Sarajevo, 1985. The Plavi Orkestar boys had just wrapped another sweaty basement rehearsal, chords still ringing in the air. Loša, the cocky singer with his short light brown hair and easy grin, wiped his brow and shot Pava a look. "You were riffing like you wanted to fuck the song, Pava. What's got you so wound up tonight?"
Pava, the tall guitarist with spiked blonde hair, smirked back, his brown eyes lingering too long. "Maybe it's you hogging the spotlight again, Loša. Friends don't let friends get all horny over their own voice." Their mutual crush had simmered for months—Pava's more obvious in stolen glances—but tonight the tension cracked wider.
Alone after the others left, witty barbs flew like foreplay. "Admit it, you'd drop to your knees for a real blowjob from me," Loša teased, stepping closer. Pava laughed sharply, "Only if your ass is as tight as your lyrics, and we both know you're the one who's been dripping wet for it." Hands brushed, then gripped. Clothes hit the floor in a rush of panting and sweating skin.
Pava pushed Loša against the amp, their hard cocks grinding together. "Fuck, you're horny too," Pava growled, dropping to give Loša a sloppy blowjob that had him moaning. Loša's fingers tangled in that blonde hair, thrusting shallowly. "Your mouth's better than any groupie, but I want your cock in my ass now."
They switched fast—Pava slicking up and sliding into Loša's ass with a wet thrust that made them both curse. "God, you're dripping for me," Pava panted, pounding deep while Loša stroked his own cock. The rhythm built frantic, bodies slapping, cum building fast. Loša came first with a shout, his release splattering the floor, then Pava followed, filling him with hot cum as they collapsed sweating and laughing.
Pava pulled Loša close for a soft kiss amid the afterglow, the guitarist's crush shining brighter than ever. "This friends-with-benefits thing is getting dangerous, you know." Loša grinned, already plotting the next secret night, but a knock at the door hinted the band—and more complications—were never far.
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