My Soulmates are IDOLS 1 | Limelight🎇| 18+ [Reverse Harem]

112: Casper

Casper

Casper hummed.

His voice started out embarrassingly horrendous for a singer of his calibre. It cracked, rough from a raw throat and fitful sleep. Sleep that had been assaulted by one too many sexual dreams, each one much more lustful than the next.

He flushed, wincing at the pitchy squeaks that escaped his lips. Casper cleared his throat, shaking his head hoping to force those thoughts out of his mind and he started again.

His voice mellowed, softening into the crisp velvety lilt he was famous for. It was a sound that ran together with the beat like milk and honey. They flowed, speeding and moving in the air. The dance of varying acoustic waves transmitting to his brain.

Then the vibrations from the bass stopped an awkward opening that left too much space for his creative mind to accept. It was an awkward silence, a pit hole of sound which disgusted him.

Something was missing.

A slide of his fingers over the board and the pitch of the supporting melody ran up a key. A turn of the digital knobs and the tempo changed. Another swipe over the touch panel and the beat flowed faster than the sound of the rain on the windowpane.

The droplets pattering against the glass, like hundreds of needles on paper. The beat replayed once again, and he closed his eyes, leaning back against his chair.

He could see it.

The slant of sunlight cutting across the air, the brush of plastic strips on his skin. The chill of cold, crisp air on his skin, forcing goose bumps over his flesh.

His mind expected warmth. That sweet bubbling yellow that he wanted to capture in his music. The bright speck of colour in the sea of dark grey. But what Casper could see was an emptiness that stood out, stark in the beauty of his mental environment. The awkward hollow void.

Her.

Yet again he couldn't capture her presence.

Casper sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He slammed the pen he had been twisting in his hands on the desk. No, no, no. He tapped the metal nib on the paper, scribbling out another line from his list.

Not this instrument, his mind supplied. Perhaps, something else. Not pitchy strings, nor the pipes. He furrowed his brows. Should he try something more authentic? A traditional East Asian instrument perhaps? Maybe something more organic?

The beat was missing something and at the moment Casper wasn't sure what it needed. He stretched, lacing his fingers together and letting the knots in his body crack, expelling the pockets of air within his joints.

He picked up the earring that laid on the table, raising the cheap crystal into the light. The reflection was clumsy, the plastic a little murky with scratches. Still, a soft smile stretched across his lips and his fingers rubbed against the cool plastic again and again.

A subconscious action that he did far too many times each day.

He shifted in his seat and his body thrummed, darts of pleasure jolting through him as his cock brushed against the skin of his thighs. The action was oddly pleasurable, and it sent another jerk of heat through his belly.

Fuck. Casper cursed, pulling his legs apart abruptly to manspread in his chair, feeling a rush of heat blossom on his cheeks.

His senses were humming with oversensitivity, his body filled with inner heat from the extremely realistic dream he had that morning. No amount of cold water could cool him down after that dream. His thoughts drifted, somehow capable of remembering the usually elusive memories of his dreams.