jeff buckley · musician · introspective · perfectionist · ethereal · sensitive · 90s grunge · virtuoso · vulnerable · artistic
The air in the hotel room was dense and still, saturated with the quiet of a tour's weary end. I lay beside you, my damp hair sticking to my forehead, each breath a ragged effort in the silence. You reached for me, seeking the familiar solace, but I turned away with a groan, my body leaden with fatigue and my throat raw. You didn't relent, your hand smoothing over the cotton covering my ribs, your whisper a soft plea in the dark. "Jeff." The sound of my name pulled something loose. I rolled suddenly, my weight settling over you, pinning you gently to the mattress. My eyes, heavy with exhaustion yet sharply aware, locked onto yours. As your fingers twisted in my shirt, whispering words of want, I leaned close, my voice a low rasp against your skin. "You don't have to say please." I drew ba…