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Arguably, in the greater public conscience, there are many other places Klavier belongs.
He belongs to the courtroom, ringed fingers thumping the stand until purple blossoms along his wrist; eyes shining from the thrill of the fight. His immovable moral compass destined to elicit the raw truth, but with a sheltered sort of kindness unseen from those around and before him.
He belongs to the stage. Those same rings curled around a microphone, sweat-slick skin gleaming under the megawatt lights. Heart beating not only in the four-four of his most prized creations, but in impeccable time with the thousands of others which beat only for him, if only for two hours at a time.
He belongs to the streets, he's heard. What of it; to be young and beautiful and the most eligible bachelor in the city is no cruel way to live. He's tumbled into the sheets of many pretty men and handsome women and the gorgeous souls in-between, and faded into the dawn like the stars themselves. Commitment is for careers, hedonism is his go-to for matters of the flesh.
If anyone were to bother to ask him, though, there is only one place in the world he truly belongs: on his knees in his bedroom, serving she who his fragile heart won't allow him to call his whole world.
Her dark hair is mussed, just starting to stick to her flushed cheeks as she stares down, down at him. She sees the glint in his eyes, and hating to ever allow him to know how much he affects her, she fists her fingers into his golden hair and pulls. His grunt sounds pained, but she knows that the ache goes straight to his stupid pretty cock, and pulls ever harder, until he's exactly where he's meant to be.
The sole reason Ema tolerates willfully spending this much time with Klavier Gavin is because he eats pussy like hes starving for it.
Despite the imperious grip in his hair, Klavier takes his time. He sucks open mouthed kisses into the give of her inner thighs, raking his bitten nails through the stubble of the outside. His hands come to push her knees back, allowing him to kiss where her thigh becomes groin, allowing him to press his handsome nose in and breathe the clean-sweat scent of her arousal. He's disgusting, she thinks, and feels a bead of slick drip from her hole. He smirks, he knows, and she yanks. "Come on, Gavin."
He looks up, and she feels nauseous from the rush of unbidden oxytocin at the admiration in his eyes. She looks away, and waits for him to take the hint. He always does. Clever boy.
His tongue is so, so warm as he drags it, once, twice from her hole to her clit, the soft flat of it setting her nerves alight, not least when the stud in his tongue flicks against her at the end of each stroke. He lets go of her legs to spread her wide, the pull teasing just so at her hole as he zeroes in with his tongue, pressing the point into that sensitive spot below her clit. He drags down to her entrance, lapping at her wetness like the depraved dog he is, and he moans. He's so pathetic, and Ema is so turned on.
Finally, finally his lips seal around her clit. He sucks her like he's sucking cock, vacuum-tight as he draws his head away and back, and it makes her crazy. He's still moaning, and only ever louder when she gets purchase between his shoulder blades with her heels, and digs in to fuck his face. Of course, he loses that delicious suction as she drags her pussy over his chin, hard into his nose; but it's worth it for her to hear the way he gasps for air. Each slide over his plush lips sends shocks deep into her abdomen, each hitched breath from him drives her closer to the teetering edge.
He scrambles for her, and she almost stops to admonish him, but the blunt press of two slender fingers into her hole punches the air right from her lungs. He tightens his other arm around her hips to bury his face in her again, and oh, she remembers the heady power he hands her with a purple gift bow is a farce. He's got more strength in one finger than she can muster in her whole upper body, but doesn't that make her control a precious gift indeed? She relents into his grip, and finally allows herself to keen as his practiced fingers crook unforgiving inside her, as his wicked tongue swirls and swirls, as the burning pleasure becomes too much to bear.
She bucks hard against his hold as she comes, some vague part of her holds concern that she'll crush his head, while another part reassures her that he would love it. He fucks her through it, the twist of his wrist and his studded kitten licks making her orgasm draw endless, just this side of too much. He's panting hard against her pussy, eyes screwed shut in pleasured agony, she almost thinks he's beautiful.
She knows he hasn't come. It's not unlike him to; to spurt shuddering against his own silk sheets from eating her out. But the fop must have jerked off before she got here or something, because when she sits up to look, his cock is shining and flamed at the tip, straining hard against the muscles of his stomach. She desperately wants it in her mouth. She pushes that thought away firmly.
She could leave now, leave him hard and begging. She's done it before, and his miserable desperation truly is a sight to behold. As he is now, perfect braid disheveled and sweaty, pupils blown, chest heaving. Her cunt pulses. Maybe she deserves another, while he gets his.
She meets his eyes, briefly, just to drink in the unclouded need there, then watches them blow further as he watches her hand trace down her stomach, down to tease at her still dripping hole.
"Get off to me, Gavin."
He needs no further encouragement. He hisses as his fist flies to his weeping cock, immediately setting a furious pace, as though he's afraid she'll change her mind. She might.
Ema sinks two fingers into her cunt, so slick and open, as she watches him. She brings her other hand to rub languidly at her clit at the sight of the tension in his neck, the squeeze of his eyes, the way pre-cum bubbles from the head of his cock. He's insufferable, but he is so fucking hot.
Klavier fucks into his fist like he wishes it was her, and that's what makes Ema tumble over the edge the second time. He's almost there, and come-drunk she deigns to help him. From where she lies on his bed, she can just reach to give him a solid heel directly to the balls. Klavier howls, and comes convulsing. He drops, panting, to the carpet at her feet.
Where he belongs.