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"Fuck, J-John…" a dark eyed guitarist whimpered. His dark, long hair was currently being tugged at as he was pushed against a smooth studio wall, a leg firmly planted between his.
Owner of the leg was giving gentle nibbles and kisses to the guitarist’s neck, nipping lovingly. “Georgie…” he cooed against his neck, if a bit teasingly, placing more pressure on his lap through the younger man’s tight pants.
George whimpered again, softer, and reached up to grip John’s shoulder. The bespectacled guitarist had begun to trace small kisses up and down George’s neck, moving along his slim jaw. George was letting out little huffs and whimpers, squirming under John’s hold.
Still tugging on George’s dark locks to make his head cant to the side (for easiest neck access), John gently removed his leg, causing George to give out a loud whine at the loss of contact.
"Ah, ah, Georgie," John scolded, finally lifting his lips from the lovebitten neck belonging to the whimpering mess in front of him, and looking into the hazy, liquid black eyes of his lover. George stared back, pink scribbled heavily along his sharp cheeks.
John’s eyes traced these sharp cheeks before settling on those pink lips. He leaned in, agonizingly slowly, to lightly kiss the mess before him. George’s eyes winked closed, and he parted his lips unabashedly. Instead of responding to the skinny guitarist’s silent wishes, John still just lightly pressed how own lips against George’s, occasionally taking his plump lower lip between his teeth and tugging on it gently. It took a few more minutes of George’s huffing and whimpering for John to fully kiss him, tongue and all. He slowly got more forceful until him and George were facing each other straight on, and John’s tongue was practically halfway down George’s throat.
John’s mind must’ve been clearer than George’s— not by much, surely— for it seemed to only bother him that their moustaches rubbed together oddly. Disregarding this, however, John took to slowly sliding his hand down George’s chest to gently place his fingers on the tip of his little bandmate’s achingly hard cock. George broke off suddenly, letting out a much-too-loud moan as John’s skilled hands teased him.
"Ch-Christ, John," he moaned, voice cracking. Eyes opening once more to meet with John’s, even darker with lust, George whispered, "What’re ya tryin’ to do to me?"
Tongue flicking out over his thin lower lip, never breaking half-lidded eye contact, John breathed, “I’d love to turn you on…”