Title: Practicing His Solo
Pairing/Characters: Could be anyone
Rating (Word Count): PG (100)
Warning(s): Overly flowery language
Author's notes: I'm so out of practice with these. I just hope it doesn't suck. and i don't have an author tag on here

There’s a certain rhythm that he looks for. An alliteration of movement, a pattern of pressure.

A gentle squeeze, a quick pull, a slow twist.

He builds slowly, pushing the crescendo off as long as possible, his pulse matching the ebb and flow of the building tension.

The syncopation for this performance comes from a more visceral level than the music. It’s ancient and primal, demanding and rewarding.

He feels his need growing, his muscles tightening, and he lets the timing slip - just the tiniest bit.

He hits his high note, holding it as long as possible and just breathes.