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Five Finger Death Punch	By : mmarc56 Category: Celebrities - Misc > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1552 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Five Finger Death Punch or any of its members, this story is a work of fiction, and I made no money writing it.

Chapter List
- 7
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Chapter Seven: The Reason

“Haven’t you ever thought about making an exception?”

The two men stared at each other from across the studio. The younger man eyed him from the couch he laid on so casually with a beer in his hand and a tight, cold expression on his face. He titled his head back and pushed his dreads from his shoulder before taking a drink from the bottle.

“Zoltan,” the guitarist prompted. He shrugged.

The silence in the room was deafening and buzzed all around them with the liquid feeling of being submerged in water. The older guitarist dropped his head and exhaled.

“Fuck it.” He stood up and walked to the door, and Zoltan waited until he had passed his feet before stopping him.

“Wait.” He halted and looked down at him. “What do you want?”

“You know what I’m asking,” he responded coolly. The younger man pressed the bottle to his lips and titled it up to finish it off.

“What are you asking?” He was mocking the older man. The guitarist walked around the couch and hovered over him.

“You know what I’m asking,” he said through his teeth, “and I’m not asking it again.”

Zoltan laughed and shook his head in defeat. “Alright!”

They remained motionless.

“Well?” He finally prodded with an irritated gesture as he took a step back from the couch. The younger man shrugged. “Fuck it,” he said with finality and exited the room.

“Jason!” Zoltan moaned with a smile.

There was a pause in which the guitarist knew he had stopped in the hall. He then reappeared in the doorway and snapped, “What?”

Zoltan sat up, sighed, and patted the cushion next to him. “C’mere.” Jason didn’t move. “C’mere,” he repeated without changing his tone. Jason took the seat next to him. The younger man stared at him until he was uncomfortable before he asked the question, “What are you asking?”

“Oh my God! You know what I’m asking! What is your deal?!”

The guitarist laughed. “Alright, alright, cool it! I just wanna hear you say it again…” His voice lowered and he leaned in closer to his ear.

“What is wrong with you?” he whispered, moving his head away some.

“Make an exception, huh? Now you’re moving on from Chris and Ivan to me?” He chuckled and then lightly pecked his ear. Jason was startled and shivered. “Naughty boy…”

“Zoltan…” He turned so he was facing him more directly on the couch, keeping his ear out of reach.

“You wanna kiss, don’t you? Why are you so scared all of a sudden?”

Jason swallowed hard. “What is wrong with you?”

“I wanted to see Chris and Ivan kiss, too. That wasn’t just you,” he told him very gently, grabbing ahold of his hands and holding them down between their knees, “Now tell me: what are you asking?”

Jason stuttered softly, “D—did you ever want to kiss a man yourself?”
“Mm-hm.” Zoltan then leaned in all the way and kissed the older guitarist on the lips.
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