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    Summary

    It wasn’t what he had expected, from sex—there was something almost quiet about it? It was a sort of single-minded focus, like the very best performances he’d ever given, when all the blinding input of the lights and the conductor and the sweat on his palms and the smells of everyone’s perfume and the hum of the crowd narrowed down to just two points of contact: his bow on the string, and his hand against the fingerboard. Everything else was superfluous, it faded into the background. Flow state, sports psychologists called that feeling—it was something to do with gamma waves in the brain.

    On a typical concert day, it took Shane half a beta blocker and several full minutes of centering exercises to approach flow state. But apparently, all he’d ever needed to do to get there was suck off Ilya Rozanov. 

    Or: in which Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov are professional cellists who meet during college audition season. The rest is history.

    Language:
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    Chapters:
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