Title: Cola
Rating: M
Pairing: E/B-AH
Summary: The moment she opened her mouth, he was lost. An obscene musical seduction inspired by Lana Del Rey's 'Cola.' E/B o/s
Disclaimer: SM owns all and LDR owns "Cola." I own nada, nor do I make a living off this stuff. It's all in good fun. Don't plagiarize, or litter. Not cool. Any mistakes are mine. I have a nasty habit of tweaking until the last minute.
A/N: Listening to the song is HIGHLY recommended. In fact, it's almost mandatory. Love, beer and wine to littlesecret84 for being a sounding board, giving this a once-over and assuring me I'm not a total weirdo.
See you at the bottom.
Cola
Tonight's concert was one he nearly regretted attending, with each performer more predictable than the next.
Until the unpredictable.
The accompanists were already in position; a simple, acoustic guitar and another young man playing snare and hi-hat with dented, second hand brushes.
No mic.
The lights in the hall had been dimmed to nothing. The muted illumination that the lavender-hued organ backlights gave off provided an ethereal glow that had his heart almost palpitating with unexpected anticipation.
It reminded him of an old, smoky jazz lounge where nursing a woodsy scotch through a six hour set was a good time.
And then…she walked across the stage.
His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her; an angelic presence amongst the monotonous Parade of The Ordinary. The peach color of her strapless, chiffon gown caught the lavender cloud looming above her; a single spotlight helping to intensify the deep purple shade of the violet pinned in her hair.
The words that came forth from her mouth, the pitches from deep down in a secret place that no one would ever truly know stole the breath from his lungs, and had him taking a seat for the very first time that evening.
My pussy tastes like Pepsi Cola…
The room felt too small; the other concert goers too close. His nails bit into his palms as he clenched his fists tightly in an effort to control his body's reaction to her throaty mezzo. It was all too much. Her presence, her voice, her words…
He, a man of stoicism and control, could not deny that it affected him.
The movement of her dress captivated him as she ran her hands over her body as she would have caressed the microphone stand that was not there. The color and material screamed innocence, but the plunging neckline and daring cut of the upper portion of the dress purred sex.
The light glinted off the crystal belt that sat just under her breasts as she swayed in time and it caught his eye. He briefly wondered if she was trying to make some higher statement with her choice; the separation of the sacred—her voice—and the profane, her…everything else.
His cock pulsed painfully at the thought, and he bit the inside of his cheek. The metallic taste of his own blood helped him focus just as her obscene musical seduction was coming to an end; her vocal prowess catching him off guard as her voice soared effortlessly, flying to heights that made him instantly recall the Queen of The Night during Mozart's famously penned "Der Hölle" aria.
He inhaled harshly through his nose as she breathily crooned those words that had started all this…
My pussy tastes like Pepsi Cola…
The audience erupted with applause as she gave a tiny bow before walking off the stage into the wing, only stopping to acknowledge the hall once more. As she did so, he could have sworn she sought him out, catching his eye before letting a coy smile flit across her face as she exited.
With the closing of the wing door, the spell was broken.
He shot out of his seat as if it were on fire, and fled the concert hall.
He had to find her.
Breathing deeply, he composed himself as best he could before heading down the hallway that ran alongside the wing she had disappeared into, clutching his purchase as if it were the only thing tethering him to this earth. Her friends were crowded around her; the laughs and praises plentiful as she received them all quite humbly. As he neared, their accolades fell silent and they quickly scattered, waving over shoulders with hurried promises to celebrate over the weekend.
Looking up at him, she huffed and smiled. "Well, Professor Cullen, your reputation precedes you. You seem to have scared away my friends."
"I apologize, Ms. Swan," he began. "I only wanted to congratulate you on your, shall we say...riveting performance. You were certainly a breath of fresh air."
Laughing, she nodded. "I'm sure I was. These fundraiser-slash-benefit concerts are always so…buttoned up. I wanted to do something unexpected."
"Well, that was certainly unexpected from what I hear is the most promising voice currently in the Opera Studio," he said before gracing her with a grin. "I'm sorry that my students did not feel that they could continue their praise of your performance in my presence. Such congratulations are well deserved, in this case."
A lovely blush stained her pale cheeks, and she smiled bashfully at him. "Thank you, Professor. Maybe they were just concerned you'd get on their cases about the upcoming progress evaluations. Some of them are pulling double-duty, you know. Accompanying poor fools like me and still having to prep their own solos."
"Such is the life of a pianist, Ms. Swan. It is my job to prepare them," he declared.
"Of course, Professor," she answered quickly, her head bowed. The muted strains of a Sibelius concerto met their ears, and he cleared his throat.
"I brought you something."
"Oh?"
"Something to quench your…thirst."
At that, he handed over his hasty purchase.
She burst out laughing.
"You brought me a can of Pepsi?!"
He chuckled and shook his head. "It seemed appropriate."
She snorted. "Not flowers, then?"
"Not flowers."
Giggling, she reached out her hand to shake his. "Well, thank you very much, Professor. I'm certainly grateful."
He grasped her hand in his, took a step closer and bent to press a respectful kiss to her cheek. After checking to confirm that they were alone, he took a deep breath, pulling in her heady scent of sweat, adrenaline and something that must have been just…her.
He quickly gathered his nerve, dragged his lips lightly across her cheek, up to her ear and whispered softly.
"I just wanted to make sure you knew what you tasted like."
Her breath hitched, and he could have sworn he felt her lithe frame shudder slightly.
"Good evening, Ms. Swan."
And with that, he turned and walked away.
Later that night, while she was gathering her things in the shared dressing room, her phone buzzed with an incoming text. She quickly snatched up the device to read the words she was hoping for since she stepped on the stage earlier.
Coast is clear. x –E
How long? x –B
She held her breath, waiting for the reply.
The weekend. Fri-Mon. Three days. Come now. I need you, baby. x –E
She exhaled and smiled.
Yes, Professor. Already on my way. x –B
Bring the Pepsi. I'll need something to wash you down with. x –E
She laughed, and pulled the dressing room door closed behind her.
A/N: As of now, this is it. I'm hoping to continuing it as a series of vignettes, but life is crazy busy so there's no promises on when they'll come, if it all. I'll reopen this if I do, so alert me and this story for future updates. Ideas and prompts for future additions are welcome.
Thanks for reading, my dears.
x