ava

its been a long time

[avadoves]

Secret Tape (TW)

NOTES: this fic is 21+ and mainly focuses on gramonlex....... iykyk.......

Pairing: Graham Coxon x Alex James x Damon Albarn in their '99s era

Word count: 2.076

** *

****************

It all started with a big party at Alex's flat in Camden. He had put it together to celebrate... Well, nothing in specific, just the excitement of getting through another busy week in the scene. The beers were on ice, the whiskey bottles were lined up like soldiers, and the stereo played a mix of Britpop hits and experimental jams they had been working on. Alex, who was always the best host, had invited a few friends, a couple of roadies from their shows, a journalist friend from the music rags who owed them a scoop, and even Damon's ex, Justine, who came in with her cool, mysterious air.

There were a lot of people there, and the sound of glasses clinking and stories flying around. They raised their glasses to random things. "To not getting sued!" Alex shouted and lifted his glass. Justine smirked and put her arm around Damon's shoulder, but her eyes were moving around the room like she was looking for a way out. Graham, the quiet one, sat in the corner with his guitar and played lazy melodies that mixed in with the talking. The roadies told stories about their tours, the journalist took down notes, and for a while, it felt like the outside world didn't exist.

As the night dragged on, the drinks hit harder. Alex kept the refills coming, his face flushed, slurring his words just a tad. "Another round, lads!" he'd yell, pouring generously. Justine, sensing the energy shifting to something more intimate, bailed first muttering about an early call time. "Catch you later, Damon," she said, planting a quick kiss on his cheek that lingered a second too long. The roadies followed, yawning about needing sleep before the next haul. The journalist hung around a bit, probing for band dirt, but Alex politely nudged him out with a promise of an interview. "Cheers, mate. The door's that way." By midnight, the flat was quiet, the music turned down low, leaving just Alex, Graham, and Damon sprawled on the couch and chairs. The air was thick with smoke and the scent of beer.

Graham was properly pissed by then, his eyes glassy, cheeks red, leaning back with a goofy grin. "That was... fun," he mumbled, his words slurring as he strummed a random chord on his guitar. Damon, buzzed but still sharp, chuckled. "Yeah, but now it's just us. Like the good old days." Alex nodded, pouring the last of the whiskey into their glasses. "Exactly. No distractions. Just the lads, letting loose." 

The conversation drifted as they talked about crazy concerts, dumb pranks, and the ups and downs of being famous. Damon talked about the stress and how it messed with his mind. Graham, who was drunk, said he missed the raw chaos of their early shows. Alex paid attention, but his eyes kept wandering. He noticed how close they were sitting and how their bodies brushed against each other in the dim light. He had always felt that pull, especially with Damon, who was so charming and intense, but also with Graham, who had a quiet fire and skillful hands. The alcohol took away people's inhibitions, and soon the conversation turned personal. "Do you remember that ride in the van after the festival?" Alex teased Damon by poking him. "You two were almost eye-fucking." Damon laughed, but his eyes got darker as he became more interested. Graham turned red but didn't deny it. He was bolder because he was drunk. "Shut it, Alex. You're just jealous.”

The vibe got more intense. They moved closer, and accidental touches became intentional. Damon filled up their drinks and put his hand on Graham's thigh. "We've been through hell. Why not look around?" Graham's breath caught, but he leaned in, his drunken confidence kicking in. The ambient temperature got higher for Alex. "Yeah," he said in a soft voice. That's when Alex saw Graham's handycam, which he had put in his bag earlier. "Hey, lads," he said with a sly smile, "let's get this on tape." Our secret is on tape. Graham, who was drunk, started to laugh. "Alex, are you crazy? But… why not? Damon smiled. "Only if it stays between us." They agreed, and the night began. Alex picked up the camera and started recording. This wasn't about music, it was about them, real and raw.

Alex settled in the chair, handycam rolling, lens fixed on the couch where Graham and Damon were already getting intimate. Clothes started coming off, scattered carelessly. Graham, still riding his buzz, pulled Damon in, lips brushing his neck in a heated kiss. "You sure?" Damon murmured, but Graham was past caring his hand ventured lower, exploring the growing heat beneath Damon's waistband.

Graham's mouth moved down Damon's chest, licking and nipping him to tease him, while his fingers worked on Damon's inner thighs to build tension. Damon let out a low groan and ran his fingers through Graham's hair to guide him down even more. "You always know what to do," he said with a sigh. Graham did as he was told, moving his mouth slowly and purposefully, which made Damon arch off the couch. Damon pulled him back up for a deep kiss, and Graham's hand slipped behind him to return the favor, fingers probing gently and making Graham moan.

They moved Graham to the bottom and Damon to the top, with their bodies pushing and grinding against each other. Damon moved in slowly, rhythm building like a steady beat, hands gripping hips. "Faster," Graham said, his voice rough. Damon did what he was told, and their moans of pleasure echoed as they got faster and their skin got slick with sweat. Alex filmed everything, getting more and more excited, but he held back.

Graham, breathless and worn out after a bit, eased off with a grin. "I'm tapped. You go, Alex." He snatched the cam from Alex, settling in to film as Damon turned his attention. "Let's put on a show." Alex shed the rest of his clothes, body exposed and eager. Damon kissed him fiercely, hands wandering over his chest and lower, stroking with purpose. Alex responded with moans, fingers digging into Damon's back as he was guided down. "You've wanted this," Damon whispered, his mouth descending to pleasure him expertly.

Graham captured every angle Alex's movements, the gasps filling the air. Damon shifted, entering from behind in a gradual thrust that drew a sharp cry, then intensifying, one hand assisting while the other held firm. "God, yes," Alex panted, meeting each motion. Graham zoomed closer, his own energy reviving.

In the end, they all came together, with Graham coming back, the cam going away, and their bodies intertwining in every way. The tape caught their secret frenzy. That's a story for another time or another roll, though.

With Graham back in the mix, the room turned into a chaotic tangle of limbs and raw need. The handycam lay forgotten on the floor, its red light still blinking faintly as it captured the unfolding madness from a skewed angle grainy footage of sweat-slicked bodies colliding in the dim light. Graham, revived by the sight of Damon and Alex lost in each other, shoved Damon aside playfully but firmly, his hands rough on Damon's shoulders. "Not done yet," he growled, voice thick with lust and lingering booze. Damon grinned wickedly, pulling Graham into a bruising kiss while Alex watched, panting, his body aching for more. "Come on, Coxon, show us what you've got."

Graham took charge, flipping Alex onto his back on the couch, spreading his legs wide with a possessive grip. Alex gasped, his aristocratic features twisted in pleasure-pain, as Graham positioned himself, entering Alex in one hard thrust that made him arch off the cushions. "Fuck... Graham," Alex moaned, nails raking down Graham's back, leaving red trails. Graham didn't hold back, his hips slammed forward relentlessly, each motion deeper and more punishing, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing like a distorted bassline.

Damon knelt beside them, his hand stroking himself as he watched, then leaned in to kiss Alex's neck, biting down just hard enough to draw a whimper. "You like that, don't you? Being filled like this," Damon whispered, his free hand roaming to tease Alex's chest, pinching and twisting until Alex cried out louder.

But Graham wasn't satisfied with just that. He pulled out abruptly, leaving Alex whimpering at the loss, and turned to Damon. "Your turn to take it," he said, voice hoarse. Damon, eyes dark with hunger, nodded and positioned himself over Alex, sliding in slowly at first teasing, making Alex beg. "Please, Damon... harder," Alex pleaded, his voice breaking. Damon obliged, thrusting with brutal force, his body slamming against Alex's, the couch creaking under the weight. Graham watched for a moment, catching his breath, then moved behind Damon, his hands gripping Damon's hips as he entered him from behind in a rough, unexpected push. Damon groaned deeply, the sensation overwhelming being filled while filling someone else, the chain of pleasure-pain rippling through them all. "Shit... Graham, yes," Damon hissed, his pace faltering as Graham set a punishing rhythm, their bodies syncing in a fucked-up symphony.

Alex, caught in the middle, felt every thrust reverberate through him, Damon's cock hitting deep inside, Graham's force pushing Damon harder against him. He reached up, one hand tangling in Damon's hair, pulling him down for a sloppy kiss, while the other snaked around to stroke himself frantically. The room filled with guttural moans, curses, and the wet sounds of their sweat dripping and breaths ragged. 

Graham leaned forward, biting Damon's shoulder hard enough to bruise, his own grunts mixing with the chaos. "Take it all," he muttered, speeding up until Damon was trembling, on the edge. Damon retaliated by reaching back, fingers digging into Graham's thigh, urging him deeper, while his other hand slipped between Alex's legs, assisting in ways that made Alex buck wildly.

They shifted again in a blur of desperation, Graham pulling out to let Damon flip Alex over onto all fours, entering him from behind while Graham took Damon's mouth in a fierce, dominating kiss. 

Alex pushed back against Damon, meeting each brutal thrust, his body shaking as pleasure built to a fever pitch. "Don't stop... fuck, don't stop," he gasped, his face buried in the sofa cushions. Damon pounded harder, one hand fisting Alex's hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck for bites and licks. Graham, not idle, moved to Alex's front, guiding Alex's mouth to him, thrusting in with the same relentless energy. Alex took it eagerly, his tongue working frantically, moans muffled around Graham as Damon continued his assault from behind.

The intensity grew into something really messed up. Damon pulled out and switched places with Graham, who came in with a growl and thrusts that were deep and erratic. Damon then stood in front of Alex, making him switch between them. Damon's voice was rough when he said, "Suck him while I fuck you." Alex did what they wanted, and his body was a vessel for their desires. Tears of overwhelming feeling filled his eyes as they used him, filled him, and claimed him in every way. Graham's hands hurt Alex's hips, and Damon's fingers were stuck in his hair, pulling just enough to hurt. They turned again Graham was under Alex, pulling him down to ride him hard. At the same time, Damon was behind Alex, and the double penetration made Alex scream in pleasure and pain as his body was stretched and overwhelmed.

The handycam kept rolling, capturing the depravity as sweat poured and breaths came in rough gasps. The smell of sex and alcohol was thick in the air, and bodies were slapping and moaning like animals. Graham came first, and with a guttural roar, his body shook as he spilled inside Alex. Damon followed that, thrusting deep one last time before falling against them. Alex finally let go, and waves of pleasure crashed over him, coating his stomach. They fell in a heap, their limbs tangled, their chests heaving. The tape was still recording their post-climax haze, which included soft kisses, lazy touches, and whispered confessions of how messed up and perfect it all was.

As dawn crept in, they lay there, spent and satisfied, the secret tape a relic of their wild night. But who knows? Maybe they'd watch it back someday... or make another one. The end... for now..

[tboymikenez]

I love the dumb noises he makes

[avadoves]

Feels Like I’ve Met You Before

Pairing: Graham Coxon x Alex James

(I imagined Graham and Alex in their own 1998 - 2005 era)

Word Count: 2,604

Notes: Thanks for reading! SORRY IF ITS KINDA WEIRD lmk if you need more details or adjustments!

***

Nobody really noticed Graham during lectures, but Alex somehow always did. It was like Graham had this quiet magnetism, a pull that Alex couldn't ignore, even in a crowded room full of chattering students and the drone of professors.

Graham sat by the window every class, his tall, lanky frame folded into the smallest space possible, as if he was trying to make himself invisible. His thick square glasses kept slipping down his nose while he sketched in his notebook instead of taking notes intricate doodles of abstract shapes and hidden faces.

His dark fringe fell over his eyes like a curtain, shielding him from the world. His coat was always a little too big for him, hanging off his shoulders like a borrowed secret, and it smelled faintly like fresh paint, turpentine, and the crisp cold air from early morning walks.

Alex kept seeing him around campus, and each time, a strange familiarity washed over him. Not a memory exactly, but a feeling like déjà vu wrapped in warmth. It was in the way Graham pushed his glasses up with the back of his hand, or how he tilted his head just so when he was lost in thought, his lips parting slightly as if he was about to say something profound but never did. Alex couldn't explain it. He just felt drawn to him, like a moth to a softly glowing lamp.

It wasn't until their classes merged one rainy afternoon that Alex finally mustered the courage to sit beside him. Graham stiffened for a second, his shoulders hunching as if he was afraid of taking up too much space. Their shoulders brushed accidentally, and Graham pulled back like he'd been shocked, his cheeks flushing a soft pink.

"Sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the professor's lecture.

"You're fine," Alex said, flashing a warm smile that he hoped came across as friendly and not too eager. "I'm Alex."

Graham nodded shyly, his eyes flicking up for just a moment before darting back to his sketchbook. "Graham."

They shared notes quietly after that. Alex talked a little about music how he was obsessed with bass lines and the way they anchored a song, making everything else feel alive. Graham answered with soft hums, short sentences, and a shy smile that he tried to hide behind his fringe.

When Alex joked about how his bass strings kept snapping during rehearsals, complaining that they were "plotting against him," Graham actually laughed a small, warm sound that bubbled up from his chest and made Alex's heart skip a beat. He looked at Graham longer than he meant to, captivated by the way his eyes crinkled at the corners.

After class, they walked out together into the drizzle. The air was cold enough to see their breaths mingling in the mist. Alex zipped up his jacket, shivering dramatically. "Bloody hell, it's freezing out here." Graham glanced at him sideways, his own coat pulled tight around his frame.

"Cold?" he asked, his voice soft and concerned, like he was offering a blanket without words.

"A bit," Alex admitted, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

Graham looked away but smiled, a small, knowing curve of his lips, as if Alex's answer made perfect sense to him. It was the first hint of something deeper, a shared understanding that neither could name yet.

A week later, Alex spotted him in the campus cafe. Graham was hunched over his sketchbook, his tea cup going cold beside him, steam curling lazily into the air. Alex's heart beat faster for no clear reason maybe it was the way Graham's fingers danced across the page, or how his fringe fell just right, framing his face like a portrait. He walked over, trying to play it cool.

"Mind if I join?" he asked, gesturing to the empty chair. Graham looked up fast, his eyes widening behind his glasses. His fingers slipped on his cup, and he almost spilled it, catching it just in time with a flustered laugh. "Ah, yes. Sit. I mean, if you want to." His voice was a little breathless, and Alex couldn't help but find it endearing. "I do want to," Alex said, sliding into the seat with a grin. He ordered a coffee, and they talked for what felt like hours.

Alex rambled about band rehearsals how his mates were a bunch of chaotic geniuses, always pushing boundaries with their sound. Graham explained colors with gentle excitement, tracing invisible shapes on the table as he described how blue could feel like the ocean or a quiet sadness. Every time Alex leaned closer to hear him better, Graham's voice softened, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink, like he was trying not to get flustered but failing adorably.

"You make art sound... important," Alex said, genuinely impressed. "Like it's alive." Graham looked down at his sketch, his fingers tracing the lines. "It is important to me. It's how I make sense of things." He paused, then added shyly, "What about you? Music?"

Alex launched into stories about gigs gone wrong and songs that changed his life, and Graham listened with wide eyes, nodding along. There was something magical about it, the way their worlds overlapped without forcing it. By the time they left, the cafe was emptying, and Alex felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the coffee.

Their friendship grew without either of them noticing at first. It started with lunches together in the quad, where Alex would steal fries from Graham's plate and Graham would pretend to protest but secretly enjoy the banter. Then came library afternoons, where they'd study side by side. Well, Alex pretended to study while Graham sketched, occasionally showing him doodles of Alex with exaggerated features that made him laugh.

Soft conversations while walking home under the canopy of orange leaves, the autumn air crisp and full of possibility. Graham would point out the way the light hit the trees, and Alex would hum a tune that matched the mood.

One rainy afternoon in the library, as thunder rumbled outside, Alex passed Graham a sketch he'd been working on a rough portrait of Graham himself, all soft lines and hidden smiles. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, and Graham froze, his breath catching for a second. Alex pretended not to notice, but his heart definitely did, pounding like a drum solo.

"You are easy to talk to," Graham said quietly, almost like a secret shared between them. His voice was low, vulnerable.

Alex smiled, leaning in a bit. "You too. It's... nice. Being around you."

Graham blushed furiously and immediately hid behind his fringe, but not before Alex caught the shy grin tugging at his lips. It was moments like these that made Alex wonder if there was more to this pull between them.

The turning point came at an autumn art fair on campus. The courtyard was alive with stalls of canvas paintings, the air thick with the scent of cinnamon from nearby food trucks and the warm glow of string lights. People milled about, but Alex spotted Graham standing alone by a stall, his hands tucked deep in his coat pockets, looking a little lost in the crowd.

"Graham!" Alex called, waving enthusiastically.

Graham turned, his face lighting up with a nervous but happy smile. "Hi." He adjusted his glasses, and Alex noticed how the lights made his eyes sparkle.

To celebrate, Alex dragged him over to a little stall for hot chocolate. He was messing about with the coins, dropping a few on the ground and scrambling to pick them up again, nearly tipping the drinks over while he did it. Graham let out a small laugh, the kind that sounded half teasing and half soft. “Mate, you’re a proper mess,” he said quietly. Graham looked at him for a moment then added, almost under his breath, “Still… you’re sweet, though.”

Alex nearly dropped the cups for real this time, his cheeks heating up. "Sweet? Me? Nah, that's you." He handed over the drink, their fingers brushing again, and Graham's blush deepened.

To get to know each other better, Alex suggested a walk in the park the next day. The leaves were turning vibrant shades of red and gold, crunching under their feet, and the air was crisp with the promise of winter. They spread out a blanket on the grass, sitting close enough that their knees touched.

Conversation flowed easily at first talking about seasons inspiring art, how autumn made Graham want to paint in earthy tones, and how it made Alex think of melancholic ballads. Then Alex asked about Graham's band. "Small group," Graham explained, his hands gesturing shyly. "I play guitar sometimes, but art's my main thing. It's quieter, you know? You can pour everything into it without an audience judging." He looked at Alex curiously. "What about you? Your band sounds wild."

Alex shared stories from rehearsals, laughing about the time they improvised a song that turned into chaos. Graham listened intently, his eyes lighting up with genuine interest. "You're interesting," he said suddenly, blushing as he looked down at the blanket. "Really interesting."

They talked late into the afternoon, the sun dipping low. Graham drew a quick portrait of Alex on a napkin, exaggerated curls and a goofy grin. "For you," he handed it over, his fingers trembling slightly. Alex took it, his heart warming like the hot chocolate from the day before. "This is brilliant. You're brilliant." He tucked it into his pocket, and they sat there, the silence comfortable, full of unspoken things.

Later that week, Graham gathered enough courage to ask something that made his stomach twist. "Do you want to paint with me? At my place. I have a large canvas but no idea what to put on it." His voice was hopeful, nervous.

Alex felt his stomach flip in the best way. "Yeah.. sure I would like that. A lot."

Graham's flat was small and cozy, tucked away in an old building with creaky floors and windows that overlooked a quiet street. It was warm, filled with the scent of paint and old books, unfinished paintings leaning against the walls like forgotten dreams. Brushes sat in jars on a cluttered table, and from an old speaker, "To the End" by Blur played softly, ironic, Alex thought, given the band connection, but he didn't say anything.

They sat cross-legged in front of a huge blank canvas on the floor, the afternoon light filtering through the curtains. Graham handed Alex a brush, his fingers lingering a second too long.

"Start anywhere," he said softly, his voice like a gentle invitation.

Alex dipped the brush in blue and painted a messy line, grinning. "Like this?"

Graham leaned in to watch, too close, and Alex accidentally smeared paint on his cheek. "Shit" Alex exclaimed, reaching out instinctively to wipe it away.

Graham touched his face and laughed, a shy, warm laugh that filled the room and made Alex's chest tighten. "It's fine. Really." But he didn't move away, instead, he dipped his own brush and added a streak of yellow, their hands brushing as they worked.

They painted beside each other for hours, the canvas slowly coming to life with abstract swirls and shapes that mirrored their conversation. Sometimes their knees touched, sending sparks through Alex. Sometimes Graham leaned close enough that Alex could smell the cedar and paint on his coat, mixed with something uniquely him. Each time, Graham turned pink and looked away, but his eyes kept drifting back, full of that same familiar pull.

When the sun began to fade, painting the room in golden hues, Graham whispered, "Balcony?" His voice was tentative, like he was asking for more than just a change of scenery.

They stepped outside into the cool evening air. The balcony was small, cluttered with potted plants and an ashtray. Graham lit a cigarette, offering it to Alex without looking at him. Their shoulders brushed as Alex took a drag, the smoke curling up between them.

"It's quiet out here," Alex said, his voice low.

"It feels good," Graham answered, his breath visible in the chill. He kept glancing at Alex, then away, his lips parting like he wanted to speak but couldn't find the words.

Finally, he did. "Alex," he said softly, turning to face him fully. "You feel familiar to me. Like I've known you forever, but not in a way I can explain."

Alex blinked, his heart racing. "You feel familiar to me too. Exactly like that." Graham looked at him fully for the first time that evening. His eyes were soft and nervous, like he was about to step into something he couldn't undo. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension.

Their faces moved closer without either of them deciding. Graham hesitated, his breath warm against Alex's lips. His hand touched Alex's jacket, fingers trembling slightly, as if testing the waters.

Then he kissed him.

It was slow at first, gentle and a little clumsy. Graham's lips soft and tentative, like he was afraid of breaking the moment. Alex's hands found Graham's waist, pulling him closer, and Graham responded with a quiet sigh, his fingers sliding up to cup Alex's face. The kiss deepened, warm and careful, full of shy need and quiet honesty.

Graham made a small sound, almost like a whimper, and pressed himself against Alex, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. Alex's thumb brushed under Graham's glasses frame, tilting his head for better access, and Graham melted into it, his hands roaming to Alex's back, tugging at his shirt.

The world faded the cold balcony, the distant hum of the city leaving only the heat of their mouths, the taste of smoke and sweetness. Graham's kiss grew bolder, playful even, his tongue teasing Alex's lower lip with a mischievous flick that made Alex chuckle against his mouth.

"Tease," Alex murmured, nipping gently at Graham's lip in return, his hands slipping under Graham's coat to feel the warmth of his skin.

Graham gasped softly, pulling back just enough to look at him, his eyes dark and flushed. "You like it," he whispered, his voice husky, a rare spark of confidence shining through his shyness. He leaned in again, capturing Alex's mouth in a deeper kiss, one hand threading through Alex's curls while the other traced lazy circles on his lower back.

They stumbled back inside, the door clicking shut behind them, but they didn't stop. Graham's back hit the wall, and Alex pinned him there gently, their kisses turning hungry yet tender, exploring, tasting, with soft moans escaping between breaths. Graham's glasses fogged up from the heat, and he laughed breathlessly as Alex pulled them off, setting them aside. "Can't see you now," Graham joked, his voice playful and wrong, but his hands were anything but, sliding under Alex's shirt to feel the curve of his spine.

"Who needs to see?" Alex replied, his lips trailing down to Graham's neck, pressing soft kisses that made Graham arch against him. They moved to the couch, collapsing in a tangle of limbs, the canvas forgotten on the floor. Graham straddled Alex's lap, their foreheads touching as they caught their breath, smiles wide and goofy.

"You're beautiful," Graham whispered, his fingers tracing Alex's jaw, the moment turning impossibly sweet again.

Alex kissed him once more, slow and lingering. "And you're mine now, yeah?" Graham nodded, cheeks pink, pulling him into another embrace. They stayed like that for hours, wrapped in each other, the night stretching on with whispered confessions and stolen kisses, the world outside forgotten.

[avadoves]

Strings of Desire

Pairing: Graham Coxon x Damon Albarn

(I imagined Graham and Damon in their 1998 - 2000 era)

WARNINGS (TW) ‼️‼️‼️‼️

Explicit sexual scenes, including acts like oral sex, etc.

Mature themes, such as romance, attraction, and emotional closeness.

Some mild profanity, mostly used during intimate situations.

No significant violence, but the story involves secrecy and possible coming-out moments within a band setting, which may feel emotionally heavy for some readers.

Word Count: 2,100

Notes: Thanks for reading! Sorry if it's kinda weird, let me know if you need more details or adjustments ^^

***

Damon looked at the shelves filled with the things Graham treasured. The MTV award they always claimed “didn’t matter” but still placed right at the front. The little Pikachu figure whose paint had started to fade. Graham's vinyl collection arranged so neatly it looked like a tiny museum. Everything felt like small pieces of Graham's mind scattered around the room.

Graham lowered his gaze back to his guitar. His fingers brushed the strings, and suddenly the whole studio felt warmer.

“Are you really sure you’re not staring at me?” Graham asked, smiling a little without looking up.

Damon froze for a second. “I’m just… watching you work. You look so alive when you play.”

This time Graham did look at Damon. Not in a teasing way, not even in a playful way. More like… he didn’t quite know how to take the compliment.

“You make it sound like it’s something special,” Graham said quietly.

“Well yeah, it is,” Damon replied. The words slipped out faster than he expected.

Graham laughed under his breath, soft and warm. “Then stay there. I like it when you’re here.”

Damon sat back in the small chair near the speaker, watching Graham again. The way Graham tilted his head when searching for the right chord. How he bit the tip of his lips when repeating a part he didn’t like. And the light in his eyes every time he found the sound he wanted.

The studio was full of noise, but it somehow felt like only the two of them existed.

“Sometimes I forget,” Graham said suddenly, still plucking at the strings, “that I don’t always have to be alone when I make music.”

Damon looked at him for a long moment. “I’m here.”

Graham's hands stilled midway through a chord. He straightened, turning toward Damon with an expression that made Damon's chest tighten in ways he didn’t want to admit.

“Yeah,” Graham said softly. “I know.”

The room quieted, just the hum of the fan and the faint smell of paint from the corner.

Graham then reached for the small electric guitar he used for quick jams. “Here,” he said. “Sit closer. I wanna show you something.”

Damon moved beside him. Graham shifted his chair slightly so Damon could sit right next to him, their shoulders almost touching.

“Listen,” Graham murmured, fingers pressing carefully onto the strings like he was afraid of breaking the air around them.

Damon stayed silent, listening. And somehow the studio felt like the smallest and biggest place in the world at the same time.

“You always look like you’re falling in love with music,” Damon said before he could stop himself.

Graham stopped playing. Turned toward Damon. “I think I am,” he said with a quiet smile. Then added, after a beat, “And maybe… not just with music.”

Damon's heart beat faster. The words hung in the air. Graham looked at him with eyes that seemed to see everything. Damon leaned in a little, pulled by something he couldn't name.

"Damon," Graham whispered, his voice rough now. His hand reached out, fingers touching Damon's on the guitar. The touch felt electric. Damon didn't pull away. He turned his hand over, letting their fingers link. Graham's skin was warm and rough from playing.

The studio felt smaller. The air felt thicker. Graham moved closer on his chair. Their knees touched. Damon could smell Graham, his cologne mixed with sweat. It made Damon's pulse quicken.

"You mean that?" Damon asked, his voice low.

Graham nodded slowly. His free hand came up to Damon's jaw. His thumb traced Damon's cheek. Damon leaned into it, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Graham was closer. His breath was warm on Damon's face. "Yeah," Graham said. "I do."

Then Graham kissed him. It started soft, like testing. But Damon kissed back, opening his lips. It got deeper. Graham's tongue moved in slowly. Damon made a soft sound, his hand going to Graham's shoulder.

Graham pulled Damon closer. Their chairs scraped the floor. Damon was almost in Graham's lap. Graham's fingers tangled in Damon's hair, tilting his head. Damon felt the heat from Graham's body through his shirt. His own hands moved, sliding under Graham's shirt, feeling his stomach muscles.

"Fuck, Damon," Graham said against his lips. He pulled Damon's shirt up and off, throwing it aside. His eyes looked over Damon's body, hungry. Damon shivered. He took Graham's shirt off too, seeing his lean body. Damon kissed Graham's collarbone, biting gently. Graham's head fell back. His hands went to Damon's waist, pulling him close.

Their bodies pressed together. Hips moved against each other. Damon felt Graham hard through his jeans. The rubbing felt good. Graham's hands slid down, he kissed Damon again, hot and needy.

"You feel so good," Graham said, his lips on Damon's neck, sucking. Damon arched, his fingers digging into Graham's back. The room smelled like them now.

Graham pushed back a little. He undid Damon's belt, fingers quick. Damon did the same to Graham. Jeans unzipped. Graham's hand went into Damon's boxers, holding him firmly. Damon gasped. He did the same, stroking Graham slowly.

They moved together. Kissing, touching. Breaths came fast. Graham's thumb circled the tip, spreading wetness. Damon pushed into his hand, moaning. Graham was close too, hips jerking. They held back, enjoying the feeling.

Graham stopped stroking for a moment. He looked at Damon, "Let me taste you," he said quietly. Damon nodded, heart racing. Graham slid off the chair, kneeling between Damon's legs. He pulled Damon's boxers down, freeing him. Graham's hand wrapped around the base, holding steady. Then he leaned in, tongue flicking the tip first, slow and teasing. Damon groaned really hard.

Graham took him in deeper, mouth warm and wet. He sucked gently at first, then harder, head bobbing in a steady rhythm. His free hand massaging lightly. Damon tangled his fingers in Graham's hair, guiding but not forcing. The feeling was intense. Graham's tongue swirling, lips tight around him. Damon moaned louder, hips bucking a little. "Gra.. Graham... fuck, that feels good," he whispered.

Graham hummed in response, the vibration sending shocks through Damon. He kept going, faster now, until Damon was close to the edge. But Graham pulled back just in time, lips swollen, breathing hard. "Not yet," he said with a smirk, standing up again.

"Damon," Graham whispered, forehead to forehead. "I want you. All of you."

Damon nodded, out of breath. But then the studio door opened. They stopped, hearts pounding. The moment stayed unfinished.

The door creaked wider, and in walked Alex, holding a coffee tray. He paused, eyes widening at the sight, Graham and Damon half-undressed, chairs pushed together, the air thick with the scent of sweat and arousal. "Uh... sorry, man," Alex stammered, backing up a step. "Didn't know you had company. I'll just... leave this here." He set the tray on a nearby table and bolted out, the door clicking shut behind him.

Graham let out a shaky laugh, his forehead still pressed to Damon's. "That was close," he muttered, but his hand slid back to Damon's waist, fingers tracing lazy circles on his skin. Damon grinned, his body still buzzing from the near-release. "Yeah, but... we're alone again now."

The interruption had only heightened the tension. Graham's lips found Damon's neck, kissing softly at first, then nipping. Damon tilted his head, giving him more access, his own hands roaming Graham's back, nails scratching lightly. "We should lock the door next time," Damon whispered, his voice hoarse.

Graham hummed in agreement, his mouth trailing lower, sucking on Damon's collarbone. He pushed Damon back against the chair, kneeling between his legs again. "Or not," Graham said, he took Damon in his hand, stroking slowly, thumb teasing the underside. Damon gasped, hips lifting off the seat.

This time, Graham didn't stop. He leaned in, mouth replacing his hand, taking Damon deep. The warmth, the suction, it was overwhelming. Damon gripped the chair arms, moaning Graham's name. Graham's free hand cupped Damon's thigh, squeezing, while his tongue worked in steady, maddening patterns.

"Fuck, Graham... I'm gonna-" Damon warned, but Graham pulled back just enough, lips brushing the tip. "Not yet," he teased again, standing and pulling Damon up with him. They stumbled toward the couch in the corner, shedding the rest of their clothes along the way.

Naked now, bodies pressed together on the worn leather, they explored each other fully.

Graham's mouth on Damon's chest, licking and biting nipples until they hardened. Damon's hand between Graham's legs, stroking him firmly, matching the rhythm Graham set with his own touches. They ground against each other, skin slick, breaths mingling in desperate kisses.

Graham flipped them, pinning Damon beneath him. He kissed down Damon's body, pausing to suck at his hip bones, then lower. His tongue dipped into Damon's navel, making him squirm. "You taste so good," Graham murmured, voice muffled against skin.

Damon arched, fingers in Graham's hair. "More," he begged. Graham obliged, his mouth finding Damon's length again, sucking with renewed hunger. The room filled with wet sounds and moans, the unfinished moment now a full blaze.

But as Damon neared the peak, the door rattled again, Alex knocking this time. "Graham? We gotta talk about the setlist."

They froze, bodies tangled, hearts racing. Graham sighed, resting his head on Damon's chest. "Later," he promised, but the interruption left them both aching, the heat unresolved once more. The studio door stayed closed, but the world outside waited, teasing the edge of their secret.

Alex knocked again, louder. "Graham? Seriously, open up. It's important."

Graham groaned, lifting his head. "Give us a minute!" he called back, his voice strained. He looked at Damon, eyes full of frustration and desire. "We can't keep stopping like this."

Damon nodded, his body still throbbing. "Then don't. Lock the door. Tell him to go away."

Graham hesitated for a second, then stood, grabbing his jeans and pulling them on just enough to answer the door. He cracked it open, blocking the view.

Alex blinked, confused. "But-"

Graham said, “Could you leave for now? we can discuss this tomorrow with Damon.” He closed the door and locking it this time. He turned back to Damon, shedding his jeans again. "No more interruptions."

Damon smiled, pulling Graham down onto the couch. Their mouths crashed together, hungry and urgent. Hands roamed freely now, no holding back. "Fuck, I need you," Graham whispered, his hands sliding between Damon's legs, teasing his entrance. Damon moaned, nodding. "Me too. Do it."

Graham reached for a small bottle of lube from a drawer nearby, he'd kept it there for "inspiration" sessions. He coated his fingers, then pressed one inside Damon slowly, stretching him. Damon gasped, rocking back, his head thrown back. "Yes... more."

Graham added a second finger, curling them to hit that spot that made Damon see stars. He stroked himself with his other hand, watching Damon's face twist in pleasure. "You're so tight," Graham murmured, leaning up to kiss Damon's neck.

When Damon was ready, Graham positioned himself, the tip pressing against him. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, both of them groaning at the fullness. Damon wrapped his legs around Graham's waist, pulling him deeper. "God, Graham... move."

Graham started thrusting, slow at first, then faster, building a rhythm. The couch creaked under them, but they didn't care. Damon's nails dug into Graham's shoulders, leaving marks. Graham's hand found Damon's length, stroking in time with his hips.

It was intense, raw, their bodies slick with sweat, breaths mixing in gasps. "You feel amazing," Graham panted, his pace quickening. Damon arched, meeting each thrust. "Harder... I'm close."

Graham obliged, pounding deeper, his own release building. They came together, Damon first, spilling over Graham's hand. Then Graham, burying himself deep as he filled Damon, shuddering.

They collapsed in a heap, tangled and spent. Graham kissed Damon's forehead, smiling softly. "That was... everything."

Damon laughed breathlessly, holding him close. "Yeah. And we're definitely locking the door next time."

The studio quieted again, just their hearts slowing, the secret now fully shared. The world outside could wait. For now, it was just them.

They lay there on the couch, bodies entwined, Graham's arm draped over Damon's chest as they caught their breath. Damon traced lazy patterns on Graham's back, smiling softly. Hours passed in quiet comfort, the studio lights dimming as night fell.

Eventually, they dressed and straightened up, the moment fading back into normalcy. Graham pulled Damon close one last time, kissing his forehead. "Tomorrow," he said, glancing at Damon, "We will discuss with Alex."

[avadoves]

Soft Hours

Pairing: Gramon, Graham Coxon x Reader. Idk, feel free to imagine Graham with whoever you want.

(I imagined 1998-2001 era Graham as I wrote this fan fic, but feel free to imagine any Graham era you'd like!) Word Count: 2,128 Notes: First fan fic I've ever posted here... be nice pls, I'm still getting the hang of things. Shoutout to my stupidly sexy friends for hyping me up and kept telling me to post this instead of letting it rot in my drafts. Enjoy!

***

It was already midnight, and I was cleaning the living room because yesterday Graham had invited his friends over. He still hadn't come home either, which made the whole thing even more exhausting. Just 10 minutes after I started vacuuming, I heard the door open, and he finally came home. He looked completely worn out, carrying his beloved guitar slung over his back. His thick square glasses were slightly crooked, his waist-length t-shirt and worn baggy jeans were the same ones he hadn't let me wash for a week, and he was still wearing those loafers and his favorite socks that he got in Japan during the tour.

I put the vacuum down and ran to him. I held his chin gently so he would look at me. Our eyes met, and I could see how tired he was even through his glasses.

"You look so tired," I said. "I want you... and a bowl of Indomie soto with an egg," he answered.

I went straight to the kitchen. I told Graham to take a shower and clean himself up because the smell of cigarettes was already all over him. I knew he was stressed from handling the band. I was in the middle of cooking and Graham hugged me from behind. I could feel his damp hair brushing against my hair and the back of my neck. I touched his hands, the ones that were slightly big and veiny.

"Do you want me to help you?" he asked.

"No, it’s okay. You're exhausted. I will make you some hot tea after this," I said.

He let go of the hug and walked to the living room. Graham's kitchen has an open layout connected to the living room, so I can see everything he's doing from where I stand.

Then he suddenly started cleaning my collectibles and his things too. “Why are you helping me clean? You’re exhausted. I can just clean it tomorrow morning, Gra." I said while making his tea and finishing the Indomie on the stove.

He ignored my protest and kept cleaning, moving slowly but carefully if he didn't want to break anything. I watched him for a moment, holding the cup of my tea in my hands. Somehow, the sight of him trying to help, even when he was exhausted, made my chest feel warm. "Graham," I called softly.

He looked up at me with tired eyes.

“I.. really care about you," I said, almost in a whisper.

He suddenly kissed my forehead and my cheek.

"Let's eat," he said.

While we were eating together, he told me about everything he had done today. I felt happy just listening to him, even though I couldn't go with him to the studio.

I watched the way his face softened when he talked about the small things, the way his tired eyes lit up for a moment. It made the whole room feel warmer. Even with his messy hair and exhaustion still hanging on his shoulders, something was calming about having him here, right in front of me, eating the food I made.

After we finished eating, he helped me tidy up the table and put everything away. It wasn't much, but it felt nice seeing him move around the kitchen with me.

I brought the remaining hot tea to the living room and sat down, enjoying the heat in my hands. A moment later, Graham finished cleaning up and joined me. He sat beside me, took a sip of the tea, and gently rested his head on my shoulder.

It felt warm. I liked it so much. I held his hand and stroked it softly.

"You said you needed me, right? I'm here," I said softly.

He lifted his head and looked at me, taking off his glasses. For a few seconds we just stared at each other without saying anything.

Then he kissed me. It felt like he had been missing me all day, maybe even more than he wanted to admit.

I kissed him back, slowly at first. His hand moved to the side of my face, warm and steady, pulling me a little closer. The room felt quiet except for our breathing and the soft sound of our lips and tongue meeting again and again. His shoulder relaxed, and he leaned into me like he finally found a place to rest.

He held me on his lap, his breath warm against my cheek as I tried to steady mine. His hands stayed  on my waist, firm enough to pull me closer, and the heat of his touch made my whole body tense in a way I couldn’t hide.

I leaned into him without thinking, his hand slid a little higher on my back, guiding me closer until our chest pressed together. I could feel his breath shaking against my mouth, like he was holding me back more than he wanted to show.

My fingers slipped into his short hair, tugging just a little. He let out a low exhale, almost groan, and the sound sent a rust down my spine. He kissed me harder, tilting his head, swallowing every small breath I tried to take.

“Graham…” I whispered against his lips, but he didn’t let me finish. He kissed the corner of my lips, my jaw, and then my neck, slow and warm, like he was memorizing the shape of me.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he said softly, voice rough, his thumb stroking my waist in slow circles.

I pulled back a little, breath shaking.

“Do you really want to do it now?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t answer with words he kissed me instead. Deeper and almost desperate. That was all I needed to know. He wanted more. Much more. His hands moved slowly up my right chest, his touch warm and careful. He slipped his fingers under the hem of my shirt, he lifted the fabric, his movement gentle, almost reverent, until it lid off my skin.

The air felt cooler for a moment, but his touch wasn’t. His hands explored me softly, tracing my body like he was memorizing every line, every curve. My breath caught as he held me closer, his lips brushing my neck, his touch steady and tender, filled with a heat that made my whole body tense with anticipation.

When my breath hitched, he murmured, “Look at me.”

I did. And the way he looked at me like he was terrified and wanting and gentle all at once. That’s what made my knees go weak more than his touch ever could.

The moment Graham’s shirt hit the floor, I felt something sift inside me too. Maybe it was the way he was looking at me. Warm, tired, wanting, or the way his hands held my waist like he didn’t want to let go.

He cupped the back of my neck gently.

“Come here,” he murmured.

With a soft pull, he guided both of us down until we were lying on the couch, our bodies settling against the cushions and against each other. The couch dipped under our weight, pulling us even closer.

The warmth between us was immediate as our skin met, heat spreading softly wherever we touched. His chest rose under mine, slow and uneven, like he was trying to breathe through the moment.

He let out a quiet breath that brushed my cheek. I could feel the heat of him everywhere our bodies met.

His hand slid up my side, not hurried, not rough, just steady, like he was trying to reassure both of us that this was okay.

“You feel warm…” he whispered, almost like he wasn’t talking to me, but thinking out loud.

I rested my forehead against his.

“So do you.”

For a moment, neither of us moved. We just breathed, his breath mixing with mine, his heartbeat steady but strong beneath me. The closeness didn’t feel messy or rushed.

It felt… grounding.

Intense in a quiet way.

Then his fingers brushed my back, slow and deliberate, pulling me just a little closer.

“Stay like this,” he said softly, voice low and rough. “Just for a moment.”

And I did.

Because being this close to him felt like the warmest place in the world.

“Graham…” I whispered, my voice small against the warmth of him. “What about our tea?”

He blinked, twice. Like the words were slowly filtering into his brain.

“Our… tea?” he repeated, sounding genuinely confused. Then his eyes widened a little, like he’d just remembered gravity existed.

“Oh. Right. Tea.”

He paused.

“I completely forgot tea existed.”

His face looked so serious saying that, I almost laughed.

He shifted slightly, as if he meant to sit up, then froze. I realized at the same time he did, we were both still undressed, tangled on the couch

I couldn’t help it, I giggled.

He dropped his head back onto the cushion with soft groan.

“This is your fault,” he muttered into my shoulder.

“You’re distracting.”

“You kissed me first,” I shot back.

“That’s not-” He stopped, sighed dramatically.

“Okay, fine. I did.”

He finally pushed himself up a little, but only enough to reach something behind us.

He stretched one armed back blindly, fumbling around the side of the couch.

“What are you doing?” I asked, trying not to laugh.

“Trying…” he grunted, still reaching,

“…to get the blanket I… threw somewhere… earlier.”

After a few seconds of struggling, his hand finally hooked onto something soft he yanked it up triumphantly.

“Aha!”

He pulled the blanket over two of us in a clumsy, crooked swoop, half of it landing on his face.

“Very smooth,” I teased, pulling the blanket properly across both of us so we were covered but still close.

He peeked at me from under the fabric.

“I am extremely smooth,” he said, deadpan, then ruined the seriousness completely when the blanket slipped and hit his glasses-les face again.

I laughed and he laughed too, quiet and tired and warm.

We settled down under the blanket, still close, the heat between us comfortable now rather than overwhelming.

Graham brushed my hair back gently, his thumb tracing my cheek as if he was apologizing for forgetting the entire world.

“The tea’s probably cold now,” I said softly.

“I don’t care,” he murmured, tightening his arm around me. “I just want you warm.”

I let my forehead rest against his chest, hearing the steady beat beneath my ear.

“Graham?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head.

“But you like me anyway.”

And he wasn’t wrong.

We stayed under the blanket, both of us warm and a little out of breath from laughing. The living room felt dim and soft around us, the kind of quiet that made everything feel closer than it really was. Graham tightened his arm around me again, not in a heavy way, but in that gentle pull he always did when he didn’t want distance.

He brushed his cheek against my hair, slow an tired.

“I want to spend the whole day with you today” he whispered, barely above the hum of the room.

I felt his breath against my temple. “You do?”

“Yeah. No studio. No band. Just you” his voice softened even more. “I miss being with you when things are calm.”

I didn’t say anything for a moment. I just let my hand rest on his chest, feeling the slow rise and fall beneath my palm. His heartbeat steady, warm, and grounding.

“That sounds nice” I whispered.

He let out a small hum, something between relief and contentment, and pulled the blanket a little higher until it covered both our shoulders. The warmth multiplied, the closeness settling into something quitter than before but somehow deeper too.

His thumb kept tracing slow circles on the back of my arm, each movement getting lazier as his breathing evened out. I could tell he was fighting sleep but losing, little by little.

“You’re really warm” he murmured, voice already slipping.

“So are you.”

He smiled at that, eyes half closed. “Good. Stay like this.”

I did. I shifted closer, letting my head rest again on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat soft and steady underneath my ear. The blanket wrapped around us, making everything feel softly dim. His other hand come up to old the back of my shoulder, gentle and protective.

The room grew quieter. Softer. Sleepier.

His breathing slowed first.

Mine followed.

Without planning it, without meaning to, without anything dramatic or urgent pushing us there…

We fell asleep on the couch together. Still tangled under the blanket, warm from each other, holding on like neither of us wanted the night to pass too quickly.

[mangaken]

tshd doodle dump

im not normal about them