Notes: Square, not Bunny. Request from a Livejournal community.
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In a space backstage, tucked between cases that housed drum kits and guitars, the venue's tech producer was pressed against a wall by a pair of strong hands and a desperate kiss.
He pulled away for a moment. "Your mouth tastes like cough drops," the tech producer said quietly as he licked his lips.
The response came with a frustrated look. "You're complaining?"
He shook his head no before leaning in to kiss 777's neck. "Not at all. It tastes like cherries."
777 smirked. "I have another cherry you can taste," he said, pulling anxiously him towards an empty office.