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David and Selena somehow end up in the same limo after the after-party. David’s not really sure why that happened, one minute they were winning, and the next minute Selena was giggling, holding her shoes in one hand, her Emmy under one elbow, and David’s hand in her other. She tumbles into the leather seat after him, pressed up against him, her right hand fumbling for balance on the other side of David’s legs, still giggling against him.
Selena leans over, the light material of her dress swishing. She smells like champagne and that perfume she wears every day, vanilla and sweet. David touches his fingers to her cheek, flushed even beneath the makeup, her pupils blown out.
"I think," she half-whispers. He can't seem to look away from her still glossy mouth, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. "I think --"
"Yeah?" he asks, glancing away from her mouth long enough to look her in the eye for a moment.
"I think I might be a little tipsy."
“You think?” David tries not to laugh at her, but he can’t help but grin broadly.
“I’ve never been drunk before.” She pouts a little, shoving his shoulder. “We don’t all get to judge bikini contests in Puerto Rico, dude.”
“You’re not drunk,” David reassures her, and she’s still leaning around him, her bare shoulders glinting with the street lights outside.
“Oh, yeah?” she challenges, raising her eyebrows. “I might be.”
“You’re not.”
“If I wasn’t drunk would I do this?”
And then before he has a chance to react or think at all, she’s leaning in and catching his upper lip between her two, her lip gloss sweet against the tip of his tongue. Selena is kissing him. Sel. The girl he’s spent the last three years joking around with, pulling pranks, yanking her pigtails, having burping contests. Here she is, all grown up, and fucking beautiful tonight, and she’s kissing him while she tastes like strawberry and champagne.
David kisses her back, because, well. Because it’s Selena and he kind of realises the second he can taste her that he’s wanted to do this for a really long fucking time. Back when Nick was dating her and she was walking around set in his Costello shirt, smelling like him instead of like Selena. Not that he’s spent a lot of time pining, far from it. But he just really fucking wants to kiss her right now.
He wraps a hand around her waist, the shimmering fabric almost papery against his palm. She sighs into his mouth and shifts closer, opening her mouth more and he takes the invitation to slip his tongue between her lips, stroking it against her own, across the roof of her mouth. He grips her a little tighter when she makes a whimpering noise and shifts so that her hips are resting on his legs.
“Mmph,” Selena pulls her mouth away from his, staring at him, her lips swollen and pink, the gloss worn away. She lets her polished nails stroke across his hairline, trailing down until she’s pulling at his lower lip with the pad of her finger. “You’re a really good kisser,” she mumbles, her voice low and soft.
He leans up against, cradling her hips in his hands, moving her to sit on his lap more fully, making the angle better so he can kiss her deeper. She rolls her hips a little, pressing down against his half-hard cock, teasing it so it jerks, fills quickly. He moans, pulls his mouth away from hers, reaching up to wrap his hands around her cheeks.
“Hey, hey, Sel,” he mumbles, trying to speak even though she’s frantically still kissing his, his cheek, his jaw, his neck. She tilts his hips up again and his mind tries to fritz out. “Look, hey, we’re – we’re in the back of a limo and you’ve had champagne and --“
“David,” she says, still mouthing at is jaw, nipping and lick at the soft underside. “Please shut up.”
She leans up and kisses him again, hard, bruising, teeth grabbing at his lower lip and tugging. He groans and just goes for it. Sel’s always been good at making up her own mind, always known exactly what she’s wanted and gone for it, usually gotten it. So he’s just gonna trust her on this. Plus, god, she just keeps squirming and rocking, pressing down on him, and she obviously knows what she’s doing, knows exactly what she’s doing to him.
Her hands are everywhere, in his hair, tugging at his tie, completely undoing the already loose knot, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his dress shirt. Her mouth follows, sucking at his pulse. She’s probably leaving hickeys, but oh well, they won’t be his first. He rubs her thighs beneath the crepey material of her dressing, letting his thumbs slide inwards, waiting for her to stop him, waiting for her to let him know he’s going too far.
But she slides her hand down the button placket of his shirt, pulling it loose from his tuxedo pants. He expects her to slip her hands around his stomach, maybe scratch at his back a little, but she reaches further down, cupping his dick through the fabric of his pants, squeezing it like a test. He bucks up into her hand, groaning.
“Jesus fuck, Sel.” He tilts his head back, sucking in deep breaths. “What are you doing?”
“Are you new?” Her voice is sarcastic, dry, calm and steady, clear. As if to emphasize her point she reaches for the button of his pants, pulling it loose. His head darts up, looking at her with wide eyes. She just smirks and slides his zipper down, slow, steady, the noise freakishly loud.
“We’re in a limo,” he points out. Not like he’s never fooled around in a limo before, he’s been to prom. But they’re in a limo, in the middle of L.A., right after an Awards show where they won a fucking Emmy, and his 17 year old costar as her hands – oh God, has her hands wrapped around his insanely hard cock. It’s just such a fucking stupid idea.
“We’re stopped,” she points out, smiling at him. “We’ll be stopped forever, everyone is leaving their after parties. And it’s L.A. on a freakin’ Friday night.”
She has a point, but mostly, she’s got her cock in her soft hand, holding him and stroking. Sel’s a smart girl. She wouldn’t lead him wrong. He grips her hips tighter, his fingers digging into her skin, and leans up to kiss her hard, running his tongue into her mouth, sucking on hers. She takes her hand away and he whimpers into her mouth, but she just keeps kissing him, grabs the skirt of her dress in her hand and rucks it up around her waist.
David’s not new to this, he knows what he’s doing, he brushes knuckles along her through the silk of her panties. Her eyelids flutter, her neck tilting, a small pleased moan sighing out of her mouth. He dips his fingers underneath the elastic, and God, she’s already all wet, hot beneath his fingertips. He pushes his thumb against her clit, circling and this time the moan is anything but a sigh, it’s loud, rolling in her chest. She squirms against him, trying to create her own friction, and God, he could look at her like this forever.
She bats his hand away, and before he can even be confused, she’s grabbing at the waist of her panties on either side of her legs, dragging them awkwardly down to her ankles while still straddling him and trying not to fall off of his lap. It would be funny, but suddenly David can’t seem to get a proper breath. She tosses the nude silk over her shoulder, settling her hands on his shoulders, and God, he can feel her heat right over his crotch. His cock twitches, straining against his boxers.
“Hey,” he says, because he’s not sure – well, it’s Sel, and she – and this is just pretty fucking huge and maybe they shouldn’t get too caught up in this Emmy-winning, slow-dancing, fancy clothes shit. But she lifts a finger against his lips, leaning in to kiss him while she pulls down the waist of his boxers, holding his cock and stroking it a few times. She’s not shaking at all, not remotely scared, no trembling. She’s like this bizarre sea of calm, and he’s about to fly apart.
She lifts up on her knees a little bit and he holds onto her waist, staring her directly in the eye as she positions him right on the cusp. And then all of the sudden he’s a little inside of her, just the tip of him. Her eyes squeeze shut and he can feel the way she’s already shifting around, trying to adjust to him. He holds her steady and eases her down until he’s all the way inside, she clenches around him, hot, wet, impossibly tight. He holds her there for a second, lets her breaths become less deep, her fingers clutch at his jacket lapel less desperately.
When she’s finally relaxed a little, he moves, slipping out of her just a little before thrusting back in. She grunts, a puff of air out of her nose, a clench of her eyelids, but she seems okay, and it doesn’t take long for her to follow his lead, rocking with him. She lifts herself on her knees to slide back down, taking him deeper, further, creating her own rhythm, leading. He kisses her neck, lets her control this, lets her do whatever the fuck she wants, because it’s all fucking amazing.
He thumbs at her clit, making her groan loudly, ride him harder. And God, his stomach is tightening, that good low-down warmth and pull letting him know he’s close. He tries to get her to stop, but she keeps going, doesn’t listen.
“Sel,” he mumbles, running his free hand along her cheek. “Come on, I don’t want to jizz on your dress, okay?”
“Then don’t,” she says, groaning deeply and angling her hips in a way that makes her gasp, tighten around him. He presses her clit, circling his thumb and then she’s coming. A high keening noise out of her mouth, her head flung back, a bead of sweat slipping down her neck, her hair loosening around her shoulders. God, she’s fucking beautiful. He’s just glad he got to see it before his own orgasm hits him hard and he has to shut his eyes and just ride it out.
He opens his eyes and she’s still on his lap, his dick softening inside of her. She’s flushed, her eyes heavy, pupils still blown out, soft pink lips parted. She’s looking at him in a sort of amazement like she can’t quite believe what just happened. So he leans in and kisses her. And she kisses him back.
She pulls away with a sigh and wraps her arms around his neck, leaning into him. Hugging him, while still straddling him in the back of a limo where he just fucked his 17 year old co-star in the middle of L.A. traffic. But, weirdly, it’s not that weird at all. She still smells like vanilla and champagne, and a little bit of sex, and it’s one of the greatest things he’s ever smelled in his life, and she just rests against him, sighing softly and kissing his neck.
“This is like –“ she murmurs against his neck, her voice worn and hoarse. “This is like the best night ever.”
He chuckles, but yeah. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to agree with you on that one.”
