Power & Control

15: Think About Us

~A

There was something different about tonight.

Not in the crowd, but on the stage. I couldn't find the words to explain it, but the second I stepped onto the stage I had this chill running down my spine. At first I dismissed it and blamed it on the little fabric I was covered in, but it was still there after the first song, where I could feel the room becoming hotter with every passing second.

Or maybe that was because of everything that happened prior to the show.

But I tried to block the memories out, focus on doing my job and giving the fans a show worthy of their money. But every now and then, whenever I'd make the mistake of letting my gaze fall too much towards my right side, I'd catch a glimpse of that cobalt blue even through all the different lights, my mind immediately flashing to the memory of those same eyes peering up at me from between my legs right before the show. So I'd tear my gaze away in an instant, making sure my voice wouldn't waver.

Maybe I enjoyed that sight way more than I should have, because just thinking about it had my skin feeling like it was alight.

The beaming lights, all in hues of reds and purples illuminated everything around me, blinding me enough to make the crowd look like a blur of faces. I'm not gonna sit here and pretend I'm some saint, because I'm not. I've done drugs. But nothing ever got me as high as this, as being on stage, singing the words I wrote, to the melodies I created. Every time I did a show, I'd feel the adrenaline of it coursing through my veins.

But tonight, that adrenaline had skyrocketed. I don't know if that was because of Niall, but I didn't care. All that I cared about was how light I felt, how into the music I was and how my body would move with it, the silk material of my dress clinging to my skin so snug, so softly. And I realised halfway through the show that the sweat coating me wasn't just from the lights. No.

It was from his touch, from the way he knew exactly what to do to have me writhing, begging for him. Just his presence so close to me on the stage, the way I could feel his eyes burning into my back every passing second. And in the rare occasions I'd allow myself to face him, just for a couple of seconds to not trigger any suspicions, I'd be able to spot the glimmer in those deep blue eyes of his when they met mine, the lust when they'd travel to my chest, wrapped tightly in the shiny purple fabric enough for the faint lines of the piercings on my nipples to show, just how he knew they would. And maybe he was right, maybe I was planning on wearing it tonight just to spite him. But now that we were here, after he had pleasured me without getting, without asking for anything in return, I was reminded he had still been left without finding any form of release, and I was the cause of it.

The thought of what he had been cleverly hiding behind the large red Gibson had me smirk to myself as I glanced at him during his guitar solo in 505, that urge to taunt him, tease him even more knowing he'd be affected and unable to do anything about it overtaking me. And I knew exactly how, because Serial Killer was next on the track list.

He so stupidly let me know exactly how to get to him. He let me in on a secret he shouldn't have, because I could use it to my advantage every night if I wanted to. I just hoped that now that he knew what it was like being with me, it wouldn't work less than it did before.

I didn't let that possibility stop me. I danced to the sensual beat of the song, allowing my flirty side to shine through a little more than usual, but I didn't look towards him once. When the time for the bridge came, I dropped to my knees at the edge of the stage, looking at the crowd. With my legs spread enough to be provocative, but not too much where I'd risk showing anything, I rolled my head and leaned back, arching my back. I moaned into the microphone.