𝓐𝓷𝓷𝓲𝓴 @annikisboring - Tumblr Blog

Jul 18

guitarist!matt x singer!reader x drummer!chris

➟ 💿 content warning: smut, sexual tension, jealousy, finger sucking, dry humping, f!masturbation, nipple play, getting caught, vouyerism/exhibitionism, dirty talk, praise/degradation, humiliation, orgasm control

➟ 💿 summary: you, matt, and chris play your newest song live, driving you and matt into a situation you can't take back

dividers by me !

song I listened to while writing this chapter:

Bizarre Love Triangle

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |

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"This song is so lame," Chris had groaned the first time he heard the song Matt had written while the three of you were staying in Georgia.

It was the same song that made you fall harder for Matt the first time he'd played it for you on the tourbus. It was almost like Chris subconsciously knew that and was the reason he'd already decided he'd hated it.

And in that moment, the air felt heavy. The tourbus felt suffocatingly smaller than usual, not just because all three of you were crammed into the space, but like there wasn't enough metaphorical room for you, Matt's song, and Chris' ego.

Maybe they were just bickering because they were brothers. Or because the three of you had been living on top of each other for over a month at this point. Or maybe it was because of the unspoken rivalry between the two of them, both of them competing for your attention.

You and Matt had exchanged an irritated glance that day, each rolling your eyes at his hard-to-please brother.

"The drum part isn't even exciting to play," Chris had added, crossing his arms defiantly as he leaned up against the wall like a teenager who wasn't getting his way.

"Suck it up, Chris. Quit bein' a brat. Not everything's about you," Matt had retorted, not giving him any more room to argue. "We're gonna start practicing it before our shows and once we all get it down, I wanna start playing it as our closing song."

Well, tonight was that night, the night you were going to play it on stage for the first time.

Just when the crowd thought the set was over, the lights in the venue went dim except for the bright spotlight on the three of you as Matt started it off with the guitar part. You watched his long fingers as they glided freely across the frets, his silver rings catching and glimmering in the light. His intense gaze met yours as you sang the main vocals for the first line and he, the backup vocals.

Chris scornfully drummed behind the two of you, feeling like a third wheel the way you and Matt were "eye-fucking each other," as he would say, in front of him. All he could think about was that kiss he shared with you on the ferris wheel, hoping that would have tipped your feelings in favor of him over Matt.

However, he knew deep down that you didn't belong to either one of them. You were just like him, afraid of the labels, afraid of being tied down. But that made you two perfect for each other, right?

You peeked over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of Chris' clenched jaw and his envious stare. There was a part of you that selfishly reveled in seeing him jealous. Like maybe he'd try harder to win you over if he had a reason to.

The crowd was quiet, listening to the rhythm, hearing the song for the very first time. You tightened your grip on the microphone, chills running down your spine and goosebumps playing across your skin as you and Matt sang the chorus in unison "...give up the ghost, free up the soul just for another night as a note in your symphony, the way you play every inch of me, tempo is slow, waves come and go just like the rising tide as I swim through your sea of skin, got every inch of you trembling..."

The way Matt's stare bore through you combined with the sexy lyrics he'd written made your stomach flutter, arousal blooming in your core. Your gaze continued to flicker from his blue eyes to his full lips to his hands as he handled his guitar, and you couldn't hide it. You were picturing those same hands on you again.

Chris could tell what you were thinking, too. He tried to hold back his look of contempt, just barely concealing it, trying to finish the song without storming off the stage.

Somehow, the three of you managed to get through the three minutes and forty-four seconds of agony, Matt without stuttering from the nervousness of singing his own lyrics live for the first time, you without cumming untouched from Matt staring into your soul, and Chris without chucking his drumsticks at the both of you.

Once the three of you were back at the tourbus after organizing all your gear, Chris was the first to break away from the group. "I need a drink," he mumbled under his breath before disappearing off to god knows where.

He didn't want to leave you alone with Matt, but he also couldn't bare one more second of witnessing the sexual tension burgeoning between the two of you.

Matt raised an eyebrow, already retrieving the joint he had tucked behind his ear as the two of you stood outside under the stars. "You wanna smoke?"

"I'd love to," you replied, leaning up against the side of the tourbus, the sound of the lighter flicking to life sending a thrill racing through you. "You were amazing tonight."

You studied his hands, as he held the flame up to the joint paper, swallowing the tip of it in a fiery glow and illuminating his captivating features in the darkness. A smirk curved on Matt's expression as he took the first drag, heat rushing to his cheeks, clearly feeling a bit flustered by your compliment.

"Thank you. So were you," he said, the smoke curling around his words. He passed you the joint, his fingers brushing against yours, igniting another spark. Your hand trembled as you accepted it, trying to pretend you weren't falling harder for him with every passing moment.

"Can I ask you what the inspiration was?" You wondered aloud. "Like did you write it from experience or..." your voice trailed off as you took a hit of the joint, the cherry crackling against the silence.

Matt chuckled. "What exactly are you askin'?"

You hesitated for a second. What were you asking? You had to think about it, wondering if you actually wanted an answer to satisfy your curiosity even if it would potentially hurt your feelings. "I mean, did you write it about another girl?" You finally spoke up, wrinkling your nose as you flicked the ashes off the end of the joint.

There was a beat of silence. Then Matt took a step closer to you, reducing the space between you. "Y'think I'd write a song about having sex with another girl and then make you sing it?" He asked almost as if he were offended. "I don't know what kind of guy you think I am, but I'm not that kind."

You felt a wave of relief hit you, a subtle smirk tugging on the corner of your lip. "Good." You handed the joint over, and Matt took it from you, taking a long, slow drag.

"You really seem to like the song. What do you like about it?" Matt asked, a tantalizing edge to his voice.

"What are you really asking me?" You shot back, turning the question back around on him, raising an eyebrow and giving him a cheeky smile.

"I mean, what are you picturing when we sing it together?" He took the joint between his lips again, studying your facial expression now that his vision had adjusted to the low lighting.

Suddenly, a rush of confidence awoke in you. "What if I show you?" You asked, taking his free hand and interlacing your fingers with his.

Before he could answer, you stood on your tippy toes, bridging the gap between you and him. An electric feeling flowed through you as soon as your lips met. He kissed you back. It was passionate yet restrained, his tongue darting out from behind his lips, just barely grazing yours.

You could feel yourself melt into him, all your inhibitions disappearing. Matt gently bit down on your bottom lip, causing you to moan into his mouth.

The kiss went on for so long that you'd lost track of time, forgetting about the joint completely until the cherry had fizzled out.

"We should go inside," you suggested, your whole body buzzing with anticipation and excitement. He nodded, and the two of you wandered into the tourbus, both of your minds reeling with what was about to happen next.

Still riding your wave of confidence or perhaps blind arrogance, you pushed Matt backwards until he collapsed down onto the bench, gazing up at you with both a look of shock and lust. You straddled him, throwing a leg on either side of him as you lowered yourself onto his lap.

You took his hand again, lifting it to your mouth. You watched his blue eyes glaze over with pure desire, his lips parting to let out a soft exhale as you tucked his pointer finger behind your warm, soft, plump lips, the taste of burnt marijuana lingering on your tastebuds. You just gently suckled on the tip at first, your eyes locked onto his.

You could feel him beneath you, his cock twitching to life as you took more of him, slinking your lips down to his knuckle. You instinctively rolled your hips forward against his, the seam of your jean shorts rubbing against your aching clit. Matt let out a breathy sigh, his eyelids growing heavier as you swirled your tongue around his finger while slowly grinding against him.

"Good girl," he quietly rasped, sending a shiver down your spine. You moaned, your lips vibrating around his finger, still holding eye contact.

He looked as dazed as you felt, from pleasure, from the joint you'd smoked earlier, from the sexual tension between the two of you finally snapping and caving in on itself.

"Go on. Don't stop," he whispered.

You took him deeper until you could taste the cool metal of his ring, rocking your hips back and forth a little faster now, a little more desperately, the friction of your body against his creating a mouthwatering sensation. With his free hand, he gripped your thigh through your fishnets, encouraging you to keep riding him.

Suddenly, because every private moment you'd had since being on the road was constantly being interrupted, Chris burst through the tourbus door.

You scrambled to look like you were doing anything else than what you were actually doing, immediately pulling yourself off of Matt's lap and settling down on the bench beside him. Chris made immediate eye contact with you. Then with Matt.

"Jesus, Chris! Ever heard of knocking?" Matt exclaimed, grabbing the nearest throw pillow and covering his lap to hide the erection that had swelled in his jeans.

"Why the hell would I have to knock? I live here, too." Chris' words silenced the two of you instantly. He wasn't wrong. And he didn't know exactly what the two of you were just doing, but based on the way the two of you looked at him like a couple of deer in the headlights and how quickly the energy had shifted the second he walked in, he knew it was something precarious.

You could see the hurt in his blue eyes, and it made your stomach turn with guilt. "Forgot my phone," Chris stated plainly as he reached for it, your breath catching in your throat as you realized you were half sitting on it. It had been on the bench beside you two the entire time.

He pulled it out from underneath your thigh, giving you a wounded look that made your heart sink. The tension hung in the air between all three of you. Chris gave each one of you one more somber stare before he stormed off the tourbus, the door slamming shut behind him.

And in that moment, Matt understood. He wasn't the only one who had feelings for you.

You felt sick. So did Matt.

"I'm gonna shower and get ready for bed," you mumbled as you dragged your feet across the floor to the back of the tourbus. Matt sighed heavily. It had been so long since he'd had sex of any kind, and being blue balled in such an abrupt manner was disappointing to say the least, but neither one of you could continue after that.

Matt kept his gaze straight ahead, despite hearing the sound of you shimmying out of your clothes. His adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he heard the slow ziiiip of your zipper coming undone and the sound of the denim fabric of your shorts hitting the floor.

He couldn't help himself from imagining how you looked naked. It killed him to think he may never get to see you that way.

You were fleeting like water pooling his hands and no matter how hard he tried to hold onto you, you'd always inevitably slip through his fingers.

You each showered separately, brushed your teeth without so much as glancing over at each other. You didn't dare finish what you'd started, the moment completely shattered.

You two exchanged a dejected and deflated "g'night" before Matt made his way to his bunk, and you made your way back to bench with your blanket and a book, the lamp beside you giving off just enough light for you to make out the text on the page. Your eyelids started to grow heavy...

You jolted awake about an hour and a half later, the room still dimly lit by the soft glow of the lamp, your book still open to page 162 draped across your lap. Your blanket had fallen to the floor, and you didn't bother retrieving it.

You'd been dreaming. About Matt. Your subconscious mind had picked up where the two of you had left off, your brain unsatisfied by the lack of resolution.

You felt the wetness that had pooled between your thighs while you were fast asleep, and you reached into your waistband of your pajama shorts just to be sure. You were soaked.

You bit down on your lip to stifle a moan, your eyes fluttering shut. Your nipples stiffened, showing through the fabric of your tanktop. In your mind's eye, Matt was on top of you, whispering praises into your ear, and you were dragging your long fingernails down his back tattoo, your legs hooked around his waist as he thrust into you.

You let your fantasy overtake you, your free hand pushing up the fabric of your shirt to reveal your breasts. You gently pinched your sensitive bud on the left side of your chest, rolling it between your fingertips as you worked the fingers of your other hand in tight circles over your clit.

There was still a lingering sense of shame and guilt about Chris and the way he looked at you, but it was overridden by lust. You pinched your nipple tighter, a soft moan falling from your lips as you fervently rubbed your pussy, your slick coating your slippery fingers. You tossed your head back, pleasure etched into your expression. Your mouth parted around Matt's name.

You heard another party in the room, your fantasy being ripped out from under you at the sound of a man clearing his throat. No amount of scrambling could conceal what you were doing this time.

When your eyes shot open, Chris was drunk, standing across from you, his arms crossed over his chest and a snide smirk playing on his lips. "Chris!" You shouted in a whisper, not wanting to wake Matt as well. You jerked your hand back like you'd burnt yourself on a hot stove, pulling your tanktop back down over your breasts. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough. You really didn't hear me come in?"

"No," you replied, your face hot with embarrassment as you squeezed your legs shut, fixing your posture as if that was going to make a difference.

Chris stood above you, his eyes raking over your figure as you tried to hide yourself. "Keep goin'," he said with a hungry look in his eyes.

Your eyelashes fluttered in disbelief. "W-what?"

"You heard me. Keep touchin' yourself. Go on. You ain't gotta stop just because I'm here." His tongue slithered out from behind his lips, wetting them as he devoured you with his fixed stare.

You didn't budge for a few seconds. Were you still dreaming?

"Chris-" you started to say, but he cut you off.

"Take it off. All of it. Let me see." The tone of his voice was seductive and completely serious.

You didn't argue. You raised your hips off of the bench beneath you as you slowly slid your shorts and your underwear down your thighs. Chris watched the fabric pool at your ankles before you kicked it away.

"The shirt, too. Let me see those pretty tits."

You swallowed the dry lump in your throat as you reached for the hem of your tank top, pulling it off slowly and tossing it onto the floor with the rest of your clothes. Chris bent forward, picking your panties up off the ground. He pressed the damp material to his nose, taking a deep inhale.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, taking in and savoring your scent before stuffing them into his back pocket. The lewd act made your stomach turn. "Spread those legs for me."

You hesitantly parted your knees, your slick folds glistening in the lamp glow, the cool air ghosting over your wet center and making you shudder.

Chris let out a heavy sigh, his face softening as his gaze dropped to your pussy like it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He quickly regained his composure, trying to look unaffected, attempting to maintain control over the situation. "C'mon. Don't act like it's y'first time," Chris slurred. "Go on. Touch yourself just like ya were when I came in."

You nodded. You reached between your legs, your fingers settling on your throbbing clit that pulsed against your touch. You started to rub it in slow, steady circles, the humiliation still welling inside of you in the best way.

"You were thinkin' about my brother, huh?" Chris scoffed, crossing his arms again, looking somewhat amused. "Can't believe he didn't finish the job after I left. Such a fuckin' pussy."

His drunken words left you in shock. You opened your mouth to put him in his place. You almost snapped at him. You almost told him that the two of you stopped because they felt bad for him. Because the two of you weren't fucking sociopaths.

In that moment, you wished you and Matt had fucked just to spite his brother. Matt was sweet. Didn't want to cause any harm. And that was the difference between him and Chris. Chris didn't fucking care. He'd go to any length to get what he wanted.

You wished that realization would have stopped you. But it felt too good. Maybe you were just like Chris after all.

You continued to touch yourself, your other hand instinctively flying up to your breast again, tweaking your nipple between the tips of two fingers. "So pathetic. Look at you. Rubbin' yourself like the desperate little thing you are," Chris chuckled.

You slammed your eyes shut, hoping you'd feel less embarrassed if you could pretend he wasn't there watching, but he wasn't having it.

"Oh, no you don't. Look at me. Now."

Your eyes fluttered open again to see Chris staring directly back at you. His eyes were so blue. So full of desire. "Faster," he ordered you. You bit down on your lip, staring up at him as you worked your clit faster, rolling your fingers over your stiff bundle of nerves. "Atta girl. Bet you're not thinkin' about my brother anymore now, are ya?"

His words sent a current of arousal straight to your clit. Little did he know, you were still imagining both of them.

"Now fuck yourself with those pretty little fingers of yours," he demanded.

His words had you wrapped around his finger. It turned you on even more than the first time he'd used that phrase.

You obediently listened. You slid your ring and middle finger down your folds like they were under a trance and Chris was the spellcaster. You could feel how drenched you were. You pushed your fingers into your entrance, your eyes rolling around in your head as you stretched around them.

You couldn't stop yourself. No matter how mortified you were. It felt sooo good.

"Eyes on me," Chris reiterated.

You steadied your vision, fixing your gaze on him once more, starting to slowly move your fingers back and forth. You were already trembling, the knot in your stomach threatening to come unraveled. The vulgar and wet sounds of your pussy squelching around your fingers filled the tourbus.

Chris mischeviously smiled, watching your body react. He loved feeling like he was in control of you without ever even laying a hand on you.

You continued to piston your fingers into your heat, your other hand still cupping the swell of your breast as you teased your nipple between the pads of your thumb and index finger. Your eyes dropped to the subtle twitch in Chris' jeans.

He was hard. So hard.

And you hated that he had enough self control in this moment to not even palm himself through the denim. His arms were still crossed over his chest. His intense gaze still bore through you.

Suddenly, he leaned forward again. "Let me taste you."

You nodded, withdrawing your fingers without hesitation. Chris wrapped his long digits around your wrist, bringing your hand to his lips. He slipped your two fingers into his mouth, taking them all the way down to the knuckle. He sucked them clean, a soft hum vibrating around your fingertips as he released them.

"You taste like heaven." You could smell the tequila on his breath. That smell alone was beginning to become a turn on because of him. "C'mon. Keep goin'."

You took your fingers that were now covered in his saliva and dipped them back into your heat. You couldn't get the image of him cleaning them off with his tongue out of your head. You fucked yourself faster with them now, your knees bent and thighs splayed open. The muscles in your stomach tightened, the coil threatening to snap at any moment. Goosebumps covered every inch of you. Your breath became ragged and shallow, your chest heaving as you neared the point of no return.

"So fuckin' filthy," Chris commented, burning the image into his memory. "Go on. Cum for me. Cum all over those pretty fingers."

You trembled violently, your pussy rhythmically pulsing around your knuckles. Your climax tore through you, soft whimpers and moans spilling from your lips despite your attempts to keep quiet. You dripped onto the bench beneath you, the wetness pooling in a little puddle that made you feel even more embarrassed. Now there was evidence forever etched into the material.

You fucked yourself through your powerful orgasm, riding your own fingers fervently like you just couldn't get enough.

Chris took one more look at you like he pitied you before chuckling and wandering off down the hallway towards his bunk, your soiled panties still peeking out of his back pocket. Yeah, you weren't getting those back.

You were too embarrassed to say anything. To do anything. You sat there, naked, fingers still inside of you, and you stayed like that until your breath evened out.

When you finally gained the courage and strength to do so, you picked your blanket and remaining clothes up off the floor, clutching them to your chest, pupils blown wide and jaw hanging slack, reflecting on what the hell had just happened.

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