The Drummer's Keeper [Completed]

Wrong Answer

ARTHIT

Kongpob does not release his fingers from mine but instead tugs them down to my lap before his fingers resumed what I was doing not one minute ago.

"Kongpob..."

He shushes me as he steps closer, his thumbs placed on my temples as he gently applies pressure in tiny circular motions. Meanwhile his fingers reach into my hair, massaging my scalp and tugging the strands of my hair periodically. My eyes flutter close at the almost sensual feeling, my breathing slowing as I breathe in the faint lingering scent from the cologne he must have slapped on at the start of the day. It is familiar, so similar to my own.

"Grapefruit...and sandalwood?" I question.

He hums in acknowledgement as his hands move to the base of my neck, fingers trailing to the muscles on both of my shoulders before pressing down, the strong fingers teasing out the knots that had formed both from stress as well as it being a occupational hazard of the repetitive motions. People sometimes forget that drumming is almost a full body exercise and I am often left with aches and sore muscles.

"Aah...", I unwittingly let out a soft moan when he digs into a particularly stubborn knotted muscle on my right shoulder and sigh when the tension gradually releases. In the back of my mind, I know that I am in good hands as he prods and kneads away. I can't help but sigh and moan as my muscles relax, I am like putty in his hands.

If he ever wants to retire, I will gladly hire him as my personal masseur, he is that good. Hell, I will hire him now if he needs some side income. I begin to plot in my mind as to how I can tempt him to accept my offer. That strand of thought loses itself as I begin to drift, enjoying every sensation running through my veins, almost lulling me to sleep.

My eyes snap open and I stop breathing as the feather-light touch of lips on my cheek sends shivers down my spine as his warm breath caresses my face. I can only hear my blood rushing in my ear and my own heart racing.

"So damn beautiful." he murmurs in my ear as he brushes his lips across my temple, then on the tip of my nose before finally landing on my lips.

Everything goes silent, it's as if the world itself has disappeared and all that is left is just Kongpob and I in this bubble. My hands reach up to knot in his shirt, pulling him closer as his right hand holds onto my nape firmly while his left gently strokes my cheek. He nips on my bottom lip, requesting-no demanding-for access. I taste the slightly bitter taste of the coffee he must have guzzled down earlier, mixed with a hint of mint from the gum he's always chewing as our tongues duel. I know instantly that this will be my favorite taste combination, my favorite addiction.

"More..." I whine, reaching up to pull him near when he backs away for that brief second, before he dives in again, devouring, biting, sucking my lips and then proceeds to deliver the same treatment to my neck as we both grow frantic and hungry. At this moment, I don't care that there is just the slightest hint of stubble which rubs against my skin, chafing it every so slightly and that tomorrow I will get hell from Tutah whom has the joy of dressing us for the autograph session that night.

Nothing matters right now except for his hands roaming down my chest and his mouth on mine. All my nerve endings are tingling with every contact of our skin. This is what I have been longing for, dreaming for, since that night. 

Fuck. My body stiffens at the unwanted memories of him avoiding me, rejecting me, and my own resolution to hit on a random stranger in a bar come back to me full force.

The cold stab of those memories undoes what he has been very successful at so far-making me forget my worries. As much as I want to continue, I can't. Not when my stupid brain is far too coherent now, the haze of lust dissipating under harsh clarity. My hands fall to my side in resignation, angry at myself for not just taking this opportunity but angrier at him for playing these mindfuck games with me.