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Love Nest
I wrote this a while ago, and I swear I posted it, but for the life of me, I can't find it. There's romance with a little supernatural eerie vibe thrown in. Happy early Halloween. 🎃🦇🧡
Robert hated missing tour dates, but he needed her more. He'd moved to another hotel to escape threats from Bonzo or G. That was at least three days ago. Hadn't left the room since.
His hair was a frizzy nest of waves--he was either sweating on top of her or pressed into the bed by her roughshod riding. Somehow her Afro still looked amazing.
She was impossible. Insatiable. Him, too. There was something about her… Something he couldn't get enough of. It was like poison, slowly driving him insane. It was all he wanted anymore.
Her kiss… That’s what it was. She was kissing him now, on his neck. She had an obsession with his neck, it seemed. Her velvety lips always found their way there. She’d found a spot that drove him wild. It was an unusual sensation, with the tiniest hint of pain once her full lips hit his skin. The needle prick sensation was soon forgotten, as he went dizzy every time she graced the area. It was slow, sweet torture. He’d never experienced anything like it.
As she kept kissing him there he thought back again to how they met. It was a movie that wouldn’t stop playing in his mind, a sexy, mystic fever dream.
It was her eyes that were his downfall. She was in the lobby after their first night in LA. He’d returned after the concert and was mid-sentence with Jimmy when he felt a sensation like he was being watched. He stopped and stared at her, made a hasty apology to Jimmy, and strode over to her with his usual long-legged gait. Her smile lit up her face, but her wide hazel eyes were more inviting. Almost hypnotic.
Ann was her name. Medium brown skin, long legs on display, thanks to her fitted black lace minidress. She wore strappy sandal heels. Her toenails were painted red, the same red as on her long fingernails and lips. She was stunning. They sat and talked about music and the wonders of the city. Somehow she'd teased out his life story. He’d have said anything to keep her intense gaze trained on him.
She seemed especially interested in his Romani blood, which he proudly declared was the source of his luscious mane. She laughed knowingly about the difficulty he said his mom had with her thick hair. He regaled her with stories of his ancestors' presence in England. From there, they somehow got to discussing Romania and vampires. Robert quickly exhausted his knowledge on the subject. The undead were more Jimmy’s area of expertise, he admitted to Ann.
Ann didn't mind one bit. She glanced at Robert and wove her fingers into his hair. A hand trailed down to his neck; her fingers were cool to the touch while his skin was flushed with the usual anticipation of coupling.
He could feel a vein throb against her hand, as though she was summoning his body to her will. He gazed into her eyes and knew he had to kiss her.
Much of the rest of their time together was a blur of intertwined limbs, damp skin on skin, moans, both lazy and frantic, and dreamy climax after climax. It felt like the time he and Jimmy had tried opium in the Far East, hypnotic pleasure that obliterated time and space.
While he was lost in his thoughts she’d moved from his neck to his cock, which twitched in anticipation of her warm, sinful mouth. She drained him again with wanton expertise and traversed his firm body to his neck again.
***
Robert woke up to a dark room, not sure if it was day or night. Ann had insisted on keeping the shades drawn, which was fine at the time. But now he wondered what day it was and knew there would be a manhunt for him if he stayed with her much longer.
She was sleeping soundly. He walked to the bathroom and turned on the light. He glanced back at Ann, who looked serene. Robert felt worse than the first hangover he’d ever had. He couldn’t understand how energized she seemed during their time together.
He closed the bathroom door and stared at his mirror image. His eyes were heavy, Acapulco Gold-style. What was a five o’clock shadow a few days ago had filled in a bit more. He hadn’t grown a beard in years, so the beginnings of one was an odd sight.
But what startled him most was the color of his skin. He knew he was sporting what he called his English tan, being less golden after time away from the States for a few months, but he seemed especially pale. He decided to order a double helping of breakfast for himself, figuring he needed to regain his strength after the extended tryst.
Then he noticed a dull throb on his neck, where Ann loved to kiss him. He swept his hair out of the way and noticed two marks that looked like mosquito bites that had been scratched raw. Only he couldn’t remember scratching himself. It was weird, he thought.
He washed his hands and prepared to leave the bathroom. But before he turned out the light, he noticed Ann sitting up in bed. Her eyes danced at the sight of him and her smile was large. His mind was playing tricks on him, because her smile looked unnatural, like fangs alternated with some of her teeth.
A faint twinge of alarm intruded in Robert's thoughts, but Ann's beckoning finger caused his manhood to stiffen again as he walked the short distance to the bed. He couldn't resist another go.
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One Shot: Away for the Holidays
Here's a short bit of holiday fluff, with a hint of smut at the end. Happy holidays, one and all! ❤️❤️❤️
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Robert is busy untying the tree from the top of his Land-Rover while you fish the wreath out of the back and head to place it on the front door. He had been humming Holly Jolly Christmas on the ride home and has decided that now is a good time to actually belt out the song.
You start singing along. Fortunately you're hanging the wreath now, so your back is to him. You wonder if this is how he felt, singing behind the curtains in his house as a child.
"Louder, love! There are deer and rabbits expecting a good show!"
You enjoy singing but hate how nervous you feel when doing it around your darling master of the vocal cords. But the pure enjoyment you hear in his voice is infectious, and you decide to turn around and pipe up.
"That's the spirit, darlin'!" Robert abandons the tree and approaches you. He walks with a rhythm that makes the snow crunch in time with your singing. All the world's a stage to Robert… You roll your eyes but keep singing.
He switches to harmonize with you. Your cheeks flush, moreso from being thrust into the spotlight than the icy bite in the air. Robert moves behind you to circle your waist with one arm and squeeze your hand with his other hand. You lean back into his chest and keep singing.
“Well done,” he murmurs when the song ends. Then he wraps you tighter and kisses you. The warmth of his breath on your cool cheek makes your body glow.
You crane your neck to glance at him behind you, and the two of you exchange a contented kiss. “Let me leave you to the tree. I’ll get the hot chocolate going,” you tell him.
***
The two of you admire your work on the tree by the glow of the fireplace. After cups of chocolate, solid teamwork, and flirtatious conversation, the decorating is just about finished. Red ribbons encircle the branches, and the gold ornaments sparkle with reflections of the flames keeping you both warm.
“Ready for the star, love?”
“Ready!”
You turn to smile at Robert, and he lifts you off the ground to place the glittery gold star on the highest bough. “Perfect,” he says, shifting you in his arms to cradle you.
You nuzzle into the Fair Isle sweater covering his broad chest. It’s your first Christmas away from your family, and Robert has excelled at making his place feel like home for you.
You admire the sweet holiday scene in the living room while Robert extinguishes the fire. He’s eager to show you something in the bedroom. You have a good guess about what it is but you humor him while he takes his time at the hearth. Your heart beats faster as you think about how he will extinguish the need in you with the same level of expertise he’s showing at the fireplace.
“Right,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “Follow me.”
He leads you by the hand to his bedroom, with its navy walls and its large bed. Your eyes go to the bed, and you break out in a smile. “Is that…”
“Yes. I made short work of it while you were in the kitchen.” He lifts you once more and places you on the bed. He takes off his sweater before he joins you.
“And you know what that means… Time to pay up,” he says with a wink before glancing again at the wall above the headboard.
“Clever boy…” You murmur. A sprig of mistletoe tacked on the wall means the two of you are bound to each other for the time being.
He starts with a gentle kiss, and before long the two of you are entwined, skin to skin, in pursuit of all the romance you can enjoy.
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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.
#robert plant#led zeppelin#fan fiction#led zeppelin fanfic#One Shot#Short story#Brownskinsugarplumlibrary
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One Shot: Dessert
Here's some smut and romance. The first bit of this was published previously. I'm finally finished. 😁❤️
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"I love summer…" Robert had been eyeing the top of Dana’s powder blue off-the-shoulder dress all night, and now he has made his move. His large hands engulf her brown shoulders with the slightest touch. He has approached from behind, and his breath wafts against her neck like a barely there breeze on a hot day.
They’ve walked through the parking lot to Robert’s Aston Martin after a lovely dinner at his favorite Indian restaurant. The food was good, but not as good as his hand on her thighs under the table, or her bare foot exploring his lap after she’d liberated the bold appendage from the crystal-encrusted stiletto sandals she was wearing. Also to be savored by Dana was the moment when Robert slid an extra key for his place across the table to her. It was a pleasant surprise, but they already rarely spent nights apart, except for when Robert was with his bandmates in their marathon creative sessions to birth the next album. It was the logical next step, and Dana couldn't have been happier.
He kisses her neck several times and trails a lazy tongue in the cup of her ear. “Forgive me for not bringing the Land Rover,” he whispers. “We could’ve been taking that naughty fun during dinner a step further right now.”
Dana turns to face Robert. “It can still happen…” On her tiptoes she hugs Robert’s neck and coaxes his mouth open with her tongue. He moans with delight as his hands slowly canvas the bare skin of her upper back. He savors the kiss, letting Dana play the role of temptress while he merely goes along for the ride.
“How?” Robert asks. His overcast blue eyes are glazed over, and his wicked smile punctuates his question. He’s curious. Open to any suggestion from Dana.
She takes the keys from his pocket and opens the door on the passenger side. “Take us somewhere secluded, and I'll show you what I mean.” She hands Robert his keys, sits in the car, closes the door, and winks at him through the window.
***
Robert opens Dana’s door, and she steps into the night. The air is a little cooler now, but she knows that the sensation will disappear soon enough, once she's in Robert's arms.
The mood in the car had been one of wanton excitement. Robert joked about what Dana had in mind for their rendezvous, and she smiled coyly while she massaged his cock through his black dress slacks. He knew that she had loved his look at Knebworth--the dark pants, the black shirt with the white pattern of exclamation points--and he’d worn the outfit for her. He’d even tied the ends of the shirt at his waist again, a sartorial touch that only Robert would've dreamed up.
Dana adored Robert’s youthful look of flowy shirts and the tightest jeans she’d ever seen on a man, but there was something so sophisticated and mature about these more dressy clothes. Between the clothes and his slightly shorter haircut, now with bangs, Robert had evolved. He was ready for the 80s, ready for Zeppelin exploring new horizons, and ready for his relationship with Dana to become more serious. Neither one of them was especially gunning to get married anytime soon, but officially living together was an exciting prospect.
“Well done, Robert!” They’re parked behind an abandoned gas station and convenience store. Robert had briefly considered pulling off the road for their tryst, but he didn’t have the stomach to roll his prized car into the grass.
The location isn’t glamorous by any stretch of imagination. The windows and back door of the abandoned store are boarded up, and glass litters the ground, remnants of green beer bottles that had met their demise on the asphalt. But the spot will do for the down-and-dirty coupling that's on the horizon. In a few minutes, the setting will cease to matter.
He notices that his trousers feel uncomfortably tight. While driving, his need had grown rapidly with each passing minute, and now that he doesn’t have to focus on the road, his breathing has hastened and he’s barely controlling himself.
He wraps her in a gentle hug after helping her out of the car. The scent of Guerlain Nahema on her skin immediately calls to mind earlier times in her arms. His heart races when he thinks about how good it feels to be enveloped by her, inside and out.
He sweeps her curls off her shoulders and looks into her dark, almost black, eyes. He can tell she's past the point of no return in her desire for him.
He would love to be seduced by her, as she'd promised, but the stream of his primal thoughts has taken over, urging him to act.
“Now, I know you had plans in mind for me, Dana love, but you know what they say about best laid plans…” He backs her against the car door, grasps her face, and kisses her with an intensity that catches her off guard.
“Oh! Robert…” Her surprise turns to satisfaction as he kisses down her neck. While his lips are busy, he pushes the top of her dress down and his hands find their way to her breasts, then his fingers to her nipples, which harden to his touch. Her hands are holding his slim waist, and she moans at the feel of the cool car window glass on her back and every heated point of contact that Robert is making with her body.
One of his hands begins to rove down to the hem of her short dress, and then under the fabric. He tuts softly at the feel of her lace panties and stops his tease. “Let’s get you more comfortable, yeah?” He crouches to remove the underwear.
“How are you feeling love, hmm? Are you ready?” He chuckles as he fingers her and feels her squirm.
“Beyond ready,” she says with a gasp.
“Me, too,” he says as he stands and places her panties in his pocket.
With one more kiss, he takes her hand, leads her to the back of the car, and bends her over.
Behind her she hears the sound of Robert’s zipper going down. He nudges her legs wider apart and guides himself inside of her at a shallow depth.
“You know I’m having my way with you once we get home, though. Right?”
“I know, Dana. And I can’t wait.” Robert’s thrusts are still slow, but he’s getting deeper and deeper.
“Good.” The word is nearly lost in a soft moan as Robert plunges inside of her fully.
Dana grips the car and savors the rhythm of each jarring thrust. She shifts her legs and angles her hips to feel every sinful nuance of Robert’s length and girth. Being fucked by him is every bit as good as the many ways she enjoys being on top of Robert.
She begins to formulate an itinerary of pleasure for when they get home. Sitting Robert on the couch and kneeling to lick and suck every inch of his manhood. Straddling his lap and milking an intense climax out of his cock with her sex. Showering together after it’s over. There’s something exciting about being intimate in this rundown outdoor setting, but nothing compares to time spent at Robert’s place. It has already felt like home before he gave her the key.
Dana isn’t sure if it’s Robert’s fucking or her thoughts about her future with Robert, but she feels acutely alive and deeply satisfied. Even more so when her climax arrives forcefully, as does Robert’s moments later. Every second with Robert, with or without sex, is bliss.
"Home, now, my new lady of the manor?" They've straightened up and returned to the car. Robert winks at Dana and turns his key in the ignition.
"Yes, let's go home."
He turns onto the road. "You know, dear, since we're enjoying a new level of our relationship, we should probably christen all the rooms again…" His eyes are on the road, but one of his hands is drawing teasing circles on her thigh.
"Yes. It's only right. She pats his hand on her leg.
She fishes the house key out of her purse and holds it in her hand, turning it over, examining it, accepting that it's real, a sign of the beginning of a new phase with Robert. She curls it into her palm. She will open the door when they arrive, in a symbolic rite of passage.
They chatter idly on the way home. She marvels at how mundane it is in that moment, two committed lovers driving home. She realizes she could get used to it.
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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.
#Robert plant#One Shot#short story#short fiction#My writing#fan fic#fan fiction#Brownskinsugarplumlibrary
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One Shot: Infinite Loop
Had one of those nights. 🤷🏽♀️ Needed to get this man out of my head and into a word doc. ☺️🤷🏽♀️ It's short and NSFW. No particular Robert in mind; choose your favorite. ❤️❤️❤️
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Your body is rocking with the cadence of a subway car in danger of derailing. But you know you're safe, because your hands are gripping his back. Hard. You imagine there's an uneven line of half moon indentations in his skin from your nails.
You open your eyes. His are closed tight, but his mouth gapes open rigidly, guzzling air to feed the incessant jackhammer pace of his heart that you feel against your breasts.
You know any discomfort being inflicted by your clutch is not registering for him, not in the heat of the moment right now. His hair is wild, lush and curly in some places, straightened into submission by sweat in others. You realize that it is a rare moment when he couldn't care less about preening, flashing his devastating movie star smile, sending searing electrical pulses through your core with the twinkle in his eyes. He is lost in that boundless stream of creative energy again. It's the place where he dwells for writing and singing, but at the moment it's creation in the oldest, most primal sense of the word that had sent him to this exquisite trance state.
His body tenses with greed to stay there, live in the eternal coursing of ecstasy. Your grip is unyielding. You are going to claim pleasure for yourself by riding on his coattails, siphoning the surplus of his delight, angling yourself to feel his sex in its most rigid state of need, as deep as he can go.
It's lonely work until he opens his eyes. You connect your gaze with his, and the two of you are bound by the magnetic pull of lust. Eyes locked, pelvises locked, souls locked. You've never felt closer to him.
Your eyelids flutter and lower.
"Please darlin', keep looking at me." He cups a hand against your face, focusing your stare back to his. "And speak to me only with your eyes, as some genius bloke once said." He laughs softly and strokes your hair. He kisses you, and his tongue snakes in your mouth as if it has all the time in the world to orchestrate your climax along with the rest of his body.
In this moment, it feels like that's true. Robert has once again made time stand still with his mystic sensual presence, reducing the universe to the hungry embrace of your bodies.
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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.
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Deceiving Looks Masterpost
This is a Mrs. Robinson-type story with Robert and Josephine, an older woman, connecting in Hawaii. Robert must steady his composure to enjoy Josephine’s company. Josephine is pleasantly surprised by the new tricks that Robert brings to her. Embers of flirtation are stoked to something hot and uncontrollable.
I hope to write more soon!
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
#Robert plant#led zeppelin#classic rock#fan fiction#fanfiction#fan fic#fanfic#writer#writers#writing#mywriting#amwriting#chapter story#Brownskinsugarplumlibrary
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Deceiving Looks, Pt 2
This is a little shorter than I usually write for a chapter, but it feels right to end it here. Robert is trying to kill time before his rendezvous with Josephine, and he's in full panic mode. As always, Bonzo saves the day.
Read the first chapter here. ❤️❤️❤️
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“Bonzo? Bonzo!!! Oi!!!” Robert hisses to his friend, who fell asleep before he could turn out the lights in their bedroom.
“Bloody hell, Robert!” Bonzo mumbles, still half asleep, a bear not at all thrilled to be awakened from hibernation. “You know it’s fucking morning, mate. Get in your bed and go to sleep!”
Robert paces the room. “But that’s the thing, innit? I met an older, sophisticated brown-skinned bird...erm...lady… and she wants me to come back to hers! In, uh, 15 minutes now!”
“So go spray some more Sun-In in that mess of hair, have a bump, and leave me the fuck alone!” Bonzo puts a pillow over his head to drown out his anxious friend.
“But mate! You don’t understand, yeah? There’s not enough time for me to clean up! All the sweat from the concert and after the concert, a stain from the beer you poured in my seat…” He touches his hair. “And my hair! Hawaii is paradise until all that bloody humidity sets in, innit?”
“This bird obviously has looked past all of that already. Just like all the others, she just wants to see your body in all its skinny-ass glory, and your knob, yeah? Just ask if you can use her shower, give her a show, like you always do, and everyone’s happy! And now that I’ve solved your problem, either stop pacing and sit down, quiet-like, or get the fuck out so I can sleep!” Bonzo tosses a spare pillow that connects with Robert’s back.
“Thanks, mate. Perfect idea. It’s to the lobby for me, then.” He throws the pillow at Bonzo’s head.
“Fucking wanker,” Bonzo grouses from under two pillows. “Turn the lights out before you leave?”
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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary
#Robert plant#john bonham#Led zeppelin#classic rock#fan fiction#fan fic#fanfic#fanfiction#fanfics#robert plant fan fic#robert plant fanfic#robert plant fan fiction#led zeppelin fanfics#led zeppelin fanfic#led zeppelin fan fiction#my writing#writers#writer#writing#Brownskinsugarplumlibrary
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Eye of the Storm, Ch 7
I want to start by saying that I'm excited and thankful to have almost completed 10 chapters of this story! 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽 I really wasn't sure if I had it in me to do a longer story and keep coming up with ideas. It's been a fun process to imagine and write the scenes and chapters. I have more ideas, but I'm curious to see where this goes as I write. Thank you for putting up with my fits and starts.
So... The smut is going down next chapter, but there are a couple of instances of making out in this chapter... I hope you enjoy it! ❤️❤️❤️
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Despite Maggie's head start, Robert was victorious in making it to the house first, thanks to his long legs and the experience that soccer gave him with sprinting.
"Way to go, Broadway Joe!" Maggie caressed Robert's back when she reached him.
"Bloody Joe Namath? Really? I've rubbed elbows with him from time to time in New York… I think you'll find Englishmen are more sophisticated and entertaining…" he snarked.
"Calm down, baby, there's only one confirmed bachelor I have my eyes on." She stood on her tiptoes to kiss Robert's cheek.
"Mmmmm…" He smiled at the feel of Maggie's lips on his clean-shaven skin. "But I'm starting to think the single life can be overrated, love…" He kissed her on her forehead.
Maggie was surprised to hear Robert muse about settling down. "You? Trading all this in for a house with a white picket fence?"
"I'll never return to suburbia. I had my fill of it with my childhood… No, what I'm thinking of is more like a farm… A horse, a goat or two, chickens… Bonzo's living the gentleman farmer dream right now, with his family, and I'd love to have that one day… The farm and the family…"
"OK… I can't picture you doing either the suburbs or a farm. But now I'd love to see you try!"
"Stranger things have happened, dear…" He put an arm around Maggie's shoulders. "And who knows, you might be the one to see it all play out."
Maggie was too surprised by everything Robert was saying to respond. Her smile said it all, while she pondered going through life as Mrs. Plant.
"I hope that wasn't too taxing, though? The running?" She needed to change the subject quickly, before she started naming children and picking out china patterns in her head. She knew that Robert's attention span and resolve could be as unpredictable as the timing of California's earthquakes.
She searched his eyes and took in his facial expression, afraid to find traces of pain. "I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't have made you--"
"--I'm fine, Mags. In fact, I think that was just what the doctor ordered. Everyone has been babying me after the accident, myself included. But maybe that hasn't been the best idea… I've got to start getting back to life, you know? You just forced me to do it in a small way. And eye thank yew," he drawled.
"One small run for Robert…" Maggie intoned.
"...One giant step forward for ye olde Golden God!" Robert lifted Maggie in an embrace and swung her around as they kissed. "Thank you."
Maggie smiled shyly.
"Oi, Strider!" Robert whistled loudly for his dog, who had started racing toward a seagull again. His pup bounded swiftly over the sand to return to his master's side.
"Let's go in, Maggie love. I believe there's an unfinished matter to attend to?"
"I think so. But maybe we should get some dinner first, and make sure we have enough energy."
"I like the way you think, woman. It is going to be a long night, innit?"
"If I have my way…"
"And mine, too…" Robert backed Maggie up against the glass patio doors, pressing his body into hers. He teased his tongue between her lips and communicated all of his feelings--past, present, and future--to her with his steamy actions. Her sighs and her tight embrace acknowledged that she understood and agreed.
***
"You must really love fajitas," said Maggie, carrying both of their plates to the table at the same time. She'd never touched a microwave before, but with Robert's direction, she became a master of using it to heat the food. Robert's quick tour of the drawers and cabinets enabled her to find everything they needed to set the table. She smiled to herself at how easy it felt to blend their lives together.
"Bloody hell, just like the first night! I forgot we still had some left until you found them." Robert couldn't help but smile when he thought of the meal she had served him back in San Diego. "I'm sorry that I don't have any tequila, though…"
"No worries, I think this wine will do nicely." She took one of the three bottles of California cabernet sauvignon out of its ice water bath and handed it to Robert.
"I suppose we can have a tequila-soaked moment on the beach whenever we want now, yeah?" He picked up the corkscrew from the table and opened the bottle.
"Mmmmm hmm…" Maggie nodded her head.
"We'll have to take advantage of that soon." Robert poured the glasses and handed one to Maggie.
"This is wonderful," Maggie gushed. She sipped the wine as Robert loaded a tortilla with steak strips and grilled vegetables.
"I'm friends with the owner of the winery. I'll have to take you there sometime."
"Is there anyone that you don't know?"
"Well, I never got to meet any of your presidents, or their kids, even though several of the presidential youth have dug our music." He bit into the fajita.
Maggie laughed. "Well, at least we know your influence didn't bring down the Nixon administration." She added some more grilled vegetables to her tortilla and took a bite.
"No, there's only two hotels at which we've caused newsworthy levels of scandal, and neither's in your nation's capital… Well, maybe three, if you're fool enough to believe Carmine Appice's fishwife's tale…"
Maggie sipped the wine while Robert paused to polish off his first fajita.
"Your country, and your state, in particular, have been wonderful to me. And not just because of the concerts and, uh, the night life. It just feels like home, you know? Tons of sunshine, easy access to the beach, the woods, the desert, the mountains… Very little rain… I've met so many wonderful people here, made so many pleasant memories… The Los Angeles area has been our home base for the tours, but I could see myself making permanent roots here. And I would love to come home to you, most of all…" He held Maggie's gaze while he readied a second tortilla and then sipped some wine.
"You know you don't have to say all these things to get me to sleep with you, Robert."
"I know! I mean every word. I'm almost 30, for Christ's sake. Freedom is nice, but living freely with someone dear…" He drained his glass and set to work on his food again.
"I just need something more. Maggie, do you know how close I came to losing it all? Some of the doctors thought I'd never walk normally again. And it will happen someday, our band will become a thing of the past. The press never fully loved us, and now the winds are shifting a bit with the fans…"
"What do you mean?" Maggie finished her food while Robert gathered his words.
"I've seen the teen magazines. Somehow they kept showing up here, when I didn't have anything better to do. It seems some of the younger kids are getting tired of the light shows and 30-minute improvisations. They'd rather see their stars in black and white face paint and vinyl or, I don't know, torn shirts and safety pins, rather than me in my ladies' kimonos, or Jagger in some blue eye shadow, or Townsend destroying another guitar that they can only dream to afford…"
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "This isn't going to go on forever… I need to start thinking about a second act for myself. And that goes for my personal life as much as my professional one."
Maggie poured herself some more wine. "You know what I think, Robert?" She took a healthy sip from the glass.
“What’s that?”
She finished the glass. “I think you'll find that you have nothing to worry about. There's only one Led Zeppelin. No one else can do what you all can do. I think you've sealed your place in the history books many times over. And whenever it might end--and I don't think it'll be soon--I'm sure you'll get back on your feet quickly. I know you. You can't stop singing. It's too much a part of you."
Robert smiled softly.
"And I also think you have all the time in the world to think about the future of the band and your personal future. Nothing is going to be solved in one night… I think that maybe I need to help you forget about all that for now.” She grabbed his plate and finished the last bite of his third tortilla. Then, she took their plates and cutlery to the sink.
Robert, realizing the bottle of wine was almost empty, grabbed it and finished it in one swallow. He uncorked the next one.
“I'd like that a lot, Maggie dear. It will be much more fun to focus on the different ways I can make you come one time after another…" He chuckled devilishly. "Let's pick up where we left off.”
He stood and grabbed the fresh bottle, wrapping his fist around the neck, and turned toward the bedroom. But he relinquished control of the wine when Maggie caressed his hand and took the bottle, placing it back on the table.
“I’m going to need both of your hands right now.” She traced his jawline with one hand.
"I'm all yours… Every. Last. Inch…" He bent down, fisted her hair with one hand and pulled her closer by the waist with the other. All of the energy of his fear quickly transmuted to lust with a savage kiss.
As Robert peeled off her shirt, fondled her breasts, and dove in for another hungry kiss, Maggie knew that he was back with her in the present and ready to fill each second of the next several hours with rapture rather than dread.
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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary
#Robert plant#Led zeppelin#classic rock#fan fiction#fan fic#fanfic#fanfiction#robert plant fan fic#robert plant fanfic#robert plant fan fiction#led zeppelin fanfics#led zeppelin fan fic#led zeppelin fanfic#led zeppelin fan fiction#fiction#my writing#writer#writing#writers#Brownskinsugarplumlibrary
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Down by the Poolside, Part 2 of 2
And here's part 2 (NSFW FYI). See part 1 here.
When she surfaced, she splashed him and quickly swam away in a playful manner, but she forgot that he was a strong swimmer, even though she had been watching the evidence of it before she fell asleep, his sinewy, tanned body gliding through the water with strong strokes, his normally voluminous cotton candy cloud of honey blond curls now waterlogged but not really much of a drag on his speed.
He caught up to April, grabbed her, and scooped her up in his arms before she knew what was happening.
“Hey,” he said, looking down at her in his arms while still throwing that mischievous grin her way.
“Happy birthday, Mr. Plant,” April sang breathily, Marilyn Monroe-style, hoping an amateur singing to someone like him wasn't a foolish move.
“Thank you, thank you very much,” he deadpanned back with an Elvis impersonation featuring a spot-on American accent. They both laughed uncontrollably at his homage to his idol, and April stared into his eyes with as much flirtation and seduction as she could muster while nervousness and arousal battled for control inside of her.
“Mmm, you're one of the best birthday presents I've received today,” he said, eyeing her in a way that could only mean he was imagining the layout of her body underneath her swimsuit again. He smiled slyly, satisfied with what his lusty male intuition was telling him. “What's your name?” he asked.
“April,” she said, smiling back.
“Well, April, I think that's enough swimming for now, yeah?” he remarked in a velvet-soft murmur that was equal parts a hypnotic, gentle invitation and an assured command. And then he kissed her while he held her, so lightly that it felt like a dream, before it quickly turned into a strong, searching kiss that further jump-started a need in her body.
His advance caused her nervousness to melt away. Her tongue danced with his, and her body buzzed with electric waves of pleasure. He let her back down to her feet, and his hands rambled over her curvy, café au lait body, taking extra care with her full breasts, wide hips, and shapely ass. “Mmm, beautiful,” he exhaled with a ragged breath.
Her hands took a sensual survey of his body, easily gliding over his shoulders, arms and broad chest, all still a little slick with suntan lotion. The smell of the lotion and the odor of chlorine in the pool couldn't hide the scent of male desire that surrounded him, this handsome hippie who was known for having coaxed desire and romantic abandon out of scores of women with ease from his perch on many a concert stage. Somehow, he instinctively knew that women wanted romantic attention and reckless adventure, and he provided both with his maddeningly jarring blend of sweet and salacious behavior, the perfect surrogate lover for three hours and the cost of a concert ticket.
This is how April felt when she saw him perform at The Forum the night before, when her eyes stayed on him the entire night and she was thoroughly intoxicated by the band's sexy, hypnotic, complex rhythms. Those erotic concert night vibes were being directed her way now, in the broad daylight of late August, and magnified significantly by being inside of his strong embrace.
The effects of the trio of cocktails she had downed earlier to get herself out of an anxious mood and into a party mood still lingered, but she also felt incredibly tipsy with desire. Sensing April's anticipation, he slowly backed her toward the side of the pool. All too happy to be leaning against the poolside in her romantic stupor, she was floating even more when he descended upon her, with his hands and mouth leading the way for a lengthy kissing exploration that left her body wet and weak and his rigid and ready.
She roamed the long, muscular expanse of his body with her hands and mouth, making sure to pay admiration to his extra hard cock, firmly caressing its full length with long strokes. He writhed with pleasure, while she continued to tease him with her hands, satisfied moans escaping from his pursed lips.
And then she stopped. “I'll be right back,” she informed him.
“What? Where are you going?” he asked, with confusion mounting on his face.
“You’ll like it, I promise,” she assured him with a soft smile. Then she dipped down under the water and licked and sucked the tip of his thick cock for a precious few seconds, while he placed his hands on her shoulders. She felt a moan resonate through the water and wished she might get the opportunity for a more lengthy oral exploration session on dry land.
She found him tense, with his eyes closed, when she broke the surface of the water again. She traced his strong jawline with her fingers and kissed him. He buried his fingers in her wet waves of hair while she returned the favor to him.
Their hungry kissing and groping gave way to him hoisting her up higher against the wall. She wrapped long legs around him, and he pushed aside her bikini bottom and fingered her while she shuddered with uncontrollable spasms of pleasure and felt the wetness inside of her begin to match the wetness of their current environment.
“Time to open your present,” she managed to say between moans, gazing into his eyes, eager to get their private birthday party started.
“Gladly, April. I love a good present,” he said, his voice husky with need and his gaze boring deep into her eyes, while a ravenous, wicked smile unfolded on his beautiful face.
April was so wet that their bodies joined with ease, his legendary ample manhood filling her completely and sparking immense pleasure, to the point where a delicious orgasm ripped through her body effortlessly, causing her to gasp and tremble.
“Eager, aren't you?” he murmured, beaming a devilish smile. “Such a great birthday present so far. How many more do you have in you, old girl?”
“How much time do you have?” she whispered.
“As long as it takes to find out, love,” he purred.
They melted into each other, delighting in all the wonderful sensations of the romantic coupling, the steady building rhythm of their sensual labor, him taking her through a series of several more peaks and valleys of excitement, the wet friction of their increasingly frantic dance, and the radiant summer sunshine.
He filled her mind with the spectacle of his abandon. His pure enjoyment, his moans, screams and grunts, and his unabashed openness gave her permission to be equally, audibly, appreciative of everything she was feeling.
She felt more daring and unconcerned with the rest of the world than she had ever felt before, and more alive. She was surprised by how much she loved the scene they were making, their sounds joining the sounds of a few other couples who were equally enjoying the extremes of hedonism that were possible at the elite party.
She greedily tilted her pelvis to feel him even more deeply, and she was not disappointed. The depth of his cock inside her and the force of their pelvises colliding made her arch her back and stiffen. “Oh, Robert,” she exhaled, as tension began to build.
He tenderly cupped her chin with one hand and and willed her to keep her eyes open to look into his as they continued to work up a tsunami of pleasure between them.
He tossed his head back and trembled with satisfaction. “April, April, April,” he chanted as he neared the end. By that point, April was too far gone for her sounds of pleasure to coalesce into words. Instead, she wailed with delight and watched a range of emotions storm across his chiseled face. She lost control as well, arching her back as yet another expansive orgasm spread like wildfire through her body, from her pussy, up my spine, through her nipples, and then everywhere. Ecstasy.
In a flash, his release came next. “Oh yesss, ” he hissed as he shuddered and bucked a few times. He emitted a long, low purr, his chest heaving and his eyes closed. “Happy birthday to me, ” he said with a smile, opening his eyes again.
“I'm glad you liked our little party,” April said, smiling uncontrollably and tenderly placing a hand on his chest to steady herself after the flood of pleasure slowly subsided.
He lifted her out of the pool and then hoisted himself up and over the side. He took her hand and led her over to the lounge chair where she had fallen asleep, stretching out there on his back. He motioned for April to join him. She removed her wet bikini first. “When in Rome,” she said, smiling slyly. He matched her smile with a wolfish grin of his own as she climbed on top of him and into his waiting embrace.
And then they fell asleep, relaxed but buzzing with satisfaction as they held each other under the sun. It was a perfect California day at poolside, but certainly anything but typical for April.
#robert plant#led zeppelin#fan fiction#fanfic#70s#1970s#down by the poolside#brownskinsugarplumlibrary
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Down by the Poolside, Part 1 of 2
I've been working on this "romantic" Robert Plant fanfic for a while... I think it's time to let it be and post it. This is inspired by that glorious nude pool pic that you've probably seen before. Enjoy, my fellow LZ fans. ❤️
(I didn't realize that there was a word limit for these posts and will post the second part shortly. Also, here's an NSFW FYI)
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April woke up with a start, just barely registering the water that had hit her skin. It was the sound sleep she had been in that made the sensation confusing and, surprisingly, not the contrast of the cool water and the hot California sun.
He splashed her again, the stunning guy who had been swimming nude in the pool, who just happened to be the lead singer of the most successful band out. April had been invited to a sun-soaked bacchanal at a house in the Hollywood Hills by her friend Gina, who was dating the owner of the sprawling, modern compound, and sights like this one were par for the course at the party.
April couldn't complain, though, as she had spent much of the afternoon perched on the lounge chair, after Gina had disappeared to parts unknown, watching this man with great interest behind the large movie star sunglasses she bought recently, along with the tiniest black bikini she could find, which she was also wearing. April was mad at Gina for having abandoned her with a gaggle of wild strangers, but she couldn't be too mad because she had a front row seat to all of his sexiness on display.
Leaning on the side of the pool, the charismatic nymph stared at April with a mischievous grin. “I'm lonely. Won't you join me, love?” he said in his laid-back British twang, offering a sweeping gaze of her body that was filled with equal parts of lust and excitement to recognize a potential pool playmate.
He was by himself in the pool. Before April fell asleep, he had been surrounded by his mates and not a small number of adoring women dressed like her, but at some point, everyone else had departed and now they were otherwise engaged at the bar or coupled up on lounge chairs, engaged in a variety of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll activities to commemorate the birthday of this man. How he found himself without company at this time was a mystery to April, but if it gave her a chance to help him celebrate, she didn't mind one bit.
He dove under the water and quickly resurfaced, standing tall in the glistening water and slicking his soaked, long hair behind his head, while the sun's rays sparkled in the scores of beads of water that were slowly creeping down every inch of his fit body. April looked at him again intently, waking up more with each passing second. She took in his bronzed skin, the silver jewelry on his neck, wrists, and fingers that he hadn't bothered to take off, and the gentle hills and valleys of muscles that adorned his athletic frame.
April realized how hot most of her bikini-bare skin felt under the relentlessly gorgeous Los Angeles sun, and how hot this man and his unique, intriguing mix of playful flirting and literal naked desire was making her feel. She would've turned down any other naked stranger in a heartbeat, but she considered the once-in-a-lifetime chance to cool off in the company of the uninhibited lead singer and said yes to herself without hesitation.
She took another look, thoroughly indulging in the vision of his naked body: his broad shoulders and chest, his narrow waist, those powerful, impossibly long legs, and last, but definitely not least, his huge package, were all breathtaking. The water wasn't cold enough to suppress his excitement for what he was clearly pretty confident would happen between him and April. She sighed audibly, knowing all along that he was not wrong.
“You got it, birthday boy,” April said, smiling at him. She got up from the lounge chair, took off her sunglasses, and dove into the pool.
See part 2 here.
#robert plant#led zeppelin#fan fiction#fanfic#70s#1970s#down by the poolside#brownskinsugarplumlibrary
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One Shot: Happy Ending
I'm finally done with the Robert massage story. Naturally it gets NSFW. 😉 Enjoy. ❤️❤️❤️
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Robert has you right where he wants you: naked and face-down on the bed. He knows you've had an exhausting day. He knows how to make it better.
He's thrown your red silk scarf over the lamp to dim the lights and set the mood. Barry White is playing on the stereo.
"I think this is warm enough now," he says. You can't see it, but you know he's talking about the bottle of oil that he was heating gently in warm water.
He straddles you, and his bare thighs rest against yours. You think of the best times when he has mounted you, face to face, and you’ve felt that same sensation of skin on skin. Then you get lost in visions of him onstage, his denim clinging to those soccer-sculpted thighs like a second skin. His legs are one of the many things that you love about his body.
The scent of sandalwood wafts to you and interrupts your pleasant fantasies. It's your sign that he has rubbed the oil in his hands to warm it further.
He glides his hands up your body to either side of your spine, then glides them back down. He repeats this a few times with strokes that get more and more firm.
“This is not an official massage move, but…” He lightly teases up the furrow of your spine with an impossibly slow finger. Then he cups the back of your neck with one of his large hands. He moves your hair to the side with his other hand and whispers, “I think you won’t mind if I mix some pleasure in with the business, yeah?” His tongue teases your ear and he kisses down the side of your neck before he resumes the massage.
He pauses for more oil and starts with the bottoms of your feet, working each surface in a way that is sublime after a busy work day.
You are surprised to realize how much tension you must’ve been holding in your calves and thighs when seconds of pain in those areas give way to total relaxation.
He shows his love for your ass by covering the area with a feather-light caress before he eases more tension away with a firm set of hands. Some of his strokes move your cheeks enough to tug at the lips of your core. You savor the feeling. You can’t tell if it’s accidentally or on purpose, and you don’t care either way.
He continues on. He works away the knots in your lower back, the tension higher up, and the stiffness of your neck. You’re feeling high, and the earlier part of the day is a distant memory.
He whispers in your ear. “Time to turn over, darlin’.” You marvel at how faraway his voice sounds in your stupor of pleasure. He has done a fantastic job so far.
You roll onto your back in what feels like slow motion. Your brain barely registers the scent of more sandalwood oil being heated in Robert’s hands before he massages the tension away in each of your toes and the front of your thighs.
Your arms feel like they could float in the air when he releases the tension in each one, and his work on your hands and fingers is also transcendent. You feel all of the stressed, nervous energy leaving your body.
You’re half asleep when he presses his weight on top of you and whispers, “I’m off duty now, girl… Strictly pleasure from here on…”
You’re too relaxed to acknowledge him with anything but a slow smile.
He cups your breasts, one after the other, with a light touch and licks your nipples to attention before nipping each one. The spark of mild pain from his teeth wakes you up a bit.
He follows up with more lapping and sucking of your breasts while his tongue ignites electric sensation inside of you.
You start to writhe on the bed. His hands journey down your sides while his tongue sinfully greets much of your torso. At this point, you feel his manhood dragging across your skin, making you more and more desperate to feel his size inside of you.
When he realizes that you're trying to lift your hips to meet his cock, he laughs. "You won't be feeling any of that for a long time, dear…" He continues with his tongue on a slow path below your navel. "But you will get more of this than you can stand…"
He rests his hand on your entrance and lets a finger fall between your lips, lazily trailing it in your wetness, while he holds your gaze. You can't help but squirm and grow impatient for the goodness that you know is on the way.
He rears up and kisses you one more time before he prepares to camp out at your entrance.
He gently spreads your outer lips and begins. You're still woozy from the massage, but the motion of his tongue wakes you up. A velvety warmth pools inside of you as your sensitive skin comes alive.
You savor the warmth and wetness of his tongue. His mouth is as nimble on your sensitive skin as it is on his harmonica.
You realize that he wasn't kidding about being in no hurry. Time becomes an otherworldly concept as he ushers your body through gradually escalating highs of pleasure, one apex exceeded after the other. Your clit aches for more, more, more, and your breathing turns staccato.
You’ve been watching the earnest movement of his head between your legs and the serpentine undulation of his curls across your skin, but you close your eyes and turn inward now. You begin to roll your hips to meet the lusty movements of his mouth. It’s instinct, meant to satisfy you and entice him to abandon his efforts and grind his body against yours in a primal dance.
It’s all you can think about now, his cock on the move inside of you. Your breath hitches at the thought.
He seems to sense your desires, and he puts two of his fingers to work inside of you. You enjoy the sensation, but it only makes you want his cock more. You wail and beg for him to penetrate you.
Robert smirks at you again. “It’s coming soon, darlin. You’ll get all of me really soon, don’t you worry. I can tell you’re close.”
Your voice rises and you begin to chant his name. You arch into him even more. You feel the last bit of your control slipping away.
You ride his finger and his mouth faster. It’s almost more than you can bear.
Just as you’re about to beg again for his cock your climax races through your body, causing you to tremble in response to its insistence.
You’re still trembling as Robert abandons his post between your legs to whisper in your ear: “I told you I’d take care of you, darlin’. Now,” he says, thrusting himself deep inside of you, “it’s your turn to take care of me.”
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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.
#Robert plant#Led zeppelin#classic rock#robert plant fan fic#robert plant fanfic#robert plant fan fiction#led zeppelin fan fic#led zeppelin fanfic#led zeppelin fan fiction#fan fic#fanfic#fan fiction#fanfiction#fanfics#one shot#my writing#short fiction#fiction#short story
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One Shot: Counterpane Blues
This is a Sad Robert story with no smut. It's about the period in late 1976 when Robert was still not quite healed from his car accident injuries.
Thanks to @ledbythreads , @firethatgrewsolow , @tangerine-page , and @rogerdaltreysautomatacollection for the advice and answers. ❤️❤️❤️
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He’s awake, and he’s surrounded by so many pillows that it feels more like a crib than a California king. He can’t help but laugh out loud at the thought. A 6’1” blue-eyed baby boy. He’s convinced that’s how they see him these days. As a big baby, a helpless, invalid rock star, left to while away the hours in seclusion like Greta bloody Garbo.
There’s no bouncing for this baby boy anytime soon, thanks to that damned ankle, he tells himself forlornly. He’s grateful that Bonzo still visits with grand tales from the outside. They’ve kept him from going mad a long time ago.
There’s still the odd bit of helium balloon sensation in his body from the painkillers. Anyone who willingly chooses to party with these things instead of ‘ludes is surely daft. He groans and stretches.
He recalls Bonzo saying they'd go to the Rainbow tonight. Bonzo tried to get him to come out, to test his mettle on the crutches, but Robert refused to take the bait. "I'll carry your chubby arse out the house my damn self next time," Bonzo had threatened. His friend was teasing him, but Robert could see a hint of concern in his eyes with his mockery. Bonzo hates how moody and withdrawn Robert has become.
There are so many reasons why The fucking Rainbow is the last place I want to be right now. Robert rubs the sleep out of his eyes. For once he’s glad to be left out of the revelry. There'd be no pictures of him for the public to pity. There’d also be no pictures of him in Sable’s clutches again. But then he remembers that punks and younger rock stars are getting all her time these days. That’s good news for us lot, innit? But he's certain her spot has already been filled by another baby groupie. It never ends.
He would like a night with his friends, despite his hesitance to leave the house. It'll be much better if they come to mine. He'll ask if Benji can help him round up a get-together soon. Tomorrow, if possible. He daydreams a bit about seeing everyone and relishes the sure prospect of arranging a sleepover with a few beautiful, sympathetic women. A sponge bath from California's finest… Just what the doctor ordered… He smirks as the scene plays out in his mind like choice blue cinema. It’s not a bad deal, letting the birds do most of the work these days.
He looks out beyond the glass sliding door. The great expanse of the ocean greets him with its majesty. If he had to be exiled somewhere, he’s glad it’s in this sprawling one-floor place by the Pacific. The guardians of the Zeppelin fishbowl got it right, that’s for sure. The flow and ebb of the ocean occupies more of his time these days than he cares to share with anyone else.
He hasn't felt like writing much lately, but maybe the location and the view will inspire some songs later. Same as I wrote my way to sandy lands and other days whilst alone on Old Hallow's Eve. Wanderlust is the only thing that keeps him going some days in this forced solitude.
He talks to Maureen regularly by phone, but her road to recovery is worse than his. He still can't shake the sight of her tiny body on the gurney, or the sounds of the kids crying after the terrifying tumble of the car. The saddest sound I'll ever hear… He shudders. He's set to reunite with his family for Christmas, but how and where is still anyone's guess. We've got to sort this soon. It's almost time to break out the advent calendar...
Hours slip into days way too easily in the beachfront compound. The therapist comes to him, so there’s no need to leave. Too much bloody time with my thoughts…
His latest obsession has been the loud, white-label punk records that Benji brings by. Robert has been impressed by the hunger and urgency of the musicians. The bands are like Molotov cocktail throwers--appearing suddenly and wreaking a surprising amount of chaos in a remarkably short time. The songs may or may not have been well executed, but they are memorable. And that seems to be all that matters for their audience.
It’s not lost on Robert that the latest sound is just about as far on the other side of the spectrum as it could be from his band’s music. Led Zeppelin won’t release an album until the following year, and touring is also a distant dream, on hold until after he’s gotten a squeaky clean bill of health. Will it be too late? Will anyone still care about our 20-minute solos? Will I still care, even?
He eyes the wheelchair and then the crutches. The crutches win for his short jaunt to the bathroom. He's pleased with himself, because each careful step is a step toward normalcy, toward freedom.
But then he glances from the toilet to his shaving kit and sighs. It still takes some effort for him to do basic things. I'll never take the simple actions for granted again. He sits on the toilet to relieve himself and hopes for the day he'll be back on his own two feet to urinate.
He closes the lid after flushing, then washes his hands and face while using the crutches with a mix of agility and fear. His therapist would be dismayed to know he had done something so risky while alone. What has my life become if washing up is my point of rebellion?
He arranges his shaving items to be in arm's reach while he sits on the closed toilet. The double-sided mirror is still angled down for him. He shaves slowly, in no rush to return to bed. He envies Bonzo in that moment for having settled into the ease of his beard and moustache look. But Robert wouldn't dare try it again himself anytime soon, after Bonzo teased him mercilessly a few years ago about looking like a Musketeer.
Robert stands and takes a long look at himself. His eyes are not as vibrant as usual. The hard contours of his muscles have softened a bit with disuse.
His hair is in need of a good wash and detangling. That effort will require a seat at the sink and someone with a lot of patience. He thinks of Vanessa and misses her latent beautician skills and their banter. He laughs at her pronouncement that Robert was her annoying brother. No one ever believed they had just stuck to friendship. But she had since moved on, into the bowels of the entertainment industry machine. Here's hoping one of the party girls is a hairdresser who wants to play house for a bit.
His stomach growls. He surprises himself by ignoring it in favor of going back to bed. He propels himself back to the bedroom on the crutches. He wanted to read, but he finds he has no desire to do so now. He takes a few more painkillers and broods about his interrupted life until the obliterating opioid twilight returns.
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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.
#led zeppelin#Robert plant#classic rock#fan fiction#Fanfic#Fanfics#led zeppelin fan fic#led zeppelin fanfic#led zeppelin fan fiction#my writing#one shot
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One Shot: The Wanton Song
Here's another case of an idea that showed up unexpectedly and insisted on being written ASAP. NSFW and pretty vividly smutty, with Robert in the passenger seat for this encounter. ❤️❤️❤️
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"My turn," you say to Robert, feeling energized after his lengthy exploration between your thighs. The series of orgasms he has given you with his devilish tongue have destroyed you, exploded you into thousands of pulsating atoms, and rebuilt you into a less inhibited, more hungry version of yourself. And now you're ready to attack him with the vicious eroticism of Kali, drain him of his energy and his cum, leave him as an empty shell of a man, like a black widow moving onto the next unsuspecting male spider.
He reclines on the bed and strokes himself. He’s preparing for you and enticing you to give as good as you’ve gotten. He doesn’t say a word, but you can see it in his eyes. It's a dare. He wants it. He welcomes it. He knows you have it in you to grab his shoulders and hold him down, drown him in an overpowering sea of sensation with your most passionate moves.
You swoon for a second as you watch the enjoyment he’s giving himself, the slow dance of his hand on his abundance. Your body is pulsating deliciously again, without him even touching you. You touch yourself. Your clit is still engorged. Enraged. Aflame. You fast forward to visions of you atop Robert's sturdy thighs with his manhood buried deep inside of you.
Your fingers continue their soothing dance. The thought of being impaled on him hastens your breathing. You stop and put a hand on top of his busy one, letting him know that you’ll be taking care of him from here on out.
You straddle him and break the seal of his closed lips with a wet, teasing tongue. You taste yourself inside of his mouth. You tease his tongue with the touch of yours before you start gently sucking his. He moans his approval.
You continue to explore the cave of his mouth while your hands wind their way into his mane of curls and then out, onto his face and then across his broad shoulders. Your body undulates against his. His dick feels exquisite against your sensitive folds, even without penetration.
You begin to lick and suck on his neck, to the point that you’re satisfied marks will show up in the near future.
Like a ravenous lioness marking her prey, you leave a path of wantonness down his body with a wet tongue and a flurry of nips of his skin. No inch of his torso has been left undisturbed.
You trail your tongue down his trail. Desire pools inside of you when you pick up the scent of his manhood in the thatch of hair below his waist. The musky smell of his pheromones never fails to incite your base instincts.
At his cock, you rejoice and feast. You lick his length and torture him a bit with flicks of your tongue just below the head. You feel his body tense. He’s fighting a desire to writhe on the bed and clutch the sheets. Or, maybe he's fighting the urge to say fuck it, flip you on your back, and pound you into the mattress. Either way, you know you’ll make him lose that battle. He will get to a point of surrender. A smug smile animates your face.
You moisten his cock with your saliva and then you devour him, taking in as much as you comfortably can. You grasp with your hand, dragging up and down, up and down, a split second behind the movement of your mouth. You taunt him with sinful twists and turns of your hand every time you reach his head.
You love how Robert moans and gasps in response to the labor of love you're carrying out. You're at it a while longer, ratcheting Robert's reactions closer and closer to the edge.
His chest is heaving rapidly, and he's thrusting his pelvis lightly, lest he upset the tempo that you've set. His feet fidget aimlessly on the mattress behind you. His moans are punctuated with choice curse words. He is lost inside of himself. He is yours for the taking.
His dick is still in your hand, and you decide it's time to switch gears. You shift your position a bit to massage the tip of his cock against your damp, swollen pussy. You inhale sharply and buck. Your core feels wetter and wider by the second.
You can't take it any longer. You feed his length inside of you with one smooth, steady motion.
You pause and take in the moment, eyes closed. His length and hardness, and the connection of your bodies, it's all worth a moment of savoring. It's the calm before the storm. Both of you know it. Both of you steel yourselves for the frenzy ahead.
You've started fucking Robert. Briskly. You feel like an Amazon atop her prized stallion, breasts bared, all feral screams and grunts. You hold the reins. You control the fiery energy that threatens to engulf both of you. You know how to stoke the erotic vibes with your ravenous strokes or tamp it a little with a tender kiss. You want to make it last until you need it to be over with a grand explosion.
Robert is enjoying the ride. His hands sink into the softness of your ass. His tongue roves your nipples when you're close to him. His expression shifts between one of drugged pleasure to a steely glare that eggs you on. As far as his needs, you know they'll be met. It's the least of your worries and concerns.
You switch your angle of attack, as needed, to edge toward and retreat from the edge. There are delicious minor blips of orgasm along the way, but the final crescendo is still in the future.
You decide now is the time to chase it. Robert, to his credit, has not tried to lead. He loves it when you're in this state. His loopy, lusty smile grows wider and wider as you ride faster and faster, crashing into his lap recklessly on each down stroke. His body is no longer tense. He is properly high from your motions, slowly on his way to being worn out. He is biding his time until you finish him, and he's loving every second in the meantime.
Searing, passionate electricity courses up your spine. You fold forward to take him as deeply as you can. You're so wet that you glide on the expanse of his cock effortlessly. Your cries grow louder. Your vision tunnels to the wicked way your body is siphoning Robert's energy, and the gaze you hold on his glassy eyes.
You're closing in on your climax, and you ride on breathlessly. You've been working up a sweat, and the room feels like a sauna. The heat pricking your skin is almost as unbearable as the climax that is so close, yet so far away.
Moments later, your body spasms as the pleasure fans out from your core to your spine, and then your head. You feel dizzy. Only the momentum of your stiffened, trembling body is holding you upright over Robert.
His orgasm blasts sympathetically out of the ashes of yours. His end is usually punctuated by an unholy wail, but he can only muster a breathy moan in his state today.
His expended energy incites another, unexpected wave of release for you. You release his cock and drape his body with yours. His chest is warm, as are the strong arms he wraps around you.
A purr escapes his throat before he kisses you gently. "You were magnificent," he says with a lazy smile. You melt into his well-earned embrace and soak in the tenderness of his appreciation.
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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.
#Robert plant#Led zeppelin#classic rock#my writing#fan fic#fan fiction#fanfic#led zeppelin fan fic#led zeppelin fanfic#led zeppelin fan fiction#robert plant fan fic#robert plant fanfic#robert plant fan fiction#one shot#short story#short fiction
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One Shot: A Very Tropical Christmas
OK… I hope you agree with me that better late than never is a good thing. ☺️ This is the Christmas Maggie/Robert story that I mentioned last week. This takes place after the events I'm writing up in Eye of the Storm, soon after Maggie and Robert have gotten back from their separate tours. Robert has a special Christmas surprise that he thinks is well deserved for Maggie, after her success on the road. There's a good mix of fluff and NSFW smut. Happy belated holidays! ❤️❤️❤️
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"We’re almost there!” Robert was excited. Too excited. The suspension bridge jostled a little harder as he sped up his gait from his usual regal stroll.
Maggie was glad the walk was coming to an end, although the beauty of the lush jungle environment was a good distraction.
Brightly colored birds darted in and out of the variety of trees that closed tightly to either side of the bridge, all the while singing songs of joy to live in an undisturbed paradise. She breathed in the strong scent of tropical flowers and rich soil which, when coupled with the humidity that hung thickly in the air, gave the experience a dream-like quality.
She told herself she'd have to come back later with her camera so she could remember it all well into the future. Without exactly knowing what Robert had in mind, it was already a dream come true.
A few days before, Robert, grinning from ear to ear, confessed to Maggie that he had booked a special getaway for them. Robert succeeded in not blurting out the details, and Maggie was unable to get him to divulge any information after plying him with her repertoire of romantic tricks. Robert was committed to giving Maggie a big Christmas surprise.
After stepping off the bridge and emerging from the tree-lined gravel path, they stood before a multi-level treehouse. Maggie gasped. Robert had caught her admiring photos of this exact place in an issue of Look magazine right before she left on her tour.
He sat their bags down while he fished the key out of his shorts pocket. “Surprise and Merry Christmas! Welcome to our jungle hideaway.”
“Robert! My goodness, you remembered!”
“I’m always paying attention, love, even when you think I’m just ogling your--”
Maggie’s lips were on his before he could finish his sentence.
***
Once inside, the lovers explored the home, examining the wicker furniture in the living room, the large, mosquito net-covered four-poster bed in the bedroom, and the oversized claw-foot tub in the bathroom. For the next week they would indulge their senses and their fantasies in natural luxury.
“There’s also an outdoor shower, you know…” Robert hinted as they took the last of their things out of their suitcases. He stepped closer to Maggie and kissed her while his embrace changed to hands on a mission to remove her clothes.
“We could check it out now. There’s nothing else to do, I suppose…” She murmured and raised Robert’s t-shirt over his head.
“Well, there is one thing I’d like to do first…” He scooped Maggie into his arms and walked her to the bed.
***
The shower was a welcome experience after their indoor tryst. The open-air stall was surrounded by a dense array of trees and flowering shrubs for privacy. Two waterfall shower heads gently rained down from above, and smooth tiles in shades of blue and green made up the floor.
Maggie and Robert alternated bathing and arousing each other with lusty caresses. Being outdoors in the verdant rainforest of Costa Rica gave their togetherness a more primal edge.
“Wait here a tick,” Robert said, ending his embrace of Maggie and smoothing her hair out of her face. “There’s a present I want you to open now.”
"OK. I'll be here."
She remained under the shower head while she waited for Robert to return. She closed her eyes. By their songs, she could distinguish at least four different kinds of birds flying around. Her attention melted into the sounds of the tropical forest and she relaxed even more.
She smiled to herself. Robert knew exactly what she needed after her time away on the road. She loved the outdoors just as much as he did, and the resort was sure to make the tour a distant memory. Not that she didn’t enjoy learning several of the band’s shows were sold out, or having to spend extra time signing autographs before retreating in the van, or hearing the hearty cheers that greeted them at the clubs for after-parties. All of that went better than she imagined. But she missed Robert.
She had grown accustomed to being his live-in partner, and she needed more than the couple of nights that he was able to come to her shows. Both of their bands were finished touring and had no plans to start recording just yet, so he was looking forward to returning to Malibu and their quiet life.
"Your sexy Santa has arrived, darlin'."
Maggie opened her eyes as Robert's cheerful return interrupted her thoughts. She stepped out of the shower spray toward him.
He presented a small box, about the size of an 8-track.
"This isn't a copy of Presence, is it?"
His face screwed up in mock consternation. "I assure you it’s something new that you’ll like. Though it is a bit of a selfish present."
"Classic Robert… OK, sexy Santa, let's get this over with."
"Yes, let's. I can't wait to use it!" The side of his mouth curled into a devilish smirk.
Maggie ripped the wrapping paper off of the box.
After removing the lid, she stared at the sprig of plant that was spruced up with a red velvet bow.
“You horny devil…” Maggie was not surprised to see mistletoe lying in wait in the box.
Robert grasped it and discarded the box, held it over her, and leaned in for a kiss.
"Merry Christmas, my love."
Robert’s lips felt warm against Maggie’s, which had been cooled by the stream of water on her face. He rested his hands on her shoulders while he slowly tongued inside her mouth.
Maggie felt like she was melting as the kiss went on. Her need for Robert was heightened, along with her senses, by knowing she was outside on a balmy day with the sun rays and occasional breeze coursing over her naked skin. They had enjoyed a similar scenario at Robert’s house many times, but being at the unfamiliar vacation destination made her feel much more alive.
“Let’s head back here,” Robert said, leading her under the shower.
Robert backed Maggie against the smooth stones of the shower facade, and they kissed some more. Then his lips traveled down her chin and neck. The sensation of Robert’s hot tongue made Maggie weak.
He licked down to her breasts and held one while he licked and sucked its nipple to life. She arched against the wall and let her hands glide up and down Robert’s back, thanks to the slickness of the streaming water. “Robert, that feels so good…” Her murmur segued into a yelp when Robert tugged at her nipple with his mouth while his fingers made inflammatory contact with her throbbing clit.
After a few moments of Maggie’s bucking and wailing against his fingering, Robert gave her breasts a squeeze and then cradled her back. He moved her hair from her ear and whispered. “Turn around for me, love? I want to feel that gorgeous ass while I’m inside of you.”
Maggie could barely make contact with Robert’s lust-glazed eyes because hers were equally heavy in the heat of the moment. She kissed him one more time before turning around and arching for Robert’s entry.
Robert groaned as he connected intimately with Maggie. She moaned as his hardness teased her with a promise of powerful release.
She met his thrusting with the hungry motions of her body, milking him slowly. The water felt a little warmer, and she realized that Robert had adjusted the shower while her back was to him.
His large hands gripped her waist, and the water splashed in time with their movement. Her moans deepened as the sensations of Robert’s love continued to wear away her control.
Over time, her cries blended in perfect harmony with the birds’ songs and Robert added his groans to the environmental sounds. He gripped Maggie’s ass tighter as the tunnel vision of climax slowly descended upon him.
“Fuck, Maggie. So wet… So soft… You always take such good care of me…”
She wailed and arched more. “Your dick… So big… I love how you take me…” “Shit…” Robert was overwhelmed by the tightness of Maggie’s core. His cock was beyond sensitive.
The sensation of their beating hearts was overpowered by the primal throb of their bodies. Each caress or stroke of Robert’s sex was intoxicating, addicting. They knew it couldn’t last forever, but they desperately wished it would.
A shiver snaked its way through Maggie’s body and she tensed against the wall, eyes closed, until the full climax exploded into a long stream of exquisite pulsation. She gasped and her rapid breath flooded her body with much-needed air.
“Fuck. Fuck! I’m right behind you!” Robert announced his orgasm as his noises became wordless with the insistent coursing of his seed.
Maggie turned around and kissed him. “Robert… I’ve never been happier on Christmas. This place is amazing. You... You were amazing.”
“We were amazing,” Robert corrected. “Every time, I’m convinced more and more that our bodies were made for each other. You’re the best, love.”
Robert kissed Maggie and walked her to a blanket on the lawn near the house. They lay next to each other in cuddling bliss, warmed by the tropical sun.
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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.
#Robert plant#Led zeppelin#classic rock#robert plant fan fic#robert plant fanfic#robert plant fan fiction#led zeppelin fan fic#led zeppelin fanfic#led zeppelin fan fiction#my writing#short fiction#fan fiction#fan fic#fanfic#fanfiction#one shot#short story#Writing#writer#writers#Brownskinsugarplumlibrary
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Deceiving Looks, Pt 3
Here's the next chapter of this story. Part 1 and Part 2 are at the links.
Lots of flirting, some touching, some wild thoughts. NSFW. Full smut in the next part. ❤️❤️❤️
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Josephine opens the door when Robert knocks. “Right on time. Not bad for a young man who doesn’t own a watch,” she says demurely. “Come on in.”
Robert nods, enters, and looks around. The blackout curtains are drawn to keep out the brilliant sunrise, and the lights have been dimmed. The perfume that he smelled on Josephine at the door lingers in the air inside her suite. Despite the soft lighting, Robert can plainly see every curve of his new acquaintance’s body, as her belted satin kimono clings to her frame.
His heart is racing. He still feels bad about how he looks, but the feeling of lust surging in his body informs him that he is, nevertheless, getting to familiar ground.
“I didn’t wish you a proper good morning earlier,” he says. He brushes her lips with his tentatively, then with more passion. His hands migrate to cradle her back. Slowly everything starts to feel right. Normal.
She shudders as he unties her robe, removes it from her shoulders, and warms her skin with his hands.
He takes in the sight of her black lace teddy and can't let the vision go. Josephine is not a catalog model cutie pie or college coed; she's a full, live, grown woman. With a career, it seems. He imagines she spends her days reading and writing memos, taking careful notes at meetings and asking demanding questions, and taking her heels off and curling up on the couch with a book at the end of the day. For all her inner strength, he imagines she would appreciate a man who would cut through all the bullshit--work politics, bills, escrow payments, whatever else would be a typical problem for someone like her--and pin her down in the present moment with thrust after searing thrust of his cock. He knows he can be that man for her, age difference be damned. He smiles and hopes the experience he's racked up lately will meet up with what she has acquired over a lifetime.
“That smile… Mmmm… I could tell you’d be a young man who knows what he wants… Do you like what you see?” She murmurs, slipping out of his grasp, walking to the doorway of the bedroom, and giving a twirl for his viewing.
“No.”
Before she can control her sense of shock, Robert crosses the room and whispers in her ear: “I love it.” He surprises himself with this impromptu gambit of seduction. She beckons him with the wiggle of a finger, and when he stoops to her, she cups his face and kisses him deeply.
Both of them smile, taking in the moment that has passed. A bond is brewing between them. It pulses with light and heat and seems to be taking on a life of its own rapidly.
“You should’ve seen me earlier, when I didn’t look so...uh...lived-in… Could I use your shower? I didn’t have enough time, and--”
“Absolutely. No need to explain. This way.” She places a hand on his arm and ushers him to the bathroom. "I'll be back."
“You don’t want to keep me company?” Robert’s voice is innocent, but the dare of his eyes and his crooked smirk indicate indecent intentions. He wants to make her swoon. He wants to reveal himself to her in a way that makes it feel like she’s savoring a glass of her favorite wine before a memorable dinner. Then, for the main event, he imagines feeling her skin against his, feeling her warm breath in his face with each thrust of his sex, hearing her scream his name, hearing himself scream hers. It's helping him to feel more like his usual charismatic, horny self, no matter how different she might be from his usual lovers.
She laughs, closes the toilet, and sits on the lid. "Are you putting on a show for me, Robert?"
"That's what they pay me for most nights, though it hasn't been for an audience of one yet."
"Well, then, I'm glad to be your first time, dear." She crosses her legs. She watches him turn on the water.
“There are very few firsts left for me nowadays, I’m afraid. But yes, you will be taking one from me tonight.” He eyes her for a little too long before he turns to check the shower temperature one last time and starts to remove his shirt.
“Well, this isn’t much of a show… You’re not facing the audience! You can’t see me right now, but I’m pouting.”
“What was I thinking… What a silly lad I am…” He turns to face Josephine and peels off his shirt, as slowly as one can remove an already unbuttoned shirt. “Better?” He drops his shirt to the floor and puts his hands on his hips.
“A fine start, Robert! Bravo.” Her eyes linger on the path from his strong jawline down his neck, to his chest, which is barely covered with fuzz.
He yanks his belt from the loops on his jeans. He swats her exposed thigh with the leather, bringing the belt to rest on her lap. He figures a grand gesture is in order. It seems to be what she enjoys, throwing him off balance and then being surprised when he does it to her.
“Hmm… Do you like to be in control, Robert?” she asks with a quizzical expression, but the smile that soon blossoms reveals her attempt to probe his naughty side.
“Do you, ma'am?” He grins and searches her eyes. With her full attention, he unbuttons and removes his jeans.
Her eyes flicker wildly for a second at the sight of his naked body and stiffening cock, and her breath hitches.
She takes in every nuance of his exposed skin and its underlying musculature. With her eyes she worships the way he was knitted together by nature, her gaze an offering to his unparalleled masculinity. Her smile is as unforced as it is hungry.
Her composure returns in the next beat, but not her witty words. For now.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of snakes, Miss Josephine…”
"I've never met one I didn't like. And yours, Robert… Yours, sweet Robert, is no exception. You've got my undivided attention, in fact…" She beckons him closer. She lifts his cock, examines the shifted hood of skin that has revealed a smooth, large, symmetrical head, traces the vein that courses down his length, notices the darkness of the hair at his crotch being out of sorts with the summer waves that flow from his head. "Beautiful. Every last bit of it. I can't wait to get to know him much better… But for now, darling, your shower awaits." She starts a slow massage of his cock, keeping her eyes trained to his. "There's more for you when you get out of the shower. Much more."
She releases her grip and feasts her eyes on Robert's cock at its full size. He turns and enters the water. He groans at the feeling of warm water on his body.
“Best shower out of all the hotels around,” Josephine shares.
“Do you come to Hawaii often?” Robert’s melodious voice can still be heard over the water and from behind the glass shower door.
“Often enough. I work in Mary Kay sales. Tops in my city. Good enough to earn the trip out here every year. I spend one day running around at the meeting, and then it’s time for me to play: go to the beach, dance the night away in the clubs, spend the morning with someone special…”
“I’m not your first boy toy? You’re hurting my feelings.”
“Sadly, you're not the first. But I’m sure you can make things unforgettable, no?”
"I'll try my best."
"Now I know you can do better than that, Robert… I'm counting on you."
"Nothing to fear, love. I promise."
A loud knock sounds at the door. "Be right back, sweetie."
While Robert finishes lathering himself up, he guesses about who could have stopped by. It could be as simple as staff bringing extra sheets. Or it could be a friend of Josephine's, another woman on the prowl in paradise. A reinforcement. He fantasizes about two well-dressed women becoming undone by his slightest touch. He groans and is about to stroke himself when Josephine returns.
"You have a mimosa waiting for you when you finish. And as many as you want after that. There's plenty of champagne and orange juice. And some breakfast food, too, if you become famished for some reason."
Robert chuckles. "Nothing better to work up an appetite, innit?"
He rinses the shampoo out of his hair and starts on conditioner. "Fancy another song, Josephine?"
"I'd love one." She starts drinking the glass she intended to give to Robert. She figures she'll have time to pour another, or she can make him forget all about it.
"Come to me, my love/To the sea, the sea of love/I wanna tell you how much I love you…" He croons in a voice that's lower than usual. "Do you remember when we met/That's the day I knew you were my pet/I wanna tell you oh, how much I love you…"
"My goodness, Robert. You are a talented young man… What a beautiful voice."
The shower stops, and he opens the door. "Come with me/To the sea/Of love…"
Josephine struggles with whether to absorb the sound of Robert's seductive purr, or relish the paths that the drops of shower water are taking down his taut skin.
"Are you still with me, Jo?" Robert approaches her, slicks his hair behind his head, and grabs a towel to dry off. He studies her intently. He knows she's turned on as much as he is. He hopes she has as much stamina as he thinks he can muster, after getting a second wind from the shower.
She continues to study him, as if in a trance. She quickly snaps back to reality and stands to approach him. She places one hand on Robert's chest and cups his face with the other. "Yes. I'm all yours today," she declares before teasing his mouth open with her tongue.
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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.
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Eye of the Storm, Ch 10
Here’s the next installment of this story. The master post is here if you’d like to catch up.
It’s the morning after, the first full day of living with Robert. There’s no smut, just Maggie letting it sink in that she’ll get closer to Robert than she ever dreamed. Lots of fluff, lots of joyful inner dialogue. ♥♥♥
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Sun streamed into the room through the glass balcony doors. Maggie opened her eyes. She was in a large, modern bedroom, with the sound of the ocean in the distance. She processed the fact that she was sprawled crosswise on the bed, tightly wrapped in a blanket. It took her a while to understand. But then she remembered.
Robert. She was living with Robert. They were together. For real.
She couldn’t stop the smile that spread like wildfire on her face if she wanted to. Living with Robert was a milestone she had dreamed of. But as much as Robert seemed to want more between them, his focus had the attention span of a gnat sometimes. She was glad that serendipity had stepped in at the soccer match.
She broke free from the cocoon of blankets. She thought it was sweet that he had made her comfortable right where she had drifted off after indulging in the full menu of his lovemaking. Then she smiled at another loving touch from Robert: his concert cherry kimono was waiting for her on one of the posts at the foot of the bed. She mentioned when they were falling asleep that she had forgotten her robe at home, and he offered up the familiar garment for her use, admitting that it was too small for him now. She put it on and sat on the bed. Memories of the 75 tour floated back to her. Robert was frustrated with the time it took for his voice to warm up some nights, but when he kicked into high gear, the two hours-plus of the shows were back to their otherworldly standard.
She stretched and walked to the balcony. She couldn’t believe that this would be her life for the near future. She couldn’t believe how thoughtful Robert could be as a domestic partner.
She sighed. The ocean breeze was present, but the day would be warm and sunny. Directly below she took in the expanse of the yard and ticked off several areas that looked promising for writing songs or getting into romantic episodes with Robert.
The natural beauty and the comfortable modern home combined for a perfect love nest. She imagined some of the domestic-minded activities that would fill their days. Cooking together. Walking Strider every day. Half-watching TV while they made out. Making sensual memories across every conceivable square inch of the place. It was just what she needed: an environment that would fill her with all the love and contentment that she needed to carry her into the uncertainties of a new band touring a new album.
While Maggie daydreamed, a delicious kitchen smell wafted through the open bedroom door and slowly gained control of her senses. Her stomach rumbled. She realized whatever energy her body could’ve gleaned from dinner must’ve been long gone after her extended romp with Robert.
She was impressed that he had kept his promise and had breakfast underway. She’d never experienced his cooking before and had been concerned, but there was no smell of charring in the air. That encouraged her.
She looked at her bags in front of the closet and decided the robe would be enough for now. For both of them. She smirked and more fantasies of being skin to skin with Robert filled her head.
She’d unpack later today and pick out something cute to wear. Robert was such a clothes horse that they’d need to clear space for her to hang up her things. But she knew he’d be eager to take this step to help her settle in. At some point during the night, he encouraged her to change how the house was organized to make herself feel more at home. He had injected his personality into the environment a little, but he admitted that most of the look was thanks to an interior decorator who worked the magic while he was in tax exile closer to home. She had ideas and couldn’t wait to execute them.
She headed to the bathroom to clean up. She hummed the melody for I Want You during the shower. She didn’t know the words yet, but she had heard the song enough during the night to know that much.
After the shower she rewrapped herself in Robert’s kimono and heard him singing I Want You in another room. She loved that they both had the song on their minds. They weren’t the kind of couple that finished each other’s sentences, but maybe they were of the same mind in other ways.
She was impressed by how quickly Robert had picked up the words. The stereo wasn’t on; it was him singing as though it were his song, putting the emphasis where he wanted, adding in his own typical ad libs, making it more passionate. She chalked it up to yet another example of his voracious memory, the steel trap that lay in wait under his fluffy cloud of curls. They’d had many detailed conversations over the years about his earliest music memories, and she was always fascinated by what his young mind had squirreled away. He also enjoyed picking her brain to discover her favorite Latin artists. Without fail, when she told him about a new artist, by the next time they met he could rattle off a wealth of information about the person and could prove he had immersed himself in the music by singing his favorite song of theirs.
But it wasn’t just the music; he remembered every minute tidbit of information she shared about her life. On their first night together on the 75 tour, after being apart for months, he greeted her and asked how an LA concert had gone for her band. It was one that she was particularly nervous about because she knew big artists and label executives regularly haunted the place. As self-centered and flighty as Bonzo and others around Robert teased him for being, he had proven again and again that he would always make space for anyone and anything that he cared about. It just came on his own unhurried schedule.
She lotioned her body, removed the towel that was wrapped around her head, and shook out her damp curls. She left the bedroom, eager to experience Robert's cooking.
He was still singing Marvin Gaye. She paused to listen and heard her name thrown into the song. She was flattered and enamored, but also turned on because she realized he was singing to her. There was a strong sense of ache in his voice now, and she wondered if he was pleading for something from her other than physical release. She lingered to hear every raspy note, every soaring run of his voice, every drop to a more seductive murmur. His artistry was impressive, and the feelings he put on display when he thought no one was listening were more romantic than Maggie could ever put into words.
Then thoughts of breakfast took over, as she mentally ticked off all the things he’d said constituted an English breakfast. She could tell it would be delicious, by the way it smelled. She was impressed before she had consumed the first bite. Robert was always full of surprises, like these latent culinary abilities. She couldn’t wait to see what other layers of him she’d reach while they were together.
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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag brownskinsugarplumlibrary.
#Robert Plant#Led Zeppelin#classic rock#fan fiction#fanfic#fanfics#led zeppelin fan fiction#led zeppelin fanfic#led zeppelin fan fic#robert plant fan fiction#robert plant fanfic#robert plant fan fic#fiction#chapter story#my writing
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Deceiving Looks, Pt. 1
I have several kiss prompts in my queue still from a few months back, and I’ve finally polished up the first bit of the next one. This comes from @callmethehunter's request and is for a forbidden kiss. I guess you could say this isn’t forbidden as much as it would be less likely... There are a few reasons why this couple would turn heads in the early 70s.
I intend to write more of this, including smut (this first installment is PG-13-ish). This is a fun pairing! ❤️❤️❤️
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Robert makes his way to a bench and sits down before he stumbles again. He watches Bonzo stagger around the pool and through the front door of the hotel. He is too out of it himself at the moment to be of any use to his friend.
He sweeps his curtain of curls to the side and produces a joint that was resting inconspicuously behind his ear, and he pulls a slim pack of matches from his back pocket. He lights up. He figures any hotel staff unlucky enough to be walking the grounds at 5 a.m. will only care if he doesn't offer a puff or two.
He stretches his long legs but can't get any relief. His jeans are clinging to his body tighter than usual in the humid, cloud-covered Honolulu morning air, and he can't wait to peel them off for the last time before going to sleep.
He exhales, closes his eyes, and lets himself go from the frenetic dash to the show, the volley of energy thrown at the band from thousands of fans, and the good, bad and ugly of the groupies available for the choosing for hours after the final note had been played. He closes his eyes and smiles. It's good to be Robert Plant, he thinks. It has become a mantra for him when he gets homesick, or when the last journalists without a clue insist on writing negative reviews.
"You've got something there that I need, I think. May I?"
The voice is feminine, throaty, and assured. Almost seductive. His smile grows to epic proportions.
He prepares to feast his eyes on a lass who seems to have followed him back to the hotel, but his sexy comeback gets caught in his throat. Rather than a twenty-something in a t-shirt, jeans, and shorts, he sees pink heels, brown legs, and a rose-colored Chanel skirt, with its matching suit jacket draped over an arm ending with gold bangles and colorful rings. Above her white sweater shell, he finds the smiling face of a woman who, he's sure, always gets what she wants. Her poise is perfect as she stands, and a rolling suitcase rests next to her. She has the regal sensuality of Diana Ross, and the flawless makeup and hair to match. He smooths his hair a bit, but he knows it's a losing battle, after the night he’s had.
His smile falters. "Ma'am?" he stutters out. He realizes with horror that his accent must make it sound more like "mom" to her ears, and he can't fight the Mrs. Robinson fantasies that flood his still-sluggish brain. "Miss?"
“Your cigarette,” she says. She realizes that he’s a little out of it and smiles sweetly, waiting for him to come around.
“Well, ah, it’s not a typical cigarette, I’m afraid… It’s, uh--”
“--I know. Trust me, it’s exactly what I need right now… I hate flying." She sits down next to him and places her hotel key in her purse. She holds out a hand of slender, tapered fingers that have never seen a day of manual labor. Her smile is still open and encouraging.
“Oh… Ah, I see now... Here you go.” He passes his joint to the woman. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’m a little out of sorts… It’s been a long night and a long morning.”
“I see you’re a little worse for wear right now. But,” she says, brushing a strand of hair from his eyes, “I can also see that you’ll clean up really nicely. What a handsome face...” She takes another hit of the joint and passes it back to Robert.
“Now, what have you been up to all night long?” She crosses her legs slowly, and the look on her face is stern.
Robert stares blankly. He opens his mouth to speak, and then closes it. “Uh…”
“Relax! I’m teasing you. Besides, I think I can imagine...”
Robert puffs a couple of times before passing back to her. He curses himself inside for being so tongue-tied. He’s not sure why he’s at such a loss for words, but he’s hoping the edge will wear away soon, so he can give the mystery woman the full effect of his charm. He knows that she is enjoying making him nervous, but he senses that she would prefer a little more flirtatious back and forth, even if it feels like he’s the last person who should have her on his arm.
She smokes some more. “But I must ask: Where did you get the money for this? It’s top quality.” Her expression relaxes noticeably as the high slowly makes itself known.
“Ah… A fan of Acapulco Gold, then? It just has a way of showing up for us at the concerts, you know? I mean, certainly we have our favorite friends with the best of herbs, but it’s everywhere, wherever we are. Nothing but the best.” He takes the joint back and smokes some more.
“Concert? We? Are you in a band? Must not be an American band, by your charming accent.”
“That’s right, it’s a British band. Led Zeppelin’s the name. We have 4 albums out now, came together in 1968. Maybe you’ve heard ‘Stairway to Heaven’ on the radio?”
“Well, I just listen to Motown, but Led Zeppelin… I think that name sounds familiar... I do know there are a lot of young rock bands, a lot of them from England, making a lot of noise… Free, sexy noise... A bunch of wild boys, stirring up all kinds of feelings with their guitars… What’s your name, dear?”
“Robert. Robert Plant. I’m the singer for Led Zeppelin. And I know my fair share of Motown.” He grins.
“Do you, really? Sing something for me?” She crosses her legs the other way and gazes up appreciatively when Robert stands. She could tell his legs were long when she first saw him, but she’s not prepared for him to be so tall. She realizes that he’s wearing boots with heels, but still.
“I might be a little rough right now… The concert was about three hours long, and I haven’t had a second of rest since then…”
“Three hours? That’s a lot of stamina, young man...” The joint dangles in her mouth while she takes this information in.
Robert can feel his manhood slowly waking up. “Bloody hell, you’ve got as much cheek as me… Uh, excuse my French, by way of West Bromwich…”
“I’m used to hearing all kinds of language, so it doesn’t bother me. And don’t let the Chanel fool you; I’m originally from Harlem. So, which song are you going to sing for me?” She inhales more of the weed.
“Hmm… City upbringing checks out, I think, because that’s very New York minute of you, the way you cut to the heart of the matter… OK, miss…?”
“Call me Josephine, Robert.” She looks him in his eyes, but the bulge in his pants that stands defiantly at the edge of her periphery keeps tempting her to shift her gaze.
“Right. Here goes…” He smiles and takes a deep breath.
“If I have to sleep on your doorstep all night and day
Just to keep you from walking away,
Let your friends laugh, even this I can stand,
'cause I wanna keep you any way I can.
Ain't too proud to beg and you know it,
Please don't leave me girl,
Don't you go,
Ain't too proud to plead, baby, baby,
Please don't leave me, Jo,
Don't you go.”
“You clever devil… Slipping my name in! Wow… Bravo, Robert. Where’d you get so much soul and passion from? Your voice is so rough one minute, and then so loving the next. I… I can’t tell you how much I love the way it sounds…”
“How about you show me, if you can’t tell me?” Robert sits back down, grabs the joint and then stubs it out and places it in his pocket. He gazes in Josephine’s eyes, and his wry smile means that he’s back on his game.
He’s not sure where this brazenness is coming from or, more accurately, he has mixed feelings about propositioning an older woman. He doesn’t think he’s misread her flirting, but being with her doesn’t seem as easy as it is with someone more his age. But he doesn’t have long to ponder it, because her face draws near and her lips connect with his.
She grabs his hair. He realizes that passion is the same, no matter the age or color of the person at the other end of the kiss. He cups her face and invites her tongue to dance with his in a sultry tango.
“Somebody’s hit his stride, and I like it! Would you like to continue with me in my room, Robert?”
“Yes. Yes, Mis-- erm, Josephine. I think we have a lot we could learn from each other.”
“I think so, too…" She stands up. "Say, give me 20 minutes or so and meet me at my room? It’s room 548.”
“548… I’ll be there.” His eyes sweep her body, and by the time his eyes search for hers, he realizes she’s also appraising his youthful, athletic frame.
“See you soon, Robert,” she says over her shoulder as she wheels her suitcase toward the hotel.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.
#classic rock#Robert plant#Led zeppelin#my writing#fan fic#fanfic#fan fiction#fanfiction#Fanfics#led zeppelin fanfics#led zeppelin fan fic#led zeppelin fanfic#led zeppelin fan fiction#robert plant fan fic#robert plant fanfic#robert plant fan fiction#writer#writers#writing#story#chapter story
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