fandomhighdorms | Behind the Dorms, Sunday Afternoon

Jonothon Evan Starsmore, the stunningly handsome and ridiculously wealthy rock-star descendant of the late Jack Starsmore, heir of the vast Starsmore Fortune, esteemed leader of the mighty and powerful Clan Akkaba, and wielder of Mysterious Powers of Which He Never Spoke, lifted his guitar and took a pleased look around at his surroundings. The stage was set. The band was ready (even if they were all nameless, faceless individuals. The focus wasn't on them, here.)

No, no, the focus was on Jonothon, his hair perfect, his face perfect, his chest? Dare I say it? Perfect, as if sculpted by the hand of God himself. It would have been a shame to put a shirt on it, in spite of the time of year. And anyhow, this particular corner of the island was unseasonably warm. It would be a shame to not take advantage of the sunny sky, the green of the grass and the leaves in the trees, the warmth the day had to offer... and other types of heat, at that. Perfect chests were for showing off, and Jonothon would like to encourage all of his audience to partake in that very same mindset.

But all of that hardly mattered. What really mattered, here, was that there was to be a concert today. And, perhaps afterwards, Jonothon would let his most avid admirers backstage for a personal tour.

[Open! So very, very open.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It was an exquisite chest. Elena quite thoroughly approved.

"I confess, I was curious," she said, allowing that small nod to confirm her identity. "To see if the man could possibly live up to the legend. I knew I had to see for myself."

"And, dare I ask, do you like what you see thus far?" Jonothon made his way toward her, a smile toying at the corners of his lips that suggested that he was quite capable of demonstrating exactly what that legend was all about.

And that he was capable, also, of blowing that legend completely out of the water with something better.

"I'm intrigued," Elena allowed, blowing out a breath of smoke and raising one eyebrow. "Though I believe that last song was unplanned."

Was he mocking those that had the Virus? Or had he himself succumbed?

Jonothon drew in a sharp breath at that, and he jerked back almost as though he'd been slapped. Composure, Starsmore. Composure.

Only, he couldn't be composed, not in the face of ... Of that.

"I've... suspected for some time. But today's performance... was the first time any symptoms actually surfaced. I fear there isn't much time, now."

Composure.

He looked up at her, his jaw set, his expression grim. Brave. He would meet his fate, and he would do so with bravery in his heart. The heart that beat true within that beautiful chest of his.

Elena frowned, the first crack in her armor. The first display of emotion that wasn't calculated to look like the powerful, gorgeous Shinra she was.

"There are doctors," she said. "Expensive clinics, experimental treatments ... surely you're not giving up."

"The Legacy Virus has claimed many, many a life before mine," Jonothon replied, looking at her sharply before looking away again. The pain... it was simply too great.

If only somebody would console him!

"And there is no cure."

"But you have a gift," Elena insisted, grabbing his hands firmly with hers. "You're an artist. The world can't afford to lose your light."

She would pay for the clinics herself. She had doctors, on staff! Several of whom followed her around personally to ensure that she didn't catch any rare diseases.

The rare ones were the worst! They were always so incurable! Damn them!

Jonothon looked at her again, his expression grim in that sort of way that made him look both very strong and very deliciously kissable. It was possible that this was part of his Mysterious Power. Or else it was possible that he was just very, very hot.

Maybe both.

"You're right... I need to fight this! For my fans! For the public! For the world!"

What would the world do without him?!

"And for me," she said, pulling his hands close to her. Never mind that she'd only just met him; he was hot. And moving, and so forth.

She pressed her lips against his fingers. "Fight this for me."

Her life was so hollow, so empty before him. He was her light now.

"For you, darling Elena Shinra, I would do anything."

Her hands, they were so soft, so warm. Jonothon moved his own, to take her hands in his. And then he moved forward some more, to take her lips, as well.

She had very kissable lips as well, it seemed.

Her lips, her hands, all were kissable. She needed to be near him, with him, at all times. She couldn't even remember her life before him; it was night and day. And he was the sun, shining down on her and filling her with joy and chlorophyll.

"Take me," she said. "Here, and now. I want to be one with you."

"And so you shall," Jonothon replied, his hands moving to her clothing, to pull it away, to let it fall to the floor like silk. Falling to the floor. Silkily. "And I, I shall be one with you."

And, as the scene faded to black, it was quite, quite clear that they intended to be very thoroughly one... with one another.

Behind the Dorms, Sunday Afternoon

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!

Re: Afterwards/Backstage!