A lot of people called Link a lot of things. He sometimes needed to write them down to keep them all straight.

The fans, those girls who adored him so, called him "Liiiiiiiink!" with a dreamy sigh. It was somewhat unnerving. His girlfriends, whichever one he was on, called him "Baby," "Sweetie," and "Honey." Agents and talent scouts called him "Mr Larkin."

Corny called him one of three things. On set it was "Our very own Link Larkin." Off set, in front of the others it was "Little Lark." And when they were alone? Well…

"So tell me. What is my little songbird up to?" The telltale voice jarred the younger boy from his reverie.

Link looked up from his notebook, startled somewhat by the sudden appearance of his boss. "I'm just going over a new song." Link flashed a million dollar smile towards his boss.

"Swell." He said, supporting his weight on his arm, which rested on the desk Link sat behind. Deep in the recesses of the studio, the two were probably the only ones there.

Link looked down for a moment and was startled once more as a finger touched his forehead and drew down to the tip of his nose, lost contact, and rested on his lips. His tongue slipped out to moisten his lips, catching the finger that tasted vaguely like the metal of a microphone and the cologne that radiated off the man. When the boy exhaled, he could feel the cool spot of moisture on his finger, and the older man grinned.

Both of their senses went into overdrive. Their ears strained for the nonexistent noise of others in the building. Corny's eyes trailed around the room to make sure they were alone, and Link only looked at him, eyes fluttering lightly, slightly blocked by the host of feminine lashes. He could smell the alluring scent of some expensive perfume, as well as the remnants of the hairspray cloud that seemed to follow him wherever he went. Link was painfully aware of the pencil clutched in his hand, and Corny was sure he felt Link's quick heartbeat under his finger. Or maybe it was his own.

Unlike the quiet, soft, and slow movement of before, it took only a moment for Corny to pull Link by the front of his shirt up for a kiss. Link dropped the pencil and clutched the desk so that he wouldn't fall. Somehow, despite being connected through hasty breaths and eager tongues, the two shifted so that Link was sitting on the desk with Corny standing flushing against him.

The older, more skillful man let his fingers lightly touch the boy's sides, memorizing every curve of the almost too girly body. With unconscious skill, he unbuttoned Links pants, and slipped long fingers under the waistband of his under clothes, alternately gently and roughly stroking the velvety skin he found. Link whimpered softly, squirming and clutching onto Corny's shoulders.

"C'mon Songbird." He managed out between heavy breaths and frenzied kisses. "Sing for me." Increasing the tempo of his skillful hands, the younger boy's voice rose to long helpless moans.

However, the most delicious sound was made when the Little Lark came, crying out and digging his blunt fingers into the older man's shoulders. It took him a moment to regain all senses, panting softly and slumped against his boss.

Grinning to himself and the boy, Corny shifted to whisper in his ear; "Now lets see what else that little mouth of yours is good for."