(Okay wait the tea is that this is based on a dream I had about Chris Corner bye

Ya'll were imaging Maven while I'm literally imaging Chris Corner

I hope you guys know every time I indent in these author notes that they are literally liek 10 minutes apart and writing right in the middle of a sentence --)

Modern

Maven has been in the world of music for fourteen years. With nine albums and many collaborations under his belt, you were undoubtedly scared to work on your newest album with him. He was a sensual, peaceful person but his sogs were electronic and loud. You were a silent person on the street but a passionate person on the stage. Two different worlds collide like thunder and lightning to make the perfect storm.

He walked into your house with a bag filled with notebooks, pens, and bobby pins. His first movement was sitting on your couch, ready to start after the pleasantries.

"No, no, no," you shake a finger at him. You grab a folded blanket on the couch, the checkered pattern expanding across the naked floor as you lay it out. A smile tugs on his face and he moves his creative station onto the blanket, putting his back to the side.

"My house, my rules." You add. You sit with your legs crossed next to him. He looks at you with his famous undying stare, a cursed smile piercing your gaze. 

You sigh, pulling your comfort computer closer.

"This'll be fun."

You could feel his passionate warmth as you sit shoulder-to-shoulder with him. As the time went on, he started pinning his curly black hair away from his face. You can see his angled features; high cheekbones, strict jaw, his prominent brow bone. He was like a dream to you.

"You should see what I got so far," he whispers with his smooth voice, handing you his notebook. His handwriting, heavy cursive, was almost too easy to read. It was smooth, predictive. 

The Beauty of a Stone Woman

You remind yourself of his lyric style, more poet with hard to understand words. Utterly satisfying, more of. 

There is a verse that catches your attention and makes you blush a deep shade of red.

Beauty of a stone

Gaze a crystal house

Eyes of a black home

Buttons on her blouse

You clutch your black shirt tightly, smiling at him.

"You like it?"

"Is it a chorus?"

"Of course."

You nod at him, handing back the paper. His silver fingers brush against your hand ever so slightly. It makes your pulse ascend to the Heavens. Why is he so attractive? A smile lingers on his face, his calm features soothing you with pieces of bliss. You sigh, trying to calm yourself.

"I was wondering," his blue eyes grab ahold of yours, "if you had a need to go more towards your style or mine."

You break eye contact, fixing your words together before you speak. 

"I want a passion filled song, and your style is hypnotic..." You stare deeply into his flavorful eyes "-sexy." The words linger on your lips, the same lips he continuously stares at.

"I like it sexy." He adds on, leaning close to you. The years of tweeting at each other - commenting on each other's Instagram posts - subtweets - reblogging - shouting out - all flashed before your eyes as he leans in for the first kiss. You have prayed for this moment, but now that it's here, you don't know what to do. All you can do is kiss back and embrace the sexual feelings that were powered by his touch. His touch, as warm as it is, still sent shivers through your body. The kiss went on longer than you thought, and you rested your body against his chest. He held you as you crawled onto his lap, pulling him closer to you by his back. As the kiss deepened, he began massaging his tongue against yours. You weighed yourself against him in a rhythmic motion, the feeling of his body and actions making your heart skip beats.

You pull away for only a second before grabbing his face with your hands. You rub his cheekbones with your thumb, staring into his eyes. 

Truly, a gift from God. A beautiful, sexy gift. A gift just for me.

You kiss him roughly, pulling his face close to yours. He laughs into the kiss, bending his body and placing you on the blanket; on top of papers and notebooks. His hands trail down your thighs, lifting them as you wrap your body around his. He licks your bottom lip, biting it and pulling it away from your body. He really is a passionate man, you can tell by the way his hands run through your body. He feels all of your curves and edges. He wants this touch to stay with his forever, to somehow travel this lust he feels into an art. 

Your fingers draw down his chest, stimulating his senses slowly, rubbing your fingers into his muscles. His nails dig into your thighs, groaning against your lips as you bring your fingers to his waistband. You dig your hand into his pants and underwear, rubbing against whatever flesh you can contort your fingers to find. Your other hand grips onto the roots of his hair, entertaining you as he continues to groan against your skin. 

His hands go under your black blouse, pulling it up and over your head as he discarded it like trash. You remove your hands from his pants, them going to his shoulders as he works with your pants as well. As his fingers dance with your waist, his mouth trails down your neck, placing wet kisses on your burning skin. A breath escapes your lips slowly as he wraps his lips around your breast, licking the bud slowly but sensually. You close your eyes, feeling nothing but the pleasure and desire.

He gives you no mercy as he pulls down your pants, letting himself return between your legs. You long for his touch, even when it's there. Part of you knows this will never last as long as you wish, but if this emotion gets transferred into a song you can listen to for the rest of your life, you're happy with just that.

Maven looks down at your beautiful body, the way the dabbles of ink and ripped paper decorate your form. You look like the living embodiment of the songs he writes; the derogatory egotistical beauty of his emotions made into a single perfect body. His fingers, long and bony, trail down your stomach with ease. You bite your lip, seeing the simplistic love that tingles around his pupils as he stares down at you. You almost look away in embarrassment. 

"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispers, pulling down your underwear slowly. Your breathing slows as you feel his fingers brush against your skin. Usually, you'd be scared. You'd be nervous - embarrassed. But you know Maven more than he knows you. You know his love for beauty and the human body. You know that no matter how shitty you may be, he will always find you deathly attractive.

His lips go to your neck as he eases himself into you, spreading your legs for a wider access. You take a slow breath as you grab onto his shoulder blades, feeling him fill you. Your entire body tingled as he started moving in and out, testing his limits slowly. He kept his head in between your neck and shoulder, breathing against your skin like the bass drums in his concerts. He grips onto your body for support as he doesn't hesitate to quicken his pace.

You can feel your head start to spin as you sit back, your hands going to his hair. You grip onto any part of his body you can find, his shoulder - his shirt - his hair - his experienced skin. You grasp onto every feeling you feel. The pleasure of his body inside of yours was something you never thought would feel so good. It was a new feeling, something you're happy to feel with Maven.

"So good," he mumbles against your skin, his voice sending vibrations throughout your entire body. You feel alive, all sense of your melancholic hallow disappearing. For a second, you could swear to know what true happiness was. You look at his fingertips as they wrap around yours. His ink stained-skin burned its way into your memory as through all of the pleasure and dreamy reality, it's the only thing he can focus on.

This is real, you have to remind yourself. You lose yourself in the moment every second as his flesh pounds against yours. You can feel your walls clenching around him, pulsating like a heartbeat as you release yourself against his touch. His fingers clench onto you as he bites the skin of your neck, gnawing on you like you were his delicious snack. One of his hands falls onto your lower back, lifting you up so he can go deeper. You wrap around him as he feels his own orgasm building up. It's your moans and beautiful notes that drive him over, making him harder than he was before. He pounds his hot seed into you, nothing stopping the connection of two breeding humans from feeling each other's substances. 

He pants against you, your nipples rubbing against the silk material of his shirt as he holds you tightly, pulling himself away from you. His seed and your juices mix together, dripping onto the paper under you; smudging the lyrics away.

"This is going to make a really good song." You whisper, laughing to yourself. He looks at your face, seeing the crinkles around your eyes as you giggle. So beautiful, he thinks to himself. You cup his cheeks, loving the moment more than you did before. He smiles against your touch, his hair moist and clinging to his heated skin.

"Every song you make is a really good song," he flirts, laying on his back right by your side. You turn on your side, snuggling your body up against his. You lay there for a second, the damp air lightening up as the smell of sex is still dominant. 

"This collaboration has been splendid, thank you for your time," you chat with a cooing tone. He chuckles again, the sound coming from deep in his chest. He rubs a hand through your hair, kissing your forehead.

"Anything for you." He whispers once more before the world is turned to silent. You enjoy the silence, even if it's for a second. It's utterly peaceful in your heart. Maven gives you true happiness.