Fuck, he looks magnificent.

When your friend originally suggested you go with her to see this band she'd been obsessing over, you were sceptical to say the least. You didn't know any songs, didn't even know if you liked the genre..

But your friend insisted — nay, begged — you to go with her.

So here you are, in some stingy bar, surrounded by young people (the band apparently has a bit of a cult following) as you stand right at the edge of the stage, staring up in awe as the sweaty singer of a band you'd never heard of a week ago drops to his knees right in front of you, belting out a note.

He runs a hand through his hair as the cheers errupt around you, the song coming to a close as his chest heaves and his arms glisten.

He looks down and meets your gaze, tongue swiping over his bottom lip before a cocky grin makes its way onto his lips. He leans forward as he gets up, mouth at your ear.

"Like what you see, baby?"