Elvis Presley Imagines

Suspicious minds...

|| Hello! Thank you all so much for the love and support you are showing here, on Good Rockin' Tonight, on From A Jack To A King and even Instagram!! I love you all! This story is inspired by an Italian song sang by Claudia Mori, called "Buonasera Dottore (Good Evening Doctor)" - but obviously, I've translated it in English. Enjoy! Warning: this story will have mature content. If you can't stand Priscilla, either you skip, or you read and laugh at the end. ||

1968.

You are one of Elvis Presley's backup singers. After his long hiatus from the stage and music industry, he decided to come back with a big show that would air on worldwide television. You have to meet your 'boss' in some minutes and you are dying inside, since you do not know how to behave, how to talk, or even how to look at him. 

When his bodyguard, Red West, gently grabs your arm and pushes you through the door, your heart stops. You look at Elvis, who is sitting down on the blue couch, wearing a white shirt and black pants, all combined with a black leather belt. You look at his face: his black raven hair is slicked back and it ends with a pair of well trimmed sideburns. He does not look like the classic Elvis Presley that everybody remembers. He has changed. He has grown up. 

You smile nicely at the man as Red leaves you two alone. "Honey, take a seat. Suit yourself!" Elvis says, reaching out his hand, pointing it at the space near him on the couch. You blush and sit next to your boss, who once was your idol. "What's your name, darl'?" He asks, looking at you as his legs open in a manly way. "I'm Y/N." You politely reply, not wanting to sound too pushy, nor too shy. He surrounds your shoulders with his arm as he pulls you closer. "Well, Y/N... It's the first time I feel a connection with one of my singers. I mean, when I first met the others, for example, uh... Let's take Venus. When I first met her, we just talked for a moment, agreed on the songs, then I let her go. The same happened with Andrew, Mark, Jennifer, Christina... But with you... With you it's different, honey." He says, while his tone lowers and lowers until it becomes just a whisper. You silently gulp as your heart beats faster when Elvis' fingertips touch the bare skin on your neck. You wonder why he is doing it: he is married, his wife is surely beautiful... Why would he be flirting with another person, who just is one of his backup singers? 

"Why're you so silent, baby? Am I that much intimidatin' ya?" Elvis asks, pulling you closer and closer. You awkwardly smile and shake your head. "N- No, mister Presley... I- I just am a shy person." You try and defend yourself, but the famous Rock'n'Roll star does not believe it. "Oh, really..? Then... If you're so shy... Why did you audition to become one of my singers?" He whispers in your ear, kissing and biting your earlobe right after. You cannot help but bite your bottom lip and, unconsciously, let out a soft moan. "Oh, so I'm pleasin' ya now, pretty baby..." Elvis whispers again, kissing your neck this time. 

You love this. You would be lying in front of God if you said that he did not please you. Nevertheless, you sigh and pull away. "Mister Presley, sir, we shouldn't do this. It should be a strictly professional relationship and I don't want your wife to think horrible things of me and you. So... I guess I'll see you at rehearsals." You politely reply, standing up. Elvis furrows his brows, then pulls you back down and strongly holds your wrist. "Oh, darlin'... You never had this experience before, I can see that from your attitude." The King begins his sentence, before kissing your ear once again and whispering in it: "Never put yourself, weak and humble lamb, against the big and strong wolf... You'll regret it in a jiffy." 

Your eyes widen. You did not come here at the meeting to make love to Elvis Presley, you just wanted some information about your role in the choir and the dancing routines, rehearsals... Whatever concerns being a backup singer of one of the most famous people in the world. Yet, you do not even have the time to stand up once again. Elvis' plump and pinkish lips are pressed against yours. You try and pull away, but his grip on your waist is too strong, as well as the one near your face: his palm is on your jaw, his thumb on your cheekbone and the rest of his long fingers is on the back of your neck; this keeps you in position.