Fluff Friday
Jo needs a little persuasion to get "in the mood".
Jo yelps in surprise at the sudden feeling of calloused fingers on his hips.
“Mäx, get your grimy fingers off me,” he growls, shoving away the guitarist’s embrace. Mäx quirks an eyebrow.
“So we’re in a pissy mood today, are we?” he counters and kisses Jo’s shoulder, refusing to acknowledge the scowl on his boyfriend’s face. “Damn Fabi for not warning me,” he says as he lays a line of kisses up Jo’s neck, the singer’s scowl deepening before he shoves Mäx away.
“I am not in a pissy mood, thank you very much,” Jo says archly.
“Are to,” Mäx mutters under his breath. He strokes down Jo’s sternum, pretending not to hear Jo’s startled gasp. Pissy mood or not, Jo is interested. Jo hums pleasurably as Mäx caresses his hip, letting Mäx’s lips kiss his neck for the barest of moments before he slaps at Mäx’s hand irritably and tries to pry his fingers off. Mäx hides a grin in the nape of Jo’s neck, a plan forming in his mind. He drags his tongue over the hollow of Jo’s neck and leans in to nip at it, sucking just enough to catch Jo’s attention. Jo snarls and shoves the heels of his hands into Mäx’s chest.
“Get off me,” he whines unconvincingly. “I’m not in the mood.”
Mäx trails his hand down past Jo’s narrow hips to just over the zip of his jeans. Oh, yeah, Jo is hard. Mäx strokes the thin fabric of Jo’s jeans, enjoying the way Jo leans into his touch. He continues that way for a few minutes, letting Jo rock into him. He keeps his eyes on Jo’s neck, counting Jo’s too quick heartbeats. At four hundred, Mäx lets go mid-sway. He kisses Jo’s neck once and walks away calmly.
Jo yelps and grabs after him.
“Where are you going?!” Jo squeaks in horror. “You’re not going to leave me like this?!”
“I thought you weren’t ‘in the mood’,” Mäx says over his shoulder in complete unconcern.
“Schlichter, if you don’t get your ass back here, I’ll-”
Mäx pauses and turns back, grinning.
“You’ll what?” he asks triumphantly. Jo’s nostrils flares, his black-rimmed eyes narrowing.
“Shut up and get over here,” Jo demands, desperation apparent in his voice. Mäx’s grin grows wider.
“I don’t think so,” he says cheerfully, waving at Jo as he walks out of the room. “I’ll be watching TV if you need me.”
It takes Jo all of ten seconds to go after Mäx and pin him to the wall, Jo growling hot promises of what he will do to Mäx for being such a fucking tease. Mäx ignores the slight headache Jo gives him when he slams the back of his head into the wall and lets Jo do as he pleases, the singer not realizing he’s been played until they were both naked on the floor, their clothes scattered around them in a senseless pattern. By then, of course, Jo is hardly in a position- or condition- to complain and Mäx doesn’t give a damn because he’s got his baby on top of him and that’s what he’d wanted all along.