What Happens Backstage - Part 9

River’s POV

Leo’s voice still rings in my head. “The new ship is Ash and River. That’s what the fans want now. That’s what we’ll give them.”
No, correction—that’s what he wants.

Ever since the storm game, he’s been showing up everywhere Ash and I are. Watching us rehearse. Watching us laugh, even when we’re not even touching. His eyes flick back and forth between us like we’re two actors in a play he directed. It’s flattering, I guess. Dangerous too.

I was already drowning when it was Ash and Micah. That kiss on stage. The way people screamed for them. I thought I’d go insane. Now suddenly I’m front and center, and Leo’s pulling strings like we’re his dolls.

I want to be happy. Ash chooses me now. But it feels like Leo’s shadow is always there.

On the bus, Jett nudges me when Ash sits down next to me, thigh pressing into mine.
“Careful, River,” Jett grins. “Leo might get jealous.”

Micah laughs from the bunk across. “Yeah, don’t let him catch you two rehearsing without permission. He’ll want a front-row seat.”

I flip them off, cheeks burning. Ash doesn’t even defend me—he just smirks, lips twitching like he’s holding back a laugh.

I hate how much I want to kiss him right then.

That night, after everyone’s gone quiet, Ash pulls me aside. “C’mon.”
We sneak into one of the small rehearsal rooms, lights off except for the faint glow from the hallway.

He leans against the wall, hair messy, shirt hanging loose. “You’ve been weird lately,” he says. “What’s going on?”

My mouth is dry. “What’s going on is Leo treating us like his new pets. Like this is some game for him.”

Ash steps closer, close enough I feel his breath. “Forget Leo.”
I want to. God, I want to.

When I don’t answer, he smirks, grabs my hips, and slams me back against the wall. The impact makes me gasp. His mouth is on mine before I can breathe, tongue hot and hungry, grinding me into the plaster.

I groan, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His thigh shoves between mine, and I can feel him—hard already, pressing against my hip.

“Fuck,” I whisper, trying to grind back, but he pins my wrists above my head.
“You’ve been jealous, haven’t you?” Ash growls. His lips move down my neck, biting, sucking. “Of Leo. Of Micah. Admit it.”

I arch against him, panting. “Yes. I hate how you let him watch. I hate that you kissed Micah like that.”

Ash pulls back just enough to look me in the eye, smirking. “But you love this.” He pushes harder against me, his cock rubbing my thigh. “You love me choosing you.”

I can’t stop moaning. “Yes. Fuck—yes.”

He lets go of my wrists, yanks my shirt over my head, and shoves me onto the rehearsal mat. In seconds, my pants are gone too, and he’s straddling me, grinding his clothed cock against mine. Precum stains spread fast, wet and hot between us.

“Beg for it,” he says, low, dangerous.

I buck my hips, shameless. “Please. I need you, Ash.”

He doesn’t hesitate—pulls my underwear down, spits in his hand, and strokes me once, slow, just to watch me twitch. Then he lines himself up and sinks down onto me, hard and fast.

I choke out a cry, grabbing his hips. “Ash—fuck—”

He rides me rough, slamming down until the mat squeaks. I can barely breathe, sweat dripping, his hair falling into his face.

“You wanted this so bad,” he pants. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes—God—yes.”

“Say it.”

“I wanted you. Not Micah. Not the fan shit. Just—fuck—you.”

Something shifts in his eyes then—softer, even as he keeps moving like he wants to break me. He leans down, kisses me deep, moaning into my mouth.

I’m close, too close, and when he whispers my name like it actually matters, I let go. Cum spills hot between us, over my stomach, onto his chest as he clenches around me and comes too, shuddering.

We collapse together, sticky, panting.

Ash presses his forehead to mine. “This isn’t for Leo. Or the fans.”
I nod, dizzy and ruined. “I know. It’s real this time.”

And for the first time, I actually believe it.