Little drummer boy…

‘There are no two words in the English language more harmful than “good job”.’

She called him her little drummer boy but don’t be fooled. He was no Christmas card child, tapping away on his tin drum. There was nothing small or cute about him. He towered above her, his broad frame filling every space that he entered. His dark hair had a shaggy inelegance despite its reasonable length and his face was always scruffy with stubble regardless of when he last shaved. He tended to look a bit ridiculous; a giant crouching down behind a tiny drum kit, and when she first saw him, she struggled to gulp down hysterical giggles at the image of Animal the Muppet sitting in his place.

Until he started to play. Until he picked up his drumsticks, and then everything else melted away.

It was his focus that first drew her in. She had watched him practice for literally an hour before he’d noticed her sat in the corner of the room. Nothing existed beyond his drums, the drumsticks and the music. When she could drag him away and into bed, he looked at her with that same intensity, like the whole of his world lay within his arms and nothing mattered beyond his reach. It was intoxicating and overwhelming all at the same time.

Watching him play was addictive, she couldn’t look away.

He was just beautiful to watch. Even though his height did necessitate a somewhat hunched posture, it emphasised the tension and power within him. Ribbons of muscle stood out like cords on his forearms and his thighs bounced as he counted time. The contours of his back flexed beneath his shirt and she knew the strength they held. Oh God, she knew it so well.

And still he played on.

The rhythm that he pounded into the tight drumskin worked its way into her core. She could feel it. It vibrated through her and she could feel the kinetic energy converging deep, deep inside until it formed a pulsating beat that throbbed in her belly and in her clit and caught her breath in her throat. Sweat was running down her own back from just watching him, and her body hummed with the arousal that watching him always drew out of her. She was panting in time and had to squeeze her thighs together to hold in the tension that grew inside her as he played on.

Syncopations and irregular riffs jarred, but the change of pace was electric. Faster and faster and faster and faster, over and over and over and on and on and on and on. Featherlight touches on the cymbals pushed her closer and closer to the edge, but he never stopped, never gave her what she needed. She was gripping her seat, her whole body begging for release, but he went on and on building the rhythm harder and faster, adding bass that thumped inside her and rapping out a beat on the snare that had her moaning with desperation. The tempo slowed and teased before ramping up higher and higher again.

On and on he went, on and on he played until she was hanging on by a thread, her fingertips gripping reality with increasingly tenuous stability. Beads of sweat fell from his body, splashing onto the drums and running over the vibrating surfaces. She wanted to catch the salty drops as they fell from him, she wanted to taste the exertion in his skin and feel the force within his grip. She wanted to push him off his stool and rip his soaked shirt off his chest, but she didn’t want him to stop playing.

Finally, desperately, and with a crash of cymbals, the sound rolled over her and through her as the energy he had built up so carefully came to a climactic finale. Her cries of release were drowned in the melodious cacophony that erupted in front of her on stage, and went on and on.

And then it was quiet. Stunningly, shatteringly quiet. The only sound left was harsh, ragged panting as he tried to recover his breath and she tried to recover herself.

Oh no, he wasn’t just good. He never just did a good job, he was extraordinary.

Damn, she adored him…


The clip at the top is quite long, but I would strongly recommend it and I cannot recommend Whiplash highly enough. Oh my gosh, I love that film!

This was inspired by the title of the Christmas song Little Drummer Boy for Exhibit A‘s Christmas Erotica meme. So make sure you check out all the other entries. It’s proving to be quite a lot of fun…

0 thoughts on “Little drummer boy…

  1. What a fabulous handing of this prompt! It’s immersive. Excellent! I couldn’t see the video clip here — says my country is blocked…Just telling you so you know your writing shined alone. xM

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