1.
Hands like Heroes. Hands like fuckingHeroes. Whether it was buying groceries, driving to work, sitting in the midst of a million-fucking-dollar deal, there was no chance of easing the throbbing ache between my thighs at the mere thought of the deepest, brownest eyes I had ever seen that stared back at me when I thought of Hands like Heroes.
'Enduring an entire set for Hands like Heroes had the same effect on audiences as trying to debate with a brick wall. Production value, minimum. Stage presence…close… intimate…'
I pause, back-space and rewrite the sentence three times before moving on. I’ll be damned if Ace Beckett reads a single, praising word coming from me.
'Stage presence... abstract to say the least. Performance seemed to blur into one, loud and obnoxious noise as the set played on. Audiences were animalistic- grabbing at his ripped jeans and screaming over his vocals like tone-deaf savages. The bassist spent more time shoving his tongue down groupie’s throats instead of keeping tune and the drumming was absurd, thudding violently over his soft, supple voice. Before I could even protest and ask for him to hum his words just a little louder, his thumbs strumming against his wooden guitar fell to my thighs. His lips that pursed so subtly with every word he sung began teasing and nibbling my neck and earlobe and his deep, brown, endlessly mysterious eyes fell to mine and it was like taking a thousand watts to the chest. My skin itched with uncertainty and my heart beat rapidly and uneven and before I could inhale a shaken breath, his large hand slipped into my panties and I twisted and moaned and craned forward and, my god, I needed more and I…..'
My swift fingers faltered as quickly as they had begun typing and all of a sudden, I was back at my desk with half a page of word-porn instead of the set review I was supposed to submit almost a week ago. Hair in a mess and bags of sleepless nights under my eyes, I blinked rapidly and swiped my hands harshly over my face and forehead. I was sweating bullets, hadn’t showered in two days and smelt of stale coffee and Chinese takeout. With a deep sigh, I let my head fall heavily onto the keyboard in front of me, stringing together four pages of random letters before tilting back into my chair. “Fuck.”I sighed as my mind drifted back to the mess of a man that disrupted my morals, disrespected my name and turned me on more than anything I had ever experienced.
I couldn’t stop thinking back to the first night we had met in person. He was just as arrogant and self-centered even throughout our first conversation. I decided that the only way I was going to eventually hand up this monumental tragedy to my editor was to take a step back and recover. With that said, a steaming bathtub filled with bubbles and a glass of wine was calling my name. It didn’t take long to have the bathroom ready for my mid-level meltdown. The lights had been dimmed, a few candles lit to light the room just enough to see my well-deserved glass of red sitting at the edge of the bathtub. I pressed play on the speakers, slid into the tub and let the thick air carry away any stress that Ace Beckett had forced his way into my head. I rest my head back onto the cold tiles, letting my hair fall into the water with the motion. Eyes closed, I Listen intently to the words my favorite artists whisper through the speakers, humming along blissfully. Half a glass down and some of the best, damned 1975 songs later and I was in a state of fucking ecstasy. That is, of course, until I had to force out an ironic laugh as the next song seeped through the speakers. Hands Like fuckingHeroes.
There was no stopping the obsession of such an unstoppable force and I wasn’t going to fight it anymore. It was as obvious as the sun setting every evening. As obvious, even, as it was absurdly impossible. I ignored this though as I let his soft words lead my fingertips down my torso and over my navel. I clamp my eyes shut, imagining his beautiful, full lips as my hand travelled further down, into the water and over my nerves. Sleeking my index finger down the inside of my folds, I bite my lip with a soft moan as Ace’s powerful voice bellowed through the speakers and into my tender pores. As the song flow deeper, Ace’s voice growing more intimate with every word, my movements grew faster, desperate and excruciatingly needful. You’re mine until sunlight steals the night, mine until the seas drift away, mine until you can’t be mine anymore, Ace sung through the speakers with such desperate intimacy lacing his voice. The unexpected, tender rasp in his voice as the next lyrics feathered through the speakers,fuck it, I’ll make this unforgettable,cause me to pull my eyes open, parting my mouth and overwhelming my body with such an immense climax my vision began to blur. Faded colours dance around my vision and my chest caved in with the cramping, near painful ripple that flooded my entire body. Finally, I breathed in, gasping and allowing my muscles to settle back into the warmth of the bathtub. Staring at the ceiling, I let the rest of the song guide me through the end of my mind-blowing orgasm. Guitar strumming slowing, drumming fading and Ace’s voice humming sweet, haunting melodies until the track was over. God damn, I was in trouble.
'Enduring an entire set for Hands like Heroes had the same effect on audiences as trying to debate with a brick wall. Production value, minimum. Stage presence…close… intimate…'
I pause, back-space and rewrite the sentence three times before moving on. I’ll be damned if Ace Beckett reads a single, praising word coming from me.
'Stage presence... abstract to say the least. Performance seemed to blur into one, loud and obnoxious noise as the set played on. Audiences were animalistic- grabbing at his ripped jeans and screaming over his vocals like tone-deaf savages. The bassist spent more time shoving his tongue down groupie’s throats instead of keeping tune and the drumming was absurd, thudding violently over his soft, supple voice. Before I could even protest and ask for him to hum his words just a little louder, his thumbs strumming against his wooden guitar fell to my thighs. His lips that pursed so subtly with every word he sung began teasing and nibbling my neck and earlobe and his deep, brown, endlessly mysterious eyes fell to mine and it was like taking a thousand watts to the chest. My skin itched with uncertainty and my heart beat rapidly and uneven and before I could inhale a shaken breath, his large hand slipped into my panties and I twisted and moaned and craned forward and, my god, I needed more and I…..'
My swift fingers faltered as quickly as they had begun typing and all of a sudden, I was back at my desk with half a page of word-porn instead of the set review I was supposed to submit almost a week ago. Hair in a mess and bags of sleepless nights under my eyes, I blinked rapidly and swiped my hands harshly over my face and forehead. I was sweating bullets, hadn’t showered in two days and smelt of stale coffee and Chinese takeout. With a deep sigh, I let my head fall heavily onto the keyboard in front of me, stringing together four pages of random letters before tilting back into my chair. “Fuck.”I sighed as my mind drifted back to the mess of a man that disrupted my morals, disrespected my name and turned me on more than anything I had ever experienced.
I couldn’t stop thinking back to the first night we had met in person. He was just as arrogant and self-centered even throughout our first conversation. I decided that the only way I was going to eventually hand up this monumental tragedy to my editor was to take a step back and recover. With that said, a steaming bathtub filled with bubbles and a glass of wine was calling my name. It didn’t take long to have the bathroom ready for my mid-level meltdown. The lights had been dimmed, a few candles lit to light the room just enough to see my well-deserved glass of red sitting at the edge of the bathtub. I pressed play on the speakers, slid into the tub and let the thick air carry away any stress that Ace Beckett had forced his way into my head. I rest my head back onto the cold tiles, letting my hair fall into the water with the motion. Eyes closed, I Listen intently to the words my favorite artists whisper through the speakers, humming along blissfully. Half a glass down and some of the best, damned 1975 songs later and I was in a state of fucking ecstasy. That is, of course, until I had to force out an ironic laugh as the next song seeped through the speakers. Hands Like fuckingHeroes.
There was no stopping the obsession of such an unstoppable force and I wasn’t going to fight it anymore. It was as obvious as the sun setting every evening. As obvious, even, as it was absurdly impossible. I ignored this though as I let his soft words lead my fingertips down my torso and over my navel. I clamp my eyes shut, imagining his beautiful, full lips as my hand travelled further down, into the water and over my nerves. Sleeking my index finger down the inside of my folds, I bite my lip with a soft moan as Ace’s powerful voice bellowed through the speakers and into my tender pores. As the song flow deeper, Ace’s voice growing more intimate with every word, my movements grew faster, desperate and excruciatingly needful. You’re mine until sunlight steals the night, mine until the seas drift away, mine until you can’t be mine anymore, Ace sung through the speakers with such desperate intimacy lacing his voice. The unexpected, tender rasp in his voice as the next lyrics feathered through the speakers,fuck it, I’ll make this unforgettable,cause me to pull my eyes open, parting my mouth and overwhelming my body with such an immense climax my vision began to blur. Faded colours dance around my vision and my chest caved in with the cramping, near painful ripple that flooded my entire body. Finally, I breathed in, gasping and allowing my muscles to settle back into the warmth of the bathtub. Staring at the ceiling, I let the rest of the song guide me through the end of my mind-blowing orgasm. Guitar strumming slowing, drumming fading and Ace’s voice humming sweet, haunting melodies until the track was over. God damn, I was in trouble.
