NB: Takes place about two years after Dead Man's Hand, when Daryan and Klavier are both nineteen. No spoilers this time, just porn.
"Klavier. Hey, Klavier. Kla-vier. Klaviiiiiier. Hey, Klav. Klavier!" No response. Daryan put his mouth exactly ten inches from Klavier's earphone-stoppered ear and shouted. "Yo, Gavin!"
Klavier plucked out one earphone and looked at Daryan in supreme irritation. "Was?" Klavier growled, and then, after getting a good look at his guitarist, he added, "...Mein Gott. What has happened to your head?"
"Yeah," Daryan said, grinning as he ran his hands down the outrageous spike of his new hairstyle. "Pretty cool, huh? Whaddya think?"
Klavier stared, earphone dangling from his fingertips. From the tiny speaker came the tinny main guitar line of the Atroquinine, My Love demo take. "Words fail me," he said.
"Aw, c'mon," Daryan crooned, leaning on the arms of Klavier's chair, well into the prosecutor's personal space. "Isn't cool?"
Klavier didn't look at him, busy marking down notes in the empty bars of his notebook, riddling the page with music. "You look like you are wearing a dildo on your head."
Daryan pushed away with an exasperated noise, sending Klavier's chair scooting a few inches across the floor. "Not a dildo, man. It's a phallic symbol. It's all about masculine power! Raw sex appeal! Chicks love that shit."
"Whatever. You are going to poke someone's eye out."
"Not their eyes, baby." Daryan made an extremely unsubtle gesture with his hipbone, striking a pose that Klavier entirely ignored. "More like all those sweet virginal groupies."
Klavier rolled his yeas. "Ja. And we will not be having any of those if I do not finish writing this song, so--" He put the earphone in again, ending the conversation.
"You know," Daryan said, crossing his arms and looking annoyed, "If you weren't such a fag maybe I wouldn't have to explain this stuff to you."
Klavier could hear perfectly well when he wanted to, and now both earphones came out at once with a yank that nearly shredded the delicate wires. "You watch your mouth, Daryan."
"Hey," Daryan shrugged, unswayed by Klavier's baleful stare. "I just call 'em like I see 'em. We've been doing this band thing long enough that I've noticed some things. As much as you like the girls looking at you, you never bother looking back."
"I'm so sorry that my standards are slightly higher than yours, and require more than a schoolgirl uniform and panty-flashing." Klavier sat back in his chair and picked up his pencil, but the train of thought was gone. He stared at the half-finished notes on the paper, wondering where he had meant to go with them.
"Your standards require a cock, I think you mean," Daryan said, without a trace of guilt for the aborted music.
"If that was the case," Klavier said, acidly, "I think then I would know a bit more about phallic symbolism than you."
"Wooo-oo!" Daryan hooted, mock-intimidated. When Klavier refused to rise to the taunt, Daryan leaned on the back of Klavier's chair, tipping it backwards. "Hey," he said, in a slightly softer tone, his ludicrous hairstyle bobbing just in the edge of Klavier's peripheral vision. "Hey, you know I'm just jerking your chain, right?"
"Ach," Klavier said, putting down a few notes, even though they were not the ones he wanted. "I think you're just being a jerk, period."
Daryan's head tilted an infinitesimal amount closer to Klavier's, crossing some thin, invisible boundary between annoyance and suggestion. Klavier's ear was red where he had yanked the earphone away; Daryan looked at the tiny violated opening and felt a sudden surge of warmth between his thighs. "I dunno, Gavin," he breathed, one hand snaking down the from the back of the chair, his thumb dragging over the buttons of Klavier's shirt as though they were the strings of a guitar, "Maybe you just need a jerk, period."
Klavier's noise of irritation turned into a gasp; Daryan's hand had found the front of Klavier's jeans and squeezed. The notebook slid off of his knee, landing on the floor with a papery crash.
"Yeah," Daryan chuckled, thumbing open the top button, "that's what I thought. Set your standards too high, buddy, you'll never get your rocks off."
"I'm interested in a bit more than getting my--" Klavier began, but got no further. Daryan's hand had forced its way past denim and silk, and one guitar pick-callused thumb was tracing circles over the head of Klavier's cock, spreading the tiny bead of wetness over the flushed skin.
"So high and mighty," Daryan said, freeing Klavier's cock entirely, admiring the way it jutted up from his opened jeans, the crisp thatch of golden curls around the base. "You sound like a virgin, Klavier."
Klavier did not answer, but the armrests of the chair groaned for him, his hands white with tension on the vinyl upholstery.
"But then again," Daryan continued, kissing the sweet, hot hollow of Klavier's ear, flicking the silver earring with his tongue. "Maybe you are one, baby." He started to pump the thick cock he held, murmuring in Klavier's ear. "I've known you since we were both seventeen, and I've never heard you say a word about it. The closest thing to a hard-on you've had is when there's a guitar between your legs."
"Daryan--" Klavier began, tossing his head back against the chair. "Nnngott--"
"It's okay, baby," Daryan said, using his free hand to undo the front of his jeans. "I won't hurt you. Not anymore than you'd like." He released Klavier from his grasp, turning the chair around and standing astride Klavier's legs. Daryan's cock was in his own hands, and damn if it wasn't the hardest he'd been in months. Why hadn't he thought of this before? "Hey," he said, more unsteady than he would like to admit, as he cupped the back of Klavier's head with one hand, mussing up the perfect softness of his hair. "C'mere and give me a kiss."
Klavier's eyes flicked up to him. For a split second there was rebellion in that hungry blue gaze, and Daryan thought he would refuse. Something short and succinct in German maybe, before Klavier shoved him away. The moment of uncertainty made it a million times hotter when Klavier finally leaned forward, pressing his open mouth against Daryan's dick, breathing against it like he was mouthing a microphone during a recording session.
"Oh, Christ," Daryan breathed, as his knees turned to water. Klavier swallowed him all at once, his arms wrapping around Daryan's waist and his hot mouth dragging on Daryan, sucking him so hard it almost hurt. Daryan caught himself on the back of the chair, utterly at Klavier's mercy. Klavier's mouth was stretched around him, holding him securely in the hot, swallowing motions of his teeth and tongue. His cheeks were hollowed slightly from his efforts, his eyes half-closed, and damn if the man wasn't humming something as he worked.
"Klavier," Daryan managed, desperate, "don't get me off before I can fuck you."
"Hrm?" Klavier's noise made a shiver of sensation ripple down Daryan's spine. He moved his hands down lower, tugging at the back of Daryan's jeans, and then pulled away with a slight gasp. "Even I know," he panted, "we cannot accomplish that as we are."
Daryan's eyes skimmed the room. There was a table, and the giant speaker against the wall, but neither one looked comfortable. Klavier was sitting back in his chair, his face flushed and strands of pale hair clinging to his cheeks. He was trying to grow it out and it was still too short to stay in a ponytail; Daryan wanted to clench his fists in the soft weight of it. Klavier's cock was shivering in time to his pounding heartbeat, and his lips were wet. He was the most beautiful thing Daryan had ever seen.
"I wanna see your face," Daryan said, and pulled Klavier up from the chair. It was as smooth as any blocking on stage, as though they had rehearsed it a hundred times. Stage left to stage right, don't trip on the amp, don't whack into the boom, don't tangle the cables. Daryan sat down in the chair, and while he fished the foil-wrapped condom from his back pocket, Klavier kicked off one leg of his jeans. It was all he needed.
"I'm glad I had this office soundproofed," he said, glancing down at Daryan's latex-sheathed cock in something that was almost trepidation. "I don't expect I'll be quiet."
"I don't want you to be," Daryan said, reaching up to pull Klavier down across his lap. "Baby, I want you to fuck just as loud as you rock. Just don't tell me nein."
"Then how about, ja," Klavier said, breathing out the last syllable into one long, throaty moan as he sank downwards, driving Daryan's cock deep inside him.
Oh, shit, Daryan thought, even as his hip thrusts rattled Klavier's chair, even as his hands tangled with together with Klavier's on his cock. Daryan had an addiction, he knew, and he had just found the sweetest hit anywhere. He didn't want to give this one up. He wasn't going to. Not with ice-cool Klavier Gavin grinding his ass into Daryan's lap and jerking himself off while he did, not with hot spurts of come spattering all over their hands and across his belly, not even with the white-hot, screaming stereo, two-million decibel flash of his own release.
Mine, Daryan thought, smug and sticky and sated. Mine mine mine.
Daryan shook himself. "Wha... what?"
Klavier, still straddling him, poked the collapsing point of Daryan's hair. "This. It will not do."
"Look, Klavier--" Daryan began. "I know you don't like it, but I'm telling you, it's--"
"Limp." Klavier's mouth twitched. "It would never even make it through the first set of a concert. Come down to the shower room with me, I think there is some product in my locker that will do better."
"Ah!" Daryan grinned, looping his arms possessively around Klavier's waist. "So you do like it, then."
"I never said that," Klavier answered, sliding off Daryan's lap with a wet sound, and wriggling into the dangling half of his jeans. "I just don't want it to be said that a member of the Gavinners can't keep it up."
Daryan eyed the tan perfection of Klavier's ass, just as it vanished back into his jeans. "Baby," he said, sprawling back in Klavier's chair and grinning, "that's one thing you're never gonna have to worry about."