cw: arranged marriage, shameless headstrong reader!!, enemies to lovers (they're enemies in maekar's head), bickering!!!, tension, bedding ceremony!!, non-consensual touching(not by maekar), grumpy maekar, jealousy, over protectiveness, possessiveness, body worship(m!receiving), prone bone!!, manhandling, nose riding, spitting, pussy sniffing, spanking!!, fingering(f!receiving), oral(f!receiving), p in v, dirty talk!!, slight breath play, headlock!!, biting, degradation, praise, hate fucking for one sec, a sprinkle of angst, insecurities, self worth issues, (8.9kw)
a/n: english is not my first language so i'm sorry for mistakes/repeating words!! im nervous to put out a bigger piece than usual aaaa. i will do maybe two to three parts!! this will be an au! so if you have any questions or requests about this pairing, let me know muehehe! i love them so much lol
credits: gif @/goodsirs divider @/feimingo
“i did not believe you wished for witnesses to our coupling, your grace.”
“it is tradition—”
“oh, so it is. a tradition in which half the court will see your wife bare as the day she was born. does that excite you?”
“excite—”
maekar took a deep, steadying breath, trying very hard not to snap at his newly betrothed. or throttle her. was it truly too late to call the arrangement off? a prince of the realm could do as he pleased, after all.
“it excites me in the same measure as a court meeting about grain taxes does, wife,” he grunted, fingers tightening onto the half-empty goblet of wine in his hand. he would need way more than that for what was to come in a few moments. maekar would drown himself in numerous barrels if it would spare him from having to pretend to fuck his wife in front of tens of courtiers and ladies in waiting. oh, and a maester. how could he have forgotten? the gods also needed to be witnesses to such a sacred arrangement. the more people see the proof of his virility, the better. they should invite the whole realm if they are so eager to see him perform his husbandry duties.
“grain taxes,” was heard from his right, your voice deadpan as you sneaked a glance towards him, a huff falling from your lips. “it pleases me that my lord husband would associate us having a moment of unbridled passion with the ever ardent intricacies of grain taxes,” your lips twitched, a little smile in the corner, cheeky.
he could feel the vein in his temple pulsing. a headache was on the way. and even then, it couldn’t even come close to the one that was already in his presence. he could’ve asked all the healers in the seven kingdoms, and none of them would be able to cure him of the ever-lasting migraine that was his wife.
a wound without a cure. a curse without benediction. a grueling fate without end, at least for now.
“unbridled passion?” he almost bristled at the words. the assumption that there will be anything but a poor attempt at make-believe on his part grated on his nerves. “i would have hoped that you would not delude yourself into believing we shall be doing more than a farce of this, wife.”
maekar was not about to engage in any intimate endeavors with his new wife. the court should be more than pleased that he was even willing to go along with this to begin with. having sycophants linger near their royal chambers while they were supposed to get lost in the throes of passion was unnerving enough. he will have to make it seem like the consummation happened, like he was on the other side of the door, pleasing his wife and proving the realm he was still a man in his prime, capable of desire. figures.
“a farce?” you probed, eyebrow raised, the arch of your mouth thinning in displeasure. “you would make a sham of our consummation?” the tone of your voice seemed almost… offended, as if you couldn’t believe your husband would even go to such lengths to avoid bedding you.
that timbre of your voice made his brows furrow, lifting the goblet of wine to his lips to stall his response, glancing to the side over the rim of the cup. he allowed himself a furtive glance towards you, enough to notice the slight narrowing of your eyes. you were opposing him, just as you have been doing since ink touched scroll a fortnight ago, when both of your fates were tied by duty and vow.
“not a sham,” he corrected, although he was not sure it held much truth. “i am sparing both of us of the dreadful act of having to touch one another more than necessary, which i was of the impression would please you. not make you look like a scorned child.”
there was a long, tense silence before you spoke again, voice barely above a whisper. “you would think it dreadful to touch one another?”
maekar paused for a moment, taken aback by the note of disbelief underlying your words, making him turn to look at you fully now, needing to see why you would have that reaction to such a simple truth. “by the looks of it, wife, you do not seem to share my sentiment?”
there was a sharp glint in your eyes now, the poise in your posture faltering for a moment, giving way to tension, before you gathered yourself. “not in the slightest. i deem it preposterous that you would even think of it in such a manner,” you retorted, chin lifting, proud. “or, is it perhaps a ploy to conceal your dignity, my lord husband?”
“my dignity?” his voice dipped low, almost cautionary, making it clear that your next words should be chosen very carefully, lest you wish to start something maekar was not sure you had the wits about you to see through.
but you did not seem frightened in the slightest by his attempt to dissuade you.
“yes,” you reinforced, head tilting just so to the side, feigning innocence. “are you so unassured in your virility that you would devise such schemes to keep it from being questioned? i reckon it is normal for a man of your station to care so deeply about these things, but such lengths are truly ridicu—”
your words were cut off by rough, calloused fingers pressing into your cheeks, hard enough to stall your speech as maekar leaned into your space. he was gripping your face, keeping your gaze on his, not giving you an inch of room to even tilt your head one side or the other.
“one more word out of you, and i swear to all the seven,” he snarled, purple eyes slanted in a glare so scathing it could burn you whole, like dragon-fire. he felt the moment your breath hitched, the short puff of air brushing his fingers. “i will throttle you right here, in front of all these good-for-nothing lickspittles.”
he was expecting your demeanor to change. for fear to cloud your vision and reason to come back to you. for apologies to tumble unbidden from your mouth, hoping to appease and coax him into being merciful.
no wife, no woman of his will look him in the eye with so much fervor, insulting one of the qualities he was boastful about. his virility? maekar had sired six children. a feat worthy of praise. a testament to the strength of his seed, to the potency of it. to how easy it was for it to take root in a fertile womb and conceive heirs for him.
his newly betrothed had some nerve trying to undermine the one thing the whole realm knew to be true.
with that same nerve, you looked maekar in the eyes and smiled. a quirk of your lips, eyes lowering as the pressure of his fingers rose, half—lidded with something akin to satisfaction, as if you wanted this to happen, waiting for your husband to lose control and exert that temper you knew flared at the slightest provocation. too quick now, after a fortnight of constant instigation from you, feeling like his fuse grew shorter and shorter, and now it was only a matter of time before all hell broke loose, inevitably.
your tone was soft, but the challenge beneath it was unmistakable. “did i perhaps touch a nerve, my lord husband? is it truly so easy to have you rattled? enough to grasp me like a brute, where anyone can see? and at our wedding feast, no less.” the more you talked, the more honey weaved through your words. but it wasn’t sweet, not in the slightest. it burned. “have manners been forgotten by a prince of the realm? i would've thought you more courteous than this.”
you were toying with him, like a cat would a mouse. and maekar targaryen had never been faced with such a thing, with a woman who dared bare her teeth back at him after he showed his. it made the ancient blood that flowed through his veins sear under his skin, hackles raising as if he was a dragon in human form, ready to breathe fire onto its enemies and leave smoke and ash behind.
the gods knew to take dragons away, for if they were still roaming around them now, maekar wouldn’t have hesitated to feed his novel betrothed to his own and watch from the sidelines, not missing a moment.
the thought made his fingers dig even harder into her cheeks, the soft skin dimpling under his blunt nails. your lips were pursed because of the pressure, and maekar will not admit to himself how his scathing glare flitted to the way they formed a pout, glistening still with the wine you were drinking prior. you looked ridiculous. that’s why his eyes lingered before returning to hold your gaze.
“you don’t deserve my manners,” he downright growled, a sound so deep and rumbly, like a dragon made flesh, leaning in until your noses almost touched, but he won’t allow more contact between you two than what he was willing to offer. “you don’t deserve anything that i have to give,” he almost spat, his broad chest heaving slightly, as if restraint was becoming hard to grasp. “i do not want to give you anything, you insufferable wench.”
your eyes widened for a moment at his words, but yet again, there was no fear, no offense, not even a sliver of rebuttal. only pure delight, as if his harsh words were music to your ears.
maekar did not understand. why were you not cowering? why were you not mellowing out? why in gods name were you tipping your head forward, close enough for your breaths to mingle.
“but you will, my lord husband,” came your whisper, brushing against his rough lips, as if you wanted him to taste the resolve in your words, the defiance in your tone. “i am your lady wife. what is yours, is mine.” another twitch of your lips, now higher, more pleased, like a cat that got the cream. “and i shall have it, even if i need to take it from you by any means necessary.”
“you know not of what you speak—”
“and neither do you,” you interjected, firmer this time, your gaze lowering to his lips for just a moment, as if pondering a secret only known by you, before lifting to make eye contact again. “your riches do not interest me. the crown i could do without. your name is nothing but an ancient thing that binds me to you,” you had his attention, to his absolute dismay, and it visibly pleased you.
“what i want,” a pause, leaning in enough to let your lips brush his, making him recoil, before he stubbornly held his place, not wanting to show how much the contact unnerved him. “is you, my lord husband.”
you must’ve had too much to drink, maekar thought. what you were saying made no sense to him, sounding like a lie the simpering women would whisper into one’s ear when they wanted to climb into their beds and rut on their cocks to solidify their station. it must be a ploy to try and soften him, to make him pliant and susceptible to future indulgences of yours.
you wanting him? why in gods name would that interest you in the slightest, when many other things should garner your attention, those which were mentioned by you. it should’ve been his gold, his station, his name, his connections.
not him. never him.
“do not think yourself so clever,” he spat, feeling his frustration mount, underlined with a begrudging sense of confusion, which he chose to ignore. “to believe that i shall fall for these empty words of sentiment,” maekar continued, fingertips squishing more of your now flushed cheeks, but not enough to bruise. he was not a brute to mar a woman, let alone one tied to him by marriage, contrary to rumors and whispers. “so do not waste your breath, my lady. it will do you no good, and i am not inclined to listen further.”
he thought that would be sufficient to shut you up, to make you see reason for once since you wed, and stop you from pushing nonsensical notions like they were fact. but you didn’t. his words seemed to only fuel the fire in your eyes, and he could feel the way your jaw clenched just so under his grip, resolve surging.
“i will prove it to you,” fell from your lips, solid and resolute, as if there was not an ounce of apprehension beneath your tongue. “one day, you will see that i speak truth,” a deep, steadying breath passing between your mouths, as if you were holding back something of great weight. “you will rid yourself of this meaningless whim of yours and accept what i am willing to give.” you spoke it as if the future was as you saw fit, and he had no say in it. it enraged and perturbed him in equal measure. “or you won’t have a sliver of peace in my presence.”
as if that was any different from how things have been since the papers were signed. maekar has not had any modicum of repose since he was cursed with a bothersome woman like you. the gods must jest at his expense now more than ever for the hand he was dealt.
“you have a lot of nerve for a—”
“and now, as the night grows near, we shall encourage the lord and lady towards what they surely are most expectant of! their bedding!”
the words boomed among the feast, ripping them apart from one another as every pair of eyes in the hall turned towards them, more attentive than ever.
maekar almost winced. he hated bedding ceremonies, for he would rather walk on glass barefoot than be subjected to such foolish nonsense. but alas, the court demanded it in fear of maekar showing reluctance towards another bride after many years of being a widower. so, he relented, kicking and screaming internally when it was brought to his attention, but anything to shut the mouths of courtiers and realm alike.
maekar did not look to his side. something in his chest pulled him away from meeting your gaze after the charged conversation you had. he hated that your words had been enough to unsettle him, even the tiniest bit.
instead, his eyes followed a group of way too eager lords who were rounding their high table to hoist you up and out of your seat. had they no shame in being so zealous? to let their hands grip at you, lifting you above their shoulders, fingers too rough against the fine silk of your wedding gown. where had decorum gone?
the sight made irritation spark in his gut, especially when he could hear your squeals of delight and the lilting sound of laughter that spilled unbridled from your lips as you were carried away to the royal chambers. it’s like you reveled in this whole travesty. in men touching you so shamelessly while hooting and hollering ribald jokes, one more salacious than the other.
in his case, being tugged on by simpering ladies was nothing but a nightmare come to life, but he had to bite his tongue and go along for the sake of tradition. maekar would’ve rather your hands on him, trying to rid him of his ceremonial cloak and vest, than a bunch of unknown women with too much nerve and too little propriety. he knew you better than he did these squealing birds.
your mirth was ever present when maekar made it to the chambers, his eyes narrowing to slits as he saw the way one of the lords was handling you, too ambitious in the way his fingers were nearly ripping your gown to the floor, leaving you clad in only a thin chemise. and he wasn’t the only one. the rest of the mindless, idiotic sycophants even dared to let their grubby palms smooth down your curves as they hollered more japes.
the ladies tending to him were more reserved, probably sensing maekar’s prickly nature, his body language so stiff they could barely get his tunic off, now half open, letting the broad expanse of his chest peek through, smattered with fine white hairs.
“a sword needs its sheath, don’t it, my lady?” exclaimed one of the men as his rugged fingers jerked your chemise down your shoulders, exposing the soft mounds of your breasts to the air, nipples hardening into dusky peaks. maekar’s breath stalled for a moment at the sight.
and like a beacon, every lord in the room had no shame in taking it all in, mouths open like panting bulls, some even licking their lips as if wanting to taste, making maekar’s restraint thin.
“gods, i wish my mother hadn’t weaned me, for your breasts are a sight to behold, my—”
“that’s enough,” slipped from maekar’s mouth, regretting it for a moment, before he pressed on. “keep your hands and your words to yourself if you wish to still draw breath where you stand.”
his tone was sharp, brooking no argument, if the people in attendance were smart. enough to cut every single jest, straightening the backs of every man in the room like clockwork, their mouths shut so tight their jaws trembled.
“y—your grace—”
“get the fuck out of the room before i decide to turn my wedding night crimson with the blood of the lot of you,” he barked, taking one step closer to where they stood, and it was sufficient to make them scramble, almost tripping over themselves to stand on the other side of the door.
the ladies remaining were uncertain of what to do, how to proceed. they haven’t undressed the prince like they meant to, hovering near maekar, almost trembling themselves.
“ah, ladies, do not fret,” you lilted, sweet like honeysuckle, stepping towards maekar, one hand lifting to press against the opening of his shirt, fingers spreading, brushing through the fine chest hairs. “i shall have the pleasure of undressing my husband myself. these muscles will know my touch alone.”
and for all the bravado he showed earlier, maekar could barely breathe under the bold touch of your hand, soft fingers brushing through the smattering of white onto his skin, reverent, as if you liked the sensation. and your words, spoken so saccharine, but he could tell it pleased you. having him to yourself. gods, what was wrong with you?
“now, off you go,” you continued, leaning into maekar’s space, pressing your bare breasts against his arm, his bicep cushioned between them. “my husband is ever eager to consummate our marriage, and i do not have the heart to make him wait any longer.”
maekar’s breath left him in one fell swoop, half from the feeling of your lush flesh pressing against his arm, and half from your words. you were a temptress, and the want to throttle you was coming back full force now, just as it was at the feast.
the door closed no long after, leaving you alone in the shared room, but not without company, for the lords and ladies, accompanied by one maester, had to hover on the other side, awaiting no doubt sounds of pleasure to waft through the mahogany wood.
“i’m pretty certain one of them was drooling while looking at my breasts,” you whispered, as if it was a secret, as if maekar hadn’t seen the hunger in their eyes and wanted to rip out each eyeball from their sockets with his bare hands.
“that does not concern me,” came his response, narrowed gaze dropping to where your hand still caressed his chest.
“mhm,” a pause, before your chin lifted, peering at him, a quirk to your lips. “i’m also certain one of them was eager enough to grope at them. i felt it.”
“which one?”
he hated the way he bristled, eyes traveling even lower now, to where your breasts were pushed up against his bicep, cushioning the corded muscle. god, but you had nice tits. they looked good squished against him, but he didn’t give that thought too much attention. he just liked tits a lot, is all. yours held no significance than, let’s say, a whore’s would.
the smile you gave him as soon as the inquiry left his mouth was so self-gratifying, he almost took his words back.
“i thought it did not concern you, my lord husband,” you reminded him, pressing even closer, the hand onto his chest drifting down, deft fingers slowly popping open the buttons on his tunic. “why the sudden interests, hm?”
maekar’s hand shot up to stop yours, halting your progress in undressing him, chest heaving slightly as he grit out, feeling tense as a coiled spring now that you two were alone and so, so close.
“stop it. we are not going to—”
and his words dissolve into a punched out groan as your hand trailed down to his crotch, where you seemed delighted to find him half—hard, and have no shame to press the heel of your palm into the growing thickness, rubbing in a slow downward motion.
“no?” you breathe, and the smile you give him is syrupy. he swears he can taste it, your words almost mocking him for his weakness, for the reaction his body had to… all of this. “then why are you hard, my lord husband? was the touch of all those ladies so satisfactory that it aroused you?”
and maekar wants to say that, yes, he got hard from those stupid court ladies feeling him up and tugging at his clothes, and not from the sight of your breasts pressed up against him, pebbled nipples brushing against the satin of his tunic. and definitely not from thinking how well his mouth could fit around one of them to suckle and lap at like a dog.
these feverish thoughts were just a result of not having seen a woman half—bare in years, and his body was betraying him by plaguing his mind with debauched scenarios that would never happen. that should never happen. he couldn't let himself show intimacy in such a way.
“because you keep touching me,” he snapped, harsher than he would have wanted, but he was so tense, and your hand felt too good, a fact which would never reach your ears. “even though i expressed no desire to want such a thing.”
your hand did not stop, whatsoever, continuing to rub slowly over the now fully hard cock in his breeches, making his breathing come in short, angry puffs against your cheek.
“then stop me,” you offered, only leaning closer, as if goading him into trying. “you’re a strong man. i reckon you could overpower a lady if you wanted,” then your lips pursued, thoughtful, and you continued. “unless… the stories i’ve heard about the anvil’s prowess were only tales for sleeping children?”
maekar knew what you were doing, playing him like a fiddle, making him lose all reason and succumb to your whims against his will, as if he were a weak man. as if he couldn’t discern between what he wanted to do and what you wanted him to do.
and still, he was powerless when challenged, like you knew his visceral need to prove himself to you, or anyone else. the gnawing ache in his chest whenever someone dared question him in any aspect of his life.
but more so, when his strength was disputed. undermined.
it did not even take a blink of an eye until he had grabbed you by the arm, hauling you over to the bed, pushing you backwards until you fell, sprawled against the furs and pelts, which cushioned the fall.
his weight pressed you into the mattress like the anvil itself, his knees bracketing your hips, holding you where he wanted you, wide-eyed and breasts jiggling with every breath. for a moment, he reveled in the surprise etched onto your face, before it turned into a cheeky smirk as your hands wasted no time before brushing down his chest again, seeking to undress him.
“so eager, my lord husband,” she whispered, still a bit breathless from the rough manhandling, but delighted beyond measure. “do not tell me that you’ve been secretly aching for this?”
maekar scoffed, scowling down at her from above, even as his breath hitched. gods, no one had touched him like this in so long. not with this teasing familiarity, and not on a night meant to be cold and ceremonial, even if they had never lain together. hell, even stood next to each other for more than duty demanded in the last fortnight.
your hands were warm, picking at the buttons like you had all the time in the world, and it grated on his nerves, even more so when he saw the smirk on your plush lips widening the more skin you uncovered.
he caught your wrist, firm enough to stop your exploration, holding it over his chest for a tense moment, before releasing it, brushing it to the side so he could take over, undoing the buttons himself. maekar rationalized that it was because you were agonizingly slow, and your touch annoyed him, the feeling of your fingertips brushing his skin prickling, leaving gooseflesh behind.
the tunic fell away swiftly, leaving him bare-chested, a mountain of corded muscle and sinew, veins traveling along his forearms and down his throat from how tense he was. your eyes drank him in, mouth parting in a sigh, overly pleased, as if the sight of him alone unraveled you.
it did not take long for your hands to follow the same path your gaze did, pawing shamelessly at the broad expanse of scarred skin, brushing over the smattering of thin white hairs onto his chest and down his navel.
maekar’s skin prickled further under your touch. he could feel your fingers over every scar. the one from dragonstone’s training yard when he was still a boy, the thin line across his ribs from a valyrian steel sword graze, now traced by curious, gentle fingers. but equally desirous.
the low rumble from his throat slipped without his permission as you continued, now groping at the thick muscles of his biceps and pectorals, sighing while you did it, breathy and satisfied, as if the feel of his muscles pleased you. being audacious enough to sink your fingers into the skin, to squeeze and feel every inch you could get under your palms. and he couldn’t do anything but watch you, feeling his breath hitch as he saw you lick your lips, slow and habitual, as if you didn’t realize you did it while feeling him up.
the prince could not get his bearings anymore. his breath came faster now—shallow, uneven. each one of your touches burned like fire, leaving behind a scorching trail. your hands were not those of a shy, hesitant maiden. no, they felt like a claim, like you were worshiping his body with shameless delight, exploring every hard ridge and dense muscle as if you’d been starved for it, as if you’d been waiting to do it.
“gods, husband,” slipped from your mouth as he felt a particularly lingering touch down his abdomen, your nails scraping along the skin, making the muscles ripple. “but you are a sight to behold,” you almost moaned, gaze half—lidded with nothing but unrelenting hunger. “you look delicious enough to eat,” you continued, downright purring now, like a feline playing with your food, daring to brush your hands down his shoulders, and along his arms, nails prickling at the protruding veins along the way. “so big and strong.”
you must’ve had way too much to drink. there was no other explanation as to why such words would come out of your mouth, why your palms touched him like you wanted him. that could not be. no one wanted him. no one should’ve wanted him. he was a hardened warrior, a widower, a father of six, a man who didn’t need—
gods above… delicious? how could you call him something so absurdly ridiculous? as if he were a feast laid out for your personal consumption. as if his body was made to be admired—devoured in its entirety—by her shameless gaze and persistent hands.
“how come no lady pounced on you sooner, hm?” you had the nerve to question—still touching him, mapping out his body like it was yours alone to do with as you pleased—as if there was a line out the door of ladies wanting nothing more but to jump on his cock and have their way with him. what preposterous notions had you in that head of yours? you must’ve hit it when you were a child, to think such perceptions.
his jaw tightened, trying to regain some sort of upper hand against you. “no lady is as impudent as you,” he reproached, his lip lifting in a half snarl, like a beast held at bay. “as adamant to touch something that isn’t yours—”
“isn’t?” you interjected, nails digging into the meat of his abdomen, hard enough to leave red crescent moons behind. a mark of yours, as if punishing him for even daring to say such a thing, when he knew you were bound by vow beneath the old gods and the new. it made maekar hiss, like a dragon challenged, ready to retaliate. “you are mine, by law and by vow,” you firmly stated, nails biting at skin anew, scraping down, painting red indent lines along ivory. “just as i am yours,” maekar had half a mind to snap, to bite, to do anything to stop the words coming out of your mouth, but you did not waver. “yours to have, yours to take, yours to touch.”
a beat, your chest heaving now, too, just like his was, only softer. “so touch me, husband,” provocation again, in your tone, in your gaze, in every single inch of your body. “unless you do not know how? has your prowess deserted you in the years of widowing?” maekar was moments away from strangling you, his fingers twitching with the urge to just wrap them around your throat and squeeze until not even breath slipped past your lips. but he had no such luck, for your next words stalled him, unmoving.
“shall i scream for all those court vipers to hear?” you incited, eyes narrowed, nails still deep into his skin, but he could barely feel the sting over the pounding in his ears over your goading. “shall i let the whole realm know that my lord husband is incapable of even touching his lady wife? of being man enough to make her feel good? instead of standing there gaping at a pair of tits like a green boy in his first whorehouse, incapable of—”
maekar’s eyes flashed—anger. humiliation. and something he couldn’t name, but it burned in his gut, spreading all the way down to his cock, hard enough to split stone now. it was surely the adrenaline of it all, his nerves on high alert, heart pounding so hard in his chest he could taste it in his mouth. nothing else. it couldn’t be anything else. not with you.
you were baiting him again. mocking his hesitation and reluctance to touch you, tone biting, just as your nails have been on his skin. words spoken like a commoner, not even close to the speech of a highborn lady, now wife of a prince of the realm. a targaryen.
he couldn’t continue like this. not with your hands on him, with your eyes watching him like you wanted him, like you desired him. with your—gods, with your tits bouncing with every breath, enticing him to forget all about your insolence and dip down to mouth and slobber all over them like a fucking dog until you moaned and arched against his tongue and teeth and—
his hands were rough, not enough to bruise, but firm as he grabbed your hips, holding onto the fat there and flipping you in one swift motion. not gently, not romantically.
dominant, like he had no doubt you would stay where he put you, where he wanted you, face down into the furs and pelts, hips angled backwards by his steady grip, bare breasts squished against the mattress, as was your tummy.
“m—maekar—,” you shrieked, surprised and muffled into the bed now, but he didn’t want to hear a word from you now, one palm dipping towards your shoulders, pressing down, keeping you in place. a silent command—stay there or else.
he was breathing hard, like a bull after a good run, nostrils flaring, broad chest heaving, eyes trained on the way your body looked beneath him now, arched, at his mercy, under his strong hands, held in place exactly as he pleased. no longer playing by your whims, no longer unnerved by your gaze or touches. no longer making him question things he was not ready to untangle.
his face was hot, hotter now, as his eyes traced the curves of you, the way your chemise hiked up your thighs, letting him get a peek at your rear. gods, what were you doing to him? maekar wished he could forget the way your ardent gaze devoured him whole, as if he were a god among men, as your tone dipped into sweet honey, sultry and purred.
nothing could unnerve him anymore. he was no longer shackled by—
a whine. pitched and demanding, slipped from your lips as your hips wiggled in his grip, pushing your rear back against him, brushing against the bulge in his breeches, ample flesh jiggling from side to side, catching his gaze like a beacon. “d—do something, you useless brute!” you demanded, back arching with the grace of a feline, pleading for attention without much preamble. still shameless, still without an ounce of decorum.
maekar’s breath left him sharply at the sight. your hips swaying, arse sticking out in unabashed invitation, like you were a cat begging to be scratched, petted—or worse, claimed. how dare you? he thought, incredulous as to how a woman could be this unashamed in her desires—in her want for… him. for this brute, as you called him so brazenly.
a brute, was he?
well, if he were such a brute, then he would act like one, and put you in your damn place once and for all, solidifying his place in this marriage and proving you wrong.
slowly, akin to a predator stalking his prey, his hand moved back towards the fat of your hip to join the other, thumbs digging slightly into the curve where waist met ass, feeling the warmth of you through the silk. you were burning, and he barely touched you yet. what a debauched creature you were.
and then, because you begged with that wiggle and sway, he answered. no longer useless, as his hands slid lower over plush cheeks, palm flattening over one rounded backside, and gave a sharp, resounding smack, making the silken flesh jiggle from the impact.
maekar expected a yelp, a rebuke. not a loud, pleasured moan, like a woman possessed, mouth parting against the pelt under your cushioned cheek, eyelashes fluttering, as if savoring the sting of the strike.
“gods, yes, yes,” you sighed, already pushing your arse back towards his palm, wanting more, like a greedy little thing.
his eyes darkened, the purple obscured by the black now, a flush crawling up his throat at the way you sounded, as if he offered you salvation and damnation both. like you’ve been waiting for this very moment since the wedding feast—his hand smacking your ass like a fucking degenerate commoner. and now you want more.
he didn’t hesitate.
smack. another sharp spank landed, not harsh enough to hurt deeply, but firm and stinging through the fabric of your thin chemise.
“look at you,” he grit out, mocking but reverent in equal measure as he hiked up your chemise to your hips, revealing the heated skin of your arse, where his palm smacked, marking you with ardor. it gave him a thrill like no other to see the labor of his punishment on you.
“arching and begging for it like a fucking cat in heat,” he continued, palm smoothing down the flush of your skin, but not to soothe. just to feel the heated pulse of the flesh there beneath his fingers.
it made his cock twitch in his breeches.
even more when he realized you weren’t wearing any small clothes, as a lady should. like a bride would on her wedding night.
gods, you were audacious beyond measure. he didn’t know if it angered him more than it thrilled him.
“no smallclothes,” he noted, tilting his head, as if assessing the expanse of bare flesh now at his disposal. maekar could even see a peek of the folds of your cunt as you continued to arch into his touches. and you were wet, almost dripping onto your thighs, onto the bedding underneath. his spanks have gotten you aroused. “not even a commoner would be this immodest.”
“don’t need them,” you retorted, only trying to push backwards more, relentless and needy. “they’ll only get in the way of you putting your cock in me.”
all the gods above, that mouth on you was lethal.
the words made a ragged, bitten-off curse fall from his mouth as his fingers moved to spread the globes of your rear enough to expose your pussy better to his gaze.
“drenched,” maekar breathed—still hang up on the way you mentioned his cock in such a raunchy manner, unbefitting of a lady—not being able to tear his eyes away from how soaked you were, and only dripping more, your hole clenching around nothing, as if already taunting him inside. “making a mess all over yourself, like you belong on streets of silk than in the bed of a prince.”
he couldn’t help but lean down, but not towards where you were softest. not yet. his rough lips pressed to the warmth now seared onto your arse, only hovering for a moment, before he pulled back his lips to bite, sinking his teeth into the ardent flesh. gently at first, just a slight press of canines. a dragon claiming what he marked.
then he kissed it. a hot, open—mouthed press that warmed the aching skin even more. no finesses, no romance. just raw possession now, letting you know with teeth and tongue that you belonged to him entirely now, and not the other way around. gods and vows aside. he was not yours. but you were his.
you couldn’t help the soft sounds falling from your lips, every touch from your husband burning. a true dragon’s claim on his hoard. no longer distant, no longer resisting that primal instinct you knew lay dormant within him, just waiting to be taunted out.
“a—ah, you could always move your mouth lower, my lord husband.”
lower.
said in such a sultry, daring way, as if you thought he wouldn't, as if you needed to coax him towards your cunt.
maekar exhaled slowly, the flush on his throat only blooming more insistent with every word from you, each more sweltering than the other. he even forgot about the courtiers lingering on the other side of the door. the thought only made his flush deepen, traveling all the way to the tips of his ears, reddening his cheeks along the way. he’s sure they heard the spanks. gods, they’re gonna think him a barbarian who slaps his wife around for pleasure. and it was only your fault for goading him into such things.
he couldn’t let shame burn too hotly in his gut, choosing to distract himself by slowly peppering kisses up your thighs, tongue laving across the skin, pulling more breathy sounds out of you. every press of lips was deliberate, each one slower than the last, inching where you wanted him most, where you smelled strongest. tangy, musky, and just a bit of sweetness, all dripping out of you, the more attention he gave.
for a prince of the realm, the way he comported himself tonight should’ve been shameful, but he couldn’t think about propriety and etiquette as his nose brushed along your folds, inhaling deeply, searing your scent to the back of his throat as he groaned aloud. fuck, fuck, fuck.
it felt perverted to trail the tip of his nose along your drooly folds, spreading them just so, nudging them apart, coating himself in your juices, mouth dropping open in a near growl.
the sound that got out of you was more like a yelped moan than anything, but you pressed your hips back, as if itching to hump your pussy against the bridge of his nose. and maybe one day, he would let you do just that, but today he had other plans, as he let the tip of his nose bump against your chubby clit, brushing against the silky skin.
“yes, yes, yes, right there,” you whined like a mantra, having no qualms in moving your hips, grinding down helplessly in hopes of pressing the tip of your husband’s nose more firmly against the bundle of nerves at the top of your pussy. “feels good, husband, gods—”
just this. just you humping his nose like a fevered whore, getting him soaked with your slick, enough for it to drip onto his reddened cheeks and even down to his lips, urging him to lick at them, tasting you on his tongue.
that was enough to urge him to stick his tongue out and lave at your pussy, a broad, firm flick of it, greedily soaking up all the wetness he could. maekar would drink from you if he could. if such a thing as the nectar of the gods existed, he was sure it wouldn’t come close to the taste of your cunt on his tongue.
your moan was loud, pulled from deep within your chest, melting you from head to toe as your husband continued to lap at you with a greed rivaling a thief's, stealing the sweetest sounds from your throat, the combination of his nose bumping into your clit and his tongue parting your folds almost making you go cross eyed from pleasure. “don’t stop, don’t—fuck, maekar, don’t stop licking.”
even like this, you were demanding and bossy.
“y’taste good, wife,” came muffled from between your thighs, accompanied by wet, slurping sounds, so lewd and arousing, it only made you drip onto his awaiting tongue more. “if i knew this was all i needed to do to keep your mouth shut,” a suck against your quivering hole, obscene enough to make even you flush. “i would’ve had you spread open right after we signed the papers,” a huff against your wetness, before he nudged his nose against your clit anew, grinding it in slow circular motions, making you shake. “it would’ve saved me a fortnight of peace.”
his words only made you seek his touch more, hips grinding with more fervor, seeking as much pleasure as he could give. “you should’ve,” you retorted, airy and soft, molded around a mewl as his tongue replaced the tip of his nose, circling your clit firmly, your eyes almost rolling back into your head from how good it felt. “should’ve taken me, too. put your cock to good use and render me speechless.”
as always, you were relentless. here he was, drowning in your pussy, and you wanted more. he should’ve left you like that, a sprawled mess onto the bed, aching and whining, showing you the importance of patience. of gratitude. of restraint.
but, alas, he has lost the will to make you suffer, to want to see you crumple, and now only desired this version of you. needy and pliant and pleading for every inch of him like a good wife would.
and even then, he couldn’t forget all the lip you gave him, all those jabs and ceaseless fussing.
your husband was not going to give you everything you wanted when you wanted it. not on your terms.
maekar drew back from between your folds, your juices smeared over the bottom half of his face, coating his beard, glistening in the candlelight, and twirled his tongue around his mouth for a few moments, before spitting right onto your quivering hole, thumb following to spread the wetness around. it was vulgar, but it made you whine louder. so he did it again, a bigger glob of saliva this time, dripping from your entrance to your clit, before trailing down onto the bedding.
“filthy,” he rebuked, as if he wasn’t the one dirtying you with such unabashed lewdness. two thick, calloused fingers swiped through the mixture of slick and spit, gathering it generously before feeding it into your hole, slow and methodical, all the way up to the second knuckle.
and curled, brushing against spongy walls.
“gods—,” you cried out, clenching around his fingers, as if sucking them deeper. it made your husband growl, punishing your greed by curling the digits again, dragging the rough pads along those spots which made your pitch higher, your thighs quiver. “more, maekar,” you pleaded, pushing your hips back, grinding onto his fingers, ass jiggling from the way maekar’s wrist slapped against the bottom of your rear. “need more, ah, need your cock. p—put your cock in me already, you brute—” you tried again, but he ignored you, only adding a third finger, stuffing you more full, placating you. but teasing you in equal measure, like the brute he was.
that seemed to frustrate you more, whine gurgling from your throat, hips gyrating with more insistence. “n—not enough!” you gritted, so, so impatient, focused on getting the only thing you truly wanted. “a true husband would’ve had his cock in me by now! a—are you, ah, fuck,” a harsh flick of his wrist interrupted your protests, deterring you for a moment, before you continued, brows furrowing. “does your prick not work anymore, my lord husband? are you afraid i won’t be satisfied?” the words tumbled out of your mouth unbidden, throwing every taunt at him in hopes of him biting.
“is it so small that it’ll leave me asking for your fingers again or—”
silence.
before a weight settled over your back like a blanket, so warm and sturdy, pinning your upper body onto the pelts ruthlessly, stealing the breath from your lungs, leaving you winded for a few moments.
“shut up,” was growled against your ear, so low and vicious it made your now empty hole quiver and drip even more slick. gods, where had his fingers gone? “you insufferable, wanton wench,” his words dripped with so much venom it made a delicious shiver run down your spine, more than delighted to have him pressed along your back, shoulders to hips, feeling the hard length of his cock press along the folds of your pussy through his breeches.
one of his hands fumbled with the fastenings, pulling himself out, thick and girthy, guiding the head towards your folds, smearing his precum all over the silky flesh as he panted against your ear. “you don’t deserve this,” he rumbled, gliding the cock-head slowly along the wetness, before slapping it against your clit. once, twice, like small love taps, barely giving you any stimulation. “but i’ll give it to you anyway,” he inched back towards your entrance, repeating the lewd motion, precum coating the throbbing hole with each slap of the head against it.
his arms moved, one settling by your head, elbow pressed into the mattress so he can curl all that muscle and sinew against your neck, cradling your head between his forearm and bicep, the crook of his elbow pressing softly against your throat, making you gasp, choked and whiny. your husband had you in a headlock, squeezing just so, just enough for you to feel his strength and what he could do with it, if he wished.
it made you moan shamelessly, palms coming to curl around the muscle there, nails digging in, making maekar hiss, and flex just a bit more in retaliation, before relaxing the squeeze.
“please, husband,” you pleaded, a little breathless from the hold of his arm, pushing your hips back against him. “take me, fuck me, have me.”
music to maekar’s ears. having you so desperate, begging for him so sweetly, letting him place you how he wanted and keep you there, his weight keeping you pressed to the bedding, your hips tilted up by his other hand, which now slowly pushed the head of his cock into your glistening hole, still careful, even with all the pent-up frustration and arousal. he never meant to hurt you, no matter how much you infuriated him.
a loud, suffering groan brushed your ear as he bottomed out, feeling how tight you were, how wet and warm and gods—he could die in your cunt. in this greedy, hungry thing, which pulsed and throbbed and squeezed around him like it wanted him deeper.
you were no better, practically drooling over his bicep, shameless moans spilling freely, loud enough to be heard by the courtiers, perhaps the whole castle. pleasure overtook you, urging you to babble, fingers gripping at his muscles like a lifeline. “have me, husband,” you repeated those salacious words, clenching around him tightly. “t—take me like a real man, not a green boy who—”
the hand that guided his cock inside snapped upwards, clamping over your mouth, thick fingers pressing into the flush of your skin, rendering any more comments to silence.
“shut,” he ground out, dragging his hips back before snapping them forward, thrusting inside you. “your insolent mouth, woman,” rasped against your cheek now, as he set a firm, ruthless pace, navel slapping against the flesh of your ass, making it jiggle, the sound echoing through the room.
your sounds of pleasure were muffled by his hands, slobbering all over the inside of his palm from how much you were drooling, moans and cries barely making it past the rough fingers pressed to your lips. maekar could’ve winced at the feeling of wetness, but it only thrilled him more to have you like this, mindless with bliss from how deep his cock reached, the tip hitting that one spot inside your gummy walls that made your nails scratch at his bicep and your tongue lolling out, pressing against his palm, even daring to lick.
every thrust brought him closer to the edge, feeling the telltale sign of heat at the base of his spine, spreading into the pit of his stomach. and by the way your sounds could barely be silenced anymore, so were you.
his pace quickened, hips snapping against your ass harder, rutting into you with fervor, close to snarling against your ear from how good it felt. gods, your pussy was made for this. for him. coating his cock, making tendrils of slick stick to his navel and the backs of your thighs from how wet you were, the sounds squelching and filthy. “pussy so good, wife,” maekar rumbled, the praise slipping from his mouth. “so good for your husband’s cock.”
his wife was getting close, he could tell; her hands now clawing at the one of his onto her mouth, making him slacken it just enough for her to cry out, garbled and supplicating.
“spend in me,” you mewled, little ah, ah, ah sounds muffling against the inside of his palm, now coated with your drool. “give me your seed, maekar,” the pleading continued, making his thrusts falter minutely. “let me have your seed, husband.”
you sounded so desperate, so… earnest, as if all that happened led to this, to you asking for something a husband should give freely, without a shroud of doubt. like a future where you might end up round and full with his child was something you would be pleased with. it was too much for him. he won’t be made to believe that such a forthcoming was meant to be sound, especially when you were overcome with pleasure.
maekar found himself shaking his head, palms pressing back against your mouth to silence any more begging, to cease such ramblings from a woman who didn’t mean what she was saying, even if your words almost made him cum inside of you moments ago.
“i—i can’t,” he groaned, low and shaky, as if pained. “i won’t, wife.”
A/N.: Hello, lovies! I meant to post this earlier, but work has been a hassle and I had to travel for a bit. This chapter is a tad shorter than the previous, but still a little too long. There's some smut right below the cut, so discretion is advised, again. I really hope you guys have been enjoying this as much as I am. Thank you again for all the love!
Do you believe in fate?
It could have been fate that put you in the right place, and the right time, for the most amazing - and bizarre - experience you've ever had.
Struggling to make it as a stage assistant, you were hired by a very mysterious, anonymous band that you already admired. With a whole tour in front of you, you have more than enough time to get to know the men behind those masks, and understand how painfully human each of them is. You have more than enough time to fall for each of them, in different, unique ways.
It is hard to figure out what fate means by it when it puts you between such distinct, but wonderful choices. Four of them, no less.
TW: Adult content. There will be mentions of abuse, harassment, and alcohol consumption, as well as eventual smut. MDNI +18
Maybe it was your body trying to adjust to that bed. Maybe it was the fact that you were no longer used to sleep with another body next to you, let alone two. Everything was still fresh, the sun hadn't come up yet.
You must've turned on your back in your sleep. III still had a possessive grip on your waist, and you could feel his slow, calm breathing on your naked shoulder. You looked to your right, and IV was laying on his stomach, his face turned to you, the softest, most peaceful expression on his face.
You didn't think before you reached out and brushed his hair away from his forehead lightly, not wanting to disturb him. His hair was so soft, like running your fingers through dark golden silk.
Just a little bit more, you thought, still tangling your fingers in his hair. You weren't looking at his face when he opened his eyes. All you know is that they were open, glimmering in the soft light coming from the lampshade.
IV wasn't smiling, and neither were you. He reached for the hand on his hair, his skin unbearably warm. He sniffed the back of your hand before kissing it.
It was still night, you felt drunk on everything that happened a few hours prior, and you weren't really thinking about anything except of how beautiful IV looked. You considered taking your hand away just to adjust your position, but he didn't let you.
IV didn't use force once, until that moment. Not that he was aggressive, far from it, but he was determined not to let you distance yourself from him. Not that you wanted to anyways.
He tugged you closer, and III loosened his grip but didn't let you go completely. IV turned to lay on his back, and grabbed ahold of your face for a deep and dirty kiss that got you wet in a heartbeat. He had his whole hand on the back of your head, guiding you, licking inside your mouth in a very slow, languid, deliberate movement.
You both moaned inside each other's mouth. Your hand went to rest on the solidness of his chest, and it slid down inside the covers on its own, coming to stop on the small trail of hair he had under his navel. He broke the kiss, and you opened your eyes slowly, almost painfully.
He huffed a laugh. "You're so sleepy, darling. I don't want you semi-conscious", he tucked your hair behind your ear.
You playfully pouted, drawing a laugh from his nose and placing a finger on his lips. "Shh," you shushed him. "We don't have to go too far, I just want to appreciate you."
He let out a pretty little sound between a quiet chuckle and a moan. Your hand found him fully hard and twitching over his sweats, and he dropped his head down on his pillow. You felt III loosen his grip even further, slightly stirring in his sleep, so you took the opportunity to get closer to IV, resting your torso over his.
Your hand came up again, slowly, learning the dips and rises of the skin on his waist, his stomach, his chest. He was the right ratio of solid and soft, his chest was heaving out of rhythm, his breath coming out in shallow puffs through gentle, pinkish lips.
He lifted his right hand to your naked back, walking his fingers from the middle of your back to the base of your spine, slowly, appreciative, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He pulled your hair to the side to better touch the back of your neck, to pull you in for another kiss, and another.
Your hand dipped inside the covers, and inside his pants this time. IV was rock hard, hot and heavy, and his cock kicked in your grasp as if it had a mind of its own. You gave him a nice, firm pump, punctuated by tapping your fingertips on his damp tip.
"Fuck...", he whispered, nuzzling against the crook of your neck. "I've wanted this so bad..."
His little confessions ran straight to your core, like they did the night before. Except you were braver now, three orgasms and a few hours of sleep later.
"What exactly did you think about?", you asked by his ear, kissing his jaw afterwards. "Tell me", you demanded, as you thumbed his tip, smearing pre-cum there, making him hiss.
"I thought about how pretty your fingers would look around me", he rasped, his hands reaching to knead at your breasts. "That you'd make me cum so fast." His icy eyes turned straight to yours.
You licked your lips, your breath hitching in your throat from his voice alone. "Me too", you confessed, now fully jerking him off underneath his pants. "Can't count how many times I came all over my fingers, wishing they were yours", you managed to say, breath stuttering, moaning by his ear in between words. "Those strong...", you eyed as he lifted his hand to your face. "Rough...", he landed his index and middle fingers on your bottom lip. "Beautiful fingers of yours."
IV pulled your bottom lip down, and you slipped your tongue out to lick it, tentative at first, and then you sucked it in until it was sitting on your tongue. He let out a strangled moan. His finger was rough and salty in your mouth.
His moans started spilling a little more freely now. You got annoyed with the restraint of his sweats, so you whined prettily and started tugging them down, making him giggle softly and lift his hips. When his pants were only bunched over his thighs, he pulled you in again for another kiss, harder this time.
During the kiss, you pushed the covers down, and finally started touching him the way you actually wanted, only running your fingers across his length at first, feeling every ridge, every vein, the texture, the dampness, using your fingers as your eyes. He whined and bucked his hips into your hand, letting out broken, feminine sounds that drove you crazy. The right twist of your wrist made him choke on a moan harshly, gripping the sheets underneath.
You did it again. "Like that?", you asked quietly against his mouth.
"Yeah...", he swallowed thickly, shuddering under you. "Yeah, please, just like that. Please, don't stop."
Of course it was hot, having such a gorgeous, tall and strong man. You know what was hotter? Having him pliant like putty in your hands, all sweet and submissive, begging for anything you would give him.
That's the kind of power you could get drunk on.
But any ounce of coherent thought you might still have had stored in the depths of your mind completely fried when you felt the body behind you move, III's hand closed around your right arm, slid down to the hand you were using on IV, and fisted around it, starting to jerk him off with you. His grip was firmer, demanding, forcing you to slightly change the pace, IV's cock twitched harder in your hand now.
IV threw his head back, eyes fluttering shut. "Jesus fuck...", he drawled.
III leaned over your body, hard cock pressing against your ass. He kissed your shoulder and looked at IV from behind your head. "Let me help you, princess", he said sweetly by your ear. "Apply the right amount of pressure, use your fingers in the right places, and he caves beautifully. Let's see how much more he can take?", he asked.
You moaned and nodded, biting down on your lower lip.
The first thing he did afterwards was to adjust himself behind you, pushing you flushed against his hips, nestling his cock against your ass, bracing his weight on his left arm. You arched your back and pressed your ass against him on impulse, closing your eyes. III's movement got more deliberate, possessive, the speed of both of your hands increasing on IV's cock, until his back was lifting from the mattress.
"Darling, please...", he cried. "I'm gonna— Fuck, I'm gonna cum", he tied a few curses together, fighting to keep his eyes open, frowning beautifully at you. "I've wanted you so bad", he mumbled almost incoherently. "Don't stop, please, look at me. Don't let me go."
You came closer to his face, his hands coming to grab you by the hair with a bit of force. The kiss was dirty, noisy, with you trying to swallow every moan and groan he allowed himself to spill.
"I'm not stopping", you assured him, noises mingling, III's breath fanning on your neck while you pressed your forehead to IV's. "Cum for me, Ivy. Let me see it", you gasped.
IV's grasp on your hair and neck got stronger suddenly, pulling you into another kiss and hugging you close, his moan nearly a scream muffled inside your mouth. He spilled thick, high pressure ropes, white and hot all over yours and III's hands, as well as his own stomach and chest. You've never seen him breathing so hard, never seen his eyes so hazy, so lost, when you pulled away from the kiss to take a breath.
"You're so handsome", you breathed out before you could think, feeling your face hot immediately, thankful the darkness.
IV huffed a puff of air against your face, could've been a laugh, could've been a scoff, didn't look like any of it.
He was still grasping on your neck and face, still craving something to ground him, and III leaned over you to kiss him as well. Witnessing it sent shocks right through your extremely aroused mind. III didn't kiss IV like he kissed you. There wasn't that delicate study, that way of his that felt like he was trying to teach you how to kiss him while learning how to kiss you.
There was only intimacy, a kiss that looked as old as time, easy, familiar, romantic even.
Smashed between the two of them, you were able to feel every single one of their muscles relax into it, both cocks kicking. It was beautiful to watch. And hot too.
"Fuck", IV panted, gasping for air as if he had been under water after that kiss. "Fuck, darling, I want both of you to touch me forever."
That made the butterflies in your stomach soar. You huffed a laugh, laying your head on his chest, just to take a breath for a second, and then you shifted until you were laying on your back, III bracing his weight on his hands on top of you. You smirked at him.
"Now you", you whispered, and he rained down on you, kisses and small touches showering down your face, neck, and chest.
III felt impatient, slotting himself between your thighs, using a hand on your left leg to keep it open wide. He thrusted forward once against you, your wetness staining his pants, making you moan.
"Cum with me, luv", III asked, pressing his forehead against yours.
You kissed him, and dipped the hand still coated in IV's mess inside his sweats. An involuntary gasp left your lungs when you felt him for the first time, hard, hot, and heavy, like a piece of iron left on open fire. IV was girthier, but III was longer, curved upwards in such a way that got you clenching just by imagining the places within you he could reach.
He breathed out heavily, eyes fluttering shut as you touched him. You used your other hand to push his pants down and he helped you, shifting out of it until his cock sprung free. When you used IV's come as lube to start pumping him, both men moaned.
III started bucking into your hand, fast and sloppy, until he pinned you down on the mattress, covered your hand with his again, and started jerking himself off with his tip rubbing on your clit and teasing your entrance. You took away your messy hand and started touching yourself with it, throwing your head back on the pillow and letting soft moans cross your lips. Your other hand went to III's short hair on the back of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. Just a few moments of that did it for him.
You came when he did. III carefully laid on top of you, his head tucked in the crook of your neck, only his tip snug against your entrance as his groans transformed into loud moans. Your fingers picked up the pace on your clit on their own.
"Fuck, III, I'm gonna—", you stiffened underneath him.
"Yeah, princess, that's it", he lifted his head just enough to press your foreheads together, his nose right next to yours. "Open your eyes f'me, pet. Look at me when you cum."
Something underneath your skin uncoiled, slithering from your lower belly to the top of your thighs, making you shudder and contract, driving III to the edge of reason for only being able to feel the ghost of the movement of your internal clenching.
"Oh my God, fuck!", you squealed, eyes threatening to shut, but you wouldn't let them. The sight of III's lost eyes only heightening the sensations.
"Fuck, you're so beautiful", he drawled between his teeth, and let out a jagged groan that ended in a long, jagged moan.
Feeling him coat the outside of your pussy and lazily kick at your entrance almost sent you over the edge again, and you let out a charged moan that surprised even you. III kissed you tenderly, almost too tender for him, and tumbled to your left side in a fit of small chuckles. You were also giggling when you noticed IV's side of the bed empty and the bathroom light on.
He came back with a damp towel, helped cleaning you up, and pushed his way back under the covers beside you. This time, it seemed like both you and III were seeking his heat, all three of you smashing together on the center of bed. IV wrapped his right arm around you as you laid your head under his chin, and III slotted himself against you, draping his long arm over both of you.
"Will you let me sleep now?", IV joked, getting comfortable.
You scoffed. "Oh, I'm sorry I bothered you. You don't want it anymore, noted."
"I'm just kidding!", he laughed.
"Guess it's just you and me then, III", you turned to the bassist, giving your back to him.
"I suppose so, Giggles", III said, his eyes already closed, placing his hand on the crook of your neck and joining your foreheads.
"Goddamnit", IV breathed, giggling and poking your side, cuddling you and holding you tightly against him.
---
The sun shining straight on your face was the only thing that could've pulled you out of your dreams after the best night of sleep you've had in years. The light made you frown before opening your eyes, and when you did, a chill ran up violently over your spine. IV was awake, laying in front of you, eyes half-lidded, bed hair matted, pointing in all directions.
He smiled the laziest, most relaxed and beautiful smile you've ever seen. All memories from the previous night came crashing down on you, making your heart speed up and your stomach tighten.
IV must've seen the slight panic in your eyes. He brought his hand to your face, tracing your lips with his thumb. He seemed happy.
The guitarist pulled you closer to cuddle, and the heat coming from him tried to convince you to relax. But the morning light was cruel, forcing you to at least try to see things as they were. What was this, anyway?
III came closer to both of you, still half asleep, just grunting on your neck while pulling you tightly.
You looked up to IV, who never looked away from you.
"Morning, darling", he murmured, voice thick and smooth from sleep. "Are you alright?"
Forcing a smile, you nodded. "Yeah... Are you?"
"Never been better", he said with an easiness that you envied.
Of course it was easy for him. None of what happened would impact his job, his life. It wouldn't matter if the whole crew discovered what happened.
He would just have you if he wanted you again, and not even look your way if he didn't.
"Whoa, where did you just go there, little darling?", IV asked, not knowing what was going on in your head, but being able to see the spirals behind your eyes. "Stay with me."
He tightened the hug around you, and it was grounding. Your body nestled against him without your permission, trying to find comfort without having to ask for it. He started combing your hair with his fingers.
"What time is it?", you asked, head back on his chest.
"Too early", he shrugged. "You don't have to worry yet."
"Load-out starts at 6 a.m.", you said as if it was the most important truth in the universe.
"No", he started, tracing your lips with his fingers. "The crew reunites at the lobby at 6. Then some of them have breakfast, other people just catch up. I promise I'll help you be there at 7."
You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.
"Thank you", you managed to say, holding his torso tighter as you rested your head on his chest. "I'm kinda scared", you confessed before you thought better of it.
"Hm", IV hummed, as if he already knew what you were talking about. "Of what?"
It was a tough question, and only one answer felt true. "Of everything", you sighed deeply. "Stepping out of this room and facing the crew. How's this gonna impact my job? How's this gonna impact my relationship with all of you? Can we just go back to how we were yesterday evening?"
"I'd certainly hope not", he scoffed quickly, frowning at you.
"What the actual fuck are you on about, Giggles?", III interjected, pulling you harder against him. You startled, not knowing he was awake until that moment. "Go back to how we were when? When we were pinning over you like a bunch of stray puppies, and you looked absolutely miserable?"
You turned to look at him. "I just need to have an idea of how's this gonna be moving forward, III."
By God, you were never the type to be asking "what are we?" after one single night of making out, but this time you needed to know. There was too much at stake.
"How do you want it to go?", IV asked, and he sounded genuine.
You pushed up from him, sitting up with your back on the pillows. "You have to understand...", you started, not knowing to which set of eyes you should look, so you settled for your own hands, folded on your lap. "I'm trying to protect myself here."
"You still think you need to protect yourself from us?", III asked. He didn't sound offended or accusatory, but the softness in his voice made your heart ache a little.
IV raised a hand at him, as to tell him to stop talking. "Tell me more, darling", he asked. "Please."
You breathed a few times before speaking. "I need to protect what I have. My job, my career, my reputation. I don't know what this means to you guys, and I don't have to know", you wanted to keep a firm, steady voice, but it came out as anything but. "But if this is a one time thing, or a casual now-and-then thing, it's okay, but I'll have to make sure no one finds out about it."
Your hands fidgeted and shook non-stop. III covered them with his. "Giggles, look at me."
You didn't want to.
You didn't want to, because you remembered how handsome he was. How easily you would fall for any lies he would tell you. And just like that, when your eyes met his, you were a goner.
III looked beautiful in that painful, washed out morning light. Bleached hair all messy, glossy blue eyes from sleep.
"Tell me what you want from this", he asked.
It was ridiculous, how easily you were almost persuaded into giving up your secrets. Stuff you struggled to admit even to yourself. That you were scared of how much you wanted to wake up like this every day.
That deep down, you hoped they wanted it too. That what you truly wanted was for them to want you as badly as you wanted them. And that they would help you protect the peace your naive self wanted to believe you could build together.
That you couldn't stop thinking about them for weeks.
You almost said it. Almost.
"You first", you shot back, biting down on your lip, your guard still up, your fears still showing.
They both chuckled, a little surprised.
"If I tell you", IV considered, eyeing you. "You wouldn't feel obligated or uncomfortable doing whatever you want to, would you?"
"No", you shook your head. You meant it.
"And you would believe me?"
"That depends", you answered honestly.
He huffed a laugh. "You wanna know what I want from this?", the guitarist pushed up until his face was close to yours.
"Mhm", you nodded.
IV leaned over you and pinned you on the bed. III sat up too, his hand on your hair, blunt, powerful fingers massaging your scalp.
"I want...", IV started, his face almost glued to yours, his legs nudging yours open to accomodate him under the covers. "...to wake up to this every morning...", he kissed you, just a small peck on your lips. "...in every city we land...", another kiss on the corner of your mouth. "...and to be able to plan my free time based on where you are and what you're doing."
You sighed, and internally you hoped that it didn't sound too dreamy. It was one of the hardest things you've ever done, keeping yourself grounded, trying to remind yourself he must've said that a thousand different times, to a thousand different women in the exact same situation you were then.
"You know I'm letting you in my pants anyway, right?", you joked, but with a sharp edge to it. "You don't have to say shit like that."
IV dropped his head in defeat, and they both laughed.
"It's getting harder and harder not to be offended by your suspicion", III pointed out, sounding playfully annoyed. "Never have given you a reason to think so little of us."
"I'm serious, darling", IV said, grabbing your hands and pinning them above your head. "You said you don't need to know what this means to us, but you do. I want a constant, not a situation. I wanna know where you are, what you're doing, and I wanna know you'll be here at the end of the day."
You placed a hand on the crook of his neck. It was clear that you were still fighting an internal battle as to believe him or not. Why should you? What reason did they have to like you so much?
You were just a roadie.
"Giggles", III called, making you look up to him. "If I told you I just wanted to fuck every now and then, no strings attached, you would've believed it, wouldn't you", it wasn't a question.
"I—", he was right. You believing them or not depended on what was easy for you to believe.
There was a knock on the door, soft and tentative.
"Are you guys up?", it was Vessel.
You shot up, your eyes looking for a t-shirt, anything you could wear. IV's weight on top of you disappeared, he rearranged himself on his pillows and covered you with the duvet.
"Yeah, it's open", he said before you could protest.
You just dipped under the covers and prayed that the bed would swallow you whole. III and IV shifted closer to you, the bassist put a reassuring hand on your leg, smiling relaxed at you.
The door opened slowly, as if they were still asking for permission, but soon Vessel and II were in your line of vision, the tallest holding your backpack by one of the straps. They were in the prior night's clothes, Vessel in a white t-shirt and light gray sweatpants, and II was in all black Adidas long sleeve shirt and joggers.
You expected something. Anything, really. A reaction, a giggle, a scowl, anything.
There was nothing.
They approached the three of you with a unison "Morning".
"Good morning", the three of you answered, yours almost impossible to hear due to your shyness.
"Your phone was ringing, angel", Vessel approached, offering your bag.
"Oh, I'm so sorry", you grabbed it, pressing the covers against your chest. "Did it wake you up?"
"Nah, we were already up", he smiled kindly.
While fishing your phone from your bag, you saw II bend over near the foot of the bed and come back up with the shirt you were wearing the night before. IV pushed the covers from himself and got up, going towards the bathroom.
There was some work notifications in your phone, basically the schedule for the day and whatnot. You were distracted by it, so you didn't see II coming up to you and sitting by your side on the bed. He pushed the collar of the shirt over your head, helping you put it on.
It was a small gesture, but his expression was relaxed, kind, domestic.
"Sleep well?", he asked.
"Mhm", you simply said, clearing your throat to see if you could find your voice anywhere.
"We were talking logistics", III told him while he grabbed the phone from the nightstand. "She's worried about work. And other things."
"Hm", II grunted, nodding his head knowingly, his eyes still on you. "Do you want space to discuss it with III and IV, or the wiser, more reliable and stable ones are allowed to give their input?", he gestured between Vessel and himself.
You chuckled, more out of a shocked reflex than out of amusement. III scoffed, a playful offended scowl on his face while he talked to the front desk.
"Wiser and stable, but no less weird", you mumbled under your breath.
"Oi", Vessel placed an offended hand on his chest.
"You mean to say that that's a very normal situation?", you giggled through your sentence, and he came to sit by your feet.
IV came out of the bathroom, wearing a slate grey oversized hoodie and his usual black jeans ripped at the knees. The blonde hair in a glorious mess on top of his head looking like a halo, he looked so handsome like that.
"Go take a shower, get dressed in something comfy", the guitarist advised you, leaning over one of his duffle bags and rummaging there. "We'll talk about it over breakfast, darling", he took out an enormous faded black hoodie and threw it at your legs.
You sighed deeply, adjusting the t-shirt under the covers and pushing out of the bed. It was surprising, how light you felt. Your feet hit the fluffy carpet under the bed, and they weren't hurting. The muscles on your legs and lower back weren't tight.
Your head felt light on top of your neck.
You should have been worried, and you were. But not nearly as much as you felt you should. Something deep within you was trying to convince you to be stupidly optimistic.
It told you that those men really liked you. That Vessel would help you focus on what mattered to you, while II took care of everything in your place, III would tackle every fight anyone would throw at you, while IV spoiled you rotten. All of this while you did what you do best, which was taking care of them and their art.
It was a lie, though. You needed to remind yourself your wishful thinking was lying to you.
Looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror, you looked like you've been torned apart and put back together again. Your hair was a holy mess, the bags under your eyes could be seen from miles away, but nothing could compare to the bruises blooming on your neck and collarbone, like a necklace of beautiful dotted flowers, purple, red, magenta, and pink. There was no way you would be able to cover that up.
You showered, got dressed in Vessel's boxers, the flared leggings you wore the night before, and IV's hoodie. You figured you left your boots in Vessel's room.
Leaving the bathroom felt like the night before. The four of them were casually talking, III and Vessel on the bed, II and IV sat by the small table by the window. All good humour and relaxed remarks, mostly talking about how excited they were for their next gig.
"There you are, angel", Vessel was the first one to see you, you've never seen him relaxed like that, his back against the headboard, his hands folded on his lap, his ankles crossed. Long fingers reached for you and wiggled. "Come sit with us."
Your legs took you to him by themselves. He scooted until he was in the middle of the bed, and you sat where IV slept. They smelled so different from one another.
IV smelled like a hug, clean clothes, something warm, something soft. Vessel was earthy, grounding, like a temple, a sanctuary.
"How do you wanna go about this, love?", II asked. "Tell me what you need from us."
A heartbeat, a twitch of your fingers resting on your lap. "I...", you stuttered.
"How can we reassure you?", Vessel asked. "What can we say that you would believe?"
Maybe it was the firm grip he had on your hand. Maybe it was the desperate will to trust them. The only thing stronger than these, was your will to seem firm, strong, capable, like II said you were.
"I just need to know what to expect, so I can manage this properly", you said, clinical, maybe too cold.
"Manage?", III asked. You could hear he was offended. "Why in the world you'd think you'll have to manage us?"
"III", Vessel tried to warn him.
"No, don't", he raised a hand, suddenly too worked up to stay in bed. He hauled the covers away and got up, bed hair all messy and grey sweats hanging low around his hips. He rounded the bed like a predator, blue eyes fixed on you.
As he approached you, you could see everything, every beautiful detail that made III who he was. The bleached hair, the clear eyes, the blonde facial hair.
"Manage?", he repeated, looking straight at you. "What the fuck am I to you, a glitchy modeler?"
"No, III, it wasn't what I meant", you sat up, your arms reaching for him on their own, and he let you touch him, your hand resting on his forearm. "I'm still not sure what you guys want...", you stuttered. "What you expect of this", you gestured to the room, looking at him, then to IV. "And I wouldn't mind to find out as we go, but this is my job, it's all that I have. People can't know about it, I'd lose the little respect I worked my ass off to earn."
You were frantic, the grasp on his arm begging him to understand. He didn't.
"You want it straight? Fine. I don't do secrets well, and I don't do sharing with anyone outside this room", he placed a firm hand on top of yours on his forearm, pulling you closer with a yank, forcing you to look at him. "What I want is for you to stop pretending that all we want is a hookup. I want you in my bed, and I want you by my side, and I want every prick out there to know that when they're looking at you, they're looking at mine."
Your heart stuttered in your chest. Even though this didn't answer all of your questions, there were certainly some serious implications. Your free hand went to your collarbone, as if you would be able to feel the hickeys they left there.
"Is that it, then?", you asked, your brain only able to focus on one of his sentences at a time. "A territory thing? You wanted me to rub it on the crew's faces?"
III's eyes went wide, and he let out a breath, something between a stunned gasp and a scoff. "Is this what you took from what I said?", he mumbled.
"Okay, maybe we should pick this up later", II interfered, getting up from his chair.
"No, I need this now, I have to work today and I don't want to keep wondering, and I can't keep feeling scared of what you guys might do or say, or what the crew might see or hear", your words were all over the place.
II stopped on his tracks, allowing you a few more minutes of space to work things out.
"I don't think you're giving us a fair chance, darling", IV finally said something. He spent the whole time in a weird silence, almost like he was brooding. "I told you before, I'm not a nice bloke, I'm not considerate, and I won't give you space, like II want us to, and risk you start wondering if I'm serious. So here's my answer: I want the woman who makes me wanna keep playing until my fingers bleed just so she won't take her eyes off me. Being with me implicates in dealing with my jealousy, with my protectiveness of you, and the fact that I won't be apart from you."
"That's...", you started, trying to find words while processing everything they said. "That's so hard to believe", you confessed. "I don't see why. I'm just a roadie", you blurted, dreading the vulnerability. "I'm just a roadie, like the first thousand you've met before, and the next thousand you'll meet", you swallowed the shakiness, and it went straight to your hands. Vessel's hand went to the back of your neck. "That's why I must insist...", another deep breath, another look at each of them. "If this is casual, if this is going to be an occasional hook up, I'm not saying no, I'm just asking that we'd be discreet."
Your shallow, shuddering breath made you feel childish and ridiculous, like a teenage girl trying to anticipate her first breakup.
"No one's gonna take your job away, love", II said a little too quickly for him. "If anything, we want to be at your corner for you to do it better. Happier. But you're protecting the job because it's the only thing you think you own. You're wrong, love. That's wrong."
"You do understand that we wanted to know how you feel so we don't keep pursuing something you don't want, right? Because when you call us a matter to be managed, it sounds like you're already looking for an exit", Vessel offered, eloquent and calm, a grounding hand on the back of your neck.
You weren't looking for an exit. You weren't. The exact opposite. You were looking for a sign, anything, that would help you find a way to stand even closer to them.
"I'm not...", you shook your head, voice low. "I'm just trying to find a way where I don't have to choose. I work, eat, and rest with another fifty men who think I'm only here because Marcus wanted to fuck me, and I only stayed because now you want to", you gestured towards them. "As soon as someone sees me coming out of this room, I'll be just another girl, just a distraction from the tour, just...", you dropped your hands on your lap, shoulders slumping.
"If you think so little of yourself, and so little of us, that you think we make you less, then this isn't going to work out. You wanna know what I expect? I expect you to own it. You want something to manage? Manage this: I'm not gonna hide. If you want a secret, find a roadie", he spat, and you felt your body trying to curl inwards. "If you want me, you accept that I'm gonna look at you like you're my world in front of everyone."
You knew the look he was talking about. III looked at his bandmates like nothing else existed. It always seemed like he would trip or bump into someone at any time, because he only had eyes for them.
Mel mentioned he looked at you like that too.
"This isn't about my ego", your voice shook and you were terrified that it would break on you. "This is the only thing I have after everything else slips through my fingers, the only way I know how to measure my value. Ever since we started talking, I've spent the entire time hearing the riggers whispering in the wings. You know what they say? They say I'm just the band's sex toy", all four pair of eyes snapped towards you. "They say I'm here to keep you entertained. They say...", you drew a big breath, that came out jagged and chopped. "That as soon as the tour ends, I'll be tossed aside like a broken cable patch."
"Angel, that's—", Vessel tried to talk, but you raised a hand at him, now that you started talking you couldn't bring yourself to stop.
"Marcus keeps making these threats...", you continued. "That I should remember he got me this job, and that he could take it away from me. I can't give the label a reason to fire me", you brought your hands closer to your chest, picking at your nails. "If I cut this short I lose everything. My career, my reputation, you guys...", you raised your eyes to Vessel, expecting to find there some comfort, some reassurance, now that your hands tremble with a terrifying realization. "If I get fired I won't ever see you again."
There it was. A new, horrifying fear unlocked. A priority you refused to recognize until you were forced to.
You couldn't imagine how many sleepless nights you would have not knowing where they are, what they're doing. Thinking about how you would probably never meet them again. Your eyes dropped, not wanting to face them, but you eventually looked up at III right there, in front of you.
He seemed frozen since the sex toy comment, a statement that hit him harder than a punch. His jaw was set, his shoulders squared.
"Is that what you think? That you're just a tour fling? That this ends with the last show?", he asked. You shrugged and sniffed, a childish gesture, but it was too late for a facade now. He leaned forward, pressed his forehead to yours, forcing you to breathe with him. "Listen to me. Any of those bastards say anything like that again, and I'll bash their teeth in. You hear me?", you rolled your eyes, but huffed the tiniest laugh. "I fucking mean it. But babe... You need to stop believing them. This isn't true. It isn't true, you hear me?"
III kissed the bridge of your nose, and you sniffed again. When he pulled away, your eyes found II, still standing there by the foot of the bed. His expression was pained, muscles moving under the skin of his jaw and his shoulders, like a storm slowly rolling in.
"No one's gonna take your job away, love", he said through gritted teeth, voice strained. "If any of those cunts say anything, they're gone. Any of them. It could be that disgusting creep, Marcus", he drawled as if even the name left a bad taste in his mouth. "It could be Jax for all I care, they're gone. You understand?"
You gulped. "That's—"
"We want you to know that your heart will be as safe as we are with you. But you have to let us in. Truly", Vessel offered.
Another moment passes, you blink, trying to think but finding yourself unable to. A knock on the door pulled you further away from the thread of thought your mind was so desperately holding onto, and your heart kept insisting for you to let go.
"Room service", came from the door.
"It's open", IV said, rubbing his forehead, seemingly unable to look away from you.
The waiter rolled the little cart inside, flooding the room with the smell of hot coffee and fresh pastries. Jesus, III ordered enough food to feed an army. Baked goods, eggs, charcuterie, fruits, cakes, orange juice, coffee.
The sound of the little wheels was comical in contrast to the heavy silence between the five of you. The waiter started to carefully place each item on the table, and you watched it in silence without really paying attention.
Your heart felt full, like it was twice as big. You didn't think about the absurdity of the situation, nor the ethical aspects of it. You only thought about that damn warmth — the one that persisted since the night before, that tried to convince you that somehow, in the end, everything would work out fine.
That, despite all the evidence saying otherwise, you wouldn't end up jobless, alone, with tears in your eyes and your broken heart in your hands.
"I'm sorry," III's voice rang in your ears, sounding louder than it actually was. He sighed. "I'm sorry that my fucking ego blinded me to how heavy this has been for you. I'm a loud-mouthed bastard, and I forget the world is crueler to you than it is to me", he held your gaze, not looking away.
"It's okay, I'm okay", you said, hoping you'd sound at least a little firm.
"It's not, but you have to trust us", he looked you deep in your eyes, and you saw the cogs turning in his head, his eyes discreetly shifting from empathy to something similar to annoyance. "If you wanna keep it professional in front of the others, fine, we can find common ground. I'll grit my teeth. But don't you ever think you're just a toy."
There was a heavy silence again, and if your mind wasn't running a hundred miles per hour, you would've laughed at the waiter curiously glancing at you from time to time. You looked at each of them, and they were looking back at you, expecting something. III let go of you and stood up, pacing across the room, thinking.
"And if I say yes?", you finally tried, chewing on the inside of your mouth.
The room seemed to let out a collective breath. II approached you and sat down where III was.
"Then things will probably be slightly different", the drummer said, nodding slightly while grabbing ahold of your hands in his. "You can't have us pretending nothing is happening, but we promise we we'll always have your best interest in mind. This is as new for us as it is for you, but you have me, love. I've got you, okay?", he dipped his head, searching for your eyes.
"Yeah", you smiled.
"Yeah?", he leaned in until the tip of his nose brushed against yours.
You nodded, brushing your fingers over his rough hands. "I still have no idea what this is or where this is going", you chuckled. "But I wanna find out."
"And we'll try to behave", IV finally said from behind him, getting up and halting III's pacing back and forth with a gentle hand on his chest. "We don't wanna crush you. We know we're a lot", he shot a pointy look to the bassist, who scoffed. "Whatever you need to feel safe, we'll build around it. Yeah?"
"Sounds good", you offered him a smile.
IV pushed II out of the way, making the drummer grunt a grumpy sound. He grabbed your face and kissed you. It was sharp, deep, urgent, and over in a heartbeat.
His tongue brushed yours with a rhythmic, wet pressure that did its job in redirecting your attention completely back to him. You let out a small sound in his mouth, only for him to hear. He chuckled inside the kiss, and II yanked him away from you, a wet sound leaving both of your lips, making IV laugh.
"Alright, alright, let her have her breakfast", the drummer said, playfully annoyed.
He offered his hand to you, and when he pulled you away from the bed, his grasp felt different this time. II was always offering you his hand, helping you off the drum riser, or the bus, or just a flight of stairs, but it was always overly delicate, as if he was worried he'd break you. This time, II's grip was firmer, demanding, something that couldn't go unnoticed.
It wasn't bad at all. You found yourself thinking you preferred it that way.
He sat you down at the table and took the chair beside you. Vessel joined soon after, casually draping a long arm around the back of your chair, not quite touching you yet. III and IV sat on the edge of the bed, but most of the time they just hovered over the three of you.
Breakfast with the four of them was a lot.
You were in the eye of a very attractive hurricane for the next forty minutes. Vessel sipped on his Earl Grey while making bad jokes and light conversation. He didn't eat much, only nibbled on something occasionally.
II ate a healthy amount, and encouraged you to do the same. He was the one checking if your coffee had gone cold, and refilled it without you having to ask. III ate mostly protein and black coffee, occasionally dropping a comment that he'd love an energy drink and cigarettes for breakfast, sometimes he'd tear a napkin in small pieces, roll them into little balls and throw them at you and the other boys, getting paper balls in your hair and inside the hoodie you were wearing.
IV would talk to all of you with warmth and a sunshine mood, eating mostly fruits and peeling them for you — oranges and tangerines, until you told them you couldn't eat anymore.
It was chaotic, but harmless and domestic.
You were sipping the last drops of your coffee when you checked your phone. "Okay, I gotta go. I'll see you guys at the bus." You started getting up and brushing your clothes to get rid of III's paper balls. "Ves, I need to grab my shoes in your room."
He immediately put his tea down. "Yeah, of course, I'm coming with."
You two left the other three finishing their breakfast.
Vessel silently followed you across the hall, and when you were in his room he helped you find your boots, which were forgotten by the bathroom door. You sat down on the loveseat to put them on, and froze when the singer kneeled in front of you. When he slipped your right foot inside your boot and started tying your shoelaces, you thought your face never felt hotter in your life.
"What on Earth are you doing?", you mumbled. He didn't answer. "Get up!"
You lightly pushed his shoulders, but he chuckled and didn't budge until he was finished.
"I feel like I don't do nice things for you", he said, almost casually if it wasn't for a strain of shyness in his voice.
You scoffed. "You do plenty for me."
"Hm", he shrugged, with an expression that told you he wouldn't argue even if he disagreed with you. "I'll think of ways to make up for it."
And he smirked.
Vessel rarely smirked like that, and it was always towards his bandmates.
"I'm sure of it", you said. Maybe you were aiming for flirty, but it ended up coming out flat and shy, your face even hotter if that was even possible.
He got up and offered his hand for you to leave the room. IV and II were talking in the hallway.
"We're coming with you", II said. "III's in the shower and he'll be joining us soon."
Your eyes went wide. "No, no, no, no, let me meet the crew by myself first?", you asked anxiously. "Give me a few minutes."
Both of them stepped back, and II nodded. IV huffed, a small sound of frustration.
"We'll be down in five." Vessel said, placing his hands on IV's shoulders.
You muttered a thank you and went for the elevator. It was the longest elevator ride of your life, finally alone with your thoughts after the previous night, your mind teetering between spiraling and feeling like a school girl in love for the first time. But you also felt like you had done something bad and would get caught at any moment for it.
As if people in the lobby would take one look at you and immediately know everything you've done the night before.
But they didn't.
Everything seemed normal, the crew members there too busy to even acknowledge your presence. You let out a relieved breath and hugged IV's hoodie closer to your body.
You were looking for Jax and found him by the entrance door talking to Zach and Andy. You held the collar of the hoodie closed, and put the hood over your head to try and hide the hickeys and the poor state of your hair.
"Mornin'", you mumbled.
They greeted you. "You're late, rookie." Jax stated, unimpressed. "You can grab a quick coffee before we finish loadout, but we really need to get going, we have a very long drive until the next hotel stop."
"Oh, don't worry, I'm not late, just decided to have breakfast in my room earlier today." You stated, your lips forming a thin line while you held the collar of the hoodie closed.
Jax eyed you up and down from over his glasses. "You okay? You look like you survived something."
You cleared your throat, diverting your eyes. "Yeah, just never traveled for so long before and I'm having trouble sleeping", you shrugged. "Think my body is still adjusting, so I'm feeling a little rough."
Jax nodded, but you heard Zach scoff. You glared at him, a scowl on your face. "Something on your mind, Zach?", you asked.
He raised his hands, mocking a peace offering. "Just occurred to me that your body might be trying to adjust to more than travelling", he chuckled.
You frowned, and were about to ask what he meant by that, but Jax slapped him in the chest with a clipboard.
"Just occured to me that you should be minding your own damn business and working", Jax scowled at him, still that flat, unimpressed tone.
Zach looked at you with a sneer and went away, probably to gossip with his friends.
You looked at Jax and figured it was best if you didn't even acknowledge the situation. "Want me to take care of the loadout sheets, Jax?", you asked.
"Nah, it's fine", he pulled a cigarette from a pack and stuck it in his mouth. "Help Andy with the bus stuff and we'll get the fuck out of here as soon as the band shows up."
When you looked at your friend, he was already looking at you suspiciously, eyeing you up and down. You bit your lip to avoid a smirk and followed him to the luggage compartment of the bus.
Andy was loading some cases and looked around to see if there wasn't anybody within earshot. "Where were you last night?", he asked.
"Uh, in my room? What do you mean?", you feigned innocence.
"Oh, sorry, are we lying to each other now? I didn't get the memo", he said annoyed, making heat rise from your neck to your face. "I went to your room last night."
"Huh?"
"I went to your room to see if you were okay", he explained. "You either weren't there or you have the heaviest sleep I've ever seen", you drew a big breath, preparing to talk, when he raised his index finger to you. "And don't lie to me, because one of the riggers, Corey, told his disgusting little friends that he was in the elevator with you and you hopped off on the band's floor?"
You groaned a terribly tired sound. "Ugh. Those riggers are worse than old ladies", you mumbled under your breath. "Yeah, I went to talk to III", you told him part of the true.
"III, huh?", his eyes narrowed while he bent over to pick up some heavy cases. "And how was it? Did you talk about that kiss?"
You shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "Probably won't happen again. You know how these type of men are", you felt the bite of your own words, voicing your fears in such a way, hoping that those really were just lies you were telling Andy.
"Right", he mumbled, taking one of the cases from you and placing it in the compartment. "And that was before or after those hickeys?", he discreetly pulled on the collar of the hoodie. "And is this IV's hoodie?"
You huffed, embarrassed and giddy at the same time.
"It was a long talk", you finally said, making him roll his eyes. "And we ended up getting along. IV was kind enough to lend me a hoodie when I got cold because I left yours in my room. By the way," you took out the hoodie he lent you the night before from your bag and offered it to him. "Thank you. See? People lend each other stuff. That's all."
He grabbed his hoodie and looked at you unimpressed. "That's all", he echoed. "And how was the night? Good, I take?"
"It was nice", you merely said, biting down a smile.
"No details?", he begged.
"Nope," you shook your head. "Not here."
"Fine, be this way", he huffed. "Not even gonna tell me how IV got in the equation?", he whispered.
You were mortified. "I told you, he was just there in the morning, with the other guys. I didn't see him at night, only III", you felt as if every single thing in your body betrayed you and gave away that you were lying.
"Right", he sounded skeptical. "Do you have any pets, rookie?", he suddenly asked, not bothering to look at you.
You frowned. "Currently, no. Can't have pets with the kind of life I have. Why?"
"Yeah, that's why I don't have any either", he said casually. "My mom has a dog though, a Labrador, the sweetest thing in the world. He's super docile and good natured, you know? Does exactly what he's told. But he hates being left outside when we're cleaning, so when we close the door on him, he keeps staring at us exactly like that through the glass", Andy tipped his chin towards a point beyond your shoulder, and you turned on your heels to look.
All four of them were there, but IV was looking straight at you, the kind of look that you would never, ever think you'd be on the receiving end of. You convinced yourself it was just wishful thinking, but you almost saw admiration, something akin to a magnetic lust, you could feel the pull, an energy pulling you two closer, and another feeling you didn't want to name yet. When you noticed he was smiling, you realized you were already smiling back.
"He was just there", Andy echoed you mockingly. "Don't you dare think this conversation is over."
"You guys are up early", Jax said to the band from behind you, seemingly in much of a better mood than a few minutes early.
"We had a good night", Vessel offered a small smile. "We're ready to leave when you guys are."
You picked up a couple of small cases that belonged in III's bass rack and went for the bus. A strong hand stopped you in your tracks, and you turned on your heels.
II had his hand extended to you, eyeing the cases in your arms. "You know the drill, love."
You rolled your eyes and chuckled at the same time, handing him everything you had in your arms. "I wouldn't hurt myself or anything."
"Hm", he grunted. "Let me do this anyway", he pulled even your backpack from your shoulder.
He lagged behind, and while you were walking to the front of the bus, you were flanked by both III and IV. They didn't actually talked to you, and it seemed they were even avoiding looking at you for long periods of time, to which you would be grateful for, if you didn't miss the attention. And you were kicking yourself for it.
III was right, again. You came up with your own rules and ended up resenting them. Even though you didn't know where you stood with Vessel and II, you wanted to wrap yourself around III, and hold IV's hand, and talk to them the way you were doing in the hotel room.
And the worst part was that, even though you were adamant not to break under the weight of your desires, you were very aware that those rules you created to prevent the rest of the crew from finding out weren't working. Because something in the energy shifted in a way that was so subtle and so scandalous at the same time, it was pretty obvious everyone was going to notice it eventually.
III didn't grab you by the neck and kissed you in front of everyone like he said he wanted to, but he stood way too close, crowding you all the time, even after the bus was already rolling across the city. You would feel your shoulder brush his chest, and his voice drop to a low register so only you would hear, even for the most insignificant comments and harmless jokes.
IV didn't touch you aside from the occasional brush of your hands, but he kept doing stuff for you. Organizing cases, tuning his and III's guitars. He always had a bottle of water or a snack in hand for you.
Not to service you like II always does, but to please. To see you smile and thank him, and only him.
Speaking of him, II was still II, except more. Where he used to be vigilant, now he was ever-present, hyper aware. He wasn't satisfied by lingering in your peripheral vision anymore.
Everytime you were working, or doing something that involved being close to one of the crew members, he was there. Discrete, but there. He also did stuff for you, helped with your work.
"If I can buy you ten more minutes of rest, I will", he said once.
But the most unnerving was Vessel. Vessel has always been the least affectionate, the more distant one. He seemed to have practiced the art of restraint for much longer than any of you.
So his touches didn't linger, his compliments weren't shameless, his protectiveness wasn't obvious. The only special thing you two really shared were those sleepless nights, when no one else was looking, where he would tell you the most unexpected secrets, and ask the most unexpected questions. But now... Now he started letting his gaze linger on your face, on your neck, on the top of your head.
During the bus ride, you were talking to II about an issue he had with his drum kit, and how he fixed it. He was relaxed in a way that you rarely saw outside the privacy of hotel rooms. He had one leg propped up on the arm rest of his seat, his hands fiddling with your empty water bottle.
II encouraged you to talk about your day, and complain about your work. He seemed to enjoy hearing you complain about ordinary stuff, maybe because it was something you never actually did until then. You thought complaining made you less, that it was pointless and made you sound childish and ungrateful.
But II seemed to like it, so you gave it a try.
You were telling him about how much you hated to deal with signal processors they had, and he was laughing, when you noticed Vessel. You felt it before you saw it. The way his gaze on you had weight and heat, like an actual body.
When you turned to him, his eyes dropped from your forehead to your lips, lingering there for far too long, and sinking even further to stare at the little triangle between your throat and collarbone. It wasn't that distant, ethereal gaze he was always offering the crew and the managers. It was fixed, somehow predatory and worshipful at the same time.
And when you became aware of your surroundings in the bus, it downed on you. You had II on your right, and Vessel on your left. IV was sitting on the floor by your feet while watching TV, and III was behind you, leaned over the back of your seat while on his phone.
There was no kissing, no hand-holding. But the air around was thick with a heavy, masculine possessiveness that no professional title could mask.
You spent the whole day distracted, even when you were working. The only thing you noticed aside from the boys was how some crew members were looking at you, and people from management too. Maybe you were just paranoid, but they started looking at the way you talked to Vessel at the bus lounging area. He was standing in front of you when you were working, organizing something in the guitar rack.
Vessel never crowded you like III did, so it was strange to finally realize how tall he actually was. Only a couple of inches shorter than the bassist, you had to crane your head upwards to the point it hurt to try and look him in the eye, considering how close he was now.
You were talking about work, but it didn't feel like that. He was smiling all the time, and there were details you haven't noticed until then. Like how perfect his teeth were, and how soft his light brown hair looked, and he didn't just smell of black tea and sandalwood, but also of heat and salt, that reminded you of a rainy day at the beach.
And for a second, your eyes diverted from his green forest ones to a point beyond his shoulder, and saw one of the tour managers looking, watching you both, curiously. He didn't have a scowl on his face or anything, but he seemed intrigued. Your fears rose up again, and suddenly, you weren't able to focus on what Vessel was telling you about the lighting rig.
He noticed the abrupt and uncomfortable shift in you. Vessel looked above his shoulder and when the manager saw him looking, he turned his back and disappeared into the driver's cabin.
You considered telling him that this was precisely what you were afraid of. The moment management deems you a distraction rather than a solution, you would be flying home before the trucks are loaded again.
Vessel smiled, and placed a hand on the cabinet door behind you, not touching but leaning over further, making you feel the magnetic field around him.
"They can't question your value without questioning mine, angel."
That wasn't supposed to relax you the way it did. The fear didn't disappear, of course not, but it was pushed so deep back in your mind that it became merely white noise for that moment. You nodded and smiled shyly.
After going over your schedule and checklist obsessively, and doing everything you could in that bus, came that dreadful moment where you were supposed to get some rest until you got to the hotel. Sleeping on that damned bus was hard enough, now with everything that happened in your mind, that would be virtually impossible. When you were laying there, in the dark, looking at the bunk above yours, you seriously considered slipping off your own bed and climbing into III's or IV's.
Something told you they wouldn't mind it. Not for sex or anything, just to have a nice, warm body you could hold onto to calm your mind. III would laugh at you, but hold you close anyway.
IV would keep caressing your arm or back until you eventually fall asleep.
No one would see it, right? You could hear faint snoring from your colleagues, people were always wiped with this kind of job anyway. But you didn't have the guts to risk being caught.
Instead, you decided to go boil some water for your tea and watch some TV — surely the lounging area was empty right now, everyone was at least trying to get some rest. But you weren't that surprised when you saw Vessel there, relaxed on the leather seat, sprawled and seemingly deep in thought. He wasn't watching TV, nor playing one of his games, just... Thinking, it seemed.
You approached him carefully, as someone would a feral cat, not wanting to scare him. He turned his head slowly to you, and it took a while for him to smile.
"Couldn't sleep again?", you asked, and he just shook his head, a strange glimmer in his eye. "I'm gonna make us some tea", you informed instead of asking if he wanted any.
"No, don't", he quickly said, patting the spot beside him. "Just sit with me for a while."
You hesitated for some reason, but slowly slid to sit down at his side, not looking away from his face for even one second. "Something bothering you?" You asked.
"No," he assured. "Not bothering. Why are you looking at me like that?", he snorted.
Heat crept up to your face. "Like what?", you chuckled, eyes going slightly bigger.
"I don't know, like that", he pointed at your face, making you shift a little further away from him, so he placed a hand on your arm to bring you close again. "Big eyed, unblinking."
"I don't know", you mumbled and shrugged childishly. "You guys still spend most of the time masked. I might still be getting used to it."
"Ah", he smiled with endearment. "Everyone wants to peek behind the curtain, but not everyone likes what they see."
The idea of someone looking at him and not liking what they saw was absurd, and you felt this absurdity deep within you. Without thinking, you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his. You could feel his surprise, stiffening his muscles a little, before quickly melting into you.
He dropped his head on top of yours, and lifted the arm you were holding, draping it around your shoulders instead. You pressed your face on his chest and inhaled deeply. Vessel never held you like this, and it felt spiritual, like accidentally getting caught in the threads of destiny and entangling yourself in them.
"What happens behind the curtain isn't for everyone," you pondered.
"Hmm", he hummed a pleasant note in agreement. Somehow, you knew his eyes were closed.
"I've always been passionate about the behind the scenes aspect", you told him, even though you weren't sure why. Something about Vessel made you want to talk for years on end. "Since I was a kid."
"Oh, yeah?", he asked, his tone suddenly extremely interested. "How come?"
"It started when I first found out how a magic trick was done, and I was even more enchanted by the process than the actual trick", you giggled, feeling suddenly terribly silly. "So I started researching how everything was made or produced. TV shows, movies, theater, and finally, music — concerts, recordings, and such. I was very young."
"That's adorable", he snorted, and you pulled away, shaking your head. "No, it is", he continued, pulling you back into his heat again. "That's how you chose this life then."
"Yeah...", you let yourself be pulled in a sweeter hug, tucking your legs underneath you. "When I was a teen, my dad took me to see Tool live", you told him while looking at the ceiling, trying to remember the details. "Everyone was looking at Maynard, obviously. But to me, the lead singer looked like a shield, a decoy, so people wouldn't see the magic trick developing behind him."
Vessel pulled away from you only slightly, keeping you in his arms, but turning to look at you with dreamy eyes. "Go on", he encouraged.
"I couldn't take my eyes off the structure, and those anonymous men in black appearing from behind the curtain every now and then, running silently behind the band, fixing things, switching equipments, literally preventing the show from falling apart", there was a shinier glimmer in his eyes, and they never looked away from yours. "There was a zillion small screens behind the band, and one of them started flickering. Like, just milliseconds of dead pixels, right? And I saw this tech in black shirt, black cargo pants, baseball cap and black gloves, and he sprinted out of the shadows.
"He didn't look at the crowd, he didn't even look at the band, and I realized no one was supposed to be looking at him either. He just fixed the connection and vanished before the next strobe hit."
He just nodded for a moment. "But you were looking. And what did you think then?", he asked.
You drew a deep breath. "I remember wondering how many people it actually takes to make a concert like that to work. And how many people were actually holding the band up while they were onstage. And I remember thinking that I might not sing, or play well, or write songs like you do", you gestured towards him, who slightly shook his head. "But that I might be able to help hold something beautiful in place, you know? That that would make me special."
Vessel leaned over you, his face inches from yours, and he brushed your hair behind your ear. "That isn't what makes you special", he said very, very quietly, as if it was a secret. "But the way you look at it is certainly part of it", he huffed a small laugh through his nose.
You look straight into his eyes, and stayed quiet for a momento too long. "Now it's you who's looking at me weird", you pointed out humorously, unable to look away from his eyes.
His hand went to cradle your jaw, caressing your cheek, then up to your temple, and he smoothed his thumb over your eyebrow. Your breath left your lips ragged. His thumb ran down the bridge of your nose, and stopped on the bow of your upper lip.
"I tried not to stare at you for so long", he confessed, so low it almost felt like it wasn't meant for your ears. "Let me have this now."
Your heart went nuts inside your chest, and you licked your lips and smiled to cover up your nervousness. "I never tried not to stare", you stated.
He chuckled. "I know", he circled your lips with his thumb. "I've seen you looking at me. But I had a hard time believing in it. Still do, I think."
"Believing in what?"
"That a woman like you would give me the time of day", he simply said.
You barked a very spontaneous laugh at that, all of your teeth in display, wrinkled nose, head tilted back, everything. Until you noticed that, despite the amusement in his eyes, Vessel wasn't laughing with you.
"You're not joking." You stated, seeing him shake his head. "That's ridiculous."
"Why?"
"Because", you huffed, feeling heat creep up to your cheeks again. "You're... You." You waved at his general direction. "Look at you. You're sensitive, and intelligent, and so, so interesting, and so fun to be around, and handsome as fuck—"
"Stop, angel", he interrupted. "I'm begging you."
You saw Vessel's cheeks glowing red and a very embarrassed chuckle come out of his mouth, and you realized then he didn't know how to take compliments. Him, from all people. The 6'4" handsome man who was insanely good at everything he did.
"I won't stop." You challenged, making him raise his eyebrows. "You're talented, and you're infinitely kind, and patient, and sweet to everyone around you, even to people that don't deserve it. And you're the star of the show. Every eye in the world is looking at you. And I'm just a roadie. You could have anyone you want." Your voice dropped significantly lower during the last two sentences.
Despite the red glow on his cheeks, Vessel only had endearment in his eyes. His thumb went back to circle your lips, pulling your bottom lip down slightly.
"Everything I want is in this bus with me." He smiled sweetly. "For the longest time I thought you were looking at one of the other three, and I was just in your way, when you looked at us like that. I thought it was just IV, or III, and what I saw when you smiled at me like that was just wishful thinking." He stopped and licked his lips, his eyes went down to your mouth. "Was I right?"
Your heart slammed so hard against your chest it hurt. That was incredibly hard to admit, for so many reasons. What did it say about you, that you wanted him as well?
They didn't seem to mind though, whatever moral dilemmas you had, the boys didn't seem to share.
You were going to tell him the truth.
"No." You said.
Vessel inhaled deeply and held his breath for a moment. "You know you don't have to, right?", he asked, his thumb slipping down to your chin, trailing down to the column of your throat. "If you want just III and IV...", his finger stopped on the hollow of your neck and tapped there twice. "Or just one of them. Or none of us, for that matter", he smiled again. "Please tell us. We'll respect you no matter what."
"I know", you said.
Vessel waited for you to say something else, that you were happy with how things were going with III and IV, or for you to pull away from him. You didn't. His hand went back to cradle your jaw and tilted your head up.
He leaned in even further, his nose brushed against yours, and he nudged your face lightly. His eyes fell shut, his breath fanned over your face, and his other hand pressed on the small of your back.
"May I?", he asked quietly.
You let out a shaky breath, licking your lips and swallowing thickly. "Thought you'd never ask."
And then his mouth was on yours.
It was warm and eager, tasting faintly of salt and himself. His hand coming to grab on your waist as though he'd be waiting for it for weeks. The weight of his body pressed you back and down into the leather seat, laying on top of you, while you kissed him back with equal urgency, sparks and something heavier curling in you stomach.
You opened your legs to welcome him in, tangling your fingers on the short hairs on the nape of his neck. All of his reservations, his hesitancy, dissolved on your tongue like sugar. Now he was just hungry, pressing you against the leather, his hand pushing inside IV's hoodie to touch your waist.
Vessel kissed like he sings — all-encompassing, desperate, almost heartbreaking. Every time you gasped he swallowed, and moaned inside your mouth, as if he was trying to breathe himself into your lungs.
Losing yourself in that kiss made you forget all about any doubts you had. How could this be wrong if it felt like the only thing right in the world?
When he broke the kiss, he didn't go far. His forehead remained glued to yours, breathing heavily. And exchange of glances, a couple of heartbeats in sync, and you were kissing again, laying on the couch while the bus hummed through the road.
Vessel didn't say anything else. He laid by your side, cradling your face, kissing you and humming pleased little notes against the corner of your mouth, until you both fell asleep.
If you enjoyed it, please leave a comment, and let me know if you want to be tagged!
Absolute loving the soft tokens!! I was wondering if I could request a soft iii? Dealer's choice!
Also, love your writing!!
🫡
thank you for the request!! i've kinda been obsessed with how silly iii has been on this tour recently, so i'm really glad to have an excuse to write for him! below the cut are some silly but soft ramblings of our favorite bassist. i hope you enjoy, and if you'd like more don't hesitate to reach out!
thank you for being here <3
.𖥔 ݁ ˖
𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who pretends he's the funny one in the relationship -- but the second you laugh at his joke, he looks at you like you just lit up his entire world. "you get me," he says. "you really get me." and you do. because he's yours.
𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who steals your hand in public and swings it between you like you're in a romcom, even if you're just walking through a parking lot. and when you ask what he's doing, he says "building momentum for our emotional arc." but when he glances sideways, thumb brushing your knuckles, he murmurs, "plus i just really like holding your hand." and it's so sincere it makes your heart stumble.
𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who swears every grocery run with you is a date, even if it's 10 minutes before closing and you're both exhausted. he takes your hand as soon as you step inside, fingers laced, thumb brushing your knuckle in a rhythm only you two know. points out weird products like they're inside jokes only you'd understand. "look, it's that weird old man brand you had a nightmare about once." you laugh, and his shoulders drop like he's been holding tension just waiting to hear that sound. when you lean on his arm in the checkout line, he kisses the top of your head like it's the only thing on the list he came here to get.
𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who shows up when you're sick with too much soup and a playlist labeled "feel better or else." he doesn't hover -- just sets everything down quietly, pulls your hoodie over your shoulders, and climbs into bed beside you without a word, speaker already playing the soft tunes that have your brain and heart buzzing warmly. you mumble something like "you don't have to stay," and he just tucks the blanket tighter around you and says, "i know. i want to." later, when your breathing evens out, he runs his fingers gently through your hair and whispers, "you're still my favorite, even if i'm going to catch whatever demon is inside of you later."
𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who can't stand going to sleep on bad terms -- so when he sees you curled away, quiet and heavy with whatever you didn't say, he scoots closer without a word. no dramatics. no jokes this time. just his arm slipping around your waist, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, his voice barely above a breath. "hey. still here. still us." you don't have to speak. don't even have to move. he just holds you through the quiet, thumb drawing slow, grounding circles at your side until the ache loosens and your hand finds his under the blankets.
𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who sends you tiktoks at 3am labeled "this is us" and it's always something absurdly tender -- like a cat curled around a banana or two plushies tangled on a couch. no explanation. no follow-up. just a heart emoji, a skull, and a sleepy "miss u." and when you finally see him again, he doesn't say anything. just tucks his face into your shoulder and sighs, like all the noise went quiet again.
𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who insists you sit on the counter while he makes boxed mac and cheese at midnight -- because, quote, "this is a date now, no backsies." he stirs with one hand, holds your thigh with the other, and grins like you hung the stars just by being in his kitchen. when you call it barely cooking, he looks mock-offended: "this is cuisine. this is art. this is us." and when he gives you the first bite, it's with a smile soft enough to undo you.
𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who pretends to fight your hoodie for "stealing you from him" but then immediately steals it back and wears it for the entire day. he pulls the hood up dramatically, sniffles fake tears, and says "it still smells like your shampoo. i'm healed. i'm whole again." and when you call him out for being a dork, he just pulls you into his lap and mumbles, "yeah, but i'm your dork," against your collarbone -- like that explains everything. (it does.)
𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who makes you playlists with titles like "songs that smell like you" and "i'd still like u if u were a worm (but slightly less)". each track is a certified banger, handpicked and arranged with the passion of a man who thinks spotify is an artform. the cover art? a pixelated photo of you two mid-laugh, cropped badly on purpose. hidden notes in the lyrics, your laughter buried between verses. and when you call him out for how ridiculously cheesy it is? he just winks. "admit it. you loved every second."
𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who tucks your socked feet under his thighs on the couch like he's protecting national treasure. you didn't even ask -- just pulled your knees up, and he shifted instinctively, patting the space beside him. "cold toes go here," he said like it was obvious. and then? he just kept talking, kept laughing, as if your feet warming beneath him was the most natural thing in the world. like it wasn't intimacy, but something softer. familiar. home.
𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who learns how to braid your hair from youtube just so he can do it when you're tired. he practices on hoodie strings and shoelaces first, and the first time he tries it on you, it's clumsy and uneven -- but his hands are gentle, and his voice goes quiet, like he doesn't want to startle the moment. "there," he murmurs once he's done. "you're battle-ready now." and when you catch your reflection later? it's not perfect. but it's from him. and somehow, it's everything.
𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who scribbles little hearts on your shopping list next to the boring stuff. you find one beside "dish soap." another by "toilet paper." and in the middle of the list, in all caps: "YOU (MY FAVORITE SNACK)." you pretend to roll your eyes when you find it -- but you still bring the list with you, folded carefully into your pocket. he knew you'd need the reminder. he always knows.
𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐢𝐢𝐢 who paints a heart on the fogged mirror every time he showers at your place, even if you're not home. and when you ask why, he just shrugs: "so when you look at it later, you remember someone was here loving you. even when you couldn't see it yet."
You wake in a world of dead gods, with no name and no past. You are pulled into a family not bound by blood, but by devotion. They are vessels of Sleep and they see something in you that keeps you alive. As you are kept within their crumbling world of rituals and whispers, their strange affection begins to warp you. What starts as fear turns into obsession, each of them pulling at something different inside you. The lines between love, worship, and possession blur. Their hands become your home, their violence your doctrine. And as each bond frays the edges of your mind, you start to forget you were ever anything but theirs.
01. The Family We Are Fed To
02. Born To Be Kept
03. The Taste Of Surrender
04. The Room Below
05. Gaps In A Strange Dream
06. Cross My Heart And Hope To Die
07. A Sacred Guardian
08. The Perfect Enemy
09. The Mouth Of The Wolf
10. The Eyes Of The Lamb
11. Solace Of Regret
12. Canines Of The Saviour
13. Putting Down The Roses
14. Picking Up The Sword
15. Make The Most Of The Turning Tide
16. Et In Arcadia Ego
17. The Proof Is In The Pudding
18. The Summoning
19. Missing Limbs
20. Branches In A Flood
21. The God Of The Gaps
22. Bite Back In Anger
23. Eden’s Vices
24. Fate Of The Fallen
25. Blue Blossom Days
26. Perfect Start To A Perfect War
27. When The Oceans Recede
28. Walking With Gods [Ending Chapter]
↳ Playlist & Moodboard
↳ Art by @juniorcrone @hollowmik
wc: {454}
tw: heavy kissing, clothed grinding, soft dominance, body worship, emotional vulnerability, references to religion.
the first sound is her breath—ragged, caught between her ribs, trembling where his mouth just was.
the air is thick with incense, heavy with something that feels more like offering than affection. her back hits the dressing room wall, the coolness of it shocking against the heat surging under her skin. his hand follows a second later—flat against the plaster beside her head, a silent command, a cage made from shadow.
and then his mouth crashes into hers again.
hot, bruising, hungry.
she moans—soft and surprised—one of his hands slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, fingers dragging up her spine like he’s mapping out something sacred. the black paint that covers his skin leaves streaks across her body, across her clothes, like he’s claiming her in silence.
her hands fist in the edges of his open cloak, yanking him closer. the fabric smells like stage smoke. it parts easily, fluttering around them as he presses his hips into hers. there's heat, pressure, something desperate and aching between them—and he groans into her mouth, the sound low and sinful.
“you don’t know what you do to me,” vessel murmurs, his lips barely brushing hers. his voice is a rasp, his accent softened and reverent, like he’s whispering prayer. “you walk in and breathe—and i forget every word i’ve ever sung.”
her heart stutters. her fingers climb his chest, feeling the muscles twitch under the paint. he’s all contrast—cold mask, hot mouth, tender touch, brutal kiss. there’s something dangerous about the way he’s holding back. as if this, just this, is all he’ll allow.
her mouth finds the corner of his jaw—just below the edge of the mask. she kisses the exposed skin there, slow and aching. worshipful.
he shudders.
“let me see you,” she whispers—not asking for the mask. never the mask. just him.
and he gives it. just a sliver.
vessel tilts his head, brushing his lips against her temple, his voice close enough to crawl under her skin. “you already are.”
his hand ghosts along her throat—not gripping, just resting there, feeling the tremble of her breath. his thumb strokes the hollow of it, as if feeling for a heartbeat. or counting each second of restraint.
she tilts her chin up, lips parted, eyes half-lidded. “then touch me like you mean it.”
he laughs, quiet and rough. “no.” his mouth hovers over hers again. “i’ll touch you like i need it.”
and when he kisses her again, slower now—deeper—it’s a kind of worship that makes her knees go weak. his fingers find her waist and drag her flush against him, and there’s nothing gentle in the way he grinds against her. but his kiss?
🦋 a/n: hiii loves!! It’s been a while huh? I missed you so much 🥺 My goodness I did not plan for my break to be this long 🥲. Life has been life-ing. I’m a little rusty so please forgive me if this isn’t as good as my other writing. I’m hoping my writing voice comes back again! As always hope you enjoy <33
s.w.a.k 💝: @babextoken @rat-that-writes @confusedgeek @javdery @fruitsandcheese @ghostinthehallwaygrinning @dominuslunae @goosepond69 @cptknt @okoatmeal @liviailes @whatsthecommand @little--sunshine @dugiioh @temptation-waits @glitterghost @jeriiicho @canopies-of-gold-and-evergreen @s1eept0ken @wolftoken (let me know if you’d like for me to tag you in any future fics ✨)
Warnings/tags: bestfriend!iii x fem!reader, slow burn, friends to lovers, making out, both are a bit bratty - great banter tho 💕, iii is love sick for you, smut, vaping, p in v (unprotected), missionary (yay!), oral (F recieving), his fingers in your mouth, his hand around your throat (no choking), “let me show you how bad I’ve wanted you all of this time” ahh vibe.
You needed a night out - badly. Everything had been piling up and you desperately wanted to let off some steam. You’d been begging your best friend, iii, to come out with you for weeks. Finally, he caved. God was he difficult to get out of the house but you knew he could never say no to you.
The second you stepped out in that dress making your way to the uber, his eyes were glued on you. He just couldn’t help them wandering…taking you in.
Breathtaking, that’s all he could think about. Was how breathingtakingly beautiful you are. But fuck, it felt wrong to look at his best friend the way he was right now. How could he not though? He wanted to let his mind continue to wander, to continue to fantasise so badly. The internal struggle of wanting to see that dress bunched up at your hips while he ate you out while also knowing he shouldn’t be having these thoughts danced around in his mind. Nonchalance that’s what we will choose for this evening, he thought to himself. But…was he making too much eye contact? Too little? He was beginning to fidget. And it was becoming harder to ignore the tightening in his pants as he watched you scooch into the car next to him. Complete adoration came so much easier to him who was he kidding.
iii loved…no..adored that dress on you. Your perfume was intoxicating enveloping his every sense as you kissed him on the cheek hello, as always. The way you would always say “hello handsome” would make smile, and his cock hard, but this time it absolutely melted iii to the core. A slight blush crept over him. Thank god it was dark out. You’d said it so many times before but this time..this time it felt different for him. Tempting. Alluring. In ways he had pushed down for so long. For years. Were you flirting with him?
He felt himself staring but he couldn’t help it. Your hair was styled up, your soft neck just begging to be kissed he would give anything to bury his face in it. Why did you have to wear your hair the way he loved it?
“Hi beautiful,” he finally said under his breath. So soft you didn’t even hear it. You were hypnotising to him. Always had been. It was your world and he was just happy to be living in it as your best friend. So loveable. You made friends with every person you came in contact with. And you proved him right in this very moment. You were practically friends with the uber driver by the time you reached the club. And he loved that about you. You know in the way a best friend would.
“For fucks sake,” he muttered to himself, as he watched you walk ahead of him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Come on just have one shot with me,” you insisted, dragging him through the crowd to the bar.
He couldn’t help but drape his arms over your shoulders, his tall height towering over you from behind. He found himself cursing under his breath as you leant forward slightly, yelling over the loud music to tell the bartender your order, your ass brushing up against him.
His hands instinctively fell to your waist. And for a second he revelled in how natural it felt to be with you this way, how perfectly you fit against him, how perfectly he would fit between your-
“Get on your knees, you giant.”
And for a second you swear you saw his brain short circuit. “My..my what?,” he stood there frozen staring down at you.
“You heard me. On your knees. You’re so bloody tall and this shot has to go into there,” you teased tapping your finger lightly on his lips.
For a second he hesitated his eyes meeting yours, before wrapping his hand around your wrist gently removing your hand, slowly sinking to his knees. What a delicious sight.
“You’re such a smartass you know that?”
“Says you, now shh,” you tilted his stubbled jaw up and instinctively his lips parted. What a nice place to sit. The thought clouded your mind, uninvited but impossible to ignore. You smiled down at him hesitantly as your pulse raced and your breath deepened watching the liquid pool between his parted lips.
Your core throbbed at the thought of straddling his perfect face. Your fingers in his hair. The noises he would make. The noises he would pull from you.
A single drop escaped his perfect lips, trailing down the corner of his mouth and every part of you wanted to lean in and lick it off.
You both stayed like that for a heartbeat staring at one another before he slowly got up his height more noticeable than usual. His cologne becoming intoxicating. Keep it together, you thought to yourself.
You stood there watching him wipe the drop from his chin licking the liquid off his thumb. His dorky expression looking down at you.
“You okay love?” his hand brushed over your flushed cheek.
Your stomach tightened. God, those hands. Those ridiculously big hands.
Your mind continued to race. Your friendiversary was next week. 3 years. 3 years of stupid inside jokes, late night calls, comforting each other through breakups, and telling yourself it was just friendship. With him being this close to you, looking at you like that, you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore.
You’d thought about him, sure. But everyone’s does. Right? I mean look at him.
It was suddenly feeling warm. Hot. Uncomfortable.
“I need to leave,” you blurted out bolting for the exit.
“What?!” he called after you making his way through the crowd running after you.
The night air hit your skin like a shock, cool and damp against the heat simmering under your cheeks. You inhaled a lungful exhaling slowly as you walked down the sidewalk, finding yourself settled against the brick wall needing something solid to hold you up.
It didn’t take long before iii caught up to you. Stupid long legs. His breath heaved as he came to a halt.
“You’re fucking mad you know that?!” his breath clouded around him as he heaved in the cold air. “Been shouting your name like an idiot. It’s bloody freezing out here.”
You stared up at him as his warm hands instinctively wrapped around yours rubbing them together before draping his jacket over your shoulders. The heat of it and him sank straight into your skin. Comfort washed over you.
“Hi,” you sighed as you met his gaze.
“That’s all I’m getting? A hi?” he chuckled.
His voice softened. “Babe, talk to me. What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”
You hesitated, watching him shove his hands into his pockets before pulling out his vape, exhaling the vapor into the cold night air beside him. You watched hypnotised as the cloud rose and vanished just like your train of thought.
“I thought you quit,” you attempted to divert.
But iii saw straight through you. “Nope. Also you’re dodging.” He took a step closer, his presence warming up the air between you both. “Why’d you run love, hm?”
And in true you-and-iii fashion you continued your push and pull.
“Can I have a hit?” another poor attempt at diverting.
“You don’t vape. I’ve know you for 3 years and I haven’t seen you smoke or vape once. Don’t change the subject,” he said curtly, making it clear he wasn’t going to budge.
“Maybe I wanna try,” you provoked.
“You wanna try hm?” he smirked, stepping closer.
“Scared I’ll get my cooties on it?” you teased both of you breaking out into laughter.
“You’re so ridiculous, I swear. Can’t be serious for one second can you?” he laughed.
God you loved his laugh. It warmed you to the core knowing only you could make him laugh like that.
His hand reached up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Barely a touch, but enough that it made your thighs instinctively squeeze together the suddenly apparent throbbing between them becoming unbearable.
“You’re so annoying, I swear” you murmured, but the words lost their bite as his hand grazed your hip, tentative, testing, your eyes fixed on his lips.
The cold air turned warm as your breath mingled between one another, both inching closer unsure and searching each other’s face for permission, making sure you weren’t crossing a line that either of you wanted to keep. A line that you both knew you could never come back to.
Instinctively your hands snaked around his neck pulling him closer your noses gently brushing against one another your lips barely touching. His lips met yours in a soft short kiss a smile washing over both of you.
“Yeah?” he asked softly against your lips.
“Yeah,” you nodded.
It was the only confirmation you needed, and the only words you could both get out you before finally melting into one another. It felt electric. Perfect. Soft. Sweet. Hot as fuck. Even better than you imagined. And you quickly realised why so many before you had fallen for your best friend.
You so desperately needed him. All of him. And judging by how hard he felt against you, as he picked you up, he needed you just as badly. You instinctively rubbed your now soaked panties against his clothed cock earning a delicious low groan from him. Oh god you needed to hear that again. You swear you would have gladly taken him right there and then in that alleyway if he hadn’t insisted on taking you home.
The drive home was a blur of you and him making out in the back of an uber like you were making up for lost time. His hands wandering close to where you were desperate for him to fill you. Yours running through his hair.
iii unlocked your apartment door with his spare key. “Completely forgot you have a set of keys to my place,” you laughed.
“Well I am your best friend.”
Silence filled the room. Yes you were but do all friends want to climb their bestie like a tree? Do friends want to rip each others clothes off and make each other cum a million times? Do friends want to memorise the feeling of the other’s lips against their skin?
“Glad I remembered them,” he said clearing his voice, as he stepped inside.
You leaned against the wall, watching him kick the door shut. “What, planning a break-in?”
He took a slow step closer. “More like…making sure I don’t waste time knocking.”
Your pulse raced as you watched him unbuckle his belt, throwing his jacket on your couch. “Impatient, huh?”
His eyes dragged over you, deliberate and hungry. “You have no idea.”
“C’mere then,” you said softly.
No more time was wasted. You’d waited long enough already, a second more would have felt like hell. And his lips were heaven. He was heaven. How perfect his hands felt on your ass and thighs as he lifted you up, the slight friction of your already soaked panties against his lower tummy making you moan against his lips and your legs tighten around his waist.
The second your naked back met the mattress his lips were on your neck. Sweet words of affection were whispered against your neck butterflies filling your tummy. Your breath hitched as he kissed along your soft stomach his eyes filled with both adoration and hunger watching your every reaction. iii’s fingers hooked into the waistband of your mesh panties, not before leaving an open mouth kiss to your inner thigh, your clit, your core.
“iii please,” you repeatedly begged lifting your hips for him to slide the fabric down.
The sound of your heartbeat filled your ears as you looked down at your best friend licking a long stripe up your core to your clit. Over and over. His lips glistened with your arousal as he purposefully and perfectly devoured you his moustache adding the perfect friction against the softness of his tongue and lips. His hand never left yours, delicately intertwined grounding you into the moment while the other pushed and curled in and out of you almost immediately bringing you to climax.
“I’ve got you baby, that’s my girl,” he praised breathlessly in awe of you. He was so hard watching the girl he secretly adored for so long come undone for him. Because of him. He wanted this moment burned into his brain forever. The way your lips parted, your brows furrowed, how his name sounded falling from your lips like a prayer, how your hips lifted, your chest heaved, your pussy clenched and flooded around his fingers. He couldn’t help but groan at the sight of you. He needed to taste you again.
His fingers continued slowly pumping in and out of you working you through your orgasm his lips gently kissing your clit.
“Need you,” you panted pulling him up to taste yourself on his lips. Breaking away, his fingers replaced his lips pushing past your parted lips, remembering the drunken confession you told him months ago that you’ve always fantasised about exactly this. It made him feel dizzy and rock hard feeling your tongue swirl and suck on his fingers pushing them in further along your soft tongue.
Everything felt hazy..fuzzy..warm. You were undeniably soaked. Unbelievably aroused sticking your tongue out for him to watch his fingers glide over it knowing he was wishing it was his cock. Removing his fingers, his tongue licked across yours before once again melting against each other’s lips.
There was no coming back from this. Not anymore. Your best friend of 3 years just ate you out and not only did he just eat you out but he did so better than anyone you’d ever been with before. And you wanted more. More of him. All of him.
“You ok love?”
“Yeah,” you sighed lost in him wrapping your legs around his waist.
“Yeah?” he smirked rubbing his nose against yours.
“You got a little something…well a bit of me..” you giggled swiping your thumb over his glistening moustache. His hand caught yours licking your thumb. His eyes softened watching your lips part your other hand running through his hair, down his back, his chest to his waistband.
“I need you so bad,” he pleaded.
“I know, I know. You got me,” you reassured sliding off his boxers immediately stroking him. His hand wrapped around yours showing you how he liked it.
“Oh god, fuck..yeah,” he groaned his brows furrowing his eyes pleading.
Oh he was so delicious. So big in your hand. The feeling of his around yours guiding you up and down his shaft making your pussy drip. Guiding him through your soaked folds had both of you moaning and cursing against one another’s lips.
“Need you to stretch me out and fill my-” your words replaced with moans as he perfectly sunk into you. His forehead pressed against yours as he dragged himself in and out of you.
“Like this baby? Hmm? Feel good? You feel so fucking good around me.”
You swirled your hips as he pushed his cock all the way in, needing to feel every inch of his perfect cock stretching your walls. He pressed your legs back, allowing him to go deeper, the sound of him moaning your name making you clench around him. Your clit rubbed against him as he fucked you at a delicious pace.
“Wanted you for so long. Need you. Always,” he confessed his fingers rubbing soft circles around your clit. You guided his other to wrap around your throat desperate to feel him everywhere. The bed frame rocked repeatedly against the wall behind you as he fucked you at a steady pace hitting that spot inside you like no one had before. Like you needed. Like you deserved.
He looked so perfect above you. His hair flopped over, his skin glistening with sweat, his furrowed brows. And it was all because of you. You watched between you as his long fingers rubbed soft circles over your clit his cock pumping in and out of you his hand on your throat now rolling your nipple between his fingers sending you over the edge.
“Fuck. Please,” is all you could say as you squeezed around him your orgasm washing over you his own not far behind.
“Oh fuck, gonna fill you up baby. Can I?”
“Please,” you said softly, lovingly, your legs locking around him pulling him down into a kiss. He rocked his cock into you his head falling into the side of your neck as he filled you up with his cum riding out his high. His soft moans and whimpers against your neck made you want to never let him go.
“You okay my sweet boy?” You searched his face brushing the hair out of his face. He was so blissed out. His hands rubbed up and down over your chest to your throat tilting your head to the side kissing along your jaw up to your ear.
“Never better,” he said softly kissing just behind your ear.
“No one’s ever made me feel like that. It’s like you just knew exactly what I needed,” you confessed biting your lip your hand running down his chest.
“Well I am your best friend,” he smirked.
“You’re so cheeky, you know that?” you laughed swatting at his chest.
izzy806
yousharknotpass
snowghoul
gracieabrams
turnnoffyourmind
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
