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Tyler’s looking down into his lap, looking all sombre and hurt. You walk over to him, lifting his chin, but he won’t look you in the eye.
“Baby? What’s wrong, Tyler?” you ask, pouting. usually the bottom lip gets him every time, but he doesn’t even notice.
“Nothing, it doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head from your hand and folds his arms across his chest. If it was enough to upset him, then it mattered. Tyler wasn’t affected by much, so you knew that it must be a big deal. You sat next to him on the couch, and place your hand on his knee.
“Honey, if you’re feeling down, you can talk to me about it, okay?”
“It’s not that, I just - I was thinking about us and how I don’t treat you as well as you deserve, because we’re always on tour or Josh is taking me away from you, and it just frustrates me because you’re my princess and I’m treating you like a servant girl.”
You giggle at his anomaly, and his lip twitches up at the sound. He’s so silly, getting worked up over nothing like this.
“Oh Tyler, you make me feel like a queen, baby, I promise you’re treating me perfectly,” you say quietly, and he turns to look at you, his eyes shining softly.
“Really? I don’t want you to think I take you for granted or anything like that,” he rubs the back of his neck, biting his bottom lip and shooting you a questioning look.
“Why don’t you show me how you think I should be treated, hm?” your hand slides along his thigh towards his hip, as you lean in close, staring at his lips. You take your lip between your teeth, as Tyler’s shaky breath splashes across your face. He kisses you roughly and pushes himself closer towards you, and your hand moves closer to the top of his jeans.
Your lips move together in a pattern, a dance if you will, and you moan into the routine, as Tyler reaches up your skirt towards your underwear. His skillful fingers compose melodies on your clothed heat, and you pull away from his kiss to let out a whimper, closing your eyes and rolling your head back.
“Oh baby, I wish I could see that all day, every day,” Tyler says lowly, his voice a good octave lower than earlier. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to play piano, whilst wishing the keys were your skin? God, I can’t describe the torturous suffering I live through.”
You roll your eyes, shifting your hips against his fingers and trying to stifle a scream. You’re sick of the teasing; you need him right now.
“Tyler, oh my god,” you moan, grabbing his wrist and grinding against his hand, shuffling your hips closer to him. He turns to face you properly, smirking and sliding your skirt higher on your hips with his free hand.
“You’ve got quite the hold on me there, babe,” he rasps, curling his fingers and circles your bundle of sensitivity, as you shake with overwhelming pleasure. “Think you can finish on my hand? That all you need, baby?”
You nod a yes, screwing your eyes shut and speeding up your movements. Tyler does his best to undo your skirt with the one hand you’re allowing free movement to, and throws it behind you, before momentarily gripping your ass and sliding his hand up your shirt towards the bottom of your bralet, cheekily squeezing your ribs and biting his lip. He looks into your eyes, your breath getting increasingly faster, and moves in close to bite your neck, forcing a moan out of your throat as your grip on his wrist strengthens.
You move one of your hands up to his elbow, and he pushes your hips up so he can reposition his hand under your heat. You’re now sitting on his palm, as his thumb presses on your point, luring a string of moans and whimpers out of your lips.
Your hands eventually shift up to around his neck, as his strong arm does all the work without your death grip on his wrist.
“You’re awfully quiet my love, what’s got you so hushed?”
“I can barely s-string together a - mmm, sentence when you’re - ahh, playing me like your yamaha, you asshole,” you moan, laughter erupting from those perfect lips that you can’t stop staring at.
“Hey, my keyboard isn’t nearly half as responsive as you are when I play you, baby. She’s beautiful, yes, but she doesn’t have this kind of effect on me,” he grabs your hand and puts it on his crotch, biting his lip as your eyes widen with desire. “All from watching your body convulse and tremble beneath my fingers, such a sweet symphony you give to me, baby. No album I write will ever come close to being as beautiful as your song,” Tyler groans as you’ve begun to palm him through his jeans, while nearing your own climax.
“At it again as a dickhead who can unravel me in a sentence are you?” You smirk as spots rain before your eyes and you hear the faint sound of Tyler laughing and moaning simultaneously whilst riding out your high against his clever fingers. You scream his name, thankful for it being a Tuesday morning. In the midst of losing yourself, you’ve forgotten about Tyler, as he undoes his jeans and helps himself whilst staring intently at your messy figure.
You’re splayed across the couch, your hair in utter shambles and your shirt twisted around your body. He never fails to throw you out of balance, creating a perfect chaos and tossing it onto you.
You decide to pull your shirt over your head, and Tyler’s breath hitches as he speeds up his movements. His hand runs through his hair and you mirror his actions, lying back and letting your hands roam over your exhausted yet still excited body, only pushing him further.
“You really treated me like something else, Tyler. I wouldn’t go so low as to say a queen - because, well, that was more than royal,” you close your eyes, reminiscing over the scene afore played out. It brings a smile to your face, as you tease your skin around the waistband of your underwear. A finger slips beneath the elastic, as you tug at the material and stare at Tyler.
“Your M-Majesty, if you p-please,” Tyler bucks his hips as you crawl towards him and take matters into your own hands. Within a minute you have him unravelling under your touch, whining your name and screwing his eyes shut with the overwhelming pleasure.
Once cleaned up, you sit together on the couch, still breathing heavily. The experience was new and refreshing, and you were both excited to have done something different.
“Baby?”
“Yeah, Tyler?”
“I’m thinking I should feel insecure more often,” Tyler jokes, earning a scoff from you and a playful whack on the arm.
“You only need ask if you want that again, because I promise you I will always be open to it,” you turn to Tyler, looking at his dishevelled hair and eyes ablaze.
“Again?”
“It’s like you read my mind.”