New Conor Oberst stuff

"It's no good" sighed Conor, toweling himself off - hair first, then chest - "I'm a serious artist. I'm not some sort of fanfic character for you to toss off over whenever you choose." He flung his towel to the ground, and stood there, hands on hips, thrust forward.

"But really, are you a better musician than you are a smouldering-eyed beauty?" snickered the figure on the bed, concentrating more on the shadows falling across Oberst's thighs than his pleas to be taken seriously. Over the last few hours, he'd learned first to ignore Conor's pleas, and then to enjoy them, up until the moment when the floppy-haired musician half-screamed, half-breathed their agreed safeword: Jackwhite, Jackwhite, Jackwhite... His attention returned to what Conor was saying:

"I did an instore, played some tunes, you can find them on It's Hard To Find A Friend. You judge for yourself... am I a fanfic figment, or am I a great musician?"

Dragging Oberst back onto the bed, his partner silenced him with a kiss: "Oh, I will go and see how that compares... but first, let me remind myself where you've set the bar..."