Chapter Text
Season 3 of The Voice.
One leg propped over the other and his back against his chair, Blake Shelton clutched onto his leg while his foot wagged impatiently. His eyes were trained at a mess of tattoos on an arm leaning on the armrest of the chair painstakingly furthest away from him that belonged to one Adam Levine.
Idly, Blake wondered why he agreed to be situated the furthest away from him - especially after 3 seasons of the show and counting. Granted, Blake should have been looking at his perfect face; Adam's perfectly sculptured face. But Blake prevented himself from doing so. He wanted so much to grab hold of him, kiss him and fuck him senseless. On that chair. In his chair. He didn't care. But Blake tried to hold on; hold himself back.
Taping was going to begin soon. His performance was coming up. He needed to keep himself together. For Adam.
This was all for him, after all.
Just a little longer.
