greta van fleet

you got up, giving hugs to your friends and family members before you and sam sat at your table to hear your loved ones give their toasts to you. josh went up first, of course, being a natural talker. you stared at him adoringly, so appreciative of the family you’d been welcomed into with open arms. as josh rambled on about how sam was when he was younger and how excited he was for your relationship to blossom, you could feel sam’s breath on your neck, tickling you as he whispered in your ear. “that was very risque of you, mrs. kiszka. was that red just to tease me?” he asks, and you give him a slight nod. “now, why would my sweet little wife do such a thing? it’s almost like you’re asking me to bend you over right here and fuck you in front of all these people. would you like that?” he questions, and you let out a small squeak, adjusting in your seat. it took forever for the speeches to end, and you were so grateful when they did. finally, you and sam were being ushered off to change into slightly less formal attire, that way you could dance.

once you were out of earshot, he picked you up and threw you up on his shoulder, giving your ass a smack. he carried you through the door of the house, and walked you to the guest room where your clothes had been left out for you. he placed you on the floor and stepped forward, towering over you. a smirk spread across his features. “you are such a naughty little girl, y/n… did you know that?”

you shake your head yes at him, leaning into his chest as he wraps his arms around you and begins to unzip your dress. you step out of it, insisting that he hangs it up. he does, and then sits on the edge of the bed, motioning for you to come to him. when you get close, he places you on his thigh, and you push down slightly, aching for some friction. “it’s okay baby, you can use my thigh to get off… just try not to make a mess, this is a rental tux.”

you circle your arms around his neck and press your face into his collar as you begin to grind down on him, becoming a moaning mess in a matter of seconds. he began to bounce his leg slightly, coaxing you into a quick finish with his sweet words. “you’re doing so good baby, you look so pretty… are you gonna come undone like this? all for me?” he asks, and you tilt your head back in pleasure as your orgasm washes over your body. he lifts you off of him, lying you gently onto the bed, and he stands up to undress. you scramble to take off your lingerie, wanting to be completely open and unabashed for him as he takes you.

his eyes are blown wide with lust, and he strokes himself a few times before climbing into the bed with you. “uh-uh, baby. you know how this goes… as much as i love that pretty face, i’d rather see you ass up right now.” you roll over for him, arching your back, and you almost scream as he buries himself into you. barely letting you adjust, he begins to slowly thrust in and out of you, gripping your hips. “fuck, sammy!” you cry out, writhing as he hits every spot deep inside you that aches for him. “such a good little wife, you are. you take it so well… you’re so pretty” he praises, causing you to mewl, practically melting beneath his touch. “i want you to cum for me, baby. wanna feel that sweet pussy squeezing around my cock, can you do that?” he questions, and you can only moan in response. he continues to slam into you mercilessly, and your body goes limp as your second orgasm rocks through you. you can feel sam tense up behind you, hips stuttering, and then he cums, filling you up.

"Hey, are you guys MHYH?" You look toward the voice at the same time as your bandmates and nod. You guys thought your band’s name was cool but people hardly ever said the full name, preferring to use the acronym instead.

"Yeah, you coming to watch the show?" Miles turns away from Jack handing him another part of the drum kit to engage with the olive skinned girl standing at the opening of the alley.

"For sure! I was wondering if I could request a song of yours that might not be on your setlist." Miles smiles and walks away from Jack and I and towards the pretty girl. Jack lets out a loud huff and rolls his eyes at Miles' back.

"Fuck boy," he mutters. You laugh at his annoyance and pick up where Miles left, grabbing cymbals and stands and bringing them inside.

"I'm serious. He better be back in time for sound check." You set down what you're holding and turn towards Jack.

"You're just jealous you couldn't go talk to her first."

"Well I was crouched in the back of the van like a cave man." Jack was used to getting all the girls since Miles had been in a serious relationship but in the past month, things went sour between Miles and Katie so now Jack had some competition.

"I'm sure there will be plenty more at the show you can talk to." As much as Jack's banter was entertaining you, you couldn't get the sad thought out of your mind that this was your last show on this tour. With all the money you guys spent on gas and food, you barely broke even with tips and your share of ticket profits. It would be a while before you guys could afford to do this again.

Instead of watching Jack put together his drum kit, you decide to pick up your bass again and start plucking out the beginning notes of your most recent song, singing along in your head.

“I told you I had to leave this town

heaven knows you'll be alright

need to get away from here

start focusing on my own life”

"So Denim Dreams has been requested," Miles hopped up onto the small stage and started taking his guitar out of its case.

"Ew dude," Jack pauses setting up his snare to reply. "That's our worst fucking song."

Miles just shrugs with a ghost of a smile on his face and Jack sighs.

"If you make me play that song you better at least be getting laid tonight." You laugh at the two boys and turn to face them fully.

"We need to make our setlist." The three of you always waited right before a show to make the setlist but with thirty minutes to go before the doors opened, you were pushing it tonight.

"Fuck, I forgot we didn't do that yet. Y/N you're the lead singer, it's your job." You roll your eyes and grab your phone from your back pocket to make an impromptu setlist in your notes app.

"Make sure Denim Dreams makes it on there for our beloved fans," Jack replies, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. Miles flips him off and they both laugh at their bickering.

After you're happy with how the setlist looks, you pass your phone to Jack and then Miles to get their approval.

"Looks good, y/nic." Miles goes quiet for a moment. "Let's make this a show to remember, it'll probably be a while before we get to be on a stage again." You note the sad look in his green eyes and solemnly nod your head in response.

Your manager, aka another one of your mutual friends with a degree in business, hops on the crowded stage and hands you a beer.

"Thanks, Kay." After promptly taking a long gulp from the cold bottle, you give her a smile. She was the first one to suggest you guys needing a manager and she handled everything off of the stage, which you were very thankful for.

Miles motions for you to pass the bottle to him and you do so, earning a grossed out look from Jack. He wasn't much of a drinker, but what he didn't indulge in alcohol-wise he certainly made up for in dope.

"You guys got the setlist and everything?" Kay continues to take the bottle from Miles and chugs the rest of the amber liquid. After deciding nods were a good enough answer, she continued, "Hope you guys are ready because there's actually a crowd outside."

You can't hide your shocked expression and she laughs.

"How many are here for us and how many are just here for the booze?"

"That I do not know, Jack, but I guess we'll find out," she winks and walks down the wobbly stairs to the main floor.  "I'll tell Bill you guys will be ready in ten. Make it happen."

"Shall we check our sound?"

--

You could feel the sweat dripping down your brow but that didn't matter in this moment. What matters is the screams and the yells from the crowd as you finish your song.

"This next one is called Denim Dreams," Miles speaks into the mic which elicits a scream from the left side of the bar, no doubt from that girl from earlier.

You turn and watch Jack for his cue to start when he gives you a nod. You pluck out the familiar riff of the song you had written about some guy you met years ago, Miles following with the strum of his guitar, and finally Jack with a few stomps to his bass drum.

That’s funny, right? That’s so funny. That’s the epitome of irony.

And sometimes, I get the feeling that something’s really not adding up.

But Josh is quiet, and that’s the reality.

I had noticed it the very first time I was lucky enough to get my hand down his pants. We had been in his car, parked in the middle of a desert road after a long day of hiking, the dirt under the tires expanding for miles, turning into rocks and sticks and grass blades that were thin and delicate like my fingers, as they reached over the center console and touched rough denim, the air thick and tense with anticipation.

At the time, I’d thought maybe Josh was unsure. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he was so nervous he was way past the point of saying words. God knows I was so scared myself, I couldn’t articulate much either.

Or maybe he wasn’t saying a damn thing because we were so busy kissing.

But even as he came, warm ropes of pearly white trickling down my knuckles, Josh had been uncharacteristically silent. I’d felt his breathing stutter and then hush out of his lungs heavily, I’d felt his fingers clenching tight around my shoulders, I’d felt his pulse hot and erratic in my hand,

But I’d heard nothing.

When I let go, Josh looked at me with half-lidded eyes and a sheepish smile pulling at the corners of his swollen, spit-slick lips. He cleared his throat, and the sound of it thundered through the quiet space. My clean hand slipped into my backpack, awkwardly searching for wet wipes, and even the sound of candy wrappers and empty water bottles rustling around seemed loud.

I tried not to think about it. Not then, and not all the times after.

I tried not to think about it when Josh did his vocal warm ups, or when he made his pretty spot-on impersonation of Vito Corleone, or when he sang John Denver songs in the shower. I tried not to think about it when Josh got into heated arguments with Jake and called him an idiot, or when he got stupid drunk and started telling dad jokes, or when he enthusiastically thanked his mother for another tasty, warm meal.

It was just— It was just.

I don’t know.

I felt like I was somehow missing something.

And there was nothing in this world I wanted more than to know what Josh sounded like when he was strung out and needy.

Keyed up.

Sweaty.

Hard.

Breathing heavily. On the verge of spilling. I wanted to memorize Josh’s pleasure, wanted to be able to summon it whenever he wasn’t around. Learn it by heart, like a song stuck in my head.

Some nights, when I was alone and Josh was away playing with his brothers at dingy bars and small venues, I tried to let my mind fill in the gaps. I tried to recall the timbre of Josh’s voice, and let it guide my imagination. In my head he was shameless, downright filthy, the king of dirty-talk. He made some of the best sounds, too—

But in the end, that was all it was—

My imagination.

Had I let literature, film, and other forms of media distort my idea of how real-life sex was supposed to be? Should I feel like an idiot every time a groan or a curse or —fuck, worse— Josh’s own name accidentally spilled from my mouth? Was this the tradeoff, I even wondered, of being with the frontman of a band? It made sense, after all. Everyone around him was always very adamant that he protected his vocal chords at all times.

Everyone around him except me, I concluded. Perhaps I was being selfish.

Perhaps he just didn’t want me as badly as I wanted him.

But it was really hard, honestly. It was really hard not to want someone like Josh so badly. It was one of those things that simply couldn’t be helped. Especially not with Josh’s salty skin scorching the tip of my tongue.

“I wanna hear you,” I had said once, praying to my lucky stars. I’d been on my knees, Josh’s back had been pressed against a wall, his hips tilted forwards in a way that made the V of his hips look even more prominent. We’d been in a different state, a different city— A different backstage room, though backstage rooms had started to look the same around this time, but I’d drank a few beers, and I was feeling particularly ballsy. So it just—

It kind of just came out.

It had seemed easier to say it into the soft skin of Josh’s inner thighs, a safe place where the scent was familiar and I didn’t have to meet his honey-colored eyes, glassy after a few shots of tequila.

After I said it, though, I went so hot I could feel myself turning red. Hoping Danny wouldn’t barge in the room unannounced carrying drumsticks and booze bottles, I tugged at Josh’s white skinnies until they were pooling around his ankles, curled my hands around the back of his knees and looked up at him. He’d slotted the hem of his shirt in between his pearly whites at some point, his jaw tense with how hard he was biting into the fabric to keep it in place. And I could see his bronzy skin, dewy with sweat, all the way up to his diaphragm.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe I was stunned at the sight of him and his hands inching down towards me, but I felt my mouth going stupidly soft and pliant, and then I felt my lips falling open.

I’d been honest-to-god gaping at him. Longingly and hungrily like a groupie.

He’d smirked, not letting go of the shirt, and cupped my chin in one hand, very gently. Then he yanked my hair with the other, not so gently. This is just how Josh was-- balanced. All sides of him, always in perfect harmony, like guitar strings in tune.

He’d eased me down on him, inch by inch, and I just— Let him. Tried to look pretty while taking it, too— Hell, I even managed to successfully suppress my gag reflex when his erection eventually met the back of my throat. I was really doubling my efforts here. I was sure I’d be receiving some kind of greeting card or a carrier pigeon for being such a good slut the next morning.

But when Josh came, I heard nothing— There was come hitting my throat and dripping down the corners of my lips, and I heard nothing more than a powerful burst of breath pushing its way through Josh’s airways.

It was weird.

It was totally weird, being both satisfied beyond comprehension and disappointed, all at once. Like going to the record shop and finding my favorite vinyl, only to get home and realize that the last two songs were completely ruined and distorted. It was still a great album, a Grammy-awarded, ASCAP-certified, masterpiece of an album, but something was missing.

And, God— I already knew the kind of things Josh could do with that voice. Even Robert freaking Plant had praised him for it. But he refused to use it with me.

As usual, he was killing me.

Later, as we shared a joint by the glow of the pool lights in the hotel we were all spending the night at, Josh had said, “I don’t make a lot of noise. When I—” he glanced at me for a second, his eyes sparkling bashfully, and made a nondistinctive hand gesture between us, “Y’know.”

“I know.” I had said. “It’s not a big deal.”

It was a lie. A massive fucking lie. A gigantic huge gaping lie.

Had it been up to me, I would have had Josh moaning the phone book by then. I would have had him by the throat, getting off to the fluttering sound of his gasps. I would have had both hands in his hair, guiding him to a rhythm he’d struggle to follow, just so I could hear him groan from exertion.

I somehow managed not to make a comment, and Josh, oblivious to my horny late night thoughts, went on.

“Our house back in Frankenmuth was always packed with people— and I mean packed as in—'' Josh paused for emphasis, brought both hands up to make another gesture and I took the opportunity to steal the joint from him, taking a drag that was about a thousand years long, “—full to bursting, at all times. My parents have enough friends to make an army, and Veronica had sleepovers pretty much every night for three years straight when she was younger,” He made a face that had me thinking he was having post-war thoughts. Apparently, Josh didn’t enjoy those three years surrounded by pubescent girls very much. “And, y’know, since Jake and I are twins, we’ve had to share every space we’ve been in for as long as I can remember,” He leaned closer like he was about to spill some huge secret, “Even my mother’s womb,” He whispered conspiratorially, his knee bouncing a little, “And Sam’s got ears like a hawk, so. I just.” He shook his head no, looking at me like everything he’d just said should suffice to get his point across, and then swallowed, “So I just don’t.”

Josh had somehow caught up on the fact that his silence was a very important matter to me, so important in fact, that he’d decided to bring it up. That in and of itself spoke volumes about how observant and thoughtful Josh was. About how important our relationship was to him.

My heart sank and pounded like crazy all at once. I passed the joint back to him and laid my hand on his thigh. If he could make an effort, so could I, right?

“Honestly, it isn’t a big deal. Don’t worry about it, love.” I assured him, and Josh's knee went still. I waited until I felt him relax beside me, his body slumping against mine before I started to speak again. “You guys were incredible tonight.”

We passed the joint back and forth, basking in the complicit, content silence that followed after the conversation eventually subsided. We had smoked the whole thing down to the roach and Josh placed it carefully on the lid of his empty beer can. He squeezed my hand and I smiled at him.

A few moments later, I heard the distinctive sound of naked feet getting closer, smacking on cold concrete.

Sam joined us by the edge of the pool, but instead of dipping his feet into the water like we’d done, he crouched beside Josh, his shorts riding up and exposing the pale skin of his thighs. With an scrutinizing gaze fixed on the water ahead, he asked solemnly, “What are you guys doing?”

“Cannabis and contemplation.” Josh retorted back. Somewhere inside the hotel, I knew Jake was rolling his eyes at his pretentious twin.

Sam didn’t roll his eyes, though. He exhaled heavily, seemingly relieved, and plopped next to his brother, “Oh, thank fuck—” He looked up at the starry sky and ran a hand through his hair. “For a minute I didn’t know if I should approach you guys. It looked like you were giving him a handy.” He laughed like a stoner, “I almost went back inside.” He concluded, like that was a normal thing you just said to your brother and his girlfriend.

I retreated my hand from Josh’s thigh like I had been burned, Josh turned to grin at me with all 32 of his teeth.

“You thought I was giving Josh a handjob and still decided to come over,” I deadpanned, “Why?”

“Well, for starters I could smell the weed all the way from the reception,” Was Sam’s response, and then he, in true Sam-fashion glared at his brother, sassy and proud, “Plus, I’m the youngest, so cock-blocking my older siblings is kind of what I do.”

Josh just belly laughed, this loud and abrupt thing that ricocheted all the way from his ribs to his Adam’s apple. I died and ascended into another plane of existence. “Well, I regret to inform you that you’re about ten minutes late to the party, bitch.” Josh said after calming down, gesturing at the butt of the joint, the cherry still blazing a little with its last dying embers, and reveling in the way his little brother frowned in utter disappointment. “We already smoked the whole thing.”

“Not the whole thing, Josh, you clearly don’t know shit about joints,” Sam countered like the younger sibling he was, grabbing the roach and slotting it in between his lips, “You can still get, like, three puffs out of this bad boy,” He added, taking a long drag as if to make a point.

“That’s disgusting.” I said, knowing full-well where my mouth had been. I’d brushed my teeth afterwards, but still.

“You know what’s disgusting?,” Sam stood up right behind Josh, “Your wasteful mentality, that’s disgusting—” The last word was punctuated by the sound of Josh screaming and water splashing everywhere. I whipped my head to look at Sam, who was standing there puffing on the remnants of the joint like he thought he was Tony Montana or some shit, looking every bit the guy who’d just pushed his older brother —the one with the intricate curly hair routine— into a pool.

I turned to watch Josh's distorted figure trying to break the surface when I felt Sam put his cold, dirty feet sole in between my shoulder blades and met the same unfortunate fate.

I’d told the boys numerous times that I never really learned how to swim, so really this just proved Sam was a traitor who had little to no regard for my life. Finally he was showing his true colors. The whole thing was giving me a severe case of the feels.

A third splash indicated Sam had cannon-balled into the pool promptly after, whatever scarce clothes he was wearing still on. Poor little child had gotten high as a kite with the last few puffs of a dying joint, and Josh and I—

Well.

That was the first and last time we talked about— About the thing. And it was fine. It was completely fine. Everything was fucking peachy, except—

Except I never really stopped thinking about it. About the things he’d said that night.

The boys had traveled all over the country, met dozens of other musicians. Danny’s mom still got all teary eyed whenever I brought up the fact that her son had played on the very same stage as Elton John, and I was still thinking about it.

About what Josh had said.

Our house was always packed with people.

Since Jake and I are twins, we’ve had to share spaces for as long as I can remember.

Sam’s got ears like a hawk.

Nikki Sixx had called at some point, said he wanted to meet Jake personally, or something. As expected, Jake had pissed his pants and then denied it. But I saw it— I’d been working on an essay a few meters away from him while he talked on the phone.

Sam had adopted a puppy.

Danny had gotten highlights in his hair and his roots had started growing back in about a week later.

Finals season had been a total bitch to me.

Time was flying by, it was one of the few things you couldn’t really stop.

And I was still thinking about it.

It wasn’t that Josh didn’t want to make noise. It was that he’d learned not to, after a lifetime spent surrounded by nosy siblings.

Josh could belt out the entirety of Carol King’s You’ve Got A Friend while standing on the kitchen island while wearing nothing but boxer briefs and his white long-sleeved shirt and it’d be perfectly acceptable in his book, but whining a little during an impromptu jerk off session— That’s where the line was drawn.

It made no sense.

It made tons of sense.

The boys had to go through a round of excruciatingly numerous promotional interviews, and Josh was away for far longer than anticipated. But the first thing I did after seeing the guy for the first time in weeks was kiss him square on the mouth.

It probably wasn’t a very good kiss —It was rushed, and desperate, and he was clutching a ton of record sleeves close to his chest, so I couldn’t reach him properly— but I went for it anyway, just— Grabbed him by his jacket and laid one on him, catching the taste of his tongue agaisn’t my own when he opened his mouth in surprise.

This, of course, right after running outside like a maiden finally reuniting with her soldier, grabbing his wrist, and dragging him into the house, so I could sort of understand Josh’s confusion. After all, I was confused and I’d been the one who’d done it.

“Uh.” Josh blinked at me, big brown eyes stunned wide open.

“Dude.” Came my very articulate reply.

Josh was no longer the small-town kid who had once been into indie movies and old music— Well, he still was, but he was constantly in the public eye now. All four of them were. And as surreal as the whole thing was, I knew perfectly well that public displays of affection were no longer appropriate, as they ignited unwanted speculation.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” I grinned gingerly at him. “What’s up? Are you hungry? Thirsty? I— Um. I can make some tea. We can eat together. Or maybe if you’re tired you can, um. Get some rest and we’ll— We’ll eat later. I’d love to hear about your crazy adventures as a—”

“You’re here by yourself, darling?” Josh cut me off, clearly ignoring all the pansy highschooler bullshit that had just spewed out of my mouth. When I nodded, he arched an eyebrow and smirked at me, crowding me against the wall while still clutching his records. “How do you feel about making out with me, then? Does that sound enticing? I’ve missed you.”

Shit, he didn’t need to say it twice.

The records, it turned out, were a gift for me— The boys had visited seven different cities, which meant Josh had hit up seven different record stores, and bought me seven different albums. I carefully took a random one out of its sleeve and placed it under the needle, and when Freddie Mercury’s voice started blaring out of the speakers, I fell for Josh a little bit more. I cranked the volume high.

No one would care. No one was home.

Josh was babbling on and on about other stuff he’d bought me as he kicked off his shoes. Candy. Jewelry. A pair of jeans he’d thrifted for me simply because they were my size.

But we were together in my room for the first time in ages, and I felt like there were more pressing matters at hand.

I popped the button of my denim shorts, sat on my bed, and scooted back towards the headboard. Had to raise my voice a little when I spoke, “I’m sure they’ll fit me like a glove, baby. You can show ‘em to me later.”

Josh glanced between me and the speakers a couple of times before closing the door and stepping slowly towards the bed, stripping off his own shirt in the process. If he was bothered by the music, it didn’t show, as he climbed on top of the bed and between my legs, wrapping a hand around my neck and making intense eye contact with me for a few seconds. God, I’d missed this guy.

Then, he finally went in for the kiss. His lips were as soft and plush as I remembered them.

Like always, it was the best new kiss I’d ever had. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever not feel that way.

When Josh’s mouth trailed over my jaw and down to my neck, I didn’t hold back. Even after months of hyperfixation and overthinking, I didn’t hesitate. I tipped my head back and moaned, hands sliding down his sides. I even gasped out another moan when he started sucking at my skin and I felt him tense up, ever so slightly, under my hands.

“I’ve missed you like crazy,” I whispered as Josh moved down farther still, stretching the neck of my shirt and biting and licking at the newly exposed skin, then kissed lower and lower until he reached the concave dip of my stomach, “God.”

While he was down there, he curled his fingers around the waistband of my shorts and tugged them down my thighs. I kicked them away without a second thought. The panties disappeared next, and then Josh was doing what he did best.

It felt incredible, and I didn’t try to hide it.

“Trying to get your neighbors to call the cops on us, darling?” He asked, spit trickling down his chin as he looked up at me. His hair was tousled and messy, and his eyes were a little wild.

“No one can hear us,” I said, one hand frantically gripping the sheet, the other reaching to mess with his sandy hair even more, “That felt really good.”

Josh pressed his lips together just for a second, seemingly in thought, and then went back to it.

For as much as all of my noise seemed to make him nervous, he only seemed to get more enthusiastic the more he heard, licking me faster, messier.

When I finally managed to pry my eyes open and look down, I saw Josh’s shoulders working. Muscles tensing. A thin layer of sweat building on his skin.

He had a hand buried in his pants, too. Stroking his dick diligently. That sight alone had me bursting with a fresh round of groans. “Oh my God, Josh,” I said —I felt like I might be yelling, but couldn’t be sure— And scrabbled at Josh’s shoulders to coax him back up.

“Take those off,” I said when he sat up. I watched Josh rise to his knees and fumble with his fly, my mouth watering, my breaths shallow. This never got old, I thought absently. Somehow, it only got better.

Then Josh was on me again, all heat and sticky tan skin, hands claiming whatever they could reach, and I groaned right into his mouth. I knew what I wanted with absolute certainty, knew we both loved it, but I didn’t want to stop kissing long enough to speak. So I spread my legs as wide as I could, taking Josh by the wrist and guiding his hand down. Unmistakable.

Josh simply nodded, tongue running deliberately over mine, breaking the kiss just long enough to lean over and grab the trusty bottle of pink colored gel from my nightstand. He squeezed some lube into his fingers, then tossed it to the side, reaching down to touch me in that perfect, practiced way I never could’ve imagined I’d grow to want so much.

The moment Josh got a second finger inside of me, I couldn’t stop the noise I made, desperate and deep. I turned my head to the side to take a gulp of fresh air, but then Josh’s other hand was on my face, stroking my cheek, guiding my head so that I was looking at him, and the look on his face was nothing short of ravenous.

I felt my knees shaking, my thighs trying to close around his hand instinctively. My hand weakly flopped around the bed as I fumbled for the lube. I nudged Josh off me, just enough to give me room to reach down and slick him up. “I’m ready, I’m ready,” I said, vaguely aware of the blare of drums and guitars still bouncing off the walls around us.

Josh aligned himself with my entrance and I could’ve sworn the room tipped around us. His tip slipped inside with ease, and where Josh had let out a breathy sigh of relieve, I moaned shamelessly.

I arched my spine and wrapped my arms around him in an attempt to drive him even deeper. I smeared lube on his back. His hips started moving slowly, tentatively. Then a little faster. When he finally found his rhythm, almost every single thrust provoked a noise from me— I could hear in my own voice how wrecked I was and it only got me wetter, hotter. I loved being a player in the soundtrack of our passion.

I just wished Josh would join in.

“You’re so loud today.” Josh said rather quietly, looking down at me. It wasn’t a judgement, but an observation. There was curiosity in his tone.

“Because—” I started, but then my jaw fell open as Josh hit that spot that rendered me beyond words. When the room finally stopped spinning, I took a long, shaky breath and went on, “I can’t help it, Josh. I just— It just feels so good, the way you— Touch me, I— I, fuck— Don’t stop.”

Don’t stop, I begged Josh.

But I was the one who couldn’t reel it in. Once I started babbling, I couldn’t put a cork in it.

In between moans, I kept erupting with praise and encouragement as though I was a pop can that’d been opened after being shaken.

When I looked at Josh again, he was still staring down at me, fascinated. Hips snapping against me. Licking his lips.

He was breathing hard, sweat on his brow— He seemed close, and it hadn’t even been that long. Usually Josh could last a while, that was another perk that came with having sex with him. But now he looked overwhelmed, strung tight. Muscles twitching under his soft skin. Like maybe he was just waiting for someone to pop his lid too. To lay his needle just right.

To let all the pressure out.

“It’s okay, baby,” I said, reaching up to cup his cheek, sliding my fingers into his damp hair. A few strands were sticking to his forehead. He looked downright obscene. “It’s just me, don’t worry. There’s no one else around, just me.”

It felt right, and I definitely knew I was onto something when Josh’s hips stuttered. He bit his lower lip, hard. Turning it white. I could see his throat working just as plainly as I could see the wild look in his eyes.

“You’re okay, love— God—”

With my hand still in his hair, I coaxed his head down, shifting my own to the side to give him space to tuck himself into my neck.

I raised my hips, tentatively, to meet his thrusts.

And then I heard it.

Right up against my ear, like it was a secret just for me, Josh let out a moan— Low, filthy and broken.

It can from someplace deep— I could almost feel it working its way out of Josh’s chest.

That single noise sent electricity rocketing from the top of my spine to the tips of my toes. And just when I thought it might have been a fluke, there it was again, louder and even more substantial, right into my ear.

“That’s it,” I sighed, smiling like a maniac. Grasping at his back, his neck, not wanting to sacrifice an inch of space between us. “That’s it, baby.”

In response, Josh let loose a groan —A real, honest-to-god groan— and it was everything and nothing I imagined it would be. It was Josh’s voice, the same voice I’d heard millions of times before— singing, laughing, screaming, cursing, reciting poetry, telling jokes—

But a completely new sound.

“Yeah?” I said. It wasn’t even a real question, but I felt Josh nodding anyway. “Is it any good?”

“Really good, darling,” Josh muttered, “Feels fucking amazing.”

“Did you miss my bed?” I went on, testing the waters. I’d never said anything like that while having sex —Not with Josh, not with anyone— but now, it felt thrilling to say it.

For Josh’s part— He must have loved it, because his tongue darted out to lick his lips and he nodded, “Yeah, missed taking you apart in it,” he pressed deep into my body, making my toes curl, my heart race, “Thought about it the whole time I was away.”

The hairs on my arms stood on end.

“God, Josh, you sound— That’s gonna make me come.”

“Yeah?” He said, a cocky grin playing on his lips. He seemed so delighted by the promise that he went into detail, describing the most obscene scenarios, moaning and gasping and whining with each drive forward.

I wished I could record everything I was hearing. I wished I could keep it with me at all times. Screw Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, this was now the best thing I’d ever heard in my entire life.

But I couldn’t record it. So I tried to commit every sound to memory.

Music was still blasting from my speakers, but it was nothing but background noise, now. All I could focus on was trying to draw more and more sounds out of Josh. More and more words. I ran my nails down his body like it was an instrument, raking down his ribs and his stomach, making the toned muscles flutter under my touch. I met Josh’s moans with ones of my own— I couldn’t remember ever feeling this in tune with anyone. Ever.

Josh paused, pulled his face back to look at me. He looked like a beautiful mess, absolutely fucked out. There was mischief in his whiskey-colored eyes, like he understood now, like he knew exactly how much this was getting to me, and when he moved again, it was with me clinging to his body, shoulders hunched.

And he growled, feral and challenging.

“Oh God, Josh, I’m gonna— I can’t—”

“Do it, darling,” Josh urged, steady and deliberate and ripped straight out of my fantasies, “Come for me. Do it.”

He was telling me to come— Jesus fucking christ.

Not with a tightening of his fingers, or a hushed out breath but with actual words, a scorching command I couldn’t help but to follow.

My orgasm hit me so hard that this time, I was the one to go completely silent. All that pleasure was lodged in my throat and it was— Too much. I just couldn’t get it out. Josh kept fucking me through the aftershocks, relentlessly snapping his hips forward, helping me ride my own climax out.

He chuckled, low and teasing, and said, “What happened, darling? Cat got your tongue?”

Oh, my God.

With my back arching and every inch of my body clenching tight around his heated flesh, I finally managed to murmur, “Shut up,” Not caring about how weak or needy it sounded.

He chuckled again, but soon those chuckles turned into a chant. A string of drawled curses he seemed unable to keep from spilling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He repeated, like he was making up for lost chances, like he was making up for all the times a groan, or a curse had been on the tip of his tongue and he’d swallowed it back. Then, with one final thrust he stilled, tense and sweaty, and let out a deep, drawn-out sound of relief that sent a fresh wave of dizziness through my body.

If only I could rewind time like a cassette tape. Then I’d repeat the whole thing all over again.

Freddie Mercury was cool and all, but the music became too loud and intrusive once we were both spent and panting, and I wanted it off. I didn’t want it to drown out the echoes of Josh’s moans in my mind, I just wanted to soak in the silence for a while.

I scooted away towards the edge of the bed, just enough so I could reach over the side of the dresser and turn the record player down. With the room suddenly silent, I turned back to look at Josh, who was sprawled in my bed with his hair a mess, looking like something straight out of a porn movie.

“How about you show me that sublime pair of pants you got me now?” I said jokingly, crawling over Josh and pressing my lips to his chest.

“They’re in my car,” He said, his voice sounded tired and worn in a way that made me feel all kinds of proud, “I don’t wanna get up.”

“You’re so lazy, Joshua.”

Josh let out a long, slow breath, heartbeat finally slowing. “Yeah.”

The silence settled like a blanket around us. Not smothering, but warm and comfortable. The sheets rustled as Josh scooted his way back up and fell to his side, so that he was half-draped over me. We found each other’s mouths easily, naturally.

And Josh was making these small noises.

These little huffs, and contented hums that he’d never, never made before. It was truly incredible. I gathered him in my arms, let one hand settle on the small of his back, the other combing lazily through his curls.

He kissed his way across my cheek, until his mouth was hovering just beside my ear, and whispered, so beautifully, so perfectly soft, “Are you happy now?”

It was teasing. Josh was a little shit, after all.

But it was also— Not.

I just nodded. Turned my head enough to catch his big, brown eyes.

Josh was already looking at me, wearing a sluggish smirk. “I’m sorry, what was that? I didn’t hear you,” He drawled.

I snorted. “I’ve created a monster.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Josh added, arching a single eyebrow, “Be careful what you wish for.”

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The scene with Sam wasn't even meant to exist and now I can't imagine this fic without it.