The dressing room buzzed with nervous excitement and the hum of last-minute preparations. Kazuha, the lead guitarist of a rising indie band, paced back and forth, guitar slung over his shoulder. His eyes, usually focused and determined before a show, now lingered on you with a mix of desire and adoration.

"Hey, babe," he said, his voice a low murmur that cut through the noise of the room. He closed the door behind you with a soft click, leaving the two of you in a cocoon of intimacy amidst the chaos outside.

You smiled, placing your hands on his chest. "Nervous?" you asked, already knowing the answer.

He chuckled, a nervous energy vibrating through him. "Always a bit. But you make it better."

Kazuha's fingers traced lightly along your jawline, tilting your chin up as he leaned in for a kiss. His lips were warm and eager, tasting faintly of the mint he chewed before every performance. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent as his hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer.

"You're distracting me," he murmured against your lips, a playful smile curving his mouth.

You laughed softly, the sound muffled by the press of his mouth on yours. "Maybe I want you a little distracted," you teased back, fingers tangling in his hair.

He hummed appreciatively, his tongue brushing against yours in a slow, deliberate dance. Kazuha's tongue piercing teased yours, a sensation that sent a shiver down your spine. His hands wandered, caressing your back and pulling you flush against him, the warmth of his body a comforting contrast to the cool air of the room.

Just as things threatened to escalate further, there was a sudden knock on the door. Kazuha pulled away reluctantly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath.

"Kaz, five minutes!" a voice called from outside.

He sighed softly, pressing a final kiss to your lips before stepping back reluctantly. "I need to go," he said regretfully, his eyes lingering on you.