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The tightness of the shoulders attracts my eyes to shine with a clear look at him. The elongated neck is wrapped in collars, some rattled loudly, and the face looking somewhere ahead tried not to notice me on its facial curves. Slowly getting rid of the unknown-checkered shirt, as if like a net, it rolls down the snow-white cover in the smallest folds onto the sofa, leaving it in the guise of an upper light T-shirt. There are blurry ink blots under the eyes, which were left due to fluid accumulations on the face. I think I'm impatient, like a caring partner, to hold a cotton pad under my eyes, wiping every pellet from mascara, kissing scarlet lips. He really worked so hard to burn out on stage today that I couldn't help but be proud of my boy. Every sharp jolt in his dance is worth his strength and my praise. I noticed every movement in the wild dances, as I noticed every touch of Maxim to the Keith.
Touching a stranger to a Keith is like a poisonous reptile for me, stuck with its fangs in my heart, leaving its causticness in drops in me. As if with a needle under the skin from a dropper, the poison dripped and dripped.
Sometimes, I want to kindly approach Palmer, flash a fiery grin, grab his hand, and in response to:
— What are you doing?
Break through every finger, looking at the demonic torments of the dark-haired man, without stopping. Look, and annoyingly smile. The fingers could have been so disfigured, but the jubilation would have been endless. I was not afraid of this picture, I would have laughed like a madman if it were in the matter.
Despite my excessive bitterness, I understood that they meant nothing to Flint. Calming myself down then, I continued to press the synthesizer keys, paying tribute to people, hearing some incomprehensible Reality screams into the microphone.
His lips will try to recreate from memory, like a puzzle, a smile, exhaling a cheesy, but quiet moan. A smile that everyone remembers. The smile he grinned at the thousands who waved at him and shouted unintelligible. Bright colors made everyone's face forget, what if you ask us:
Do you remember the face of at least one girl or guy in the closest row?
There will be no response.
And why do we need them at all? I can't imagine myself, because no one was digging into my brain on purpose, except for this guy with heavenly eyes, hovering like a lily moth in the dressing room, in a narrow T-shirt with wide pants. The bright and white room in which we were alone is filled from the very bottom to the top with the smell of tart. Flint starts drinking amber rum, which gives off the brightness of alcohol right into my nose. Having adjusted my next funny glasses, I turned my head, literally burning him with my gaze.
— Do you want some too?
When the glass with the orange liquid comes to my fingers, I was seriously scared. And I was scared for a reason.
A few drops spilled out of the reduced likeness of a faceted glass, remaining on the table. A disgruntled face causes that person to laugh sincerely, and alcohol is poured into the body.
— You're kind of clenched. Tired?
Hurt, he said, rubbing the bones of my hands with his own hand, counting each bend with his fingers. My tired agalts fall into his shallow hand, weaving together with strong warmth. The wagging legs moved with the same trepidation, and I feel like I want to smile at him.
— Tired of course.
Peace came immediately when the volcanic burning sensation of touch swept through the body. My face is covered with blush, even though we did something more intimate with Keith. Rather, dirty, and sinful.
I have touched his seemingly fragile collarbones more than once. In the dark, I bit them, provoking moans near the ears, drawing unknown patterns with my tongue, and traces with my teeth. Harsh, and eerily bright. We finished at the same time, collapsed exhausted on the clouds of the bed, and uncertainly fingering his long hair at that moment, being naked in front of my lover, I look at him already sleeping, bitten and definitely squeezed. Then, the shoulders, the hair, were illuminated by a gloomy light with a certain point, accompanied by an incredible silence that I could hear his heartbeat, and count every beat. I couldn't sleep. Trying to save from this moment as much as possible, I could not sleep for half the night, remembering and missing that passionate sex in which a drugged mind allowed me to surrender into my hands. But in an unknown fear, I was as careful as possible with him. I didn't push, and I didn't hurt so much. Most likely.
— Darling, relax! It's still fine..
Having brought me back to reality, it did not immediately occur to me when he was in front of me with his body. The green horns reflected in my glasses as I frantically pulled away from him. It's not unpleasant for me right now, but I love him. On my lips, I feel the taste of tart, swallowing the remaining drops from his mouth. It was sticky, but trembling from the directness of his actions, I succumb to the temptation, no matter how much I don't want to look angry and disappointed right now. The pads of my fingers cling to my back, and it's like I'm sticking to this weight, bringing it a little closer.
— Come on, say a word..
The eyelashes are made up with mascara, which seems twice as big as usual. Closing his eyes, he hopes for some kind of open answer, but looking at his face, I didn't really want to answer now. I want to savor these short, but fancy moments when he kisses and looks at me.
— I'm fucking jealous of you. To Maxim.
The burning look is replaced by misunderstanding, and causes a smile for no reason. Either because of my absurdity, he grins, or I look really fucked up.
— What the fuck are you saying? Seriously? Come on then, I'll tell you in detail how much I love you..
I feel the compression of my hip, with sharp fangs in my neck. It's as if now, in a gloomy and silent night, he is eager to drink warm, uncoiled blood, like Dracula, or at least close to that ideal of a vampire, and I am another ideal and fragile victim for his bliss. Biting into my teeth, I feel a certain wind-up, but I still can't get rid of the feeling of pain that permeates my neck.
The wetness of the tongue licks the imprint of the tooth, remaining a bright spot on me. I squeeze out a bitter moan, and I breathe raggedly, but I think he will not stop only on this area of skin.
— Don't be modest, Liam. Take off the shirt, I'll look and count each mole..
Drawing patterns with his finger on an obvious and red piece of fabric, it becomes slightly ticklish, and part of it is pleasant. A hand passes over my cheek, suddenly pulling the protection from my eyes.
— The eyes are so... warm.
Grinning at me playfully and exhaling this smile, it also makes me pull the ends of my mouth up with strings. I take the initiative on my own, grabbing Flint's waist, crossing my legs somewhere on the backside.
The fire between our faces begs me to grab harder, and I can't control the acuteness of my actions. I feel the folds of Flint's skin at my fingers, and I keep pressing on my lips, simultaneously feeling like I'm being stripped of my clothes.
— I love you.
A pure-blooded and impetuous confession to my beloved person obliges me to be alive. It's as if I have now given millions for some expensive thing, licked to perfection and brilliance, admiring its charm, triumphant as never before.
The lips are now anew like a knot of two threads, connected to each other, and belong to each other, securely holding on. The bare torso leans against me, and it's like I get one cosmic, striking burn. I feel the accumulation of heat between my legs, and I do not remain without the attention of my leader at the moment. With a strong movement, he touches the organ, squeezing moans out of me. Quite sounding and a little stunted. I am wandering in the fog of my own head, not knowing how to get out of the stupefying abyss, when probably the best is happening in front of me.
The other side of my neck is showered with kisses that carry a shiver through my body, and my hands touch me, slowly and planned out so much that I think he is a master at it. All the fun could go on until I sensed that someone was coming.
Sparkling and long boots were heading straight towards us, rattling as loudly as possible with each step. As if, deliberately stepping harder, pressing his feet into the floor.
I did not follow the movements of the green-haired man at all, who willingly licks my nipples, looking at me from under his brows.
— Keith, wait.. Someone is coming…
Barely finishing the sentence he started, the thunder of the swinging door hit the room, spreading its awkwardness.
— Flint, you forgot your jacket-…
A deft movement of Max's hand stretches out the leather product, and we freeze in the position in which we stopped.
My hand is at my groin, Flint’s tongue is on my body, and I'm whining pitifully.
Practically rolling out his eyes, an awkward glimpse looks at it, and his mouth is slightly open. Blinking several times, he still does not fully understand.
In order to avoid my own awkwardness, I cover my face with my hand, although I understand that this will not save us. My face turns bright red, because that's what I didn't want to see right now..
— I'll pretend that I haven't seen this fag stuff..
Awkwardly turning away into the dark corridor, he threw the leather jacket on the very chair where Flint was sitting before. Leaving, he waves his pen, and claps the white door, continuing to walk loudly in the dark corridor.