Prompt: Orchestra @kingdonmicrofic | 500 Words | Rated E for Explicit Sexual Content | 29/31 | Professional Musicians AU, Reverse Age Gap/Older Mel AU :) |
“You play the Debussy beautifully.”
Frank looks up from his sheet music. Mel King—the Mel King, youngest violinist in the history of the New York Philharmonic—is standing in front of his music stand, holding her violin case and frowning at him.
“Thank you, Miss King,” he stammers out. It shouldn't be so scary, his first week of rehearsals with the orchestra, but he’s only twenty-five, and it doesn’t matter that he’s a prodigy, that he already has his doctorate, that he earned his place here, it’s still nerve-wracking.
Especially playing with other legends like Mel fucking King.
“The Bartók as well,” she says, tilting her head at him. Her gaze is analytical, like she’s sizing him up, but it also seems like she’s somewhat impressed. She’s older than him—by how much he’s not entirely sure—but he knows that she’s been playing stages like this since before he’d even picked up a violin. She’s so ridiculously talented and also so attractive he might die if she keeps looking at him.
“That’s very kind.”
“You’re floundering with the contemporary pieces, though.”
Frank nods. That is true. “I don’t have as much experience with contemporary—”
“Most kids straight out of the conservatory don’t,” she interrupts. “You’ll learn.”
“I actually have my doctorate—”
“How old are you?”
Frank blinks. “Twenty-five."
Mel King smiles, her tongue peeking out from behind her teeth. “You can call me Mel.”
Oh, Frank thinks. I’m in trouble.
—
“You’re such a fast learner.”
Frank hums, mouth occupied.
“I knew you would be,” Mel pants. “I saw how fast you picked up the—faster, please—the Stravinsky and I knew you’d take direction well.”
Frank hums again, the compliment sending pleasure through his synapses.
“And the way you play, your fingers on the strings, oh fuck, right there—”
Frank angles his fingers and sucks—Mel moans, clenching down around his fingers, her back lifting off the mattress as she comes.
Frank sits back on his haunches and watches Mel as she comes down. She’s gorgeous—was gorgeous when she stopped by his music stand and coached him through the contemporary pieces, was gorgeous when she invited him to her apartment, was gorgeous when she sat herself down in his lap and kissed him.
“In all honesty,” Mel says, breathing in raggedly, “I thought you’d need more lessons.”
“Oh, I need more lessons,” Frank says eagerly. “Anything you wanna teach me, I’m a very good student.”
“You are, aren’t you?” She appraises him again, looking at him intensely like she’s trying to figure out what makes him tick. Or maybe she’s trying to figure out what she sees in him, because Frank’s certainly not sure. “On your back,” she commands.
Frank makes his way hastily across the bed. He whimpers when she takes off his jeans and his underwear, and then fully moans when she takes off her bra and settles herself on his waist, notching his cock at her entrance.
“Watch and learn, prodigy. Watch and learn.”