I Bet You Think This Song Is About You

10. youre so gorgeous, I'd do anything

A/N: not to be crass, but after all this copy-pasting I have the same kind of hand cramp I get when I jack off too long

"What're you looking at me like that for?" Trent smirked at Marilyn, whose dark eyes managed to repeatedly glance past the side of the computer to make contact with Trent's.

Marilyn looked nervously at Pogo, who was sitting next to him, though not paying the closest attention, and then looked back at Trent in a reprimanding way.

"I'm not looking at you like anything, Reznor." Marilyn spoke, his tone too measured.

"Okay." Trent smirked, and Marilyn's drawn on eyebrows furrowed together in the way that Trent just thought was so cute.

Trent was discovering the fun of teasing Marilyn a little, just a little, though. He didn't want the other man to take it too seriously, or feel bad for real. What he really wanted... Well, even thinking about it was filthy, it made him snort with laughter like a boy stealing from a candy store.

"Trent, tell me what you think of this." Marilyn spoke, interrupting his thought process, holding the headphones up, eyes looking imploring upon Trent.

"Okay." Trent spoke, standing up from his seat and going to lean on his elbows to listen to what Marilyn had recorded.

He listen for a few minutes, tapping his fingers on the table, then said "I think the drums are a bit loud, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I thought so too, I just wanted to see whether you noticed, 'cause, well, you're less biased than you'd be if you were in my band." Marilyn started to turn down the drum track.

"I'm very biased." Trent smirked.

'Stop it!' Marilyn mouthed silently, then returned Trent's malevolent grin.

"You know I can't." Trent whispered, then walked around to the other side of Marilyn speaking more loudly to Pogo, "Do think it would be better to loop the primary riff after to create uniformity, or can you play it like that?"

Pogo began to explain to Trent that he preferred to use the loop pedal for certain things, and freestyle others, but Marilyn zoned out what his band mate was saying. Trent was really a tease, and a good looking tease, too. Marilyn bit his lip, thinking to himself that Trent's figure was nice; his shoulders were broad, and his hips were curved a little, like a violin. Marilyn wanted to slam him down right now, even though Trent had only been teasing a little.

"Oh fuck." Trent said.

His bracelet had fallen off of his wrist. Stealing a glance at Marilyn, the traces of a smirk on his lips and a knowing look in his eyes, Trent leaned down slowly to pick up the bracelet from the ground. Marilyn felt his stomach jolt, as he looked exactly where Trent knew he would from that teasing arch of his left eyebrow; daring Marilyn to look, and daring him to react later. Marilyn stared at Trent's ass, as the singer made no effort to pick up the beaded bracelet from the floor quickly. Trent's jeans were black, tight, and high waisted, and left nearly nothing to the imagination at this angle. The bottom of his sweater had come up a little to reveal a strip of pale white soft skin, and just as fast as Marilyn had drunk in the beautiful sight Trent had presented him with, Trent stood up again, pulling his sweater back down.

Marilyn focused his attention, visually at least, on editing the sound levels for the most recent song. His mind wandered to Trent repeatedly, and each time he reminded himself that the more work he got done, the sooner lunch would be, and the sooner he could detain Trent from going out to lunch with the rest of Marilyn's band.

After some time, Trent looked at his watch, "Guys, it's 12:45, if you want to get food, that's fine. I'm fucking starving."

"God, thank you." Daisy said in an incredibly dramatic way, and everyone in Marilyn's band began to stand up from where they were seated, chattering about whether they should go to Burger King or McDonald's, with Pogo's indignant insistance that they should just get pre-boiled eggs and fruit at the grocery store juxtaposed.