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oprorsk_sodeSmut Prompt 51) “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?”
Rik had insisted that Mikkel go out with Aarne, and it wasn’t a bad choice. The two were now on bikes and heading for the local music shop. He had some money saved up, Mikkel wanted to get another bass. Of course, Aarne was teasing him as they rode side by side, screaming about how he had a bass obsession. It had the young Dane blushing red as Aarne’s bike because it was true, partially. Mikkel had played bass before, but he needed to sell it to survive. Being around all the musicians, and especially listening to Sigurd play had him thinking he should pick it back up again. Thankfully, that claim of bass obsession could get thrown back at the drummer who just laughed right along with the Dane. That was why they were out, Mikkel wanted a new bass and Rekker had agreed to give it a custom painting if he couldn’t find one, he liked. This was exciting.
The two young men walked into the store loud and joking over the hotness of dark-haired bassists. It was something they shared though Sigurd and Joe had very different personalities from what either of them had seen. Mikkel and Aarne went their own ways inside; Mikkel looking at the basses and Aarne went off to check out new drumsticks. Mikkel spent some time with one of the salesmen to determine what bass might best suit what he wanted to play and his price range.
They were in the back looking for the bass he wanted when Aarne came up with a local L.A. music magazine. Mikkel, genuinely interested in the scene here but then Aarne flipped it open. Local media had latched on to Blixt, no doubt because of Rekker. The drummer flipped the magazine page and there was a full-page image of Sigurd, shirtless and pants undone. Aarne starting to giggle wildly when he heard the Dane gasp quietly.
“I found a couple.” Aarne presented Mikkel with a stack of 4 or 5 magazines. All of them had a section on Blixt, not interviews, but general information. No doubt the images were from other media and not new. Too many had snow which wasn’t happening here in L.A., not unless they went to the mountains. No one had gone to the mountains. It took Aarne elbowing the Dane for him to realize they were back with his bass, bag, strings, and the other items he needed to get started.
“These too.” Mikkel dropped the whole stack of magazines on the counter.
“I don’t blame you. He’s hot in an angry dad way.” Aarne whispered in Danish while trying to keep composure.
Mikkel flushed while counting money to pay for his gear. “He’s all bluster. Sig is trash like the rest of them.”
Aarne was instantly interested, and they turned to what was more like gossiping girls, though no one here would know for the chatter in Danish.
“I gave him a lap dance at the strip club.” Mikkel mentioned while shouldering the bass bag and grabbing the bag of extras, including the coveted magazines.
Aarne covered his mouth, snorting between fingers from laughter. “I bet he chain smokes around you. He’s so nervous and trying to be better than the rest.”
Mikkel leaned into the drummer as they stepped out the door. He drove Sigurd crazy, not that most of it was on purpose. “Smoke in one hand and the other on my ass.”
Aarne could barely get on the bike while laughing and watching the much younger Dane get on Rik’s bike. As was his usual, Aarne was pleased to send dirty, well these weren’t quite dirty, but they definitely were to the innocent Dane. Aarne knew this and found himself laughing too much to have much of a discussion on the way back.
Mikkel dumped his things in the room he was sharing with Ansgar, frowning at the way it smelled like a perfume stall exploded. Torden must have been here earlier. Mikkel wanted to look at the magazines, read them since he knew so little about Blixt but the perfume in the place made his eyes burn. How the Dane wore so much was beyond the youngest of them. He packed up the magazines and wondered where to go. Instinctively, he walked down toward Sigurd’s room, knocked, and got no answer.
The door was unlocked so he went in. The bassist wasn’t in the room but had been. The smell of smoke lingering as much as Torden’s perfume had in the other. Mikkel decided he was staying. What was the bassist going to do? Complain? He kicked off his cowboy boots and climbed on the bed to lay out and read. Reading quickly became staring at the pictures. The magazines all spread out on the bed.
Laying in Sigurd’s bed while staring at pictures of him that suggested some lewdness without showing anything was erotic, dirty even. Mikkel started laughing because he’d heard this was what American girls did with these kinds of magazines, though he understood why. Not only, Sigurd, but most of the other men in the magazines were unbelievably hot. They did the same thing Mikkel was starting to do too, imagining them there in the bed.
He laid out on the bed on his back wondering where the hell the bassist was, probably out drinking with his band. The young Dane tossed his belt on the floor and found his hand naturally slipping into his pants while he thought about Sigurd. All memory of this being Sigurd’s actual room forgotten as he started to daydream about his touch. The way the bassist touched his body had him grabbing his cock to stroke it. Soon he was wiggling out of his pants, imagining Sigurd pulling them off in the heat of need.
Mikkel could imagine Sigurd’s lips on his neck the weight of his body on top of him. He hadn’t ever wanted any specific person this much. Sure, he had fantasies about sex, occasionally certain people, but this was constant. As he laid on Sigurd’s bed, he desperately wanted the bassist to come through the door and get his hands all over his body. Mikkel was moaning while he laid there, hand working his cock while he imagined it was the Swede. He still remembered being in the booth and those first touches of his hand. That was enough for the Dane to push him right over the edge.
Panting hard, Mikkel couldn’t stop daydreaming and kept going. Where the hell was Sigurd? Mikkel wanted him and he felt bitchy over the fact that he wasn’t in his room. The split desire of wanting to slap the bassist in the face for not being here and wanting to feel those rough hands on his ass. Mikkel curled up on the bed, on his side, staring at the images of the bassist across the bed. He could taste his lips and the booze, but it was that moment when he had bounced his thigh between Mikkel’s legs during that lap dance. He wanted that damned bassist between his thighs right now and all he had was himself. The swirl of dissatisfaction and lust intensified everything he was feeling.
The daydreams wouldn’t stop. He wanted him; in the shower, on the bed, to climb into his lap like the dirty band dad Sigurd claimed to be. Mikkel was getting desperate, and he was tiring himself out with the incessant orgasms and dirty imaginings. His arm was burning from overuse. He wondered what got him so wound up over this one person. There were others he liked but Sigurd, just seeing a picture of him or hearing his name nearly sent him into a spiral of sexual desire that he couldn’t stop.
His breath was coming hard as he started rubbing his bicep and hand. He’d cramped up from pleasuring himself. That had never happened before. As the pain subsided, he felt drowsy. Where he was had been forgotten but his mind was still on the Swede. No doubt he was about to drift off into dirty dreams. At least it would give his arm a break.
The Dane curled up on the bed while drowsily pulling the sheet up over his body. As he came down, he was getting cold. The warmth only lulling him further into his exhaustion and sleep. There he laid, sleeping among all the music magazines and too tired to care where he was right now. It didn’t matter since he was safe here in the hotel.
Rik had insisted that Mikkel go out with Aarne, and it wasn’t a bad choice. The two were now on bikes and heading for the local music shop. He had some money saved up, Mikkel wanted to get another bass. Of course, Aarne was teasing him as they rode side by side, screaming about how he had a bass obsession. It had the young Dane blushing red as Aarne’s bike because it was true, partially. Mikkel had played bass before, but he needed to sell it to survive. Being around all the musicians, and especially listening to Sigurd play had him thinking he should pick it back up again. Thankfully, that claim of bass obsession could get thrown back at the drummer who just laughed right along with the Dane. That was why they were out, Mikkel wanted a new bass and Rekker had agreed to give it a custom painting if he couldn’t find one, he liked. This was exciting.
The two young men walked into the store loud and joking over the hotness of dark-haired bassists. It was something they shared though Sigurd and Joe had very different personalities from what either of them had seen. Mikkel and Aarne went their own ways inside; Mikkel looking at the basses and Aarne went off to check out new drumsticks. Mikkel spent some time with one of the salesmen to determine what bass might best suit what he wanted to play and his price range.
They were in the back looking for the bass he wanted when Aarne came up with a local L.A. music magazine. Mikkel, genuinely interested in the scene here but then Aarne flipped it open. Local media had latched on to Blixt, no doubt because of Rekker. The drummer flipped the magazine page and there was a full-page image of Sigurd, shirtless and pants undone. Aarne starting to giggle wildly when he heard the Dane gasp quietly.
“I found a couple.” Aarne presented Mikkel with a stack of 4 or 5 magazines. All of them had a section on Blixt, not interviews, but general information. No doubt the images were from other media and not new. Too many had snow which wasn’t happening here in L.A., not unless they went to the mountains. No one had gone to the mountains. It took Aarne elbowing the Dane for him to realize they were back with his bass, bag, strings, and the other items he needed to get started.
“These too.” Mikkel dropped the whole stack of magazines on the counter.
“I don’t blame you. He’s hot in an angry dad way.” Aarne whispered in Danish while trying to keep composure.
Mikkel flushed while counting money to pay for his gear. “He’s all bluster. Sig is trash like the rest of them.”
Aarne was instantly interested, and they turned to what was more like gossiping girls, though no one here would know for the chatter in Danish.
“I gave him a lap dance at the strip club.” Mikkel mentioned while shouldering the bass bag and grabbing the bag of extras, including the coveted magazines.
Aarne covered his mouth, snorting between fingers from laughter. “I bet he chain smokes around you. He’s so nervous and trying to be better than the rest.”
Mikkel leaned into the drummer as they stepped out the door. He drove Sigurd crazy, not that most of it was on purpose. “Smoke in one hand and the other on my ass.”
Aarne could barely get on the bike while laughing and watching the much younger Dane get on Rik’s bike. As was his usual, Aarne was pleased to send dirty, well these weren’t quite dirty, but they definitely were to the innocent Dane. Aarne knew this and found himself laughing too much to have much of a discussion on the way back.
Mikkel dumped his things in the room he was sharing with Ansgar, frowning at the way it smelled like a perfume stall exploded. Torden must have been here earlier. Mikkel wanted to look at the magazines, read them since he knew so little about Blixt but the perfume in the place made his eyes burn. How the Dane wore so much was beyond the youngest of them. He packed up the magazines and wondered where to go. Instinctively, he walked down toward Sigurd’s room, knocked, and got no answer.
The door was unlocked so he went in. The bassist wasn’t in the room but had been. The smell of smoke lingering as much as Torden’s perfume had in the other. Mikkel decided he was staying. What was the bassist going to do? Complain? He kicked off his cowboy boots and climbed on the bed to lay out and read. Reading quickly became staring at the pictures. The magazines all spread out on the bed.
Laying in Sigurd’s bed while staring at pictures of him that suggested some lewdness without showing anything was erotic, dirty even. Mikkel started laughing because he’d heard this was what American girls did with these kinds of magazines, though he understood why. Not only, Sigurd, but most of the other men in the magazines were unbelievably hot. They did the same thing Mikkel was starting to do too, imagining them there in the bed.
He laid out on the bed on his back wondering where the hell the bassist was, probably out drinking with his band. The young Dane tossed his belt on the floor and found his hand naturally slipping into his pants while he thought about Sigurd. All memory of this being Sigurd’s actual room forgotten as he started to daydream about his touch. The way the bassist touched his body had him grabbing his cock to stroke it. Soon he was wiggling out of his pants, imagining Sigurd pulling them off in the heat of need.
Mikkel could imagine Sigurd’s lips on his neck the weight of his body on top of him. He hadn’t ever wanted any specific person this much. Sure, he had fantasies about sex, occasionally certain people, but this was constant. As he laid on Sigurd’s bed, he desperately wanted the bassist to come through the door and get his hands all over his body. Mikkel was moaning while he laid there, hand working his cock while he imagined it was the Swede. He still remembered being in the booth and those first touches of his hand. That was enough for the Dane to push him right over the edge.
Panting hard, Mikkel couldn’t stop daydreaming and kept going. Where the hell was Sigurd? Mikkel wanted him and he felt bitchy over the fact that he wasn’t in his room. The split desire of wanting to slap the bassist in the face for not being here and wanting to feel those rough hands on his ass. Mikkel curled up on the bed, on his side, staring at the images of the bassist across the bed. He could taste his lips and the booze, but it was that moment when he had bounced his thigh between Mikkel’s legs during that lap dance. He wanted that damned bassist between his thighs right now and all he had was himself. The swirl of dissatisfaction and lust intensified everything he was feeling.
The daydreams wouldn’t stop. He wanted him; in the shower, on the bed, to climb into his lap like the dirty band dad Sigurd claimed to be. Mikkel was getting desperate, and he was tiring himself out with the incessant orgasms and dirty imaginings. His arm was burning from overuse. He wondered what got him so wound up over this one person. There were others he liked but Sigurd, just seeing a picture of him or hearing his name nearly sent him into a spiral of sexual desire that he couldn’t stop.
His breath was coming hard as he started rubbing his bicep and hand. He’d cramped up from pleasuring himself. That had never happened before. As the pain subsided, he felt drowsy. Where he was had been forgotten but his mind was still on the Swede. No doubt he was about to drift off into dirty dreams. At least it would give his arm a break.
The Dane curled up on the bed while drowsily pulling the sheet up over his body. As he came down, he was getting cold. The warmth only lulling him further into his exhaustion and sleep. There he laid, sleeping among all the music magazines and too tired to care where he was right now. It didn’t matter since he was safe here in the hotel.