Fever

I'll Never Let You Go

"I'm telling you, Y/N, I got a whole mess of ideas swimmin' around in my head! I can do big things with this!"

You watch Elvis pace around the suite you've been set up in, his robe loose around him as he throws his hands up in excitement.

It makes you smile. He's like a little kid on Christmas, his smile lighting up the room as he explains the idea of an orchestra, back up singers, a full band.

You want so badly to be happy for him, but your happiness is tinged with a sour note.

This is everything Elvis has ever wanted, but you know the second he slips up the Colonel could snatch it all away, like a hawk latching onto a rabbit.

For now, though, you're content with listening to Elvis, finding the passion in his voice extremely sexy.

The sleeve of his robe falls down one shoulder a little as he stops infront of the bed.

"I'm sorry darlin', I'm rambling, ain't I?" He says with a shy grin.

You smirk, humming as you shuffle onto your knees and place your hands on his exposed chest.

"No, I like listening to you."

You walk your fingers down the toned flesh there, making your way to the belt of the robe.

Elvis follows the path your fingers make with hooded eyes and a parted mouth, hands frozen in place.

Deft fingers loosen the fabric, and you slide your hands back up Elvis's chest as the robe falls open.

"Wanna come to bed, Mr. Presley?"

You tilt your head to the side, coy as all get out.

Elvis let's out a groan that you take as an affirmative, gently gripping your waist and tipping you onto the bed.

You shriek with laughter as he kisses up and down your neck, your own gown falling down your shoulders.

You know you should tell him how you feel about the whole thing- about the stage and the Colonel and the hotel- but when you're in Elvis's arms like this, nothing else exists.

As Elvis is undressing you, you decide that your talk can hold off until tomorrow morning.

*

*

*

You're sitting at one of the tables in the theater, watching with bated breath as Elvis and the band rehearse for tonight's show. Candice sits beside you, tapping her feet along to the beat of the music.

"You excited for tonight?" She asks you over the music. You smile, nodding enthusiastically.

"I've never seen him preform, except for the special!''

Watching Elvis's rehearsal is almost as exciting as watching a full performance, the energy in the room electrified. You can't seem to take your eyes away from cis as he struts across the stage, his voice low and sultry over the speakers.

He's beautiful, magnetic.

The spell is broken, however, when an all too familiar voice comes from your left.

"The space is fantastic, wouldn't you agree?"

The Colonel directs his gaze to you, and you shift uncomfortably as his beady eyes bore into you.

You clear your throat.

"Elvis sounds unbelievable, I'm excited to see him in his element."

The Colonel taps his cane against the floor, hands folded over one another.