have to worry about filming, interviews, photoshoots, fans, what this thing that they’re doing is and what the fuck they’re going to tell people. His phone starts ringing then and that’s his answer.
She groans and rolls off of him. He feels around on the floor until he finds the phone.
“Lo?” He grunts.
“Where the hell are you?? You’re an hour late…”
Robert winces and holds the phone away from his ear. The angry tirade of his publicist could go on for awhile. Kristen rolls her eyes, gestures for him to talk.
“Sorry,” he says, as sincerely as he can though he’s not sorry at all. “I, uh…overslept. I’ll be right there.”
“I’ve just pulled up outside of your building. Be out here in five minutes,” she demands.
He tosses the phone aside and jumps out of the bed, pulling on the first pair of boxers and pants that he sets sight on. He pulls a shirt on and sits on the bed to put his shoes on. Kristen sits up behind him, reaches around to fasten the buttons on his shirt.
“Kellan and Taylor are going to kill you,” she says, amusement in her voice, laced with tiredness.
He snorts. “Even with his martial arts bullshit, Taylor couldn’t hurt a fly if he wanted to.”
“I bet he was there right on the dot.”
“Well, the kid isn’t getting laid,” he twists slightly, kisses her. She pushes him off.
“Nooo Rob. You have to go.”
He stands up, stuffs his wallet and cellphone into his pockets. She flops onto her stomach, burying her face into his pillow. He can tell that she’s about to pass out.
“I’ll grab dinner on the way home.”
“Pizza,” she murmurs sleepily.
He kisses her bare shoulder, pulling the sheet up around her. She mutters something he can’t understand then her breathing evens out.
He forces himself to walk out the door without looking back, otherwise he might never leave. He definitely didn’t want to.
RPF. Robert Pattinson/Kristen Stewart. NC-17. 1,597 words.
Summary: Why Rob was late to the Cosmo Girl shoot.
Note: I've been wanting to write this since I read that article when Rob was really late to the photoshoot/interview and he said he overslept. Um, I tried a slight different style of writing than my usual. Maybe it works, maybe it doesn't. :/
The first thing he was aware of was soft lips grazing his chest, a back and forth motion that tickled a little, but in a good way. He’d enjoy it more except there was a very loud and very annoying beeping in his ear.
“Make it stop.” A sleepy voice said from his chest.
It was four pm according to his alarm clock. He pressed the button once. It kept beeping. He balled his hand into a fist, slammed it down. Still beeping. He made a violent swipe at the stupid thing and it crashed onto the floor. Silence.
Until the giggling.
“You broke it.”
“It wouldn’t stop. It was broken anyway.”
He looked down, a pair of green eyes met his, her chin propped on his chest.
“You have to go,” she said it matter of factly but he caught the look in her eye, the sad droop of her lips. He was getting good at this.
“No no I don’t.” He ran a hand down her back, feeling the smooth expanse of skin, pushing the sheet down so he could see more of her.
“Cosmo Girl awaits,” she grinned smugly, much too happy that he had to live through the torture while she didn’t. This time.
“I’ll be laughing in your face when they put you on the cover.” He put a finger to her lips. “Don’t protest. You know they will.”
“Hmph.”
“I’ll frame it. Put it right here,” he pointed at his now empty nightstand.
“I’ll give them the exclusive that Robert Pattinson can’t make a girl orgasm-”
His fingers found the sensitive parts of her waist. She squealed and tried to push off of his chest and at the same time fend off his attacking fingers. There was perhaps no greater day in his life than when he found out that Kristen was extremely ticklish. It was the same day that they first had sex.
“That’s not what you said last night. Or this morning. Or a couple hours ago.”
The sheet slipped off completely as she kicked violently, still trying to push his hands off.
“Stop!” She laughed.
He would have continued on like this except that he was distracted by her very arousing nakedness. And so he ceased his torture and pinned her down beneath him, holding her arms above her head.
“Need I remind you that it was only a few hours ago that I had you moaning and panting beneath me and declaring my name as synonymous with God?”
Her eyes darkened. “I think I do need a reminder.”
He dipped his head to her breast, taking her nipple between his lips.
“Ah!” She gasped as he swirled his tongue around the tip.
He released her arms, his hands eager to explore her. He was fascinated by every sound she made, every sigh, every whimper.
She pulled at his hair, forcing him to lift his head.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
“When have I ever had trouble finishing?”
“You’ll be late.”
He dipped one finger into her.
“And you’re very wet,” he pushed two more fingers in. “I can’t leave you like this, can I?”
“Rooob…” She groaned, gripping his shoulders and tossing her head back as he moved. This was where he wanted to stay. Right here in this room, dark in the middle of the day thanks to heavy curtains, on this bed.
He moves down, his mouth joins the fray, his tongue circles her clit. He’s addicted to this, to her. Her taste, her moans, the way she says his name when he applies just the right pressure with his tongue, the way she bucks hard against his face when he curves his fingers just so.
She’s coming hard, her muscles clenching around his fingers, keeping him in her. He laps her up, relishing her taste, her loud moans. Every moment like this deserves to be imprinted in his brain forever.
He moves up her body as she comes down, her muscles relaxing, loosening. He licks the tiny beads of sweat between her breasts, looks up and she’s gazing down at him through hooded eyelids, sated yet wanting.
“Rob,” she whispers.
And it’s one of those moments. Those movie moments that aren’t supposed to exist in real life without the script and the director controlling the story, the people. But he’s looking at her with her messy, tangled hair, beads of sweat on her forehead, bags under eyes because he’s barely let her sleep the whole time she’s been in his bed (almost a full forty-eight hours), and she’s just so achingly beautiful. She’s looking back at him and it just clicks, like every cell of his body intertwines with hers and her mind is completely open to him and there’s electricity crackling between them, connecting their bodies that are barely touching as he hovers over her. And he’s not into that sappy love stuff, not one to wax poetic, but he’s into her so he just doesn’t care about the rest.
He kisses her fiercely and she kisses back just as hard, her mouth parting, tongues tangling. Robert has discovered that when Kristen kisses, she really kisses. It’s like how she acts, turning off that overactive brain, losing herself completely, no room for thinking. She had made a whispered confession, on this very bed, between these sheets, that it hasn’t been like that with anybody else. And he can’t believe that he’s so fucking lucky.
His cock rubs against her thigh, so painfully hard. She moans into his mouth, pushes him until he’s on his back and sits up, straddling him. She positions herself, sinks onto him, bit by bit and fuck. He can never get over how tight she is, how wet. His hands grip her hips and she’s moving, he’s thrusting up, she pushes down and their bodies find a rhythm, moving in tandem. He forces his eyes open, needing to see her. Her tits are bouncing up down, her lips are parted, eyes closed in ecstasy. He wishes he could freeze time and live here, right here, in this moment, inside her.
But fuck, her muscles are clenching, squeezing him and he’s going to come. His hand slips down between them, rubbing her clit and she lets a delicious noise, somewhere between a whimper and a moan, starts moving faster.
“Come with me, Kristen,” he groans. And she’s there, clenching around him and he loses himself, spilling into her as his body shudders. He barely registers that he’s moaning and crying out her name, it intertwines with her moans, his own name spilling from her lips, filling up the silent room. He could blackout from this pleasure, he’s everywhere and nowhere at once but completely hers.
A moment passes. A second. A year. He’s gaining consciousness again, his taut muscles loosening. She slumps down onto him, burying her face in his neck, his arms wrap around her. They stay like that, their breathing slowing down.
“You’re so late,” she murmurs.
His arms tighten around her. “Who cares?”
“Kellan and Taylor might,” she pokes him. “You should shower.”
“We just did this morning.”
“Yeah. Then we fucked. Several times. You smell like sex.” It’s certainly not a complaint because she buries her nose into his chest, breathing him in.
“Join me?”
“You’ll be late.”
“I already am.”
“More late. Go,” she commands but it’s half hearted and she doesn’t move from her place on top of him.
Robert wonders if it’s possible to just exist in this cocoon they’ve been living in this past weekend, to just be and not have to worry about filming, interviews, photoshoots, fans, what this thing that they’re doing is and what the fuck they’re going to tell people. His phone starts ringing then and that’s his answer.
She groans and rolls off of him. He feels around on the floor until he finds the phone.
“Lo?” He grunts.
“Where the hell are you?? You’re an hour late…”
Robert winces and holds the phone away from his ear. The angry tirade of his publicist could go on for awhile. Kristen rolls her eyes, gestures for him to talk.
“Sorry,” he says, as sincerely as he can though he’s not sorry at all. “I, uh…overslept. I’ll be right there.”
“I’ve just pulled up outside of your building. Be out here in five minutes,” she demands.
He tosses the phone aside and jumps out of the bed, pulling on the first pair of boxers and pants that he sets sight on. He pulls a shirt on and sits on the bed to put his shoes on. Kristen sits up behind him, reaches around to fasten the buttons on his shirt.
“Kellan and Taylor are going to kill you,” she says, amusement in her voice, laced with tiredness.
He snorts. “Even with his martial arts bullshit, Taylor couldn’t hurt a fly if he wanted to.”
“I bet he was there right on the dot.”
“Well, the kid isn’t getting laid,” he twists slightly, kisses her. She pushes him off.
“Nooo Rob. You have to go.”
He stands up, stuffs his wallet and cellphone into his pockets. She flops onto her stomach, burying her face into his pillow. He can tell that she’s about to pass out.
“I’ll grab dinner on the way home.”
“Pizza,” she murmurs sleepily.
He kisses her bare shoulder, pulling the sheet up around her. She mutters something he can’t understand then her breathing evens out.
He forces himself to walk out the door without looking back, otherwise he might never leave. He definitely didn’t want to.