(no subject)

[cheerleader]

I. Scent

It's late one night when they're crashing about two hours outside of Nashville when Johnnie can't seem to get enough of burying his face in her hair. She thinks it's cute, laughing softly as she playfully leans away as his nose tickles at her ear. After partying hard in Nashville for nearly a week, they're due a night of just calm cuddling. Of course, as things tend to go between them, that calm cuddling has already turned into him making her come twice over tonight. Once with his hand, and then again with his mouth. That talented mouth of his is currently working at her earlobe, making her shiver even as she laughs at how it tickles.

"Baby, what are you doing? It's like you're setting up camp there tonight."

He really is focused on her hair, and as endearing as it is, it distracts her from being able to return the favor. She has every intention of pinning him down and having her way with him, but he latches on with the cuddles and his face buried in her hair and she all too easily gives in to his whims. That includes not pressing him for an answer when he just nips at her earlobe and whispers something about how she smells even better than she tastes.

"You must like strawberry as much as I do," she points out. "It's the scent of my shampoo and conditioner."

"Maybe I do," Johnnie easily counters, nudging his nose against her ear. If all strawberries smell as sweet as she did right now, then yeah. He sure as hell loved strawberries.

That's why it's such a disappointment when a few weeks later, he notices her hair smells like the bar of soap he picked up for himself. It's definitely not strawberry, and that's what he's come to expect as her signature scent. It's downright her essence, soft and pink and sugary sweet. And she doesn't say anything to ask him for more, but he sees the empty containers in the bathroom trash. It's when a week goes by and she never once even hints that she'd like more that he takes matters into his own hands. His girl should have everything she ever needs or wants, and if he can't provide her with something simple like the kind of soap she likes then he's doing something wrong.

The next town they're in, he leaves Chrissy sleeping in one morning. He ain't much of a morning person himself, but he forces himself to be just this once. While she's sleeping off a hangover, he finds the one and only little store this shitty town has to offer. And he grabs a few necessities before he gets himself some more cigarettes. His little purchase is tucked into one of the bike's saddlebags, nice and safe until he's able to give it to her later.

Over the next few days, he's sure to drop hints about strawberries and pink things here and there, just to see if she'll cave and ask him for more of her soap. It's not like he needs her to want it, but maybe he just wants her to stop being so damn selfless all the time and demand some things from him every once in a while. And okay, maybe he really enjoys the scent of artificial strawberry radiating off of her, just as sweet and innocent as she is.

When she never does even bring up she's out, his patience wears thin and he winds up tossing her a paper sack after they check in at a roadside motel on their way to the New England seashore. They're still a few hours away from being anywhere near the beach she's so desperate to see, and while he's making good on providing her with that, he wants to provide her with other things too. She's clearly not expecting a gift, because she looks genuinely surprised as he urges her to look in the bag.

He has to admit there's a swell of something when she pulls out one bottle then the next, both shampoo and conditioner bubblegum pink and ready for her to make use out of them. Like every time he does something little, she's genuinely thrilled. Grinning that toothy grin of hers, she leaps out of bed and practically tackles him so she can pepper kisses all over his face.

It's later, after he fucks her against the motel room wall, he pulls her into the bathroom and guides her into the shower. He washes her entire body from head to toe, paying careful attention to getting every strand of her hair taken care of. And when they fall into bed together, a tangle of limbs, he once again buries his face in her damp hair. The scent of strawberry fills his lungs, and he doesn't even mind when she laughs at how he sighs contentedly.

He's got it bad, but at least his girl smells exactly like she should again. Sugary sweet, and all his.

II. Taste

It's surprisingly hard to find strawberry lip balm in the 1960's. They're stuck there for a while, though Chrissy is reluctant to use the word "stuck". New York in 1968 is fun enough, but after Johnnie's gift of strawberry shampoo and conditioner she's been missing her strawberry lip smackers. It's not like she really needs it, she knows. But she wants to kiss him tasting just as good as she smells. And when she explains this to him one day, he seems to get on board.

When they stop at a roadside diner at one in the morning, he buys her a strawberry milkshake. Kissing her with the taste of that on her lips is nice, but not as satisfying for her as he thinks she'd like it to be.

It's the same story when they find strawberry bubble gum. She chews it for a while as they hop over and through puddles that remain on the busy New York City sidewalks after a late spring rainstorm. He surprises her by pulling her beneath a pink and white striped awning of a flower shop when the rain starts coming down. They're huddled close and the mood is right, and no one here gives a shit what they do. Maybe they can't even be seen right now, he doesn't give a fuck. He makes out with his girl in the middle of a rainstorm, the taste of strawberry gum strong. Pretty pink roses and carnations watch over them, arranged in perfect displays in the storefront window. He can tell Chrissy is pleased when she pulls away and the blush on her cheeks is the exact shade of pink he associates with her now.

When he joins her in the rain, they dance and splash and make their way back to the tiny motel room they're camping out in. If she's bothered by the lack of strawberry lip gloss, she doesn't let it show. Not when she's eager to strip them both out of their wet clothes and fall into bed together so they can get warm.

They're on the road again the day after that, and he's pretty sure they're in a time period neither of them have experienced yet. A quick glance at a newspaper when they stop in some small town someplace tell him it's 1992. He's eager for the both of them to see what 92 is all about, when she emerges from the gas station they're parked at looking pleased as can be. He arches his eyebrows in question, but she just shrugs and laughs as she hops on the back of his bike and tells him to keep driving.

That whole driving thing only lasts about half an hour before she's asking him to pull over. It's close to sunset, and she seems to be eager to appreciate it. He obliges, as he usually does when she directly asks for something. The road stop they're at has picnic tables, and they wind up sitting atop one, sharing a cigarette as she watches her sunset. It's when the sky is shades of pinks and oranges that she makes her move, and it doesn't take him long to realize what her game is.

"You found your lip gloss, babe?" He asks with a smirk, laughing at how genuinely pleased with herself she is. He lets her continue to be smug as she kisses him so sweetly. The taste of her lips is pretty damn great, but it's nothing compared to how much he gets off on how confident she seems. Pressed close together atop a picnic table in rural Arizona, they're bathed in the pink glow of the setting sun. Her hair seems to burn bright like fire out here, and as they break apart to catch their breath, he pushes a clump of red strands behind her ear. He licks at his lip as he does, and tastes sickeningly sweet strawberry glossed all over him.

It's a taste he commits to memory, and all he can see is bubblegum pink behind his eyelids as he closes his eyes and leans in to claim her lips once again.

III. Sight

As beautiful as the Grand Canyon is, it's got nothing on the sight presented to her one night in June. Thoughts of reaching California have been dancing in their heads for a while now, and Chrissy's excited to finally get to meet the Enders and his brothers. She's equally nervous, of course, and so when Johnnie suggests a pit stop in Vegas she doesn't really protest.

He goes all out for her there, managing to secure a suite at a swanky hotel. It doesn't matter to her whether he stole it or paid for it. All she cares about is that they're getting to experience a once in a lifetime thing. Vegas with all the bells and whistles. He sends her out for a day of pampering at the hotel spa, and she's delighted when the employees there can see and interact with her the same as any other customer. A second surprise comes when the front desk at the spa presents her with a gift box that was left for her. She doesn't need to read the gift tag to know it's from Johnnie.

Inside is a silk dress in the prettiest most vibrant shade of pink she's ever seen. There's even a pair of strappy heels in the same shade, decked out in little stones that make them shimmer. It makes her feel like a Barbie doll brought to life, and she's delighted when she gets dressed in the spa dressing room and emerges feeling like she's absolutely beautiful.

The third surprise comes when he meets her outside of the Casino neither of them are technically are old enough to be gambling at. That doesn't matter, their fake IDs say they're both twenty-one and ready to party. Besides, neither of them are that interested in games tonight. He's taking her out on the town to bars and clubs, and apparently he's taken it upon himself to wear a little pink himself. The sight of him in a tie that matches her dress exactly makes her hurry her way over to him, both hands cupping his face as she passionately kisses him to thank him for how thoughtful he's been here today.

"Pink?" She grins, hands tweaking his tie before resting on his hips. "For me?"

"Always for you, babe." He whispers, only for her to hear. The eyes of other guests and employees are on them, a young couple that's clearly in love. He never minds showing off, but the sweetness he inspires within him is better saved for her ears only. No one else needs to know how soft she makes him.

Though as they burn through town hand in hand that night, he thinks it's probably pretty obvious. He'd set the entire town on fire if it meant having some of that destructive fun he's been lacking and craving. But for her, he's willing to set aside those kind of thoughts. Just for tonight, anyway. It pays off for him in the end, as they spill back into their fancy suite and he takes off that silk dress and tosses it carelessly on the floor. And when he takes off his clothes, he uses that obnoxiously pink tie to tie her wrists together behind her back. Almost like she's desperate to show him how happy he's made her, she rides him like her life depends on it, hands bound in the same silk he had worn just to impress her.

She's a vision of perfection when she's like this, pretty and pink and wild. And all his, his sweet girl who never leaves him wanting at the end of the day.


IV. Touch
So sue him, he winds up saving that godforsaken pink tie. Not because he likes the color or anything, but because every time he pulls it out, Chrissy seems to get in the mood to be a little more rough and freaky than usual. Which suits him just fine, even when one night she gets the idea to turn the tables and use that tie on him. She manages to make it into a blindfold and ties it around his eyes, and gets him to recline back in bed.

"I want to play a game," she teases, kissing him.

"A game? Sure, babe. Whatever you want."

He sounds more amused with her antics than anything, and Chrissy decides to take her time undressing him. Let him get worked up just from her touch alone. That will suit her just fine. It's once he's completely naked and at her mercy that she hums playfully, and goes to get something.

"If you really mean I can have whatever I want, you have to stay still until I tell you that you can move. Okay?"

It's not usually her thing, and not really his either. But she patiently waits for him to give in, and it's only then that she sets to work teasing him. A single pink feather she had plucked from a showgirl's boa in Vegas is in her hand, and she takes her dear sweet time dragging it down along his body.

Oh, she makes sure to get every inch, teasing him with soft touches of the feather. When she pauses to make him guess what she's using, she knows it's not really a hard question. He answers correctly, of course, and she laughs as she resumes teasing his body. She doesn't shy away from any part of him. She keeps it up until he's hard and hinting at begging, and then outright demanding that she let him fuck her already. She submits when she's positive he's about to snap completely, and it's with one sweet word from her that he's pouncing forward and knocking her down beneath him. He takes her rough and hard, and she loves every second of it.

When they wake up the next morning, it's to the sound of his laughing at her. She drowsily pouts and asks him what's so funny. It's too early for laughter, doesn't he know that?

"You have a souvenir from last night, babe." He smirks, pulling out the pink feather that's tangled in her hair. All Chrissy can do is blush a little and shrug, prompting him to lean down and kiss all the embarrassment out of her. She's so damn cute, still getting a little shy for him like this.

V. Sound

The Phantom Riders aren't just good. They're amazing. They aren't back in Los Angeles yet, but they're far enough into California that one of their songs comes on the radio one night while they're camping out beneath giant redwoods at some state park. Unable to see the stars out here, the darkness is almost intimidating to her. But he makes her feel safe, same as he always does. And rather than being afraid of monsters that might be lurking and waiting for them, he pulls her into a dance as his band plays on the radio. The baby pink bow in her hair bounces along with her ponytail as they move.

She's absolutely delighted to hear them, even if it isn't the same as listening to them live. But all good things will come in time, she reminds herself. For now, she's happy to see him so happy. They grin and laugh as they dance beneath those trees that seem so tall it should be impossible. They're like giants towering over them, keeping watch as the two of them twirl and move together with ease. They've been together long enough now that they're perfectly in sync, able to predict what the other will do before they actually do it. They're so vigorously dancing that the pink bow in her hair comes undone, the ribbon falling down to the ground at their feet. They're both oblivious to it, lost in the music and absorbed in one another.

By the end of the song, Chrissy's able to sing along with the radio. Their singing turns to howling at what little of the moon they can see from where they're at. Howling turns to laughter and his turning off the radio, and he spins her into his arms to slowly sway and whisper-sing another one of his band's songs as they take up something far more sensual than silly. One song turns to two, and it's in the middle of the third that he takes up singing one he's taught to her. She joins in with him, their voices harmonizing so well that it nearly brings a tear to her eye. They're so perfectly matched, so absolutely amazing together, that she thinks back to those first days they were together.

"You know what?" She murmurs as their swaying slows to a near standstill, but he keeps his arms wrapped around her, and holds her in close so she's pressed against his chest. "We really are leg — oh no! My ribbon!"

Her thoughts are cut short as she sees the ribbon that she had been wearing trampled in the dirt. Her heart sinks at the sight of it. That ribbon had been wrapped around a small bouquet of daisies and sunflowers he had handpicked from someone's yard a couple of weeks ago. It had tied them all together so perfectly, and she had worn the ribbon every day since. Sometimes it was a bracelet, other times tied around her neck as a choker. But tonight it was in her hair, a perfect hair bow to go with her short denim shorts and pink gingham top. Seeing it in discarded in the dirt upsets her, but Johnnie is quick to pick it up for her and work on dusting it clean.

"It's just a little dirt. I'll get it clean for you, see?"

And sure enough, he uses water from his canteen to soak the ribbon and scrub it as clean as it can get. He's singing another one of his band's songs as he ties it back up in her hair, making sure to get it as snug and secure as he can without it being uncomfortable. He knows how important that stupid ribbon is to her. It's better than any diamond ring some other girl might ask for or hint at this far into a relationship. Time has stretched out around them where it's hard to tell exactly how long they've been traveling together, but when he looks at her now, singing a song he wrote and looking at him like he hung the moon and stars in the sky?

All he can think about is how he never wants this to end. The thought terrifies him, though maybe not as much as it should. He slips into silence and just listens to her sing, sounding so confident and at ease. In some ways, she's hardly the innocent girl he picked up back in Indiana. She's grown so much with him. Become perfect for him in almost every way. In others, though, she's still exactly the same. Sweet and pink, he thinks, as his finger lovingly traces along the bow he's done up for her. Trying to dispel those soft thoughts that have taken over his mind, he gives the bow a playful little tug.

That breathy, high pitched little giggle she gives out is the sweetest sound he's ever heard. It rings clear through the otherwise quiet night, and he allows it to blossom into a swell of laughter before he captures her lips in a kiss. His finger curls around that pink ribbon of hers, and as he feels the love radiating off of her and threatening to burn him to embers, he swears he can finally feel the beat of his heart pounding in time with hers.