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Bono marches over to the drums, as he always does now. He’s acutely aware of his appearance, and he hovers for a moment, just at the corner of Larry’s vision, trying to look stern and intimidating. Trying to look dominant.
Larry, working, seems to ignore him, but Bono sees the flicker in Larry’s eyes and knows. Bono watches, expressionless, taking in at a glance Larry’s thighs, waist, arms, hands, face, sweat. Afterward Larry will shower and Bono will be able to plunge his fingers through Larry’s lengthening hair while he kisses him.
For now, in his hat of domination, he tries to look impassive, and he walks away, gets on with the show.
Behind him Larry grins very briefly.
He knows who’s the dominant one.
Larry likes his post-show shower hot. He’s hot and sweaty onstage, yes, but by the time he gets to his dressing room he’s cooled down and feels clammy and chilly.
He takes his time in the very hot water; this is when he allows himself the narcissism of enjoying this body he’s worked so hard to achieve. He savors his own slim, compact, muscular self as he washes and rinses. He’s not thinking of Bono. No.
Done, he shakes water from his face and steps out. Bono’s there, across the room, but Larry hardly gives him a glance. He runs a towel over his hair, then dries himself with it. He feels Bono’s gaze. He tosses the towel into a hamper and turns, finally, a small grin touching the corner of his mouth.
He spreads his arms slightly and Bono’s there, kissing Larry desperately, desperate for Larry, desperate for Larry’s strength. Larry kisses him, head slightly tilted, until Bono’s trembling, and then he gently pushes Bono onto his knees. This is what Bono wants, he wants … not a domination scene, not a power struggle or a control game. Just strength. He wants to go down on Larry for as long as possible. Larry purrs at him, then croons, then moans, and at last groans before stopping Bono so he can get control of himself again. Finally he nods and lets Bono go on for another while before he has to stop him and squeeze himself, hard. At last he’s sweating again and biting at his own hand, gasping, fighting, and at last giving in. He doesn’t pull away; he holds Bono’s head and allows himself the deep pleasure of thrusting into Bono’s mouth, Bono thrusting back eagerly, taking everything Larry can give, every inch, every drop.
Larry lets Bono wait. He knows Bono likes that. The more anticipation, the better.
He’ll fuck him back at the hotel.