Writen for Chelsea, because she's an Ian Watkins pervert ;) LOVE YOU CHELSEA
Chelsea looked out of her window, her green eyes fixated on Ian. She felt her heart burn, she wanted to run outside and hold him close, tell him it would all be okay and that no matter what happened, she'd always love him, no matter what. She played it over in her mind for a while, wondering what would happen if he didn't feel the same - their friendship was too important to her. She glanced at the clock and then glued her eyes back on Ian, her heart racing, tears falling down her face. It was 4AM exactly. 'It's now or never' she thought, before opening the door and stepping out into the rain.
"IAN!" she cried, running towards him and flinging her arms around his neck before he had the chance to reply. She felt his muscles contract as he held onto her tightly, his eyes red and vision blurry. "Get inside before you catch your fucking death!" Chelsea ordered. Ian was too lifeless to argue, he dragged his feet and trudged inside. Chelsea followed and locked the door behind them both. 'This is it, just tell him, Chels.'
Ian flopped down onto the black leather couch. "Right you, get upstairs and in the shower. I'll go find you something dry to wear, okay? You'll get pnumonia if you stay like that." Chelsea looked at the man infront of her, his tear-stained face, his bloodshot eyes - there was something... almost... erotic about it. She marched him upstairs and peered out of the corner of her eyes as he peeled his leather jacked and tshirt off. She turned to him. "Ian..." she murmured, looking at the floor. "Yeah?" he replied, looking straight at her. "I..." she cut herself off with a sigh "You'll take this the wrong way..." she looked up at him, their faces merely centimeters apart. Much to Chelsea's suprize, it was Ian who made the first move, his soft, but deathly cold lips pressed against hers, sending shivers down her spine. He pulled her flush to him and began to fiddle with her belt buckle. Seconds later, they were both naked as the day they were born. Ian's body was freezing cold and the places that weren't inked were extremely pale, which made Chelsea worry that he was already sick. 'Oh well, we can sort that out later...' Ian dragged Chelsea into her bedroom and fell backwards onto her bed, pulling her with him, their tounges dancing and twirling with eachother, both bodies were covered with hundreds of tiny goosebumps, the passion was flailing around the room like the insides of a party popper that had just been released. Ian knelt over Chelsea and looked into her twinkling green eyes, "I love you, so much that it hurts." he whispered, nibbling at her ear, his words entering her brain as if they were her own. "I love you too." she smiled. Ian looked down and gently entered her, apologising constantly for the discomfort. She threw her head back and moaned lightly. "F...fucking hell, Ian!" Ian began to thrust lightly, getting harder and harder, faster and faster, deeper and deeper with each one. His body began to shake as he released into her, Chelsea following just seconds later, before they both collapsed in eachothers arms, breathing heavily. The exchanges of the words I love you circled around the room for 10 minutes afterwards before Chelsea closed her eyes and fell asleep, her head resting on Ian's chest, which was rising and falling with every breath as he watched her sleep.