Just for you


He throws his head back and belts out the last notes of the song, your toes curl and your heart races. Even now, even after all these years, that pure, clear voice filled with passion can twist your heart, send a slow roll of pleasure through your belly and along your spine. He ends the song, and looks at you, the grin on his face making his eyes crinkle at the corners. You can't help but grin right back.

He's full of energy post-show, bouncing on the balls of his feet, postively fizzing with the adrenaline buzz of a live performance. You toss him a fresh bottle of water and watch as he downs half of it in three long swallows. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and wrinkles his nose. "Thanks, J. Thirsty, man."

"Hungry?" You know he's too hyped up to eat, but ask anyway.

He shakes his head, finishes the rest of the water. Pulls you close, until your hips touch, until you can feel the heat from his body. "Just for you," he murmurs, and covers your mouth with his own, his lips and tongue cool from the water, palms warm against your chest. "And I want," he breathes, as he nips at your earlobe, "to fuck you right now."

And he does, in a darkened corner backstage. Just you and him, and tangled piles of cables you both stumble over, breathless and fumbling at each other's clothes. The pleasureshock of his teeth on your collarbone, the smooth salve of his tongue to ease the sting. Your palms flat against the wall, back arched, as he licks the salty skin between your shoulderblades, down your spine, strong fingers grasping your hips, your cock. He moves inside you gently, slowly, breathing secrets into your skin, secrets you share with no-one else.

And when he comes, he cries out your name in a voice so pure and clear- a song sung just for you.



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