Jensen watched from across the green room, his bottle dangling from fingertips, condensation rolling down the green glass sides as the beer got warm.
The local reporter was seated on one of the low couches in the room, looking up at their guitarist Stephen with long eyelashes and longer legs. This young guy, Jared, laughed not with the cynicism or sticky experience of so many in their nightly entourage, but with innocent enthusiasm that had Jensen rubbing his cock through his soft leather pants with one hand while he pulled the beer to his mouth with his other hand, taking a long draw.
Fucking Stephen. He had skill otherwise Jensen wouldn’t have brought him on tour with the band but he was useless when it came to anything other than playing guitar. He wouldn’t know what to do with the guy in front of him, other than sit on the arm of that couch talking about his hobbies or his parents back in Canada.
Stephen wouldn’t know how to suck down those sweet pink lips, swallowing down the little moans that would follow, or how to take those slender wrists in one hand, rubbing the bones together until Jared was twisting underneath him, or how to twine his fingers through those long brown curls, yanking on them just enough to expose that swan neck so that he could leave bruises down its length, souvenirs that lasted for days after they had packed up and left town.
Jared rolled the end of the pen between his lips, chewing on the cap as he listened intently to the rhythm guitarist. That unknowing action was like waving a red flag in front of Jensen. He brushed off a PR guy and a roadie on his way across the room, to stand above the reporter, who looked up through a fringe of soft bangs, his face breaking into dimples when he recognized the lead singer’s face.
Dimples, this kid had fucking dimples. As he stood there looking down, all Jensen could think was whether those dimples deepened or filled out with his cock buried in that mouth.
“Want an exclusive?“ Jensen gave him a crooked smile, his voice low and raspy from the show.
The younger man seemed uncertain for a moment, glancing towards Stephen, who graciously waved his hand towards the singer. “Whatever Jensen wants. I’ll catch up with you later.“
Stephen had no fucking idea. There would be no catching up later. Jensen planned to ruin Jared tonight, leaving him marked so deep in his soul that it cause him physical pain to think about the memory.
Jared stood up and the dimples made a reappearance, along with a blush down his cheek, and Jensen’s world shifted to thoughts of long nights curled around this boy in the dark bunk of a tour bus, muffling needy sounds away from his sleeping band mates.
“Sure, where do you want to go for this?“
Jensen grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards a back room. "Not far."