Elijah stopped the recording, hitting the button to activate the sound booth’s speaker. “It’s ‘sitting at the table’, Chris,” he corrected.

The singer glared at him heatedly. “I’ll sing it the way I want! It’s my damn song!” he snapped.

Elijah sighed, turning the speaker off. “It’s been Kenny Roger’s song for 30 fucking years,” he muttered. “Fucking little primadonna.”

He looked up as his lover entered, carrying two coffees. “Thank god,” he exclaimed, taking a coffee and giving his man a kiss on the lips. “Please, tell me not to kill this bimbo!”

Punk laughed. “Is he really that bad?” He frowned as he listened to Chris’ crooning. “Did he just sing ‘lying on the table’?”

“Yes,” Elijah groaned.

“How does he not know the lyrics to that song? Even I know it, and I don’t listen to mainstream stuff.” Punk blew on his coffee, debating for a moment if it was cool enough to hazard a sip, and deciding against it.

“I know.” Elijah shook his head. “He’s turning a classic song into a fucking stripper anthem!” He ran a hand over his hair, his fingers jostling the spirit beads attached to his dark locks. “Why, why, why did I ever go mainstream? Why didn’t I stick with underground punk and hip-hip?”

“Because there’s no money in it?” Punk tested a sip of his coffee, wincing at the heat.

“I do like the money.” Elijah sighed deeply. “But man, do I hate having my name on shit like this. Do you hear this kid?” He winced as Chris hit yet another off note.

“I think ‘aging pop diva’ is more appropriate for him,” Punk commented. “He had three rich ex-husbands by the time he was 30, and now he’s moved on to hot young models. He’s probably bitchy because he just broke up with that sexy young thing; you know, the one absolutely everyone wants to fuck?”

“Morrison.” Elijah nodded as he pictured the model’s luscious body. “God, is he hot. I bet he even tops Johnny Depp on peoples’ ‘exception’ lists.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” Punk agreed, finally managing to take a sip of coffee without burning his mouth.

“I wish you wouldn’t read that gossip rag trash, though,” Elijah chided.

“Kind of hard not to in Hollywood, isn’t it?” Punk shrugged. “Besides, I do layouts for them, I can’t help noticing the content.”

Elijah made a face, turning his attention back to the singer. “Lord, what am I supposed to do with this one?”

“Use lots of effects, baby.” Punk set down his coffee, wrapping his arms around Elijah from behind. “Want some inspiration?” he whispered into his lover’s ear. “I could give you a blowjob under the desk.”

Elijah swallowed, looking between his lover and the mediocre crooner. “No, I couldn’t,” he replied.

Punk raised an eyebrow, sliding down to the floor. Elijah bit his lip as he felt his pants unzipped, Punk’s fingers expertly guiding his cock out. He had to suppress a groan as Punk’s lips encircled the head of his dick, admitting Elijah’s shaft into the heat of his mouth. “God, baby,” he moaned, his fingers sinking into Punk’s hair. “Fuck. Suck it.” He rocked his hips forward, demanding more of Punk’s mouth. Punk took it willingly, his fingers playing with Elijah’s balls as he sucked.

“Did you get that? Hello?”

Elijah groaned, this time in annoyance, at the singer’s snippy voice. “One more time,” he said quickly into the his mic, switching the speaker off instantly and returning his fingers to his lover’s hair. He was inches deep in his lover’s mouth, Punk’s lips curled deliciously tight around him. He was thrusting his hips slightly, fucking Punk’s sexy mouth.

“Why the fuck should I do it again? I did it perfectly!”

Elijah gritted his teeth, feeling about ready to kill the troublesome diva as his ire was again dampened by that voice. “We had a sound problem,” he snapped into the mic, hitting the record and closing his eyes, picturing his lover’s hot mouth, his gorgeous ass…

“Well you better get your shit right this time, because I don’t have all day!”

Elijah scowled. “Recording…now,” he quickly spat into the mic, slouching in his chair enough that he could see Punk taking his cock. “Fuck that’s hot,” he groaned. Punk looked up to meet his eyes, the sight of his sweet gaze just inches above a mouth stuffed with cock almost enough to put Elijah over right there. Punk raised a finger to rub his perenium, the other continuing to massage his balls as he sucked harder and faster.

“Fuck…fuck…fuck!” Elijah threw his head back, his hands clenching in Punk’s hair as he was rocketed over the edge. “Oh yeah….fuck,” he moaned, still feeling incredibly turned on as Punk drew back, a little white trickle seeping from the corner of his mouth. “You’re so fucking dirty.”

“You love it.” Punk licked his lips, his tongue darting out to capture the little spot of cum in the corner of his mouth. “If you’re done here soon, I’ll let you fuck my ass in the car.” He smirked, picking up his coffee and taking a sip. “Don’t be long.” He gave Elijah a little kiss on the lips, then sauntered out the door.

Elijah groaned, turning his attention back to his controls. Chris was on the finishing line of the song, although Elijah hadn’t really heard any of it. “That’s great, Chris,” he said as soon as the singer finished. “Gonna be brilliant. Thanks for your time.” He went about saving the track as quickly as he could, more than eager to get out to the car, where his lover’s sweet ass awaited him.


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