Surround

The beat still pounded in her head, she still felt it threading its way through her body and stimulating her nerve endings. The raucous polyphonic backstage crowd enhanced the effect the chaos had upon her body. She leaned against a rock wall, grateful for its cooling properties. She was sure that he had pointed at her in the crowd. Her heat-addled brain wasn't helping her recall whether it had been a dream or reality. Afterall, it wasn't as if she had to contend with a posse of bodyguards at such a small gig. Screw it, she thought. Either way, she was going to go into that dressing room.

She knocked once but didn't wait for an answer and let herself slip in. The room was dim, lit by candles only. She could tell that they were hand-made and would cost a fortune at a new-age store. Only the best for rock stars, she supposed. She glanced to the only other feature in the room. He was waiting for her, there, on his bed. He eyes pinned to her, never deviating from her form.

“How long have you been waiting?” she asked, timidly.

“For-bloody-ever,” he growled like a panther. But it wasn't menacing, it was more of a low groan from the pit of his stomach. It made her toes curl. Suddenly he was no longer on the bed, but instead standing in front of her, hand on either side of her body, leaning into her, touching her body with his.

“Is this what you want? Do you want to fuck a rock god?” he whispered into her ear. She shivered, desperate to have his hands touch the places his voice traveled. His face drew near hers once more, his clear, black eyes focused on her.

“God, yes,” she affirmed. Taking the initiative, she captured his lips between her own. Her blood rushed between her ears, dimming out any noises aside from the gasps torn from their mouths and buffered by their nipping teeth. The kisses were brutal and demanding. Her hands entangled themselves in his hair. His beard scratched her face but it reminded her that what she was feeling was real.

At some point in their snogging, he had managed to pry her off of the wall, waddle her over to the bed and lay her down there. To all of these things, she was oblivious. She just wanted more. Her id had been put into overdrive. His body covered hers as they began removing clothing. She felt skin-on-skin and cried out in pleasure. The sensation of her nipples rubbing against his chest created sensitive peaks. Her partner massaged her breasts and worked his way down her body. Kissing behind the ear, the throat, paying close attention to the slight depression at the base of her throat, kissing across her shoulders and finally taking a nipple into his mouth.

As he played with her breasts, she ran her nails up and down his shoulders and spine, eliciting wonderful gasps, murmurs from him and raising goosebumps on his skin. He climbed back up her body.

“Say it,” he softly demanded.

She desperately tried to recall what she was supposed to say. Damn it, what was her line?

“Say it, Claire” he repeated, this time taking her thigh in his hand and positioning himself above her entrance.

“Oh Charlie. You rock god. Legendary bassist of all time. Oh please give it to me,” she begged him. He thrust into her and she lost the ability to speak or think or reflect upon her true surroundings. The only thing that surrounded her in this world was him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

She was laying in his embrace, cuddled against his chest as if she were the most important thing in his entire world. She could hear his breathing change and she knew that he was awake too.

“We should do that more often, Charlie,” she said. She pulled the tattered airplane blanket up over her shoulder.

“I agree, love. So I have this idea about a naughty Australian Catholic schoolgirl and her stern teacher. Whaddya think?”