Lust

Tuesday Night

Trope: Rockstar Boyfriend

Lydia and Myles

The scent of homemade lasagna wafted throughout the penthouse apartment, causing Myles to take in a deep, appreciating breath. He sighed and set his guitar case in the entryway, unbuttoning a few more buttons on his black, silk shirt to display his tattoos. He made his way around the corner and there she was-Lydia. He licked his lips as he watched her work in the kitchen; she was almost finished with everything and was tossing the salad now, but he couldn't help himself from letting his eyes wander to her breasts as they bounced with the movement of her arms. Her lavender hair was thrown up into a messy bun on the top of her head, little wisps flowing down to frame her little round face-beautiful. She was in one of his tour shirts that looked two sizes too big and, from what he could tell, the only thing underneath was her blue boy-short pair of underwear that framed her plump ass perfectly. God, she was so breath-takingly sexy...he could write a million songs about this moment alone.

Myles crept up beside her and slid his hand across the small of her back, pulling her gently to his side. She gasped quietly and looked up into his eyes, her grey orbs wide with happy surprise. "You're home early," she exclaimed, tossing down her utensils to throw her arms around him. "This hardly ever happens!" Lydia held him tight and closed her eyes, reveling in his presence. She pulled away slightly to cup his angular jaw, taking in all that was Myles Banks; long vivid red hair, lush green eyes, and all his face piercings she loved feeling on her...intimate spaces...

"Hey, Baby," he smiled, kissing her forehead. "It smells amazing in here; is there anything I can help with?"

Lydia blushed and shook her head, "The lasagna's been done for a little while, I have it in the oven to keep it warm, and the salad is just a salad so we can eat now."

"Actually," his hand drifted lower to the curve of her ass, massaging the skin as he played with the material of her underwear. "I had something else in mind first, if the lasagna can wait a little longer?" he asked, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

"It can wait all night," she whispered, pulling his face down to her's. Myles' tongue slipped into her awaiting mouth, his piercing stroking her as his hands cupped her face. It was then he began to be thankful for how neat she was when she was cooking. She liked to clean as she went, making dishes at the end of the night virtually nonexistent, and because of that, the kitchen island was completely empty. His right hand snaked to the nape of her neck, tangling in her hair as he used his left arm to sweep her off her feet and onto his waist that she wrapped her legs around instantaneously.

Lydia grinded into him as he made his way a few feet across the kitchen to lay her down on the huge, marble island. Still standing over her, he removed her hands from around him (much to her dismay), but quickly made up for it but slowly sliding her underwear down her thighs, kissing a fiery hot trail as he went. Once they were gone, she splayed her legs open for him and watched as his eyes dilated at the sight. "God, you're so fucking sexy," he groaned, licking his way back up her legs to her awaiting pussy. "And you're so wet for me; how long have you been craving me, baby?"

"Since you left this morning," she admitted in a shaky breath.

"Mmm," he hummed against her skin, "I guess we're both starved then." Lydia gasped as he descended upon her, his tongue piercing massaging her clit in ways she had only dreamed of. He threw her thighs over his shoulders and slid his hands under back, lifting so she would be arched in a beautiful pose. He went to work on her, listening to her mewls of pleasure echo throughout the apartment.

Only he would get to hear her like this-see her like this. She was his...and he was hers.

"Oh God, Myles, I love your tongue, but please fuck me," she pleaded, her doe eyes begging for him.

He growled and licked his lips. "Anything for you, baby."

Myles flung open his belt buckle and shimmied down his pants and briefs, entering her in one stroke. He went in just deep enough for her to feel him, but not too deep as to ruin the fun too fast. Her fingers clutched the countertop as she moved against him, admiring the tattoos that went across his chest and down his chiseled abs. He looked fucking fantastic. Myles kept one arm underneath her while the other hand lifted her shirt so that he could lean down and shove his head in her breasts, licking and sucking at the tender flesh. He pulled her closer, pummeling into her wet core, grunting as his climax approached.

Lydia felt her walls tightening as euphoria washed over her, tilting back her head and crying out in ecstasy. Myles wasn't far behind her, he ripped his head out of her shirt and pounded into her, groaning as her legs shook around him. He took in all her glory; flushed cheeks, swollen lips, messy hair, and her soft skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. Her breasts were perky, nipples at attention due to the cold air, and her eyes were closed with exhaustion; her lips parting slightly to breathe.

Fuck, he was cumming.

Myles moaned and collapsed on top of Lydia, the sounds of their panting the only thing either of them could hear. When he finally stood up again, she excused herself to the bathroom and Myles busied himself with setting the table. With all his clothes back on, he took the lasagna out of the oven, made their plates at the table, and poured the wine. He took out a few candles he knew Lydia had stashed in a nearby cabinet and lit them on the table.

When she came out to the scene Myles created, she smiled and tilted her head to the side. "Myles," she teased.

"It's the least I could do after you made everything." He pulled out her chair and helped her slide to the table, brushing her freshly combed hair to the side to kiss her neck. Myles took his seat beside her and they began eating, chatting here and there about their days. "I have another show coming up next month, will you come?"

"Of course, Myles! If I could've gone with you on tour I would have..."

Lydia's voice cracks, remembering the reason they spent the entire year apart. Her mother. Right before he left, she got sick...it hit hard and fast; the doctors said it would take her out in four months, but she held out the entire year in hopes to see Myles one last time for Christmas...he never made it. Something he regretted even still to this day. Lydia and her mother knew it was completely out of his control; a storm no pilot would fly in. He was stuck at the airport for 28 hours before finally catching a flight and speeding out to Lydia's childhood home...but it had been too late. Mere hours before he pulled into the driveway, she passed.

Myles squeezed her hand in reassurance. "There will be others. You'll love it, though."

"I don't doubt it," she smiled, "so when's the show?"

"The 22nd; we'll go together and I'll hide you out in my dressing room until showtime like always." She blushed at the thoughts of everything they've done in those dressing rooms. "Will you be in the wings?"

"I always am," she assured him.

He nodded and smiled-this will be the first show since the end of the tour almost a year ago. Myles watched Lydia, making sure she was eating as much as she should. She noticed and raised an eyebrow. "You're just beautiful, that's all," he grinned, answering her silent question. He was honestly just grateful she agreed to come-this was the first show since the tour, but also since her mother passed as well. He knew it still effected her and that's a hurt that never really goes away, but his therapist constantly reminded him not to treat her any different so that's what he hoped he was doing. "I love you, Lydia."

"I love you too, Myles."

He smiled and lifted her hand to his lips to kiss it before returning back to his food, rubbing comforting circles across the back of her hand. Just a regular Tuesday night.