Work Text:
You quite often spend time with Andrew in the studio. You aren't always paying attention to him, usually writing an essay or poem or highlighting another book to read for your thesis. But your presence is usually palpable, to him. Sometimes he curses the producers who feed suggestions to him when all he wants to do is open the door and grab you so that he can kiss you senseless.
On late nights, you often prove to be quite the distraction. Even if you, yourself, are absorbed in underlining sentences in articles, he is fixated on your presence, your fingers wrapped around your pen, how you worry the lid with your teeth as you read.
Most of the time, you really are just trying to work and keep him company as you do so. Tonight, though, seems to be an exception. You're wearing an outfit that shows more skin than usual, something he's now utterly convinced was intentional. He's noticed your tongue sneaking out of your mouth and wrapping itself around the pen, your fingers, whatever is nearby, in a manner that is positively sinful and certainly not a gesture of focus.
You're absentmindedly scanning the article, not really taking much in as you continue to lick and suck your finger. You jump when you feel his strong hands grip your hips and his body bracket yours. He leans down to whisper softly in your ear.
"Did you really think you could get away with teasing me like that and not get some kind of reaction?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"No?" He pauses, dipping his hands beneath your underwear before bringing them back up to show you the clear sign of your arousal dripping down his fingers. "Then why are you so fucking wet, love?" The way he licks your slick off his fingers almost has you coming undone right then and there.
"I- I- don't know."
"Hmm, I think you do. I think you know exactly what you've been doing to me." He pushes his fingers back into you again, drawing a sharp cry from you. His fingers move slowly, deliberately, reaching parts of you that only he can.
"Okay, okay, m-maybe I was teasing you just a little bit."
"Just what I thought. Well, I think you need to be taught a lesson, don't you?" A sharp gasp escapes your lips as he gently brushes your clit with his thumb, his fingers not stopping their movements,
"Y-yes, Andy."
"I really do need to finish this bit before we can head home."
"Fuck, Andy, please."
"I think, maybe it's my turn to do some teasing, hmm?" He grabs your hand and leads you back to the booth, settling himself down in a chair. You look down at him in confusion, still clinging onto his hand.
"Strip, love." His voice is clear and commanding, and if you weren't already soaked, you're sure there would be a puddle at your feet at the words.
You remove your clothes slowly, a little nervous, but his clear look of lust and adoration banishes the anxiety as fast as it came. When your body is on full display for him, he runs his hands over you, unable to get enough of you. His hands stop momentarily to pinch at your nipples and you gasp in pleasure. When his hands finally still, he looks up at you and pulls you down for a sweet, gentle kiss. You can't help but nibble on his lip as you lean into him. He keeps kissing you for a moment longer before pulling his lips from yours.
"Now, I need to finish this, so you're going to sit on my lap and not move until I tell you to. Do I make myself clear?"
"Y-yes."
"And as much as I usually like to hear all those pretty noises coming from you, you're going to have to be quiet for me. Can you do that, sweetheart?"
"Yes, Andrew."
"Good."
He pulls you close to him and you prepare to straddle him, but he holds you back. It isn't until he frees his cock from its confines that you realise precisely what he has in mind. You swallow hard, knowing how hard you're going to find it to keep quiet with his length inside you. He moves his hands to your hips and indicates that you should get yourself into position. You're barely able to stop the hiss that threatens to escape your mouth as you sink down onto him.
"You look so pretty sitting on me like this, love."
You blush at the praise and hold on to him for dear life as he picks up his guitar and begins to play around you.
You clench around him almost involuntarily as he begins to sing, and he gives you a sharp look. You're on thin ice and you know it. Lord knows he's not above teasing you and keeping you denied if you don't follow his instructions. This might just be one of the hottest things that's ever happened to you.
About 5 minutes later, you're leaking down onto his jeans, rough against you and you can hear the cocky energy in his voice as he sings the sweet melody. You're almost dizzy with the need to move, to kiss him, to do something.
As he softly sings the words "I'm in love, I'm in love with you" your heart stutters, and you can feel yourself let out a small gasp of surprise, muffled into his shoulder. He tilts his head down to look at you and shoot you a warning look, but you can feel him tense his biceps in the closest approximation to a hug he can give you in this position.
As he continues singing oh-so-gently, his body is at odds with the sounds emerging from his mouth. He's tensing his thighs beneath you and rolling his hips slightly and you find yourself biting down on his shoulder to stop yourself from crying out. The effort of keeping still and quiet has rendered you hyper-sensitive, so that the smallest movement could have you losing control. He is absolutely going to have words to say about those bite marks later, so you press a few gentle kisses to his t-shirt by way of apology. He doesn't skip a beat, instead tensing both his cock and his biceps in tandem, telling you he loves you, but that this little game is nowhere near over yet.
He rolls his hips with such force you have to stifle a squeak as he has the nerve to softly croon at you to be still. You swear you can hear a smirk in his voice as he sings about how unbreakable you are, though quaking, the bastard. Your body is shaking above his, muscles straining from the exertion to keep perfectly still. You want so badly to be good for him, to earn your release, but you don't know how much longer you can manage, at least not while keeping quiet.
As he sings the final chorus, he renews the movement of his hips and you bite down so hard you think you might draw blood. You're barely holding back a whimper, eyes rolling back in pleasure as he fucks into you, his voice not betraying a hint of strain. His control is unbelievable and does nothing to tamp down the arousal engulfing you. As you try to keep yourself in check, he whispers a soft "That's it" in your ear, still recording. He turns off the recording just before you lose yourself in the sensation and moan right in his ear.
He puts down his guitar and kisses you hungrily, as if he was the one being denied pleasure. When you moan on top of him and your hands find their way beneath his shirt, he pulls back, pure need in his eyes. He licks his lips and you can see him fight to get his lust under control before lifting you off him as if you weigh nothing.
"Get dressed baby, we need to head home so I can hear you make all those pretty noises you've been holding in."