Ivy meets a stunning woman at a bar. What begins with a lingering glance quickly turns into hours of shameless and fun flirting, charged banter and an attraction neither of them has any interest in resisting. When the night at the bar comes to an end, they eventually leave together. Their playful chemistry follows them to his apartment, turning a spontaneous night into something neither is likely to forget.
He definitely couldn't do this. There was no way. He'd die. Proper this time, the whole deal.
A happy man, sure, but a dead one.
"You don't have to, if you don't want. I'm sure we can just do our own things around the manor. It's just, you'll have to be careful where you wander for obvious reasons." Vessel is reassuring him, as if IV doesn't actually want to spend time with him.
It isn't even that IV could potentially walk out of his room and find II and III fucking. It's not a problem. At all. In the slightest. IV would probaby — most definitely — get hard at the sight, even. If he let his mind wander too far, it would delve right into sexual territory.
What really has him on edge is that he's just been offered to spend the whole day with Vessel. By themselves, for the most part.
Vessel, who IV is deeply in love with. Vessel, who can barely look at him most days and avoids his touch, whereas he acts completely different in their dreams. It's such bipolar behavior that it hurts IV's heart. Vessel is still kind, still smiles at him and makes conversation, but he won't really look at IV. Every time IV tries to meet his eyes, he looks away, as if afraid of being caught, afraid of looking.
Is IV so unsightly now?
"I want to!" IV blurts, eyes a little wide and most certainly conveying his eagerness, "I would love to spend time with you, cariad aur!"
The fragile hope in Vessel's eyes blooms into surprised glee, the emotion showing through in his small, lopsided grin. "Alright, we can make a day of it. It'll be better for your peace of mind, I'm sure."
Vessel had sought IV out in III's room the morning after he and II's date, the Fourth still resting underneath III's sheets, an arm hanging off the bed and drool staining III's pillow. The Third was currently tormenting II in the Second's room, having woken up bright and early to not waste a single moment of the day, showing mercy by keeping their pleasure from IV's bond. They did not show Vessel that same mercy, but he did not desire it anyways. He loved feeling their pleasure most of the time, whether he was interested in sharing in it, or not.
He had been reluctant to wake IV, crawling into bed with him and laying right beside him on his back, hands resting over his stomach, content to listen to IV inhale and exhale soft, calm breaths as he slept. He did not touch, did not dare. He just wanted to be certain that IV still lived and breathed, that he remained safe in Vessel's home. He laid there for well over an hour, long enough that II and III had since finished and exited II's room, their quiet, happy chatter carrying up the stairwell towards III's open door.
After a while, Vessel had scooted closer, his arm pressed along IV's back, head moving slowly, so slowly, to press against the back of IV's. The touch had been warm, electric, the Fourth sleeping through every stealthy move Vessel made. For just a moment, Vessel allowed himself to exist at IV's side, his breath halting entirely as he focused everything he had on feeling IV in the bond and in body. He shut out the tingle of II and III's pleasure, and melted into the feeling of IV's bond, the eye of a hurricane.
It hadn't been Vessel's decision to wake him when IV finally began to stir a little while later, hazy eyes blinking open slow and dazed. By the time he truly came to, Vessel had pulled away, sat on the other side of the bed as far from IV as he could get.
"Three…?" IV mumbles, turning his head as Vessel sucks in a breath, unprepared for how that simple, assuming call for his lover instead of him would make him feel.
Blue and gold eyes squint Vessel's way, blurry vision making it difficult to parse out who it is. That's not even to mention the dimness of the room itself, III's spiders preferring dark spaces that III caters to.
"Sorry, no, he's with Two right now. I've come to ask if you'd like to spend the day together? The other two will be preoccupied." Vessel's levels six apologetic eyes IV's way, unable to hold the wavering eye contact for long.
His hair is pulled back into a braid, wisps having fallen out over night. Makeup has smudged and smeared, leaving smokey black along his lash lines that seem to accentuate the ruby of his middle set of eyes.
That, is why IV knows he'd simply die of elation, getting to spend the day with Vessel.
Vessel is beautiful. IV has always noticed it, well before his feelings for the other man bloomed into love. He notices over breakfast every morning, the sunlight catching in the silver-white of his hair. He notices when III is teasing him so severely while in the garden, comparing Vessel to different flowers, relishing in the way Vessel's face goes as red as the amaryllis blooming nearby, his voice stolen by shyness.
He notices even with Vessel's face creased in pain, fear, anguish, wilting under harsh words from past loves, tears streaking down bruised cheeks like they belonged there. He is beautiful in IV's eyes even then, even when protective fury bids him to pull Vessel to his side, to shatter the dream into pieces to save him the heartache of his past.
He notices, when within their dreams is the only time Vessel will let IV hold him.
Maybe, just maybe, given enough time today, IV will be able to hold him in the waking, too. But IV is not a complete fool. He notices how the others don't hug Vessel. Affection is shown in other ways, no less physical, but they always avoid his chest.
IV isn't sure why. He can recall nothing from Vessel's nightmares as to why he wouldn't want them to hug him or touch his chest. He had always let IV tug him close whether it was he or IV who needed it. During their times by the sea, bare feet dipped in water that did not chill, or wading through fields of flowers that grew near IV's home back in Wales, Vessel had always reached for touch, allowed IV to bring him into a hug when they said their farewells.
Pain in his head brings IV back to the present, the hope in Vessel's eyes still shining as the other stands, stretching his arms over his head.
His hoodie rides up, revealing traces of gold and black markings down his spine, and the urge to bite the back dimples IV sees is so strong he nearly can't control himself.
Forcing himself up and out of bed, IV digs around in III's dresser for his own clothes, finding a t-shirt and a pair of dark-wash jeans, loose enough that IV doesn't have to see his thinner frame. He's gaining his weight back over time, which he is thankful for. Now, he just needs to make sure to keep the healthy weight, and put in the work to build up to his original muscle mass.
IV had been thick, but it was mostly muscle.
Mostly. He enjoyed homemade food, dishes that reminded him of home, before cooking ended in more injuries than he was willing to admit. His hands failing ruined so many aspects of his life. Even now, they shake, ache deep in the bones. His healthy fat had withered away when most of the food was delegated to his ex as the one still working a job.
Vessel waits outside of III's room for IV to change, and once he's done, they both make their way downstairs to where Vessel can hear II half-heartedly reprimanding III for getting in his way.
Entering the kitchen, III stares at them from his place atop the counter, legs kicking the cupboards behind his feet, a wide grin on his kiss-bruised lips. He hops off upon seeing them, smacking a loud, wet kiss to Vessel's lips, turning towards IV with a pause.
Glancing at Vessel, then II, III leans down to place a chaste kiss on Ivy's forehead, pulling away with a smile that's gone soft.
"Two's made something simple today so I have more time with him. Most of it's already on the table. Are you joining us, Ves?"
"He is." IV shoves Vessel the rest of the way into the kitchen by way of a hand between those dimples he caught sight of earlier, continuing to guide him towards the living room.
III's snickers follow them, II's gratefulness pushed gently IV's way down the bond. They're seated at the table before long, IV staring at Vessel to keep the other in his seat as he fidgets, occasionally squinting as his bad eye loses focus.
All six crimson eyes look anywhere but at IV, shy or embarrassed or upset with him, IV isn't sure. There's a part of IV that wants to apologize for being so forward, for pushing Vessel into dining with them when it was clear it made him uncomfortable at first. Another part of IV, the louder, more insistent, unignorable part that demands he protectnurturelove in any way he can, bids him to keep pushing where he knows Vessel will bend without cracking, without breaking.
He knows what Vessel can handle. Sometimes, he thinks he knows better than Vessel himself. IV has been witness to so much. Not everything is recalled with crystal clear clarity, his mind scrambled by his near death and the strain of becoming the vessel to a God that did not want him, but bits and pieces, more than ever before, have come to him since he last tasted Vessel's blood on his tongue.
IV seats himself beside Vessel, bumping his knee into the others' intentionally, baring teeth and gum in a grin when Vessel looks his way. He tentatively bumps his knee to IV's in return, smiling small and bright. III comes into the dining room followed by II, both of them with their own respective plates. Only, II does not set the plate in his hand in front of one of empty seats, instead placing it in front of Vessel without even looking at him, scowling at III as they kick their chair out with one leg and plop down in one motion, the sound of the chair scraping against the hardwood flooring making an awful sound that causes Vessel to flinch back into his seat.
"Eat, love." II orders without turning to look at Vessel at all, III having the sense to look sheepish, shrinking down into their seat while sending an apology Vessel's way via the bond.
He completely misses the expression that passes over Vessel's face, something soft, eager to please.
IV's head tilts curiously. He's had suspicions, of course, but this is only another tally on the score within IV's mind. Besides, it isn't his place to butt in on their sexual life. It matters little how much of a tease III is, or the heated glances he sends IV's way. The hand on his thigh, not squeezing or wandering anywhere IV doesn't want it, simply resting there, is warm and real. III has yet to take his eyes off of II the entire morning, so it's really only a matter of time before IV witnesses things he's sure II doesn't want him to. He's only known III a short time, and even IV is aware the Third is showing considerable restraint.
As it is, IV is desperately trying to keep his cool. He can't even make eye contact with II, for as much as he wishes Vessel would look at IV himself. He can't help but think about the way II looked yesterday, coming inside from his and Vessel's date. He'd been a beautiful mess of lipstick kisses and bite marks, cheeks still flushed with a gentle glow from an orgasm.
The sight of him had made IV want. The sight of Vessel following after him, lipstick smeared around his lips, six eyes faintly glowing, had made IV want, too. More often than he would like to admit, IV fantasizes about them. All three of them. Now, with the knowledge of their soulbond and the ability to share thoughts, emotions, and those very fantasies, IV wonders how much of his true feelings have been revealed.
Does Vessel know IV is in love with him? IV wouldn't expect Vessel to act on the knowledge with his deep insecurity, so he doesn't know. What if Vessel does know, and is uncomfortable with IV's love when he already has two adoring partners? IV doesn't want to ruin what he has with Vessel, as fragile as it is.
Does Vessel know that IV longs to treat him right, to bring him to the brink of pleasure, over and over and over again, all while forcing him to watch himself in a mirror while IV praises him? Until the notion that he is loved finally sticks? Until he can look at himself not with disdain but love?
Does III know that IV wants to poke fun with him, get them both in trouble under II's watchful eyes? That he wants to have III over him, under him, beside him, never knowing what to expect as III smiles mischievously?
Does II know that IV wants to kneel at his feet, a hand around his throat holding him securely, safely, placing trust in II that was once broken time and time and time again by his ex?
III wiggles their eyebrows in IV's direction when IV catches his eye, having also been watching Vessel's reaction to II. IV grins back, not offering a nod or a shake of the head, content to let III wonder.
Vessel doesn’t exactly dig in to his meal, but he does start eating, slow bites lifted to his mouth and chewed with that same, dragging pace. To Vessel's credit, he tries to finish the plate, but only manages about half before very gently shoving it a few iches forward and dropping his head down onto the wooden table, antlers scraping the surface. His arms settle around his stomach, clearly full even if he didn't eat much at all. II brushes a hand over his hair as he passes, murmuring a soft 'good boy' as he does. The half of Vessel's face that IV can see looks warm, as red as the tips of his ears, but he feels happy within the bond.
IV watched him the entire time, not realizing he'd neglected his own meal until II stops beside his chair, placing another omelette beside the one IV has yet to touch.
"Eat." He says again, this time directed at IV.
Instead of saying something about how IV could've gotten his own plate and second's if he so wished, what IV says is, "Do I get to be called a good boy, too?"
It slips out before IV can stop it, before the notion of stopping it even crosses his mind. Once the words are out, his face goes up in flames, looking away quickly to avoid whatever expression II must be making.
(*2)Twp, twp, twp!
Sometimes, IV thinks he's okay. That he is really no different than before he'd become a vessel. He could pretend that nothing bad had brought him to these men, this manor. That the man he loved nearly succeded in killing him.
Then, his mouth moves faster than his damaged brain. He would never have dared pose a question like that with his ex. He'd have considered it bratty behavior, not very pliant and submissive of IV. He wouldn't have been considering good, talking back like that, no matter how IV longed for playful banter and a bit of push and give.
Too warm fingers find his chin, gently guiding IV's head to face II.
"Eye contact, please."
It's not a request IV would follow had it been given by anyone except those currently with him. His eyes glance abashedly II's way, finding only a gentle smile pulling at II's lips.
"Be a good boy and eat your food, Ivy."
Blood rushes down to IV's cock instantly. Such simple praise alongside a simple order.
II glances down, his smile pulling at one side into a smirk. He knows he's toeing a dangerous line here, speaking with IV like he is, touching him in this way, looking at him with anything but friendliness in mind.
"Maybe go and deal with that after breakfast, hm?" A thumb brushes over IV's bottom lip, featherlight, barely there, but it's enough to send fire into IV's belly and make his problem considerably worse.
II walks off, saying something about making himself a plate of food now.
IV doesn't quite catch it, too focused on the sway of II's hips as he saunters back into the kitchen. He isn't even wearing a shirt, the broad, yet lithe, muscled form of his back on full display. Every mark Vessel had left is clearly visible, bruises all that remain aside from pinprick scabbing from Vessel's canines.
What does II need such a slim waist for? He's already unfairly pretty, with thick, dark lashes and big, blue eyes and a kind smile he has finally deemed IV worthy of.
Based on the bruises, that waist is clearly for Vessel to hold as he rails the smaller man into oblivion. Fuck, IV wished he could have seen it. Even so, being in III's lap as he had been had been heavenly.
His ex would never have let IV be anything but a bottom. IV can't help but imagine something different, with II. He imagines himself on his knees, begging for the chance to have II laid out below him, to give him pleasure like he's never felt before.
He wants, fiercely, desperately, he wants.
Needing to clear his mind, to occupy his thoughts with anything other than how hard his dick is in his pants and how badly he wants to belong to the vessels in a way he doesn't know if he deserves, IV turns back to his food, finally intending to eat. It's then that he catches sight of the other two.
Both Vessel and III are watching him, now, four sets of eyes searing holes into IV's face. Vessel looks away when IV catches his eye, but III continues to stare, unblinking, a wide grin on his face, chin cushioned by his palm.
"You're so cute, Ives."
"You're teasing me, heulwen, and I do not appreciate it." IV grumbles without heat, finally picking up his fork, intending to focus entirely on his food in hopes his erection will go away on its own.
It's a futile hope, but IV will be damned if he's not going to do his best to will this ache away.
His fingers, stiff as they are, struggle to hold the fork properly. It takes long enough that he fears the others have noticed, but glancing up finds only Vessel watching him with his lower set of eyes, discreetly enough that IV may not have noticed it himself had he not felt the weight of the First's gaze.
"Meanie. I'm only saying it like I see it! Two~" III whines with a pout, turning towards II, requesting, "Come sit in my lap while you eat."
"Why, so your bony thighs can hurt my ass?" II gripes, rolling his eyes with a smile, setting his plate directly next to III's, pulling their chair back with them still in it and sliding onto their lap, all done without an ounce of strain showing on his face.
IV blinks at the show of strength, done with such ease, too.
III's arms wrap around II's waist, pulling him closer and ensuring II will not be able to escape or slide off of III's lap unless honest effort is put in. Its clear once II begins eating that III's hands will not be kept to themselves, slapped away everytime they wander too close to II's waistline. It doesn't stop III from leaving kisses along II's bare shoulders and neck and nape in full view of IV's interested gaze. There's something in the air, mingling with the omelettes, growing stronger every passing second. IV had smelled it when he'd come downstairs, salty-sweet lingering around II and III like a perfume.
He smells it, stronger than before, now able to place it as the memory of that exact smell comes to him. It's the same as when he'd been in III's lap, the same as when II and Vessel made their way inside and sex lingered on their skin. IV takes a subtle sniff in, intentionally trying to parse out that smell of what he realizes is arousal. He can't feel anything of the sort from II and III's bond, but he knows its there, their scents tattling on them.
At some point, that abashed part of IV's mind switches right to unabashed, so stealthily that he doesn't even realize he is watching them and that they both know it, too. III watches him right back, hiding his smirk against II's shoulder, teeth and tongue prodding a particularly harsh bite that Vessel had left the day prior.
II slaps III's hand away from his waist again, the sudden motion dropping some of his food back onto his plate off of his fork. "Quit that, menace, and stop subjecting Four to your insatiable horniness."
Pouting now, III settles his chin on II's shoulder and leaves it there, staring directly at IV with that same smug smirk. II smiles IV's way, apologetic and soft.
Perhaps a bit of embarrassment, too. Vessel lifts his head, the discomfort on his face not quite as severe, two sets of eyes glancing at II and III before making their way back to IV, where the middle set has remained on his face, though carefully avoiding eye contact, "I'd say sorry about him, but Three would just take it as a challenge to be worse."
Absolutely none of this helps IV settle his raging erection, and he scowls at III for the rest of the meal knowing full well that it was the Third's intention.
After breakfast, and once II has returned from the front porch smelling of cigarette smoke, II and III go off on their own, which is to say III draped himself over II's back, nose wrinkling in distaste, and started crowding him towards the stairs, hands already wandering to intimate places in full view of Vessel and IV.
"Stinky, stinky man. Blegh. Brush your teeth, stinky." III gripes, a half-serious scowl tugging at one corner of their mouth, changing direction towards the bathroom.
II goes with little more fanfare, guilt clouding his bond. IV squints after them, displeased with the scent of cigarette ash clinging to II's clothes.
It lingers in his nose as though II were right next to him, overpowering his usual scent of lemon polish and bitter tea. IV wrinkles his own nose with half a mind to tell II just how badly he and Vessel abhor the scent of cigarette smoke.
Unperturbed, at least outwardly, Vessel smiles softly at IV, "Join me in the practice room? You're under no obligation to use an instrument, but I'd like to work on a song, and I'm sure Two and Three won't bother us in there."
Against his better judgment, against the anxiety already itching under his skin, IV agrees, nodding silently. Vessel's wide smile is well worth the anxiety he can feel growing with every step towards the music room. He wrings his aching hands, glancing around the room wildly just to avoid where his eyes immediately want to look, where his feet beg to carry him.
The scents within the room assault him as soon as Vessel shuts the door behind them, the lemon polish of II's drumset stronger here. As a whole, the room is a bit musty, dust having gathered in unused corners. Despite this, the instruments are all well taken care of, IV notes, as he wanders around. Vessel makes his way towards the piano straight away, turning the lamp on and then he's back towards the door, shutting the overhead light off and replacing harsh light with a warm glow that settles some of IV's nerves, even though he can't see nearly as well. Vessel settles on the piano bench, glancing IV's way every few seconds as he pulls his journal from atop the piano lid, thumbing through its pages for a specific song. Jaws was released recently, and then soon to followed is a cover, and another single that sent Vessel into hysterics every time he practiced it. Vessel already has sigils designed for each of the songs on the album that are completed, though he intends for twelve songs in total. Some songs have lyrics that need to be hashed out still, or melodies alone, and others just need recorded, like Drag Me Under and Take Aim.
He was still contemplating putting Blood Sport on the tracklist at all, unable to stop himself from sobbing every time he performed it, whether alone or alongside his others.
Right now, he was focusing on the opening track, the one he intends to have released as a single first. Glancing over IV's way, his fingers hover over the keys while IV inspects III's collection of bass'.
Taking a shallow breath, steeling his nerves, he presses the keys to the first notes. IV looks over, but doesn't say anything, content to eyeball the large amp that III usually sits on while they play. It smells heavily of III, like earth and flowers and the sweat of staying in a room without much air flow. It's absolutely covered in stickers too, of anime and videogames, and flowers. Silly sayings or memes, too. By the time he makes his way over to Vessel, the other man has just begun to sing, IV gingerly sitting down on the bench next to him, taking in the salty scent of tears and sadness clinging to the piano.
"When you live, by daylight, with angels at your side…"
IV is content to listen, his eyes slipping shut as he dares the rest his head against Vessel's shoulder. The next line is shaky, Vessel visibly more nervous with IVs weight leaning against him.
"In order now, bestowed by the light of the sunrise."
"And you remember everything only til' the sun recedes once again."
IV stills at his side, all of his attention locked on Vessel's voice. The First continues playing, the soft notes of the piano the only accompaniment to his voice.
"The white of your eyes, turn black in the low light. In turning divine, we tangle endlessly…"
Vessel shakes now, tears in his eyes as he intentionally skips a few of the lyrics. He can't bring himself to speak them. He thought he could manage it, could use this as a means to tell IV that he was in love with him. He longs to, he wants to spill his guts at IV's feet, apologize for all the wrong he's done. It's Vessel's fault that IV is like this, that his memory is so spotty, that he has to live with those scars and without his parents.
"I was thinking about guitar kicking in with Two's drumming right alongside this next line." He murmurs, clearing his throat, continuing to play and sing, "The night comes down like heaven…"
He plays for a little while longer, his throat threatening to close up as he sings, though he's thankful the lines he skipped before are intended only to be in the backing track once everything is recorded. He wasn't ready for IV to hear them.
"What chords were you thinking of using to start with? Major or minor?" IV finally speaks, his voice quiet, afraid to break the silence that has fallen between them as Vessel waited for an answer.
Those lyrics were turning around and around in his head. It was easy to guess they were about him, but with how fragile Vessel feels in the bond right now, IV doesn't want to properly ask.
"I was considering minor." Vessel says, intending to explain further, though IV beats him to speaking.
"Oh! That will go very well, if you're going for a more somber vibe."
IV continues asking questions about the song itself, never once venturing into lyric territory, to Vessel's relief. He answers what he can, and brainstorms with IV what he cannont. Hours pass this way, noon rolling around in what feels like minutes, but is clearly hours by the way their backs both protest. He's felt on and off bouts of pleasure from both of his lovers, but they've mostly kept it to a minimum, allowing him space to spend time with IV uninterrupted.
"I'm going to make some tea, Four, I need a break. Would you like some?"
Vessel doesn't, he could push himself further and stay on that bench for hours longer and regret it to its fullest later, but Iv's eyes are drooping, his tiredness apparent. IV blinks slowly, seeming to not have heard him. Vessel repeats the question, a little louder this time, standing and shaking out the numbness in his legs.
(*3)"Oh. Ie, cariad, os gwelwch yn dda."
Smiling, Vessel dips his head in acknowledgement as he tries to translate what little Welsh he knows, "You're welcome. I'll be right back."
By the time Vessel returns, two mugs of warm tea in hand, nearly twenty minutes has passed. While the tea steeped, he had gone to fetch one of his plushies from his room, seeking its comfort, seeking the ability to hold it when he couldn't hold IV. He had taken too long to select one, and by the time he had chosen his sleek whale and made his way back downstairs, the tea had gone cold. He'd had to warm them up in the microwave, which took even longer. The music room's cracked door creaks open as he bumps it with his hip, his whale underneath one arm. He stops short just past teh threshold, a smile overtaking his face.
IV has fallen asleep on the couch, arms tucked around the small little merle dog that II had gotten him. Vessel hadn't even realized he'd been carrying it around. As gently and as slowly as he can manage, once their teas are set aside on the endtable just next to the couch, Vessel tucks his whale underneath IV's head to use as a pillow, not minding the loss of comfort if it means IV won't have a nasty crick in his neck when he wakes. IV stirs slightly, only once Vessel's lips have met his forehead in a featherlight kiss, a naughty index finger trailing along the Fourth's jaw curiously. Pulling away from IV and the couch all together, Vessel snatches up his mug and heads back to the piano and his open journal, picking up where he left off on a single planned for later this year. He hums along to the lyrics, practicing the piano notes to memorize the timing alongside the lyrics, wishing he had a church organ for it. Maybe their label could help with that, or their producer.
Lost in his work as he is, Vessel doesn't notice IV creeping along the edge of wakefulness every once in a while, squinting blurry eyes open, groggy mind only barely registering soft singing and gentle piano, interuppted by the occasional self-reprimand. None of this properly wakes him, the Fourth floating in dreamland accompanied by the voice of an angel.
"Will you show me the damage? Ah, no fuck, too light of a tone. Deeper this time, idiot."
He continues writing at the piano for a couple more hours before deciding that his back needs a break from the bench. Picking up one of his guitars as he goes, he settles at IV's feet on the couch, making sure all of the strings are in tune, not daring to plug it in to an amp for fear of waking IV. More writing is done, chords scribbled in his journal, some crossed out violently, others bearing question marks. He sets the electric guitar down, leant against the cushions carefully, feeling subtle arousal from his lovers and quiet contentment, knowing its a lull in their fun. Now would be a good time to check on them, see if they'd like any beverages of their own, and when he returns, he'll wake IV. Its time the other man learns to summon a weapon, if Sleep has even given him that gift at all. He's been putting it off, his yearning painful enough as it is without he and IV by themselves out in the woods they once traversed in dreams, but before they go on tour, Vessel will see to it that IV has a means of defending himself. Especially since he is now awake.
IV wakes slow, groggy and dazed, a headache beginning to twinge in his temple. His foot touches something as he shifts, whatever it is moving enough that fear has him sitting up as quickly as he can manage, hands flying out to save it from crashing to the floor. A plushie falls to the floor, unnoticed, as IV's gaze meets that of an electric guitar, a model he knows but can't recall the name of, a trembling hand reaches out to brush against the strings. His fingers are no longer calloused but that doesn't stop IV from plucking at the E-string, the soft sound it makes sending a zing of happiness down to his very bones.
Its been so long since he sold his electrics off, one by one until there was nothing left. It had hurt like losing a limb for every one. It had taken years to build up that collection, saving what money he could while his ex had been insistent it was a waste of both money and time. Music had been IV's life, how could it ever have been a waste?
The guitar settles naturally in IV's lap as he lifts it by the neck, the strap long and loose over his shoulder. His fingertips move to the frets, his thumb plucking out a few simple chords. G, C, D, Em. He's quick to stop, his fingers down to the knuckles already aching, so he moves on to simply admiring the instrument with his fingertips. Reverently, he traces the curve of the body, admires the polished shine of the metallic bits and bobs that all work together to make the instrument sing. He finds a sad smile pulling at his lips.
He'll never be able to play like he used to. His hands were ruined.
He spirals after that, fingers spasming against the strings, discordant melodies emitting from the guitar. Its weight is no longer comforting, now a heavy two-ton boulder pressing him into the couch. Hurriedly, he pulls it off of his body, strap getting caught by his jutting elbow. The guitar is laid down gently beside him, and then IV is dropping his head between his knees, buried into his arms. His breathing is short, panicked, as he tries to keep his overwhelming emotions to himself. He doesn't stew in them long, a gentle hand touching his shoulder.
"Are you okay?"
Vessel's gentle, worried voice reaches his ears, almost too low for IV to have heard him at all. Slowly, he lifts his head, revealing reddened, swollen eyes as he tries in vain to keep tears at bay. He shakes his head, but doesn't share what it is that has upset him so, reaching up with one trembling hand to hold over Vessel's.
Vessel is desperate to make him feel better, but doesn't know how, any comforting words he could possibly say getting caught in his traitorously thick throat.
"Its alright, how about we get some air? Would you like that? It- It can get stuffy in here and I'm sure it's not helping you any! And- I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
IV nods, forcing himself to his feet, his grip never once loosening on Vessel's hand. The First allows it, tugging him along towards the front door and waiting patiently as IV sits to put his shoes on. Sharp eyes catch the tremble in his hands, narrowing in thought.
"Here, let me." Vessel offers, bending at the knee to tie IV's shoes for him, having watched him fumble repeatedly.
It isn't to rush him, never. Just… the shake only got worse, the bond more murky with upset, the longer IV continued to try and tie his shoes. Vessel only wants to help.
He reaches for IV's hand again once standing again, helping the other up. There's an embarassed flush to IV's cheeks, some of the panic abating now that they’re no longer in close proximity to the music room.
What had set IV off?
Had it been the guitar, moved out of place from where Vessel had sat it?
Thankfully, given enough time on their walk, hand in hand, IV's thoughts and bond eventually settle. He mutters a soft thank you in Welsh, cheeks still reddened in embarrassment, shame flickering in and out of the bond like a dying candle.
'This is the least I could do. I'm sorry I did not know how else to help.' The way Vessel's bond has become a brick wall, of sorts, leaves no room for IV to argue.
"Don't apologize, anwylyd. You've helped more than you know." IV eyes their linked hands, the comfort he takes from such a simple touch is astounding.
He'd wanted to feel that hand in his for so long. It is somehow as cold as he expected, and colder still. There's a nagging feeling as to why in the back of his mind, but try as he might, he cannot recall the reason. It brings only stinging pain to his temples, deep enough to hurt even behind his eyes.
The next few minutes of the walk are spent in silence, Vessel unable to find words to respond with. IV, thankfully, didn't expect a response at all. While Vessel takes small, even strides so IV doesn't have to work to keep up, he trails gentle claws along tree bark, growing shelf mushrooms and cap fungus, all with their own faint glow in the sunlight. IV watches, gaze fond, as the forest sings with Vessel's presence, the trees all whispering a gentle, happy song, plants bending to his whim, the animals around them, in the trees and on the ground, watching, too. Reverent, thankful.
It is thanks to Vessel that this place had not rotted to the core, withered to nothingness.
How does IV know that?
Their peace is interuppted as Vessel's phone dings with another notification, then another, and another. He pulls it out to check, opening up a text message from what IV glimpses as III.
What he sees next is only a glimpse too, but it isn't enough.
It's a fucking selfie of III sucking II off. The angle is superb, the glow of the overhead light shining through the pale blond of III's fluttering lashes. II is very clearly finally getting around to washing the dishes from this morning, suds of soap trailing down the length of his forearms, slender waist on full display, along with the bruises Vessel's hands left over his hips. More hickies have been left, by III, no doubt, fresher, the purple blooming beautifully.
IV gapes, caught between need and surprise. Vessel goes cherry red, tucking his phone back into his pocket.
"My apologies, I should have considered that Three would be sending me such photos."
Licking dry lips, tongue swiping over his teeth to wet them, IV shakes his head. "Na, cariad, I've come to expect a certain amount of horniness from Three at all times. And really, it was my fault for looking at your phone. He, ah, looked quite pleased with himself there."
Slowly, in a manner that could be considered almost creepy, Vessel's head tilts, watching him, searching his face for something. IV mimicks it, waiting for his blush to fade.
"Three loves nothing more than to be on his knees with an occupied mouth." The words are offered up in a manner that suggests they're advice, but the strangely sad look on his face belies insecurity.
This is certainly not a topic between mere friends, and Vessel knows it.
Before IV can get another word out, his face only having turned more red, Vessel turns and begins walking, long legs carrying him forward with a quick gait. It almost feels as though he is attempting to leave IV behind, except he pauses a few feet away, head turning back, eyes finding IV right away. He looks a moment from crying, his mouth pinched shut, a tight line. Its why IV is so startled when he speaks not with his mouth, but directly into IV's mind.
'Are you coming, Ivy? I've something I want to teach you.'
The bond is a chasm of emptiness between them, the gentle feeling of Vessel's emotions pulling back like waves receding from a shore.
IV stumbles forward in his haste to catch up, eager like a lovesick puppy, desperate for that closeness Vessel seems reluctant to give him in the waking, "Oh, yes! Sorri!"
Unbeknownst to him, roots sink into the earth mere milliseconds before he'll trip over them, trees creaking as the forest makes him a safe path, bending to the will of its heart. IV reaches for Vessel's hand again, smiling like a giddy child when Vessel squeezes his hand gently, so gently, and does not drop it afterwards.
The stag is waiting for them at the same gazebo Vessel and IV frequent in their dreams, long, branching antlers dripping snapped spider webs as it stands. IV, to his credit, barely pauses, stepping forward past Vessel to reach out bravely, intending to pet the bone of its snout. His palm meets gore-covered bone, uncaring of the overpowering scent of rot and sea salt that lingers around the stag like a shroud of death.
Lips pinching, Vessel looks away, unable to stomach witnessing the care in IV's touch.
"You are familiar."
Huffing, the stag's mouth moves as if to chuff.
There is only silence, and IV's brows scrunching in confusion. He cannot understand this creature, not like can the others of the forest. Dipping his head to the side, he tries to focus, blocking out what he can of the forest's ambience.
Crying.
Faintly, his ears pick up the sound of despaired sobbing. The thick drip!drip!drip! of something thick, then thin, two different liquids meeting tile.
A picture forms in his mind, but before he can process it, grasp what his mind's eye is seeing, it is gone.
"You are like the others that kept me safe during my transformation. I do not remember you. Ves, this deer, it is like the other creatures, right? The ones that were with me in my dreams?" IV glances Vessel's way once the man has stepped up to his side, pretty, mistmatched eyes curious and unignorable.
"Yes. I did not know you had seen them."
"I was… awake, I think. Sometimes. I couldn't quite open my eyes much, but I remember Sleep speaking of a rabbit, and once, there may have been a spider crawling on my face. They felt a little like Two and Three. Was I wrong to think that?"
Vessel didn't realize IV remembered anything of his transformation at all.
"No, you're right. They're the bits of death Sleep healed from the others. Manifestations of their human bodies."
"Then… this deer. It is your manifestation?"
Vessel cannot bring himself to respond, but the tense silence is answer enough. This is dangerous territory, these questions. They're venturing too close to inquiries Vessel is afraid to answer, to acknowledge.
So, he brushes the topic aside completely. "We're wasting daylight. I would like to teach you to manifest your weapon, if Sleep has gifted you one."
"A weapon?" Dropping his hand from the stag's muzzle, the rotted creature steps back, bows, and retreats as if it had never been there at all, the tears cascading from its empty sockets black as night, inky and shiny like oil.
"Yes, Sleep should have gifted you one like He did the rest of us. I- I don't want you to get your hopes up, though. You are more mine than Sleep's and I'm unsure how weapon giftings actually work."
IV shakes his head with a small smile, "I will not be upset if I don't have a weapon, my other gifts are enough."
Vessel narrows his eyes, head tilting, "No. You do not understand, Four. There are creatures, divine beings, that will seek you out as they do us. You need something to protect yourself from them."
"I'll… always have at least one of you around, won't I?" IV couldn't imagine he'd ever be apart from them for something to happen.
Not that he wants the others to have to fight for him, but if they could, he'd be able to keep them healed up. IV doesn't mean to be so naively hopeful, but the concept of ever being separated from them at a time it would matter is inconceivable.
"Do you remember my nightmares about Two?"
The question alone gets the point across.
Protective, possessive instincts well up at the images that flash through his mind, II's screams burned into Vessel's memories so deeply that IV can recall the pained shrill as if it had happened with himself present, too.
IV looks away, II's blood on his own hands, warm and red and dripping, III's sobbing cries for Vessel to 'Get away, look at what you've caused!' ringing in his ears.
The memories of all of Vessel's nightmares, and the III he knows, do not co-exist easily. He couldn't imagine III ever saying that to Vessel, nor any of the other horrible things dream II and III have spoken to him. Meeting them, its clear at the very least some of Vessel's nightmares were based on fear alone and not entirely memory.
The issue, is that IV cannot recall what is dream or nightmare or reality.
"I just want you to be able to protect yourself." Vessel confesses gently, guilty to have caused such turmoil in IV but resolute in his reasonings.
"Alright. Teach me then." IV levels determined mismatched eyes on Vessel's apologetically morose ones, shoulders squaring.
Vessel smiles, and then begins explaining things as he had with his others.
Teaching IV to summon a weapon was much like it was with II and III, all three of them needing time and practice as Vessel himself did. The entire tim, Vessel worried his lower lip between his teeth. What if Sleep hadn't gifted IV a weapon after all?
Its clear that the more time passes, the more frustrated IV becomes, his breaths coming out in aggravated puffs as he tugs at his hair when again, nothing happens. He doesn't even care that he must look fucking ridiculous, making swinging motions as if there really were a weapon in his hand. Vessel remains patient, his hope ever present, ever quietly radiant in the back of IV's mind.
He doesn't want to disappoint him.
(*4)"Er mwyn uffern!" IV yells, completely done with his own perceived incompetence, Vessel flinching harshly, taking a faltering step back that IV does not notice.
On a frustrated, heavy downswing, IV trips, a flamberge dagger shooting forward in a spray of golden sparks, imbedding itself into one of the gazebo's few remaining beams. Vessel lurches forward to try and break his fall, tripping over a root himself. They go tumbling to the ground in a mess of limbs as IV swears again, vibrant and loud. Vessel ends up straddling IV's waist, both of their hair a mess of leaves and bits of foliage.
Vessel glares directly at the misbehaving root, watching it squirm, hiding beneath the rotting wood flooring. The trees around the gazebo only laugh, their voices carried on the wind. Cheeky things. They knew exactly what their mischief would bring.
IV is more Vessel's than Sleep's.
Vessel's words from earlier cross his mind, unbidden, unrelenting in their intensity. It makes IV feel tingly all over, warm and adoring.
Too busy listening to the trees, Vessel does not notice the expression on IV's face, the tender wonder. The longing in mismatched eyes as he swipes his tongue over drying teeth.
IV wants to kiss him. It would be easy. He'd tug Vessel down by the nape and slot their lips together, slide his hands up into those messy strands of hair and pull him impossibly closer.
He shouldn't. Vessel isn't his.
Still, IV wants him. He wants so many things his mind knows he shouldn't have and yet his heart craves anyways. He's wanted Vessel for far longer than he was willing to admit to himself.
Out of the corner of his eye, IV catches sight of pretty little six-pointed bell-shaped flowers, harebells, their violet-blue hue stark against the crimson foliage beneath his head. Without thought, IV plucks a stalk of them, shifting in one motion to shove Vessel into the grass growing up from underneath the gazebo. He lets out a soft oof! of surprise as IV settles a hand on Vessel's chest to keep him laying there.
Vessel freezes, six eyes wide, pupilless eyes watching IV's every move, his breath held in his chest. The gold in them glimmers in the speckles of sunlight peeking through the canopy of leaves above.
IV thinks nothing of the lack of heartbeat beneath his fingertips, moving his hand away to begin picking the flowers off of the stem a little ways down, single-minded in his task. Carefully, he tucks them into Vessel's hair, right at the base of his antlers, Vessel's still chest kicking back into sudden motion, breath shuddering. Faintly trembling fingers struggle to undo the backing on his earrings, IV slipping one into the little, unoccupied hole in Vessel's lobe.
He smiles when he's done, like a particularly pleased cat, tapping at the little star fossil they once again share. He doesn't quite remember how he got both of the set but now each is back to their rightful owner. Does it really matter?
"Yours, anwylyd. I'm not sure how I got both."
Vessel's eyes shine wetly, concern bubbling up and past IV's lips in a confused little noise, "What's the matter?"
Sniffling, Vessel sits up, discreetly trying to wipe at his eyes. He smears away black eyeliner and unshed, salty tears. "Nothing is wrong, Four. Nothing at all. Thank you for returning it to me."
If IV, of sound mind currently and hours from sundown, had returned the earring, then that means he wanted to.
"Here." Mumbling now, shy and red faced, Vessel plucks tiny glowing blue flowers from the ground, clearly just grown, "Let me return the favor."
Gently, he tucks them into IV's golden curls, so many of them that IV loses count. He doesn't try for long, too busy watching Vessel, mapping out the slope of his jaw, counting each dark eyelash, memorizing his face, creased in concentration. A final flower, this one pink and perfectly round, goes right behind his ear.
IV is more Vessel's than Sleep's.
Just as shyly, Vessel pulls out his phone, waving it lightly in emphasis, "A photo? You look… Good. And we match."
He's clearly embarassed to be asking. IV scrambles closer, palms slipping on crimson moss, the scent of silver lace vines and sea salt in his nose. Vessel turns the camera around to face them, adjusting it so the angle captures the flowers in their hair just right. He snaps a photo, a couple times to make sure at least one looks good.
Once done with that, he opens up the photo gallery to share them in the group chat that Vessel realizes he's been neglecting. It's filled mostly with recent memes from III, links to game codes that Vessel needs to redeem, jokes against II's height, and clips of him in the practice room learning new songs that have nothing to do with the band. He doesn't really look at the pictures closely, always hating to stare at himself for too long, but he knows the others will enjoy them.
He's unable to stop himself from going through a couple of the other photos that didn't turn out as well, and through the blur, the forest a smear of red and green, he can see IV just shy of clearly.
IV, who has an utterly soft, lovestruck expression on his face as he looks not at the camera, but at Vessel.
He doesn't deserve to be the object of that expression. He finds himself craving it anyways.
"So, I saw you managed to summon your weapon. That's good!" Vessel blurts as he stands, face red as blood, brushing bits of moss off of his hoodie.
IV eyes it, wondering why he's wearing it in the beginning of summer. Nothing beneath is anything IV hasn't been before, not the scarring nor the slow build of muscles over months of work outside of dreams.
Sharp as a the crack of a bone, Vessel's head turns to somewhere far beyond the bubble of peace that has formed within the overgrown gazebo, posture stiffening. Instinctively, IV stiffens, too, shifting closer towards Vessel and taking what feels like his natural place at his back.
"What is it?" IV asks, but then he feels it, too.
That tremble in the air, the trees whispers hurried and afraid, nothing more than faint emotion compared to Vessel's complete understanding of their soundless words. Vessel's hand finds IV's arm, fingers sliding down to link their hands, and then the First is tugging IV out from beneath the safety of the colorful overgrowth.
"We need to head back, I'm sorry." Vessel seems to guide IV to walk in front of him, his pace hurried, expression pinched with worry.
As they go, a gold sheen of magic pulses from beneath Vessel's bare feet, red spider lillies blooming and wilting in time with each step. Where they touch, IV can feel the hum of the divinity beneath Vessel's skin, the crimson of his eyes faintly aglow. The sight of the flowers strike a chord of familiarity within IV, mistmatched eyes glancing up at the small antlers jutting out of Vessel's crown elegantly and the same spindly blooms that adorn the base of them.
He's seen them before, but where?
Vessel is tense beside him, his hand cold as death where it occasionally squeezes IV's, whether to reassure himself, or IV, the shorter man doesn't know. They breach the treeline into the open space around the manor, and then Vessel is letting IV's hand go, stepping back.
"It's likely nothing. I should be back before the other two ask after me. Stay inside."
(*5)"Aros-!" IV stumbles along, tugged relentlessly towards the front door, struggling futilely against the vines leading him along.
Turning on his heel only once IV has been reluctantly guided into the manor by the vines trailing down around the porch, his shoulders sag. Gold pulses steadily at his feet, his magic working to strengthen the barrier around the realm, something he had set into place not long ago, upon realizing he could. Upon taking a step forward, his leg threatens to buckle at the knee, though iron will keeps him standing. He needs to check the perimeter, needing to see the barrier with his own eyes. With no apples to guard should an intruder come near, the stag breaches the treeline around the manor, passing Vessel as the First stalks forward into the surrounding forest. The rotting corpse bends at the knee, kneeling before the porch to guard the manor.
He keeps to his word, returning to the manor in record time, considering his task. With help from the trees and some of the animals, Vessel was able to pinpoint about where something was poking around the barrier, though he isn't sure what it was. Had it been an animal, the forest would not have alerted him. Could it have been a human wandering too close? Within London, where Epping forest resides, it wasn't unusual for a human to wander too close before the magic could divert their attention. Some were more immune to it than others. Reassured that nothing is currently the matter, the front door creaks open, the stag relieved of its post. II frets over him, having been waiting by the door, he and III's activities momentarily paused in favor of more important matters, blue eyes almost wild as they take in the lack of injury and Vessel's confused, but otherwise unbothered expression.
"Is-?"
Vessel leans down, caressing the short hair at II's nape, laying a sweet, placating kiss to his forehead. When he pulls away, he reaches around to smoothe the permanent wrinkle between II's brows, terribly fond.
"Everything's fine, beloved. Enjoy your time with Three. Four and I will be fine. Speaking of, is he here, or somewhere else?"
"Three kidnapped him a little while ago. Four had been worried and Three wanted to distract him, so they're painting his nails. I've already spoken with them, and they're content with how much use they've gotten out of me today." Snorting in amusement, II shakes his head, relief leeching the tension from his body.
Letting out a soft hum, Vessel slides his hand into one of II's, linking their fingers together. "How unlike him. He's usually utterly insatiable."
"He saw the flowers you put in Four's hair." II says softly, allowing himself to be lead towards the staircase.
Elvira meows in excitement, weaving between Vessel's feet and making it difficult to not trip over her. She even bats at his ankles as they ascend the steps, fluffy black tail swishing back and forth.
"Oh."
"I see Four returned the favor, then. Or did you start it?" II reaches up with his other hand to tuck a harebell back into place, pulling them both to a stop on the landing.
Elvira continues to torment him, seeking attention so avidly that Vessel has no other choice than to lift her into his arms and allow her to rub her head under his chin, making sounds softly all the while.
"No, it was him. He tripped while trying to summon his Sleep-given weapon, and I tried to catch him. We both ended up on the floor." Trying for a smile, it falls a little flat.
There's a sudden, unexplainable ache in his empty chest, a heaviness to his bones. The day had been good, so why is Vessel so tired he wishes he could sleep forever?
"Do you think Three will paint my nails, too?" Vessel pushes past his darkening thoughts, unwilling to let his mind wander down such a dark road.
It will only grow darker if he entertains them, and he has promises to keep. So he listens as II reassures him, petting Elvira and using the softness of her fur to anchor him here, to this moment. He doesn't want to float away. He wants to remain, to be able to smile and laugh freely as he listens to III and IV poke fun at each other, II offering his own dry humor, asking after a sparkly purple for his own nails. Vessel wants this to last forever, this peace between them all, his nails being painted a shimmering aqua, Elvira purring contentedly in his lap.
II is nicer to him now, IV notices, finding himself watching his fellow vessels most days, waiting for the inevitable setting of the sun to steal his current self away until morning.
He works harder to control his irrational emotions, hating that he can't seem to rid himself of them entirely. His dislike of Sleep continues to grow, any respect he once may have had now withered away. IV has done nothing but prove that he's here, not to hurt Vessel, but to love him as II and III do. The conversation he'd had with IV in the car and then that following morning certainly helped. Their date had been so, so lovely, too. Spending time with II, one on one, had been what Vessel needed to soothe his fears. IV was letting himself hope that he was finally finding a place here, a home and a place to belong with the people who lived in it.
Every day, IV would wake with his memories in tact, an eager bounce to his step as he rose with the sun, usually always before II. IV has been nothing but genuine this entire time, and II has regarded him with open hostilitiy and distrust. It's unfair to their Fourth. If any of them gets hurt, it will just be the way of things, unless II finds out that Sleep had a hand in any of it. Still, II finds his emotions running away without him more than he would like, and every time, his scar burned like liquid fire.
He didn't like the implications of it, the new knowledge that Sleep is interfering with not just his body but his mind.
IV often found himself dreaming, walking endlessly, feet pained beyond the point of aching, stumbling ever onward to whatever lay at the end of the tethers in his chest. He wasn't always alone, a presence beside him, a shadow at his feet. When things took a dire turn, when his breaths came short and it felt like his body was going to give up from walking so long without pause, the shadow would stretch, antlers growing like vines, and then Vessel would step out as though he'd been following IV all along. He had been, for IV had never truly been alone. Vessel would offer his hand, and suddenly, the walk towards home didn't seem so impossible. There was no warmth in the touch, no feeling to really be felt, but IV knew Vessel's presence at his side was real.
Other nights, IV would dream of his ex. His face blurred, his name just out of reach, his words no less cutting, his hands just as violent. When he slept alone, those were the dreams that haunted him. He never, ever woke up alone though. Not after that first time he'd woken, choking on a sob and tore out of his room, searching for someone, anyone, maybe even the man who had hurt him so terribly. Vessel hadn't even been in the manor, out deep in the forest in the early hours of the morning, too far to be of any help, so he had tugged violently on his lovers bonds and sent them to find IV while he made his way back home.
It had taken time to find him, II hearing the soft sobbing in a dusty, unused corner of the dark library where IV had hidden, curled into himself with his head between his knees. Vessel had returned then, the vines climbing along every inch of the walls and bookshelves shuddering with the First's quiet panic as the front door shuts with no hand to guide it, long legs already carrying him towards the stairs.
"Four…? Did you want to talk about it?" II asks, unsure if IV was sundowning or not.
The eyes that meet II's are blank, not an ounce of recognition in them, the Fourth tucking himself further into the corner. He says not a word as II remains crouched, a hand outstretched as if IV were a frightened stray, one too-quick movement away from bolting. He kept up with soft reassurances that IV was safe, introducing himself again in case it was needed, going as far as to point out their matching bracelets as he does so. Still, IV does not move closer, though the thought seems to cross his mind.
Inly once Vessel has swept into the room had IV uncurled himself, crawling the short distance on his hands and knees towards Vessel as the First kneels heavily, reaching out to each other. IV goes in for a hug, to wrap his arms around Vessel's middle and sink into him, only for Vessel to ease him down towards his lap instead, a finger briefly glancing his temple.
IV falls back to sleep as though he had never woken up. II scowls, a reprimand on the tip of his tongue, though he stops short at the expression on Vessel's face. Its already guilty, eager, even, to accept whatever harsh word II may give him.
"Take him to my room, I'll stay with him." II says instead, shoulders drooping as he stands alongside Vessel, IV deadweight in the First's arms.
After that, III had begun to invite him to his room more often in earnest, no longer just spending most nights together while III takes care of IV during his sundowning episodes. The moment they'd shared on the couch, IV in III's lap, their lips nearly brushing, was a constant source of guilt and yearning. III doesn't think that IV is in the same place mentally as Vessel was, when III had taken things too fast and fallen into bed with the First, hesitant to dive right in and ask for what he wants.
What if IV was like Vessel had been, so eager for affection in any way he could get it, that he would rush into something he wasn't ready for?
IV never tastes Vessel's blood on his lips again. He refuses to ask, and Vessel will not dare offer it up, no matter how he longs to. It is III who rolls his eyes with fondness over burnt toast as he lounges in the dirt, listening to the birds tweet happily in the morning sun, deciding they may as well be the one to see what is going on on Vessel's end. Besides, he misses Vessel dearly, many nights spent with sweet, confused IV and mornings with II while Vessel works or rests, his sleep schedule out of wack as depression clings to his shoulders like an ex-lover. The date had been good for him, but nothing is a cure-all for an illness of the mind.
"So, lovie, when are ya going to ask Four about the sucky sucky?"
"The what?" Vessel mumbles from his place beside them, their arms pressed together, hands linked, eyes squinting open from where he had dozed.
"Sucky sucky." III blinks up at the passing clouds slowly, a grin stretching wide on his face as he comes to a cheeky realization.
Pink bouvardia's and purple consolida's brush against III's cheek, drape over he and Vessel's linked hands, flourish between the small gaps between their laid-out legs. Such lovely, fresh blooms, with such darling meanings that have III's soul alight with love of his own. Maybe III will uproot a few of them to pot and set on the porch instead of letting Vessel will them to wilt to clear up the walkway between their plots again.
"I have not asked him to suck my dick. Why would I do that?" Vessel asks in a blunt tone, a little more awake now, the blush staining his cheeks giving away how flustered he's become.
Betony's spring into bloom around his head, the surprise in Vessel's bond matching their meaning. III can't help the loud, raucous laughter that bursts out of his chest, leaving him breathless and wheezing as he wiggles around in the dirt. His toast lays half eaten beside him, attracting ants that III will soon need to escape from.
"Your blood, Sugar, I meant your blood!" III chokes out past their grin, still struggling to contain his laughter, nudging Vessel's bare foot with a sneaker.
"Oh."
III can't help the surge of affection tearing right through them, sitting up on one arm and leaning over Vessel to kiss him senseless, a gentle hand cupping Vessel's cheek. III never ends up getting a proper answer, content to urge Vessel into asking IV about the blood drinking some other time, content to make out with him for a while longer yet.
"Spend the day with me. I miss you. I've been with Ivy a lot lately, and I miss my boyfriends. I'm having horrible, horrible withdrawals! Two made some time for me after your date, now it's my turn to hog all of your attention! He even said he'd watch over Four later, so I can have a bit of a break."
With a smile, Vessel meets III's beautiful blue eyes, "Did you ask him or did you foist Four off like a child to a reluctant babysitter?"
Scoffing lightheartedly, III nudges Vessel's cheek with a finger, squishing the soft skin inward, "I'll have you know that once I explained that I wanted you to myself for today, Two offered to 'babysit' our resident grandpa. Willingly. With a smile! I think he's finally coming around to Ives. Took long enough, the ass."
Laughing, Vessel's smile widens on one side, orange gerbera's blooming around his biceps. "Grandpa? He's younger than you and Two."
"Two and I are old~!" III drags out the 'o' teasingly, "You're the oldest vessel but the youngest of us, aren't you?"
Sad realization strikes across III's face so suddenly it leaves Vessel reeling, hands coming up to cup their cheeks, mouth opening to ask what's happened. III beats him to speaking, tone gentling.
"Ves, when's your birthday? Now that I think of it… I don't know mine. How has this not come up? I've been with you for years now."
Silence stretches between them as Vessel seriously considers the answer. It comes to him easily. He leans up, pressing his forehead to III's tenderly. His next words come out in a murmur against III's lips, soaking in the featherlight kisses III begins leaving against his mouth. Having enough of straining his back, Vessel settles back against the dirt, III remaining above him.
"I hadn't celebrated since I was… really young. I don't remember."
"Well, that just won't do. We'll pick birthdays for ourselves then. When- When did you become a vessel? Was it in the summer like with me?" III is hesitant to ask about that time in Vessel's afterlife, hating the detached or devastated look he'll get.
"It was autumn, I think? The beginning of it, maybe. Some of the trees had gone orange and red." Vessel whispers, unsure, the memories of his time alone fuzzier now, "It was cold, and I was only in my robe and pants. I just… I remember my loneliness the most. I remember being scared, trying to find this place by myself without my six eyes to see with. It was dark, and cold-." III nuzzling their nose against Vessel's, so gentle in their affection, helps pull Vessel from spiraling into his fading memories.
"And what about Two? I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't remember actually-."
Vessel unintentionally cuts III off fondly, "I don't. Time was… strange before Two arrived. I was by myself and stuck in my head. I hadn't been by myself for more than a few weeks, and when he had arrived, Two was… so kind. So patient with me. I was a mess, then. I- I'm still a mess now, but you didn't see me, Three."
Trailing off again, Vessel shakes his head to bring his mind back from the dark place it has wandered, "I remember we had begun fixing up the manor in preparation for winter."
Gentle fingers reach up to tug III closer by the chin, seeking the comfort of a kiss. III gives it to him without struggle, easing his weight down but not pressing against Vessel. Unable to help himself, Vessel deepens it, hand slipping from III's jaw around to his nape, pulling him closer. Forgetting himself for but a moment, their chests brush, forcing Vessel to tug III away with a disappointed whine.
"Too close." He pants, reaching up to kiss III again, once there's a sufficient amount of space between their heaving chests.
He isn't truly out of breath, needless as it is, but Vessel was alive, once, with a beating heart and lungs that demanded oxygen. Keeping up the act was second nature, now. Sometimes, if he got too carried away with the taste of III on his tongue, or II, then Vessel would forget, his lungs just as delirious as he was, helpless to the way his lovers stole his breath with their beauty, their taste, their love.
III doesn't let their lips meet, pretty blues apologetic and just as yearning as Vessel's.
"Very sorry to say this, love of my life, but an ant just bit me and I can feel more gearing up to do it, too. We need to get up." III is already pulling Vessel up with him, shaking their leg desperately as soon as they're up.
Vessel can't help the laughter that spills from his lips even as he crouches to help knock ants off of III's legs.
"Hey, lovie, what do you think he will do if I go up to Two while we're on tour and tell him he forgot my birthday?" III reaches out for one of Vessel's hands as the First stands again, linking their fingers together.
Absentmindedly, Vessel begins running his thumb over III's knuckles, more habitual than an honest attempt at any sort of soothing.
Tilting his head, Vessel smiles weakly, a bit unsurely, "Do you want him to panic? He'll think he's really forgotten, stressed as he is on tours."
Guilt passes over III's face, as though he'd already done it to II and feels guilty over it.
"Ya know, you're right. It's funny in theory but I don't actually want to stress him out like that. We're a bit… stressful on tour as it is and he has enough on his plate."
Vessel's smile wavers, his own guilt creeping up on him. He knows he isn't easy to handle, especially on tour. If he's not sleeping, he's wallowing in his anxiety. Performing such emotionally devastating songs almost every night for weeks on end drained him, and the return home was hardly any better. Exhaustion clinged to him like a second skin for days after tour, the leftover ritual magic seeping from his body slowly, into the land beneath his feet, his power growing as the realm did, too.
"Nuh-uh, Sugar, you pull those thoughts right out of the bad place! We both know most of Two's stress is my fault. I've dropped more of our instrument cases than I can count 'cause I'm tripping over cables."
"I'm functionally useless off stage, beloved. I know that adds to his stress."
III scowls and then he's trying to lift Vessel off his feet by the waist. Shocked laughter spills from Vessel's lips as III visibly struggles, terribly tempted to press their head to Vessel's chest for better leverage to wrap arms around him and heft him up.
After a few moments of trying and failing to lift Vessel, III gives up with an annoyed huff, only to gasp in surprise as Vessel bends to pick them up, an arm behind III's knees and shoulders, holding him a little ways out from his own body. It's a display of surprising strength, one that has blood rushing right to III's cock. He is given little time to pout over the change in positions, as what Vessel says next has a pretty flush filling their cheeks instead.
"I love you, my dearest sunshine."
"So you're also going to take up calling me sunshine?" III mutters, blue eyes shining, fingers reaching up to play with the hair at Vessel's nape, spreading them out in the loose mess of Vessel's black and silver hair.
"It is I who first referred to you as our sunshine, darling. Four has only realized it for himself."
"You'd better stop before I make a fool of myself by creaming my jeans in your arms."
Vessel's lips pinch, and III thinks that perhaps they've said something wrong as the First's head turns away. Only, there are no tears or watery words, only the subtle shake of shoulders as Vessel struggles not to laugh openly.
"Hey!" III exclaims in false offense, arms crossed in a pout, "It would be embarassing! I can't believe you're laughing at me~!"
Finally turning back to look at him, Vessel sets III down on the bottom step of the porch, hands seeking out his lovers instinctually, "You're right, beloved, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you when you choose a date for your birthday. You said the summertime, yeah?"
Humming in thought, III almost vibrates out of their skin with the force at which an idea occurs to them, shaking Vessel's hands in their excitement. "You choose a day for me! Make it a surprise!"
Mouth parting in surprise, Vessel blanches, "What? But- It's your birthday. I couldn't possibly…"
"You can." III nods, easy as anything, as though the date of his birthday means very little to him.
What if Vessel chooses a day that III doesn't like? What if III regrets ever letting Vessel choose at all and is disappointed in him…?
There's the soft rap of knuckles against his forehead, startling Vessel from the dark recesses of his spiraling thoughts. "Tell your brain that my brain said it's not allowed to overthink this."
"You're so silly." Whispering, Vessel leans forward to press his lips to III's, getting up on his tiptoes to make up for the height difference that is usually nonexistent.
"Silly and proud." III grins into the kiss, eyes wide open to watch the gentle flutter of Vessel's lashes.
They part to find II and IV, finding them already together and in the music room.
"We're just going to laze about, play some games, maybe he'll let me get freaky." III is saying, practically draped over IV's back as the shorter man is shoved forward on the couch.
A single long arm is wrapped around his waist, keeping him tugged close to III so IV won't slide right off the couch. He'd made himself at home behind the Fourth when they'd come in and seen II at his drumkit and IV on his phone, headphones with different uses over their ears. Vessel had gone right to his piano, plucking out a few notes for fun.
"Yeah, that's fine, dear menace. You don't have to ask. Go on, I've got him. Don't I, Four?" II shoo's III off and then directs his next question to IV, something soft yet unsure in his eyes, wiping sweat off his brow with a rag.
"Ie. You've got me." IV replies, something oddly vulnerable underlying the softly spoken words, fiddling with the cord of his headphones.
"If you're sure." III says, after a moment of pause, glancing between the two with a knowing look in their eyes, splaying a hand over IV's soft tummy.
They giggle quietly as the muscles in IV's stomach jump beneath his touch, thumb rubbing mindlessly over IV's shirt.
II was down bad already and won't even admit it to himself. III knows he won't. If II isn't feeling guilty over his behavior and is unwilling to consider that wanting IV after what he's said and done is an option to him, then the sky was neon pink and III was straight. Really, is III the only one not emotionally constipated right now? Between Vessel and II, III seems to be the only one not drowning underneath their own conceived failings.
Sam will absolutely be hearing about this later.
Reluctantly, III manages to extract themselves from behind IV, but not before subtly nuzzling against his back as they go. Man, IV is warm, too, like II, though not to such extremes. He would be such a good cuddle buddy. Rather, he is a good cuddle buddy, only III can't just bend and kiss him for his insane cuteness whenever they want.
III drags Vessel off not a moment later, leaving II and IV to their own devices. Not much changes, II continues to work on the drum parts of what songs Vessel has given him the lyrics to, his melodies and notes all written down in the margins. Its easier to do if Vessel were here so that II could add accents along with the vocals, but its no matter. II is a professional, and he loves what he does. IV makes no big fuss over spending so long together and in the same room just on his phone no less, fully aware he can leave if he really wanted to. The Fourth starts to doze, sleepiness claiming him in short naps, on and off.
It isn't so bad even when the sun begins to set and IV's bond goes foggy, his tether too jumbled. If anything, its good for II's back and aching limbs, a reason to take a much needed break for the night and rest his mind so he can start anew when he next comes in to write.
Standing and stretching, II's shirt rides up, and sleepy as he is, IV has no shame to speak of as he stares, drinking in the sweaty sight of II's stomach, biceps flexing in his tank top.
"Ready to go to bed, Ivy?" He asks, tailed by a low groan as his back pops.
"Ivy?" II asks again when IV doesn't respond, finding him staring directly at II's exposed skin.
The Second can't help the startled, fond laugh that spills out of him.
"You have as much of a staring problem as Three." Mumbling under his breath, II offers a hand IV's way.
Finally seeming to catch on that he was being spoken to, IV's head lifts, tilting just enough that the ear on his undamaged side is facing II more than the other. Managing to keep the frown off his face, II smiles instead, filing away that observation for later, "Bedtime. Coming with me to mine or would you prefer we go to yours?"
Come to think of it, II hasn't really seen IV's room since IV woke up from his transformation.
IV flinches almost imperceptably, but II had been watching him, had seen the slight cringe in his facial expression, the pulling of the muscles in his cheeks to bare more teeth and gum. IV swipes his tongue along the exposed bone, clearly scrambling for an answer.
"Yours, please, cwningen. I just need to grab a pair of pajamas from mine."
"Yeah, alright, that's fine. Let's get some water into you first. And a snack." II swipes his thumb once over IV's knuckles before he's leading them down towards the kitchen.
"That's odd, I was sure we had some snacks leftover somewhere. Not much, admittedly, but some." II mutters, looking in the usual cabinets and deep into the pantry for the sweets and bags of crisps they keep around.
He almost completely misses the guilty look on IV's face, only noticing due to the same emotion in the bond.
"I'm assuming you have something to do with it, then? I'm not mad. I'd just like to know where it all went." II says, turning his head IV's way.
Wringing his hands, short, slightly sharp nails dig into black skin, "I think I come down during the night and eat whatever I can grab. It's fuzzy, but there are some flashes of memory."
"Well, so long as it's put to good use, I don't mind. We'll just have to make sure we buy extra once we're home from tour. Until then, I suppose Three will have to suffer full meals instead of snacking while he games." II says with a laugh, hoping to ease some of the guilt in IV's bond.
His grey knuckled hands relax, II's curious eyes noting the continued tremble. It is hard not to notice, it never seems to leave. II should ask, but he doesn't want to bring attention to it. IV seems to try his best to hide the shake, sticking his hands under his thighs at meals, his expression nervous, unsure, staring down at his quickly emptied plate with something akin to longing, though that is buried, too.
"I'll make us something quick then, a sandwich alright?" II continues, heading to the fridge instead.
Out of habit, now, he makes no less than two sandwiches for IV, and half of one for himself. Vessel had taken care of dinner for he and III earlier — As II was notified through the bond —, so it was about time for them to have eaten anyways. By the time they've brushed their teeth and made it up to IV's room, both of them are dead tired, IV struggling to stay standing. It's cute.
The handle on IV's door creaks open, and II sees it for the first time since he'd awoken from his transformation.
IV's room is bare. Completely bare. It lacks anything personal, immediately raising alarm bells in II's mind. The bed is perfectly made, his extra pair of shoes placed neatly by the door. His phone is on the nightstand, regaining charge while they're in here. On the bed, only a single plushie sits, the wolf that Vessel had gotten him, tucked under the covers with care.
"We need to get you some decorations, it's… lonely in here."
IV shrugs helplessly, his back turned as his digs around in his dresser for pajamas. "It is lonely, but that's alright. I just spend most of my time with Three. Or Ves, but mostly Three."
You shouldn't have to be lonely, this is your home, II thinks, and then decides, no, he's not going to keep that thought to himself. So he doesn't. IV's shoulders go stiff, like someone has pulled on his strings too tightly.
IV does not like his room.
He hates spending time in here, especially alone. Its lonely, and lifeless, not even the vines have crawled much of their way within. Vessel won't even go past the threshold, and IV fears the reason. Is it because of him, or does it have to do with the digust and self-loathing that Vessel tries to hide from him but can't? IV would think it was because of him based on those emotions alone, but that look in Vessel's eyes begs to differ.
IV has seen it before.
"Hey, Two?" IV inquires as he shuts his door behind him, freshly changed.
He wants to take II's hand in his, but refrains.
"Yeah, Ivy?"
"What room did Nick use when he was here?"
II pauses, a hand on his doorknob. His head turns, blue eyes glancing over at III's closed door where they both can feel is empty. They must be in Vessel's room then. That might be enough distance to not be overheard.
"He didn't stay here often, overnight occasionally. He used your room as it was the only guest room for a while. Is- Is that what your aversion to your room is about? Is that why you don't like spending time in there?" II worries, having not considered this possibility at all, a hand on IV's lower back urging him inside.
IV sits at the end of II's bed, taking in everything as he tries to come up with an answer. It's clean and orderly, a few vases of glowing flowers strewn about on any stable surface II has. A multitude of drum sticks in a bin, drawings of flowers pinned to the walls, band posters, pictures of II and Vessel. There are rare polaroids of III, selfies by himself or with II or Ves, an arm slung over II's shoulder or pressing a kiss to Vessel's temple. He wasn't expecting the jackalope plushie on the bed nor the thin, cooling sheets and the flimsiest blanket IV thinks he has ever seen instead of an actual comforter.
Already, IV can feel himself slipping. It's a faint thing, nearly unnoticable, a fuzziness in his mind spreading slow, infecting the brain. One part of him wants to tell II that Vessel never visits him in that room. Another wants to spill every fuzzy memory of Vessel's own of his time in that room, the discomfort Nick made him feel just by speaking with him, looking at him. The things Nick would do in Vessel's room as well. Dig around in his things, threaten to tear up his plushies and make fun of him for his self-harm. At some point, Vessel had dreamt of it all, his mind intent on making him suffer, of forcing him to relive every moment the First deemed cowardly.
If IV had the chance, he'd kill Nick. He'd tear into him with his teeth, rip intestines from his gut and watch it all spill out at his feet and gnaw on the entrails.
"Those are very vivid images considering you can barely recall the man's face." II smirks, a weary, but concurring thing.
He goes to tug off his shirt off before stopping short, a considering look on his face, "Do you mind if I don't wear this to bed? I run hot."
IV tilts his head with a smile that could be considered predatory or intimidating due to IV's scarring, but II just finds it downright adorable, "Now you care? I've seen you shirtless before, cwningen bach, and you just saw me change into my nightclothes."
"Well, we've not been quite so close. I wanted to make sure." II breezes right on past this conversation to hide how embarassed he has become, "Come on then, in bed, you look like you're about to fall over."
IV rolls his eyes, but crawls up towards the head of the bed. II heads over to his desk chair where he keeps a pile of blankets for his lovers and grabs one of the fluffier ones, still feeling quite guilty over everything and not wanting IV to be cold. Making his way back over to the bed, he finds that IV has been watching him again, having left the singular flimsy blanket on the bed exactly where it had been before. II grabs it, tossing it over IV's head followed by the fluffier blanket next.
"I don't plan on letting you freeze, Four."
As IV is slipping the blankets off of his head, he unintentionally sends his thoughts blaring II's way. Dissapointment is blatant in his eyes as he thinks about how badly he'd wanted to cuddle into II's naked chest, his muscles pressed to his cheek, an arm over his waist.
Thank the Gods above that II has the patience and control of a saint, and the guilt over past mistakes of a sinner.
IV doesn't say anything, a hot flush on his cheeks as he finally frees himself of the blankets over his head. By then, II has crawled into bed next to him, television remote in hand and settled against his pillows. IV remains on the other side of the bed, as though afraid to draw nearer.
"Come on then, I don't bite." II urges, patting the empty space at his side while turning on the television.
"I do." IV says, knowing he has said the words before but to whom?
He scoots closer, carefully draping the blanket over himself as he lays down. There is still ample space between them, IV afraid to close it any further. This isn't like sharing a bed with III, where the tall, lanky man easily tugs IV closer to cuddle, forcing a willing IV into a little spoon position as they watch old re-runs of ancient anime on Cartoon Network. II guides IV into curling into each other, their feet brushing, IV's face mere inches from that very chest he had been ogling the entire time it was available to gaze upon. II was muscled, in a leaner way, more attention going to his arms and legs than anything else considering his line of work and hobby. III's arms were strong from lugging around his bass, but that was nothing compared to the bicep cushioning IV's head.
IV waits a moment, breath caught in his chest, before sinking into the heat of II's skin. II is warm, furnace warm, his skin marked by moles and golden filigree similar to IV's, a scarred cheek pressed to a pec.
"Is this okay?" He asks, quiet, no less hesitant than he is every time he seeks out II's touch.
"Yes, why wouldn't it be?" II's hand slides up IV's back, past his nape and up into golden blond curls, then back down again, his fingers catching in the coiled strands.
"I don't know you." He whispers, almost too quiet for II to hear, breathing in and out, long and deep, subtle sniffs of his nose passing under II's radar, "But I do. You're familiar to me."
"My name is Two, you're with me tonight." II continues his fingers path up and down IV's back, hoping to keep him calm.
"You're Two?" There's genuine wonder in IV's voice, not an ounce of his emotion hidden away or diminished.
"I am."
"You're as pretty as Vessel described you to be."
"Oh. Thank you. You're very pretty yourself." II stutters over his words, taken off guard by the blunt compliment.
IV doesn't respond, the fuzzy bond lightening, no longer quite so confused. He's content to remaind cuddled up close to II, happy to finally be meeting him. He doesn't question how he's able to feel the other man's warmth on his skin, or ask after Vessel.
This is a lovely reprieve from his horrible day.
II clicks play on the first of the Lord of the Rings movies, the extended edition, IV snuggling in closer with a soft sigh, so easily content to be with a man who, at this moment in his mind's timeframe, he doesn't even know. Not outside of Vessel, anyways. II doesn't hold his breath, doesn't come to a startling, world altering revelation.
It happens quietly, about halfway through the movie as IV threatens to doze off any minute now, snicking into place like the final piece to a puzzle II had been working on his entire life. He'd always known he was going to love their Fourth.
It had been building, slow and steady, as he got to know IV beyond his fear of what he could do to them if he ended up being of similar personality to Nick. Loving IV was no easy thing, II warring with his own fears and the distrust sown by meddling, petty gods. He found himself beginning to love IV's anyways, regardless of his own hangups. IV was simply too endearing for his own good, eager and happy to help around the house or with meals, clingy with III in a way II is sure he would be with both Vessel and II himself if given half the chance. II knows he's likely ruined the chance of that ever happening outside of IV's sundowning, so he'll take what he can get now.
After IV finally falls asleep, II spends some time finishing the first movie, and moving on to the second, scrolling a little on his phone as III sends him pictures, all of them of cats in various situations, each one captioned with Vessel's name. II does his best to stifle his laughter, afraid to wake IV, sending his agreements to some or commenting that others seem more like III themselves than Vessel. It isn't long until II's perpetual tiredness takes hold, and he finds himself also falling asleep, gently pulling IV closer, his head slotting underneath II's chin.
IV startles awake and has absolutely no clue where he is, a tattooed chest pressed right against his face.
Right away, he is confused, moving to stand from the bed he lays in, extricating himself from strong, warm arms and a fuzzy, comfortable blanket. Is this his apartment? It couldn't be. It's far too comfy, full of personal knick knacks and photos of people that spark bits of recognition in his brain, but little else. On the television, a movie has ended, familiar credits behind a pop-up for the final movie in a series IV is intimately familiar with. The man beside him stirs from his doze, blue eyes widening slightly in mild alarm with how suddenly IV pulls away. It seems like only a moment ago that II had closed his eyes. It must have been longer than that, as no sun at all peeks in through his curtained window.
"Four, where are you going?"
Two hands rub at his neck, expecting pain but finding none. Where fragile, bruised skin should be, is only unblemished, pale flesh. His eyes wander to the digital clock on the nightstand, eyes widening in alarm.
"I've- I'm supposed to be making dinner. I- His friends are coming over…"
"Dinner has been made, love, and you've eaten." II chances a glancec at his phone screen, finding the hour past one in the morning.
IV's hands only scrub at his neck more violently, nails catching and leaving reddening welts.
"No, that can't be right. I- I haven't eaten, I'm still so hungry. I wouldn't dare until he'd finished. It's not allowed."
"He's going to be so mad. He's going to hit me. I'm always fucking up. I- I don't even know who you are!" IV can't meet II's eyes as he says it, can't bear to see what expression he'll make, and far too busy panicking to care.
Anger surges through II's veins so strongly that he nearly lets it slip down the bond and stain the tentative trust IV has placed in him. It takes more effort than II would like to admit, the heat under his skin boiling, his blood on fire.
"Careful, sweetheart. My name is Two, and I promise I'm telling you the truth." II murmurs, taking IV's hand in his own and pulling it away from his neck, almost afraid of burning the sweet man, his skin heated with his anger, "I'll keep you safe, love, no one will hurt you while I'm around. Can you trust me?"
The skin beneath is reddened, irritated, scrapes from his nails scratching the skin visible. IV's fingers curl around II's, trembling faintly. II allows the Fourth to guide his hand back to his neck, pressing his palm to his throat. The Fourth takes in a shaky breath, releasing it on a slow, uneven exhale. His eyelids flutter, expression relaxing, all but sinking his weight into II's palm. It forces II to shoot out a hand to his waist, helping to hold IV up.
(*1)"Diogel. Mae gan fy nghariad bach ddwylo mor ddiogel."
The trust in IV's eyes is heartbreakingly absolute, no memories of II's mistakes bogging him down. In fact, even this encounter is slipping away from him, sleepiness being left in the wake of his fear.
"Why don't we lay back down?" II murmurs, having been watching IV slowly sink more and more into the hand around his throat.
Surely, some circulation must be getting cut off by now, or its at least uncomfortable, but IV looks perfectly at ease, exhaling soft and slow. II dares to adjust his thumb and index finger placement, knowing the exact spots that won't cause any harm. Somehow, IV sinks deeper into that tired relaxation, and II realizes just what it is he is doing, where IV is going, spurred on by this hand on his throat.
How did he not notice those hints of arousal buried beneath the contentment II had been trying to bring back?
II lets his hand fall, heart panging at the squinting of mismatched eyes opening and the disappointed whine that IV lets loose.
Gods, he's pretty. II cannot deny what that whine did to him either, the evidence hidden at least a little bit by his loose sleep shorts.
"Come on, back in bed. Would you like to cuddle again? Here, you can have my rabbit. My boyfriend gave it to me."
IV frowns, going along with II's every gentle touch to guide him back onto that soft bed and beneath the fuzzy blanket, still warm from IV's own body heat. He doesn't understand what is happening. Nothing seems to make sense. It makes IV want to run away. To hide.
The arms that wrap around his waist seem tighter than before, as if unwilling to let him go. IV should be afraid, and he is, a little. But he does trust this II, the scent in his nose of lemon oil is familiar, comforting. He buries his nose closer, desperate to reassure himself. II holds him tighter still, a calloused hand picking up a gentle tapping rhythm against IV's back, counting time to a song IV cannot hear.
The following day, II asks to speak with Vessel and III alone while they're in the music room. The door clicks shut, blocking out the sound of the TV from the living room where IV sleeps on the couch, curled up under a blanket with Elvira perched along his hip. He sleeps a lot, it seems, especially after meals nowadays.
"Three, you seem to know what you're doing with Four's sundowning. How can we… help him, when he doesn't remember things?" II inquires, leant back into the cushions of the couch heavily, exhaustion causing deep bags beneath his eyes.
Vessel plays a few discordant notes at his piano, not bothering to move from his spot. His shoulders are hunched, his face pinched. It's clear that the subject is upsetting him, but he is still here, still listening.
Forgoeing the open space right next to the Second, III settles himself in II's lap instead, curling up and wrapping their arms around II's shoulders.
"He gets worse at night, obviously, so I think we should start handling most of our more mundane tasks during the daytime. When he's confused, don't tell him the truth. Not every time, at least. You'll just upset him further if he's already upset as it is. Join him in his world, basically."
"You'll only upset him if you get mad at having to repeat yourself, Two. You need to keep control of your anger." III continues, pressing a kiss to II's jaw lovingly.
"I try. It's just… harder lately."
"Mm, I know, Doll. You are doing better with it already. Hey, Ves?" III's brows raise, lips settling in a pondering pout, "I have a theory actually. Do you think his anger issues is like, a Hate thing? Omega said there would be lasting consequences. Ya get mad, Doll, and you get hot. Not the sexy kind either, the burning up, fever kind."
Vessel's head raises slightly, fingers paused over the ivory keys. His mask hides the way his expression has darkened with fury, burning right through the guilt he'd first felt. Its embers add fuel to the fire.
"It might be." He agrees, voice tightly controlled, "I'll see if Sleep knows anything of it later. I hope your theory is wrong, but it would explain a few things."
After that, Vessel is quiet, barely even moving his hands along the keys of his piano. III continues to offer what little advice they can, and II does his best to commit it to memory.
Sleep never answers Vessel, coaxing and coercing him into hugging for as long as the dream Sleep has pulled him into lasts. It leaves Vessel's skin crawling, nausea churning in his stomach, seeking the comfort of whichever of his lovers happens to be nearby. III offers distraction in the form of cuddling while watching Pokemon, Vessel's head tucked against their side, their hand in his hair as he shakes from the lingering chill of bloodloss.
II never mentions that Sleep has also been butting His head where it doesn't belong, messing with II's brain and his emotions. He's sure most of his anger is from Hate, but at least some of it can also be attributed to Sleep's meddling. The guilt he feels over omitting his knowledge that it is not just Hate affecting him, but Sleep, too, is deserved but necessary. Vessel can't know. Things are already strained between Sleep and Vessel, and it is not Sleep who picks up the pieces of Vessel's shattered heart when the God deems it time to return the First to them. It is the vessels themselves who comfort where Vessel offers the chance, nursing bruises from nasty falls or sobbing his eyes out from visions he refuses to share.
II doesn't know what Vessel will do if he finds out what Sleep has been doing. He's stressed enough as it is between IV, writing on the album, and getting ready for tour and touring itself. He doesn't need anything else to weigh down those already heavy shoulders.
They start shifting their routines around IV's Sundowning, no longer spending so much of their time doing tasks or hanging out deep into the night. Used to the use of lamps when Sam and the Espera stay over, II starts flicking on lamps when night approaches, ensuring that IV will be able to see and hopefully mitigate the collection of bruises on his shins and elbows. A week or so before they're to set off on tour, something small thankfully, before a bigger tour a couple weeks after that one, Sam texts II, asking if he and the girls could come introduce themselves to IV now that he was properly awake and would remember them.
"How do you feel about visitors?" II broaches the topic over breakfast one morning, the sun barely risen, watching IV take small, methodical bites of his food, his concentration clearly taken by chewing slowly.
Eyes narrowing, II unintentionally scowls, brows furrowed in what IV assumes is anger. II has noticed the way his stomach growls throughout the day, though he does not snack throughout the day, merely waits for lunch and dinner diligently. No matter how many days pass, IV clears his plate as quickly as he can without causing a bloody mess, and then rises.
It was said he would be different to them. II wonders in what ways.
"You can do whatever you want. This… it's not my house-."
"No. Four, this is your home. I'm asking for your comfort's sake." II's scowl deepens as he cuts IV off, his focus on the way IV gently sets his fork down, not even halfway through his plate.
There is no visible signs of blood that II can see, so why has IV stopped eating?
More than once, his mouth has bled from small cuts to his inner cheeks and lips where his sharp canines and incisors nicked the fragile skin, still unused to their sharpness. The Fourth sinks further into his seat, hands curled loosely in his lap in his best impression of an unimportant seat cushion. II pushes the plate closer, "Finish eating. If you want more, I'll make you more."
"I don't want to cause trouble." IV's voice is small now, "I don't want to eat you out of house and home."
"Do it. Eat until you're satisfied. I'll not have you go hungry when I am perfectly capable of feeding you. I don't give a shit how much food I have to make." II argues, adamant on his stance.
"You don't understand." IV drops his head into his hands then, fingers sliding up to curl into his hair, not pulling, simply holding.
Gods, IV wants a hug. He wants II to hug him again. II would hate it though, wouldn't he? Just like he hates IV.
"Four-." II starts, voice softer than he usually uses on IV, tempted to give him what he wishes for.
"No, Two, you don't understand. I'm always hungry, Always. No matter how much I eat, it's never enough. It's like my stomach is a bottomless pit. It's horrible, I feel like I'm starving to death, like I am mere hours from wasting away."
The only sliver of satisfaction he'd gotten had been when Vessel's blood had met his tongue. He can't possibly ask for some, not with Vessel's penchant for harming himself. He'd agree in a heartbeat, without thought for the mental repercussions. IV refuses to ask for something so selfish, besides, not when it will only further instill that bad habit in Vessel's mind.
II watches him for a moment, silent, so IV doesn't say anything else either. The silence grows like a chasm between them as IV grows weary of the lack of a response.
"Well, guess what? I have a card with money fabricated by Sleep. I don't give a single fuck if we waste all of it buying food for you. Economy be damned. Text me a list of foods you like, and I'll fill the pantry with them next time I go grocery shopping." Considering that a good place to end the conversation, II moves to stand, taking IV's plate with him.
"I'll get started on another plate for you, and when you finish it, the leftovers are in the fridge. Eat as much as you want, I mean it."
IV remains seated, pillowing his head in his arms as II leaves. There are frustrated tears threatening to fall. He feels like a burden, despite II's reassurances. Only the soft sound of a plate being placed on the table in front of him has his head lifting.
"There you go, sweetheart. Help yourself to more if you're still hungry." II says, the nickname slipping out before he can stop it.
He does not back down though, does not take back what he said or apologize for it, not when IV's whole expression lights up like II had gifted him all of the stars in the sky, a pretty blush overtaking his face. There are still tears in his eyes, but they're forgotten in favor of the warmth he feels within at the nickname.
"That wasn't a request. Give me an agreement." II tacks on as the silence stretches, head tilted almost threateningly when paired with that insistent gleam in his eyes.
"Yes…" IV mutters, that feeling in his chest only growing.
It is by a miracle alone that the 'sir' he almost added on automatically didn't come out.
"Good b- Ahem. Good. And Four, you have never caused us trouble. As a matter of fact, I want you to cause trouble, I want you and Three to be the reason I manage to go gray, suspended at the age I died as I am. I want... nevermind that. I'll only invite Sam and the girls over if you're alright with it, because this is your home as much as it is ours." II turns on his heel, heading back into the kitchen again, a faint flush to the tips of his gently pointed ears.
IV sits with the conversation as it lingers in the air, going over everything said and unsaid.
Did he imagine the undertone to II's words?
IV almost thought II wanted to take care of him.
IV desperately wants to let him, the submissive part of him aching to finally be loved and not just abused.
He lays upon his black-sanded shore, body submerged halfway into the water, fingers trailing absentminded shapes into the sand as Vessel stares nigh unseeingly up at the stars above. His mind has wandered, his dream shifting without his notice, a presence beginning to seep into the sky, the bright moon cracking at the bottom.
"I can give you this peace again, dear Vessel. Commit, and come to me, and I will give you a time of tranquility. None of the others have to know. You've hidden it so well all these years." Sleep croons, their presence wrapping around his body, tugging him deeper into the waves.
They crash over his head, startling him from the daze he has fallen into. Above, the sky darkens further, the stars winking out one by one until all that is left is the moon. Once more, Sleep invades Vessel's realm, takes it over as if it belonged to Him.
'I don't want to speak to you right now. I was having a good night.'
The tentacles around his legs only pull him faster, deeper, pulling at his closed mouth to pry it open. Vessel chokes, gasping on salt water as oxygen expells from his lungs. Water presses in around, deep pressure as he sinks beneath the waves into the depths. Sleep's hums a laugh, watching as he drowns, slow, painfully, fragile human body struggling against the inevitable, against what its mind wanted. Body and mind are in disagreement, one wishing to live, the other wishing for death.
Vessel grins, more water spilling into his throat. He wants to laugh, and so he does.
It is funny that their arguing oft led Vessel here. He hadn't even said anything this time, nothing to have earned this. Does Sleep not know that Vessel longs for this death the most of any of his attempts? Drowning in the ocean had been the most blissful death of them all. He dreams of it, willingly shapes his surroundings to match the pressurized, dark depths his body once sank into innumerable times. There are nights where there is no IV to keep him company, his sleep dreamless, and so Vessel is alone, able to walk his own realm and explore further than he ever dared in concern for IV's safety or dive into his phosphorescent waters and sink until he drowns.
Is it breaking his promise if the death does not carry into the waking?
"A good night, you say? As your mind conjured images of slashing your wrists up to the elbow and bleeding out into your seas? Do not believe yourself to be fooling anyone, my dearest. You long for the sweet relief of death."
The temptation is there, but Vessel has been doing so well. This is the only promise he has yet to break. He refuses to give his lovers no warning, refuses to do that to them again, to feel his absence from the bond.
'You are tainting my realm with your presence. Go away.'
Hissing, tentacles writhe violently with Sleep's anger. "Would you like me to visit one of the others, then? I will. I'm sure your dear Two would love to relive his death, bleeding out, cold, alone, attacked only for his money. A death without honor."
'My death was without honor. Do not speak of Two that way.'
"Oh, stop rushing to his defense. What will you do if that maggot was right and they really do leave you upon the revelation of any of your many secrets? You will be left alone, with me, and I will not let you so easily die. You are mine, my dearest Vessel, and I wish you would remember that."
Vessel's back meets the sea floor, and then he falls right through it, sinking deeper, until the relentless pressure forces his eyes shut. He blinks.
The drip, drip, drip of water meets his ears, dirty grout and chipped tile coming into view. Stiff, waterlogged, bloody limbs refuse to move as the mind struggles, blue eyes frantically searching for a way out, pinned in place by death.
Banished to the bathtub again, then. Perhaps he should have kept his joy at being in the ocean again well away from Sleep's seeking eyes. He'll do better next time. He will.
Vessel loathes the bathub.
Vessel gurgles, spilling back and off the bed with water in his throat. His plaguedoctor thuds faintly against the floor, wet splashes all over its top hat. He gags, coughing harshly, clawing at his neck. Alarm slams down the bond from III's end, panic forcing Vessel to stand on trembling legs, quick to stumble to his door and lock it. He stumbles his way back towards the bed, practically collapsing onto it. Carefully tucking away his emotions from the bond, he shoves a hand over his mouth to try and muffle the way he coughs and hacks, water dripping off of his palm.
A knock sounds on his door following heavy, rushed footsteps, III's voice coming through.
"Ves, sugar, are you alright in there?" His doorknob rattles once, twice, before stilling.
Knowing III wouldn't have just left, worried as he sounded, Vessel forces himself to answer in a croak, "'M fine. It was only a nightmare."
"Will you let me in, darling? You don't have to be alone. I can- I can make you a cup of tea. It's why I left in- That doesn't matter. Please, let me in."
Vessel considers denying them, considers sending III away and rotting here in his bed, cold and alone and struggling to breathe past the water in his lungs. He lifts a hand, and his lock clicks open. III opens it as soon as the knob twists, "Was it Sleep again? You've not been waking up this way except for when Sleep visits you."
III climbs into bed beside Vessel, urging him to scooch over, the plaguedoctor in hand. It is tucked in between them and then III is throwing an arm over Vessel's waist to pull him as close the First allows. He curls against III's chest, holding his arms close to his body, so tightly his knuckles have gone grey. He wants to die, wants to bleed, claws threatening to drag against his skin with every traitorous, vile thought. He can feel III fidgeting, desperate to comfort him, to hold him. Vessel wants to let him. He simply nuzzles his nose against the soft fluff of his plaguedoctor, trying to calm himself down. It's easier with III at his side, his fingers finding Vessel's hair and running through, braiding small sections here and there only to undo them and repeat the process. He never does get his answer, but III didn't really need it. He knows who it is that keeps doing this to Vessel, and is willing to be silenced again if it means it will stop.
Once Vessel is asleep, III slips out of bed. The altar room is cold and as empty as always, a pounding in the walls like a heartbeat, cranking III's nerves up to an eleven. The vines here barely move as III enters, kneeling before the altar on the pillow that eases the ache in their knees. The crimson candle is lit, a request made.
Silence is all that remains, and it is all III receives. Sleep offers no answer, either.
The next time IV sees II, he gives him his agreement on their friends visiting, receiving a small, grateful smile in return. It feels like a precious gift given how inconstant II has been with IV thus far, butterflies erupting into flight within his stomach. IV had made a quick exit, seeking out III and failing to explain away his blush as III teased him.
It's decided the Espera and Sam will both be visiting all together in a couple of days. The Fourth is curious about Sam, remembering both him and the Espera from Vessel's stories. Dare he admit that he's eager to meet them, and yet, afraid he'll make a fool of himself if they stay after it begins to grow dark. These are the friends of the vessels, IV wants to make a good impression. He needs to. The rest of the world's opinion doesn't matter to him, but theirs do.
"Will you help me make Welsh cakes, cwningen? I just need you to help fry them." IV wrings his hands as he asks, expecting a staunch refusal while he lingers in the kitchen doorway.
"Sure, love. I've never made them before so you'll have to walk me through the steps." II agrees easily over a cup of freshly iced tea, smiling when IV lights up, nodding exhuberantly.
He pauses to wipe drool threatening to slip out of his cheek, moving on to wash his hands and then towards the pantry, excitedly gathering the ingredients he needs while chattering away about the process. II takes care to listen and remember what he can, following instruction to the letter, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at how bossy IV can apparently be.
Vessel finds them as IV is tapping white, sugary powder all over the fresh off the oven welsh cakes, II at the stove carefully flipping the next few over. He freezes in the doorway, rubbing at one of his lower eyes tiredly, deep bags beneath his eyes telling of a sleepless night.
That's supposed to be him with IV, baking, spending time together.
His hand drops from his eye, fists curling together in the pocket of his hoodie. He has no right to feel this way. IV likely doesn't even remember his promise. It's only Vessel who is hurt by that lack of remembrance.
II laughs at something IV says, his attention split between the Fourth and the pan on the stove. IV grins, wide and pleased, his pretty mismatched eyes glancing II's way with such hope in them.
He has no right to be upset over II and IV bonding over something IV doesn't remember even offering. If anything, he should be glad. He is glad. He's so terribly glad that II is getting along with IV now. It's all he's wanted ever since II had begun acting quite unlike himself.
Vessel refuses to intrude on the moment. He's sure II wouldn't mind him entering, wrapping arms around his waist and settling his chin on the shorter man's shoulder. He kind of wants to do the same to IV, a piece of him recoiling at his audacity.
IV doesn't love him, not like he wants.
A dark pit opens up in his empty chest. It festers, oozing thick tar, infecting the rest of him until not a bit of his body is untouched by his self-loathing.
Vessel doesn’t want to wallow in this horrible, depressing jealousy.
Tugging lightly on the bond, sending a wordless question down it, III responds with his location immediately, a beacon in the dark beckoning him closer happily.
His sunlight.
A smile tugs at a corner of his lips, Vessel retreating silently from the kitchen doorway. His feet carry him outside, finding Sam has already arrived, listening in mild interest as III rambles about a newer plan of theirs to line the walkway towards the garden with an overhead arbor full of 'betty corning' clematis. He follows behind them quietly, amusement bubbling up as III keeps trying to take Sam's hand only to be slapped away with a playful scowl. This is something III does mostly while they're home, where stress isn't making Sam a testy mess much like II can be. He gets flirty, joking about convincing Sam to be their fifth, when they've yet to even welcome the Fourth into their relationship. Vessel knows where III's heart lies, and its with them, for as much as he flirts with Sam.
"Holy fuck!" Vessel is brought out of his musings, lurching back at the sound of Sam's exclamation.
"Ves, mate, you can't scare me like that!" Sam laughs, wrapping an arm over Vessel's shoulder to pull him into a side hug.
He leans into it, basking in the warmth of Sam's embrace and wishing he could hug him properly.
"Hey, sugar, when did you get out here?" III takes his hand, already leading him on their journey back to the manor, having been idling about the garden.
'Since just after Sam arrived.' Vessel responds, his mouth a thin line of hesitance.
III wasn't upset at being followed around, was he?
"Sorry, I wasn't around when you woke up, Sammy here called. The girls should be here in a minute."
"Don't call me Sammy." Said man grumbles, following behind and toeing off his shoes in the foyer.
"Come on, Sammy, we'll introduce you to Ives again. He'll remember you this time." Grinning like a mischievous cat, III all but herds Sam into the kitchen where II and IV still are.
Vessel wanders over to II, nuzzling his face against the back of his head like an overlarge cat. The kitchen smells sweet, of melted butter and cinnamon, Welsh cakes piled high on a few plates to accomodate the large group. Sam goes up to IV, standing in front of the buzzing microwave, and introduces himself.
IV's head tilts in greeting, "I don't remember you at all."
"Well, I remember you, dream boy, eating Three's entire stash of Reese's. Wrapper and all, no less."
The microwave beeps, and as IV is reaching up to pull its contents out, he is replying, "I would never do that."
II snorts softly over the dishes in the sink, completely unaware that IV has just pulled their glass jar of peanut butter out of the microwave, topped with a metal lid. Vessel has turned back to look, eyes widening in alarm. The jar is faintly smoking, though IV pays no mind to it or its fading heat, twisting off the lid and dipping two fingers in to scoop some out.
"Well. Uh. I'm going to call Paige, see where they are. Nice meeting you, Four." Sam smiles at IV, only slightly confused.
He'd known since that moment he'd first found IV awake on their tour bus that the other man had perhaps a screw or two loose, and so far, this only confirms it. It didn't matter much to Sam. He's known the other vessels for a while now, and not a single one of them is without a screw or two loose. Not even II. He can be just as insane as the others, in his own ways.
"Did I say something wrong?" IV asks after Sam has left the kitchen, turning around with the jar of peanut butter in hand, still eating scoops out with his fingers.
Vessel stares, then shakes his head. Shrugging, IV sneaks over to the counter and steals one of the Welsh cakes off the top of a pile, tossing it over to III who is also staring at him. He goes to Vessel next, passing one off with a bit of peanut butter sticking to a corner. Vessel doesn't care about that, taking a small bite behind II's back, still pressed up against him.
"You're too cute, Ives." III comments between bites of Welsh cake, eyeing II's back like he's going to turn around and see that they've stolen some of the food before the others have arrived.
"Call me that again and I will bite you."
"Do it then." III goads, leaning forward from his place leant against a countertop, arms crossed, "I dare you. Add more to my collection."
Huffing, IV casts a considering look II's way. Vessel is feeding him small bites of the Welsh cake, taking little nibbles of his own. III has seen it too, their grin baring teeth fondly. Once that cake is eaten, Vessel knocks II's hip — or rather, his side — with his own hip, urging him to scoot over so he can help with the dishes. Thankfully, there aren't many left since not many had been used in the first place, but II had been taking his time, certainly in no rush.
"Aww, too scared? All those sharp, shiny teeth and you're not gonna bite me with them?" III taunts with a pout.
IV narrows his eyes with a growl. Another word and he will use his sharp, shiny teeth on that pale, question mark dotted throat.
"Three." II warns over his shoulder, carefully cleaning their cast iron griddle while Vessel takes care of the used cooking utensils.
"I'm only teasing, lovey. He looks so cute when he's mad."
"'He' is right here and can hear you." IV is suddenly directly in front of III, a hand fisted in their shirt to drag them down to meet eye to eye.
III's nape is grabbed roughly, fingers sliding up into their bun to pull their head to the side, and then IV is digging sharp fangs and pointy incisors into III's neck. It's a struggle not to dig them in deeper, to force more blood to well up that IV can lick and suck and drink.
It's a struggle to pull away, but he manages it. Barely.
'That was so hot.'
Those words practically reverberate in all of the vessels skulls with the force in which III thinks them. II sighs, while Vessel stifles a small, half-surprised laugh. IV only tilts his head, staring up at III challengingly.
Gasping with a faux affronted look on their face, III points at IV with one hand and holds the other against the bite on his neck. Bits of blood have beaded up to the surface, enough that IV can smell it, the scent of iron and faint sweetness tickling his nose.
There had been a hint of Vessel in III's blood. A taste of his humanity on IV's tongue.
"Two, he really bit me. Harder than Ves ever has, too." III whines, his pout having only grown deeper, though he is nothing but pleased in the bond.
IV growls again, turns right on his heel, and heads out towards the living room, shaking his stiff hand as he goes. It had been too tempting to bite him again and take a sip if only to get more of Vessel's blood on his tongue.
"You basically begged for it. Go apologize for teasing him, Three." II orders, wiping off his hands with a tea towel, passing it off to Vessel who barely seems to notice, six eyes all caught on the palm pressed against III's neck.
He wished that were him, whether it was III or IV's position, he didn't care.
Well, he cared a little. III's position would be preferred. IV's teeth in his neck would feel heavenly.
"Yeah, okay, sir." III agrees easily, too easily.
He must really have felt bad, then. III goes after IV, pouncing on the open seat on the couch beside him. IV grumbles as he is bounced, considering moving to a different spot. III's hand on his thigh keeps him still, for the moment.
"Sam! Sam. Sam. Sam. Won't you sit next to me? Give me a cuddle? It's been far too long since you and the girls have come over." III pleads, happy as ever to have his people in their home.
Sam groans as he hangs up the phone, but acquiesces, seating himself on the couch beside the Third. III slings an arm around his shoulder and then snatches IV by the hand as he tries to slink off, tugging him down to reclaim his spot on their other side.
'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you mad.' They apologize, laughing in Sam's face as he tries to shove III's arm off half-heartedly.
'I'm not mad, I'm just… hungry.' IV responds dryly, leaning heavily against III's side.
'And tired.' He adds as if an afterthought, fingers brushing against III's scabbed over neck punctures.
Within a second, they're gone, barely even a sliver of golden scarring remaining. III frowns, disappointed the marks are gone.
'Take a nap, then. Our friends won't mind. Vessel and Two do the same, if they need to.'
IV shakes his head, staunchly refusing, the side of his head dropping onto III's shoulder heavily. He has little time to rest there, eyes only having just slipped closed despite his best efforts, when the front door opens.
With a near unintelligible groan, he gets up to introduce himself, reluctantly pulling away from III's warm embrace. III and Sam remain where they are, causing IV to hesitate. III urges him on with a smile and a wave, off towards the laughter in the foyer. Three women are toeing off their shoes, piling them up in front of III's many potted plants. Two of them are on the shorter side, a few inches below IV's eye level, while the third is tall, her hair red as a blaze.
His eyes catch on the color, his mind struggling with itself for a moment. Such a fiery color, like a flame. IV decides its silly to be uneased by a hair color, and moved past the thought.
"Hello Ivy. Mathilda, call me Mattie or else I end you." She blurts, breezing past IV with a pat on his curly haired head.
Paige tackles him into a hug, introducing herself in a bubbly tone before bouncing off to find II, spurred on by the scent of breakfast. The third woman comes up to him last, her braided, blonde hair full of flyaways, thin rimmed, plastic glasses mere millimeters from slipping off her nose.
"Oh, Ivy, darling, I'm so glad you're awake now! We're going to have so much fun together! You'll love touring, I promise! You mustn't forget to pack any socks this time!" She exclaims, bubbly and excited, practically hanging off of IV.
IV's head tilts curiously, not bothering to shrug her off, "And who are you?"
Visibly wilting, she goes to pull away from the hug, "Sorry, I forgot myself. We're only just being properly introduced. I'm Lynsey. I can see a bit of the future, so, I get confused occasionally on when I am. It's the same for Paige, but with the past."
IV gently wraps his arms around her, finally returning the hug. He searches for the words in English, staring off slow while he does his best to recall the stories his tad used to tell him, "You are. Hm. You represent the three Norns. Urõr, Verõandi, and Skuld. The weavers of the Web of Wyrd."
Lynsey pulls back enough to search IV's face, "The Web of Wyrd?"
Nodding, IV lifts a hand to place it on Lynsney's neck, directly over the partial rune on her throat.
"This is apart of the web's symbol. You are Skuld. Or her representative. A vessel, of sorts. Or you could be. There is… magic around you. Your aura, it is similar to ours. To Vessel's. Paige must be Urõr, and Mattie Verõandi."
"We have all been marked by Sleep. Sam, too." She adds, as though it makes sense, adjusting the glass to sit on her nose properly.
IV shakes his head. "Na, Sam is marked, yes, touched by Sleep, but you, Paige, Mattie… You are closer to Vessel. He embodies Sleep. You both embody those two goddesses I mentioned without quite being divinely connected like he is. You are all…"
'The perfect vessel for certain gods.' Vessel supplies down IV's bond solemnly.
IV hadn't realized he'd been listening, though he felt him draw nearer.
"Yes." He nods, "Perfect vessels for certain gods. Those three have mostly faded, but clearly they remain enough for potential vessels to be born."
Lynsey glances between he and Vessel, stepping out of the hug with an apologetic look. IV yawns, stifling it behind a scarred hand, moving back to Vessel's side and daring to lean against him, their shoulders pressed together as much as their height difference allows.
'Why don't you go rest, Four? You look tired.' Since he isn't looking up at him, IV cannot see the concerned frown on Vessel's face, but he does not need to see it to know it is there.
"Na, I am fine, cariad aur."
Mathilda comes out of the kitchen, announcing it is breakfast time. Vessel's frown follows IV and Lynsey nto the dining room where the Fourth moves to help Paige and II set everything up on the dining table.
IV is used to meals with the other vessels now, but the thought of such a big group dining together is surprisingly nice. It had only been he and his parents, and then, for a while, he and his boyfriend.
This is overwhelming in a good way, the loud chatter as everyone makes conversation with another, passing plates for food, offering to get something from the kitchen if another of them forgot.
They feel like a family. It makes IV feel warm inside, having missed this feeling. Dining with his parents had always been this way, warm and familiar.
His boyfriend hadn't always been cold, but he had always preferred silence while they ate and any attempt at conversation had been shot down. IV should have left him before he'd ever moved away from home.
Vessel's foot nudges IV's from his place at his side. When IV looks up, he finds all three vessels looking at him, whether subtly or outright.
'Alright?' Vessel asks, not with words but by his head very subtly tilting in question.
IV nudges his foot back with a smile, nodding his answer. It's the truth, too. IV is alright. He's happy here, even if things can be rocky with II, and his God would rather he die as soon as possible and the man he has loved for longer than he realized can barely look at him and won't allow him to touch the way they used to.
IV is fine.
Vessel accepts the answer, going back to his conversation with Mathilda. Distracted as he is, he doesn't notice IV putting another Welsh cake on his plate until he glances down fo eat his last bite, blinking owlishly down at the new one. His head turns automatically to IV, who stares intensely enough that Vessel starts to cut up this new piece wearily.
Pleased, IV remains at the table, grabbing another three cakes for himself and topping them with syrup, content to kick III's shin beneath the table whenever their foot attacks him first. After breakfast, everyone moves on to the living room, where Paige has retrieved a newer version of monopoly, a Super Mario collectors edition that has IV blinking at it in surprise.
He finds that no one actually knows how to play except, perhaps, for Sam and II, but they've made the game their own, something of a tycoon simulator and capitalistic, modern, dungeon and dragons. Most of the day is spent that way, Mattie roping IV into some insanely elaborate storyline she's been working on the past few times they've played, making an opening for a new character to conveniently appear.
It's fun, but it makes IV miss the parents whose voices he can't quite recall, whose faces are a blur.
It's a good opportunity for IV to catalogue reactions to losing out or getting a bad stroke of luck. II is calm as ever, both Lynsey and III yelling at each other, while the others take the game seriously, but not too seriously. Vessel barely even flinches when the others get loud enough for it to hurt even IV's damaged hearing, though he does take a break from the game a little while later.
II stands up with him, helping to move the covered mattress over near where they've set up the game in the middle of the living room area, just in front of the couches. The coffee table has been set aside, too, though still nearby for people's phones and drinks to have a place to rest. Not a fan of all the noise, but wanting to be close to watch her humans, Elvira is perched atop the back of one of the couches.
IV stands to help, unnecessary as it is, when Vessel plops down on the mattress and spreads out like a starfish, asking II to set his starfish down stop him. It acts like a weighted blanket, Vessel's arms wrapping as far around it as they can, his long legs sticking out from beneath it, whereas the rest of him is lost to the giant starfish. III not so subtly snaps a photo when it's no longer his turn, and II rejoins their game.
IV wanders over to the couch, seating himself near Elvira and talking to her quietly. He speaks only in Welsh, asking what she knows about the people here, if they're trustworthy. She seems to think so, having nothing but good things to say about them. They're nice to her, make sure she's fed. She didn't like the man that was around before. Nodding, IV thinks it will be alright to trust the Espera and Sam with the vessels.
For a little while, IV watches them, trying his best to reign in the longing building up in his heart. After a while, it becomes too much.
"Anyone know where Four's gone? I just checked his room, and he's not there, or in any of ours." III asks, brows furrowed in worry.
Their game had finally ended, or rather, everyone was too tired to continue it and hungry enough that whatever leftovers remained from breakfast will be devoured in no time. III had gotten up to go fetch IV, seeing as he was no longer in the living room with them.
"You've lost him? An entire man?" Mathilda raises an eyebrow, already dropping her arm from around Paige's shoulder, everyone moving to stand.
"It would seem so!" III snaps, uncharacteristically upset, guilt crossing his face immediately, "Sorry. I know you were joking. I just- It's getting dark. He won't remember where he is if we don't find him soon. What if he's wandered outside?"
"Did anyone hear the front door?" II inquires, receiving a chorus of disagreements.
'I'll look outside. I'll find him easiest if he's out there.' Vessel offers groggily as II helps him up from beneath his starfish, having dozed off.
He's been so tired lately, his mind clouded with fog more often than not. He wishes he could Rest. He cannot give Sleep the satisfaction, cannot do that to his lovers again. There is panic building in the crimson of his eyes, the tired daze in his eyes clearing somewhat. His shoulders, tense and raised, loosen as he stands, determined.
"I'll join you!" Lynsey offers, her eyes as clear as a bell, taking Vessel's offered hand to stand and refusing to release it.
She squeezes gently, offering comfort where she can.
She knows what is coming, in time.
The click of the front door signals their exit, everyone else spreading out to different areas of the manor in search of the Fourth. They search the main, lived in areas first, finding not a trace, then everyone splits off towards the manor's many winding halls and rooms, hoping IV had just wandered off and gotten lost.
They find not a trace, not even two hours later when everyone aside from Vessel and Lynsey has convened back by the staircase. Even II, who is usually so calm, is beginning to look out of sorts, worry making the space between his brows crease. III stops long enough to smoothe it over, turning their attention towards everyone else.
"Ves and Lyns haven't found him yet, but they're still looking. He's trying to figure out if the forest knows where he is and is hiding him, which has happened before. Best bet we've got is to check over the manor again."
Worry has made its way to everyones faces now, especially those of the vessels. Outside, night has fallen, which means any attempts at reaching IV through the bond are futile. He never answers them after sundown, and based on the bond itself, he's asleep. That, is the only relief of this entire thing.
It's as everyone has split up to check different rooms and long, never-ending hallways, that Sam finds himself back in the lived-in section of the manor. He idles in front of the altar room, tempted to try the knob. It is not like the possibility of IV being in there is zero, right?
One of the vines actively blocking the doorway curls Sam's way, and then seems to point. Sam follows that direction with his eyes, past Vessel's room to the end of the hallway where once there was only a wall.
Now, there is a thick curtain of vines blocking off what appears to be another hallway.
"Has that.. always been there?" Sam wonders, already moving towards the small, inconspicious hallway just past Vessel's room at the end of that hall.
Covered with ivy vines as it is, like the rest of the walls of the manor, it's no wonder no one noticed it. Brushing some aside reveals a winding stairway that ascends in a circle. Every inch of the walls as Sam goes up is completely covered in pink ivy vines, all faintly glowing just enough to light his way, the door at the top noticably ajar. Seemingly randomly, small, bay windows that nearly touch the stairs let in moonlight. Just before Sam reaches it, it shuts, the vines on either side wiggling in displeasure. Frowning, Sam goes back down after trying the knob, finding it locked and intending to find one of the vessels.
"The forest says he's not within, so he must be here within the manor somewhere." Vessel is informing II when Sam is back downstairs, the worry on his face no longer quite so severe, his voice so quiet that Sam could hardly even hear him.
Just speaking them seems to have hurt, forced out through thorns in his throat.
"Vessel! Do you happen to have an attic?" Sam calls as he's coming off the last step.
Vessel and II both turn his way, their expressions mirrors of confusion. "No, I've never come across an attic before. Why?" II responds in Vessel's stead, Vessel already moving up the stairs past Sam, taking them two at a time.
Sam and II are quick to follow, eventually trailing after Sam as he shows them to that odd hallway. Vessel brushes aside the curtain of vines, taking those steps two at a time as well. The door at the top opens for him as though it was never locked in the first place. II follows him in but right before Sam can, too, the door shuts in his face.
"O-kay… Well. I guess I'll keep looking." He mutters to himself, turning around to go right back down the stairs.
"Four!" Vessel exclaims upon seeing him, curled up on the bench of large, floor-to-ceiling bay window, the middle pane opened to let in fresh air and the ambience of the forest at night.
The vines are overgrown here, crowding the floor all the way up to the ceiling, varying shades of pink plants growing up through dark corners. Perched on the window sill, a black crow sits, cooing softly as it pecks at the shining gold strands weaved through IV's hair.
Vessel has frozen in place, II carefully moving past him to go to IV. He's gentle, considerate, as he shakes IV's shoulder to rouse him. IV makes a soft humming sound, reaching up with eyes still shut to scrub dried tears and wet drool off of his face.
"Hey, sweetheart." II croons, keeping his voice light and free of any inflection that could betray how scared they had all been.
"Two?" IV grumbles, pressing his face up into the hand that has moved to help with the tears, though far gentler.
Vessel's eyebrows raise in surprise, finally moving closer into the curtain of moonlight. How does IV remember II with the sun set and the moon as high in the sky as it is?
"You disappeared on us. We couldn't find you anywhere." II doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around IV as the other sits up, his arms already circling the drummer's waist.
"I'm sorry." IV starts, swallowing thickly, tucking his face into the crook of II's neck, breathing in his scent like a lifeline.
"I went back to my room to take a nap, but- I couldn't stand being in there alone anymore! The vines, they- I asked if there was somewhere else I could rest, out of sight but nearby enough you would be able to find me. They led me here." He rushes through his explanation, thick accent and stumbling words making it nigh unintelligible without a bit of time to parse out all of the words.
"I wanted to go home. I miss my parents. I have- I have so many regrets, Two. Hiareth. Hiraeth." IV continues in a whisper, struggling to keep his tears at bay, clinging tightly to II like he's afraid to let go and lose his current self again.
The sun has set outside the window, moonlight shining down on them. Even with the light, the blush pink vines continue to glow, ensuring IV spends not a moment trapped in the dark.
"I'm sorry, Four." II murmurs, unable to think of what else to say, "I- I miss my mothers, even though I can't recall their faces or their voices anymore. I know this isn't really a comfort, but I've found a new home here, and for me, it is enough. I hope that one day, it can be enough for you, too."
IV merely clings tighter, his sobs muffled against II's chest.
'We found him.' Vessel says to III down their bond, ignoring their relieved questioning.
Vessel slips away, ears ringing too loudly to make out the rest of the conversation his Second and Fourth share, not a creak to be heard as he descends the winding staircase, the door to his room clicking shut and locking. He slides down the polished wood, and wishes he hadn't been so selfish as to force IV to live.
II knocks a little while later.
Vessel ignores it. He ignores it when III comes to him next, followed by Sam, and then the Espera, who do not try and coax him out, merely reassuring him that he is loved.
He is loved, he knows it. As blood beads up at his ankles, Vessel wonders why it can't be enough for him. Why can't he love himself, too?
Come morning, just at the break of dawn, Paige finds Lynsey pacing up and down the hallway by the altar room. She's muttering to herself, gaze seeing somewhere far past the reality she is living in.
"Lyns, sweetie, what's the matter?" She asks, tucking an errant, coiling curl behind her ear.
She knows what is happening, had hoped that the sound of her voice would bring Lynsey back to the present, to little avail.
"It comes in threes." She whispers, dazed blue eyes roving about wildly, perpetually landing back on the altar room, walking in circles before its closed doorway.
"It comes in threes. Let me warn them, Sleep. It comes in threes. You will lose him."
The altar room door creaks open, the room a dark abyss. There is no sound aside from the tremble of the vines, their soft scraping against the hardwood flooring. Then, the red candle upon the altar lights up, golden and radiant. It beckons Lynsey closer, the light a beacon. She is a moth to a flame.
Paige freezes as Lynsey steps towards the threshold.
"Don't!" She cries quietly, afraid to alert the others, tugging desperately at Lynsey's arm now, "We're not allowed in there, you know that!"
"I can convince Him! He is willing to listen!" Exclaiming, Paige tries to tear her arm from Paige's grip, struggling, desperate to enter the altar room.
Lynsey only continues pacing, and pacing. Frowning, worrying her lip between her teeth, Paige makes a quick decision.
"Vessel, come here a minute!"
"No." Lynsey moans, running hands over her wild, bedridden hair that has fallen from its braid overnight, "No! Don't call him here, I can't tell him. He mustn't know. None of them must know."
There is no warning of his arrival, only the gentle movement of the air at Paige's side as Vessel steps up next to her. Maskless, in nothing but a pair of starfish-themed pajama pants, Vessel tilts his head.
"Another of her visions?"
Paige latches onto a chance to lie their way out of this, nodding profusely as she continues trying to tug Lynsey back and away from the threshold, "Yeah! Can you put her to sleep for me? She's going to get smited if she goes in there."
"You're not vessels." He agrees, already reaching over, an apolgetic grimace overtaking his face as Lynsey begins to cry in earnest.
His hand settles on the side of her head, fingertips brushing Lynsey's hair back from her clammy temple. In a moment, her body begins to collapse only to be caught in strong arms.
"I'll take her back to your rooms so you both can get some more rest." Mumbling, Vessel brushes past Paige, expecting her to follow, and follow she does, down the hall just by the upstairs sitting room where Paige had been sharing a bed with Lynsey.
Mattie had taken the room beside it, claiming a need for a night to herself without anyone's proclaimed engine-like snoring.
"I heard her mention my name." Vessel says as he re-braids Lynsey's hair, lopsided as it is.
Her glasses have been slipped off and laid on the nightstand by Paige while Vessel tucked her under the covers.
"You can't know what she saw." Paige blurts regretfully, climbing into bed beside her, wrapping dark arms around her sleeping body.
"I know. I know, it's just. I just want to know if I'll be able to keep this, all of you. The others vessels."
"I can't tell you, Vessel, please. Go to bed. Try to sleep." She pleads, hiding her face against Lynsey's shoulder.
Vessel's shoulders drop, his expression horribly sad. Why can't he know if Vessel can retain this happiness? Why is it so important for things to unfold as Lynsey has seen?
"Will you stay today, too? Or are you leaving come morning?" Vessel pauses at the doorway, turning six sad eyes to the girls in bed.
Paige sniffles, voice breaking under threat of a sob, "We'll stay, of course we'll stay. You asked."
The door clicks shut behind Vessel, the smile on his face sad but genuine. For now, at least, he has most everything he's ever wanted, right here in the home he never thought he'd have. The knowledge is almost enough to fend off the encroaching darkness in his mind.
He fears the moment he loses himself to it and breaks his promises again.
A soft knock on his doorframe startles Vessel from his last minute packing, some handful of days later, his pens clattering back onto his desk where a few of his journals have been gathered. He looks up, eyes a little wide in surprise, finding III at his door. His stiff posture relaxes, at ease now that he realizes it is only III. Focused as he was, he had been paying little attention to the bond.
"Did you need something, beloved?" He inquires, picking up the journals to stuff into his backpack, fighting to get them all to fit within.
Perhaps he should have done this part first, instead of packing his everyday toiletries, headphones, and phone charger, which only serve to take up needed space.
III fidgets, unsure, adjusting their stance from foot to foot. Their bond is pulled back, reeled in, wavering. It's unusual, so unlike them that Vessel immediately stops what he is doing.
"Three?" Vessel turns fully towards the Third now, concern furrowing the space between his brows.
There's guilted yearning in III's eyes, a look that Vessel recognizes, but could not place the last time he had seen it. The last time had been unknowingly directed at him.
"Is it something to do with Four?" Vessel broaches the subject carefully, aiming to keep the waver out of his voice, setting his backpack aside in his desk chair.
His hands come up to the head rest, long nails threatening to dig holes into the soft material. He tries for a smile, though it falls flat, anxiety swirling his gut, heavying his empty chest.
"Yeah, I-." III starts, clearing his throat when his voice breaks off, "I have something to ask but- But don't agree if you don't want me to. Promise me? Please, Ves?"
Sucking in a shallow, shaking breath, Vessel closes the distance between them, tugging III further into his room by his hands. He eases him down by the shoulders onto the bed, kneeling at his feet and settling his chin on a knobby knee. "I promise that whatever it is, I'll put serious consideration into my answer. I won't just agree because it's the answer you want."
He falls into the position so easily, enjoying the view of III's pretty face looming above him, his pale hair a halo around their head. Long fingers thread into Vessel's loose hair, petting him as though it were second nature.
"I want to kiss Four! Is- Is that alright?"
Unable to bring himself to look at that dangerously hopeful look in III's eyes, Vessel turns his head away, finding himself staring at one of the drawings III gifted him, a large, imposing anglerfish. His voice is tightly controlled, devoid of any of his turmoil, "Why are you asking me, beloved? That is a question for him, no?"
"What?" III blurts, confused, "Why wouldn't I ask you? You've been in love with him longer than I have. It wouldn’t be right to kiss him without asking you first."
"We made it clear long ago that we were likely to bring our Fourth into the relationship." Pointing it out feels like tiny knives are stabbing Vessel from within his empty ribcage, "I've never told him how I felt, and I've not even kissed him, besides."
He hadn't meant to say that last part. He really hadn't. Glancing up at III, he finds striking determination.
"Then, we'll just go tell him right now! I'm positive he loves you as much as you love him! We can just fix all of this right now." III blurts, pulling Vessel up by hands beneath his armpits, overeager.
What? Panic slashes through Vessel's nervous system, shaking hands trying to tug himself out of III's grip. Loose as it is, Vessel's wrist comes free easily, and he stops in the middle of his messy floor.
"We- I can't, Three. You're wrong. He- He doesn't…-"
"Ves-." III reaches for his hand again, a tender look on their face, voice soft and soothing.
His arms wrap around himself, effectively shutting himself away from any attempts at reassurance. "No, Three. I can't. Just- Can I have some time alone, please? I need to finish packing."
III struggles to keep the irritated scowl from their lips. He knows where this is coming from, Vessel's fear keeping him stagnant, afraid to mess up what he already has with IV. Calming themselves, unwilling to snap at Vessel, III takes in a deep breath.
"Fine, I'll go. But! I want you to know that if Four kisses me, I won't stop him, and you have to promise that if he does the same to you or Two, you won't stop him either."
"If he initiates, then fine." Vessel agrees, shoulders slumping in resignation.
Lighting up, there's a bit more pep in III's steps as they head towards Vessel's door. "Good! Thank you!"
"Wait. I almost forgot!" III turns back, practically jogging to return to Vessel.
His hands take him by the jaw on either side, big hands cupping Vessel's face gently before leaning in for a kiss.
"I love you, sugar. Always."
"… I love you too."
Vessel shakes, and shakes, and shakes once III shuts his door behind them, his mind racing. He wants IV. He loves him, but he shouldn't. Not after what Vessel has done to him. However could IV truly love him back after Vessel tore him from his old life? Vessel forced him to stay at his side, even when last they spoke before the accident, IV wanted nothing to do with him.
Vessel doesn’t deserve him. Unless IV initiates, then Vessel will keep everything to himself. As it is, he expects III and IV to find themselves locking lips soon enough. He would be a fool not to see how they look at each other. How IV looks at II.
How IV looks at him.
Gods, Vessel really wants to die. His head sinks into his hands, heavy as a boulder. Glancing through parted fingers, he realizes his starfish is still downstairs. He needs its weight to keep him from doing something stupid like break his promise.
He doesn't realize how strange it is that III just accepted his answer without a bit more teasing, a bit more coercion, preferring to finish packing and then go lay under his giant starfish downstairs and pretend the weight of it is one of his partners squeezing the unwanted life out of his body.
Outside of the safety of his room, Vessel does not realize what he has driven III to doing. III will, of course, be teasing IV to no end to try and goad the other into kissing them, and as they find their target hunched over a book in his new room, the attic, squinting tired eyes down at blurring pages he delights in the knowledge that IV has no idea what's in store for him.
None of them do.
Notes:
sorry if this isnt very good and that its hella late, my grandpa has been in and out of the icu since the beginning of july. Ive technically had nothing but time to write and yet… so little has been done lmao
ii is having a time, they All will be Soon
also, sorry, i promised ghost a couple chapters ago lol and i swear its in the next one (probably - i lost all of my ghost lore involved w/ st that me and my bestie yapped about ages ago and cant find it im so sad about it)
Guys i have not a fucking clue how to play monopoly so excuse that ahaha
Flowers:
Harebells, use for everlasting love (not that iv knows, ehehe. Ves does though.)
Forget me nots, hehe (angsty)
Camellia, longing
Translations:
(*1)Diogel. Mae gan fy nghariad bach ddwylo mor ddiogel. - Safe. My little darling has such safe hands.
(*2)Twp, twp, twp! - Stupid, stupid, stupid!
(*3)Ie, cariad, os gwelwch yn dda. - Yes, darling, please.
(*4)Er mwyn uffern! - For fuck's sake!
(*5)Aros - Wait (?)
Hiraeth - a very specific longing for a place you can never return to
First person POV, unnamed (I) character x Vessel (Sleep Token)
Summary:
I’d thought Sleep Token had grown to be a big enough group that we’d all deserve our own decent rooms on tour. Management didn’t seem to think the same, leaving Vessel and I in the worst room possible. He’s a gentleman, but I refuse to take the bed.
Warnings + Themes - Somnophilia (sexual advances with a sleeping person), dominance/submissive dynamics, gspot stim, p in v, condom sex.
==============
“Dont sleep on the fucking couch, look at it!” Vessel gestures to the lumpy, run down sofa and glares.
I can’t tell exactly what its original color was meant to be, but the design was questionable. I sighed and let my duffle bag fall to the floor. At this point, it didn’t matter the format of the horizontal position. I needed five minutes of quiet and I’d be dead to the world.
Disgusting couch or not, I was sleeping there. Vessel could have the bed, he was more critical to the band’s success. All because of him, the group had gone from partially filled concert halls to sold out legitimate venues.
With as big as Sleep Token was getting, you’d think management would have had enough sense to book a room for everyone.
Nope. Doubles. Vessel and I had both lost in the rock paper scissors tournament, and there was no losers bracket in a five player standoff. I hadn’t thought about how weird the arrangement would be until we were at the door of the room.
I’d been friends with all of them for a long time, but something about my friendship with Vessel always felt… strange, like there was something left out - something neither of us wanted to admit or risk losing what we had.
“It’s fine, I'll deal.” I brush off his concerns and start laying out the extra bedding on top of the ruined upholstery.
“It’s got cum stains!” he practically growls. He acts like this is an unforgivable act, to be sleeping on this couch. I can’t help but smile at his protectiveness. Since they’d insisted on me being their only photographer, they were all sort of protective over me. I never complained, not genuinely anyway. I could chat shit right back at them, and they loved it. I got the princess treatment, most of the time.
I’d been with the group since they’d started playing live shows. As a fan at first, then I’d humbly snuck my camera into the shows and they liked what I’d captured so much that they had approached me about the opportunity.
Now I had to deal with thousands of notifications with thirsty fans. You win some, you lose some.
I brush off his concerns and dramatically lay a blanket down over the cushions. Vessel is strangely extra protective tonight. He’s already upset with management for not booking enough rooms, so I try to play it cool and not get him more worked up.
“Just relax, it’ll be fine. You need to focus on getting rest for the show tomorrow. Now go to bed.” I grumble back at him. He unzips his bag while I pull a hoodie from mine, the room is freezing. The AC is at full blast and although now it feels amazing, I know I'll be frozen once I relax. I try turning the AC up but the numbers won’t change no matter how hard I press. I roll my eyes, at least we have blankets.
He doesn’t argue more but I can tell he is still upset. Not with me, but with the situation. Maybe a little with my stubbornness. But I can't let him sleep on the lumpy couch, not when he’s the frontman and he couldn’t be sore for a show.
I’m relieved when he actually listens. He washes up and returns to the living area with nothing but sweats on. I may or may not sneak a few extra glances over while he sets alarms on his phone, then climbs into bed.
I change in the bathroom as well. Maybe or maybe not slipping on a skin-tight cami to get back at him. I ignore the hopelessness that bleeds through the sentiment. Someone like Vessel would never want me. Never in the way I wanted him at least.
He was the exact thing I did want, too. Someone who was smart and confident and yearning. Someone who wanted and put effort into their partners, because they truly wanted them.
It was the same as what I had to give. I’d give anything for someone like that. I’d change my DNA if I could if it meant I would be loved right.
I don't care if it sounds pathetic. Everyone wants to be loved. Everyone wants to be truly seen for who they are, and who I am is a giver. I’d do anything to make a partner happy.
Never had someone love me the same amount I was willing to love them, though. Probably never would. Besides, Vessel deserved someone on his level. He was way out of my league. We’re good friends sure but he was every box checked off and a walking green flag. He could pull any woman he wanted easily.
Instead of being down on myself, I take comfort in knowing that hey - at least I’m honest. And I’m still hot, too, so it doesn't matter that I’m self-deprecating now.
I brush away my self loathing and open the bathroom door back to the freezing room, already excited for the night’s rest. Sleeping in the cold with a nice blanket was one of life’s small joys. I see Vessel already face down, head covered with a pillow. Totally out. I flick off the light he’d left on for me and head to my coffin-er, couch for the night.
Only my blanket wasn’t nearly as thick as I thought it was. I try to push through for a few minutes, figuring that the blanket would trap my heat but the room is actually freezing. The AC is stuck at 62. I go for the hoodie I pulled out earlier, but it reeks like my gym socks. For my own sanity, I refuse to wear it.
Shit.
I fight the urge to groan and throw a fit. The front desk would be a pain to get to right now, and stressful going alone. This hotel was located at the borderline of skeeze city. I quietly get up and search the closet for any more blankets, and come up empty.
Eventually, I settle in with a pair of semi-clean leggings wrapped around my torso, and the blanket folded atop me. It is decent enough for me to fall asleep for a little while, even though my fingers are numb.
+
Vessel’s wakes to a strange chattering sound.
First he checks the bathroom, then the fridge. Something still clicks strangely even after he’d quietly thumped on the side of the thing. He checks the AC, which is still blasting fresh arctic air that feels good against his hot skin.
Then he passed where she rested on the couch. The sound emitted louder here. He stutter stepped, and stopped. His jaw clenched watching her teeth chatter. The silver moonlight that slipped through the sheer blinds made the scene look even colder. He brings the small blanket up over her shoulder and tries to fix the AC again, but the numbers won’t budge. With bleary eyes he swears under his breath.
He sees the way her jaw softly chatters and he’s enraged briefly. Before he thinks, he’s acting on instinct. He gently pushes his arms beneath her and lifts, her solid weight feeling strangely familiar in his arms. Was this as much as he warmed up with at the gym? He had no idea how much she actually weighed, but wondered if he could find out somehow. It would bother him if he didn't.
Suddenly, new lifting goals were set in his mind.
“Stubborn woman.” He scolds quietly to himself. He can’t deny that he admires her determination, though. That much willpower makes someone a force to be reckoned with in every aspect. It was something he revered, and she served as an inspiration for him. The way he saw her drive for things made him question why he wasn’t doing the same for his own goals. And it pushed him.
He set her down gently in the bed, then pulled the thick blanket up over her soft shoulders. He couldn’t help the small graze of his knuckle against the skin there. It is all done in a soft, quiet way that barely disturbed her. He knows better than to do that. Too many screaming matches on the bus over the years have made the entire band know better than to start making coffee too early.
The biggest annoyance she seems to have is the second he puts her down. She clings to his arm with a sour look on your face that breaks his heart, but makes him soar at the same time. Could she want him this close?
“Dont worry-” He whispers, more to himself than anything. There’s so much he wants to say. So much he wishes he could say, but he won't sacrifice anything about their friendship.
So, he settles in the bed beside her- keeping as much distance as he can even though it’s a queen bed. There’s not much more he can do when he lays flat and their arms brush against each other. He wants to turn, to face her and wrap her in his arms so badly it makes him ache. His chest hurts from the want.
Those desires can never be acted upon. He locks those feelings up and shoves them away, stilling himself against the mattress. He can’t move. Not when he already has to hold himself on such a tight leash around her. To not be too flirty. To keep his hands to himself. To hide his admiration.
He was caught for a moment, watching the way her breathing made the hair slip from her shoulder. The small freckles he could see that ran away, hiding up under the too big t-shirt she wore. He was frozen with infatuation.
Eventually, he snapped back to himself, to how strange this was. How he didn’t have a right to be looking at her this way. But how could he not? How could he act like she was just another crew member when he cared so much? When his chest felt like it was being clawed open by some fiery beast every time he looked at her and knew it was something he would never attain?
How would anyone be normal under such agonizing?
He was torn. His mind whirred for a solution to his aching. He wanted to run from this burning pain, but couldn’t imagine voluntarily leaving. He was sure it’d hurt much worse than the euphoria of being here. No, he couldn’t leave. Not when she was so close - not when he was so lucky just to have her in his life. Not just a random photographer now, but their exclusive photographer. And bound by contract for the next six months while on tour. How could he pass up the exclusive time he was guaranteed together?
Even if their relationship was meant to be strictly professional in the beginning… they’d become friends. The reminder of how they worked together hung in his mind like a black cloud.
He wouldn’t risk losing this closeness. But he couldn't tell her how much he cared, how badly he wanted her to be his. Not when-
Her hand reached back, at first he thought she was batting him away and he flinched - but the slender fingers weakly tugged at his wrist. She said something, mumbled, and he sat up, moving closer to hear. He leaned over her body, relishing the shared warmth, using every last ounce of willpower to not pull her to his chest.
She was still cold, her fingers felt like ice wrapped around his wrist. He’d been so wrapped up in his own aching he hadn’t noticed. He scolded himself and tucked the blanket tighter around both of them, shifting the portion that covered him over, not sure of what else he could do.
He knew what he wanted to do. But what would that do to him? What would it mean to him to pull her close in a weak excuse to keep warm?
Because what would this do to him later? Would he spiral after? Would he never be the same?
He didn’t want to find out. He decided it with finality, thought he had anyway.
Then she was shifting. With tired, lazy movements. He was terrified for a moment, that she was unhappy with him with how her brow creased above her closed eyes, but then her head pressed to his chest.
And he melted through the mattress, the floorboards, down to the hell he was surely going to.
The smell of her hair had him trying to figure out what candles he’d smelled that would be anything close. Anything as euphoric. He was so overwhelmed for that initial moment he’d almost forgotten how this worked. Cuddling.
Then he moved his arm, wrapping it around her shoulders and pulled closer. Instinctual. Easy. Once he remembered how to do it.
Once he allowed himself this supreme pleasure.
What had he done to deserve this?
Such exquisite happiness dug its claws in him now, but what would the cost be later? When he knew that he’d never have this again? Was it better to push her away now and not even allow the pleasure in the first place?
To have this beauty for even a moment was better than never having it. That was indisputable. He came to the conclusion quickly. At least he had now. Right now with her in his arms. Her warm weight on his chest. Pride swelled at the now lack of chattering coming from her teeth.
He used that as fuel for his sin. His small justification. He was helping. It was selfless, really. He lied to himself easily for the sake of refusing such a delicate self betrayal.
He wanted to live in this singular moment for the rest of his days. This was more rewarding than any stage or paycheck.
Let him rot here. He’d die euphorically with her freckled arm slung around him like this.
Let the grass and bugs and vultures consume them both here if it meant he could stay in her embrace. The weeds and wildflowers would weave through the gaps in his ribs, and maybe grow a little taller where his heart had once been.
His breathing evens out eventually, timing with hers until he was dragged into unconsciousness.
+
Coffee.
It's the first thing on my mind every morning. I don't care if it’s a drug or immoral or inhumane or whatever, I need coffee.
It’s an addiction, yes I understand. But it’s better than meth.
I rub my face, trying to save some dignity when facing Vessel. He’s seen me plenty of times half-asleep but something about sharing a room is different somehow.
I carefully roll to the side, and realize that I’m not where I should be.
The white sheets and duvet are much warmer than the spare blanket I had to work with on the couch.
I sat up quickly, searching the room in a haze when my eyes caught Vessel flicking through TV channels, sat up on what should have been my bed.
“Didn’t you say that thing had cum stains?” I accuse. How had we swapped places?
“Yeah, and aren’t you glad for the bed?” He smirks and decides on a random channel showing internet clips.
“How did I get here? Did I sleeptalk too?” I can feel the anxiety creeping in, this felt like being too drunk and waking up not being able to remember the previous night.
“You didn’t sleepwalk or talk. Calm down. There’s coffee-” He gestures with the remote to the bedside table and winks at me.
He winks at me. Thankfully he turns back to the TV before he can see how red my face gets.
“I carried you. You were freezing and practically falling off the couch.”
“Where did you sleep?”
“Beside you.” He says it simply, as if it were nothing more than checking the time.
“You shouldn't have done that. I would have been fine.” I scold. How had we slept beside each other? The man was huge, there was no way that we fit on the bed side by side. My cheeks burn, and I’m glad he seems distracted with the TV and not staring at me for this conversation.
“I think your legging scarf would disagree. They’re not very in-fasion right now.” He teases. It all feels so natural, so okay that I barely have a protest. Had we been wrapped together? How had we both managed to get a -what felt like to me- fantastic night sleep on this small bed?
“I’ll get an extra blanket from the lobby tonight.” I promise. I won’t be a hindrance to this tour. To this exquisitely fine man that somehow showed care to everyone he was around.
He hums in some kind of approval, and I use the lull to get up and get ready for the day in the bathroom.
When I return to the living area, he’s using the thin blanket to try to cover the AC vents. I grab my coffee from the table and take a sip of the perfectly mixed brew.
“Ah, you know what I like.” I hum, wrapping my freezing hands around the warm cup.
He startles slightly, not hearing me approach while I watch his struggle. Then he lights up, grinning at me like I’d told him he’d won the lottery. “I’d hope so after so many obsessive brews in the morning. I thought you and II were going to kill each other the other day.”
“We’re still getting used to tour life, alright. Leave me alone.” I hold the corner of the blanket for him so he can attempt to hold down the other side with the remote. There’s not much else to use, so I grab the ice bucket and try to get it to hold down the bulk of the middle.
It slides off the second we let go, and he runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it.
“I’ll get us a new room. A different hotel.”
I like the way he says ‘us’. That he includes me when it doesn’t necessarily involve me at all, considering that I know he’d be calling hotels and booking things without my help.
“It’s just one more night.” I try to talk him down from spending extra money unnecessarily.
He shoots me a look while he pulls out his phone and starts tapping away. The “Dont start this with me now.” Look that I’ve become familiar with. I perch on the edge of the bed while he types then calls several hotels nearby, and when he curses under his breath after the third I have to protest.
“Ves, one more night. Then we’ll be somewhere else entirely. New city, new hotel, all of it.”
He seems staggered for a moment, and when he opens his mouth to protest I cut him off. “You hated sleeping with me so much that you’re going to waste our day figuring out how to avoid it again?” I challenge before he can start.
He’s really stunned this time. He reels, his cheeks getting red.
“Now let’s go before we get yelled at for being late to lunch.” I grab his sleeve and drag him towards the door, slipping on my shoes.
+
Vessel is a wreck during the show. Not in a bad way.
He sings his soul out, vomiting all the wanton desire out on the stage so vigorously his voice is a little raw afterwards. He butchered himself on stage, leaving him a sensitive mess. IV gave him a look, but didn't say anything and passed him the honeyed cup of tea he had made for himself. Vessel blinks away the teary sentiment for his friend.
He’d sang Dangerous and Provider with more vigor than ever. He clutched the mic like an anchor to keep him from descending off the stage straight to the subject of his aching.
All the while, she watched through a lens, seemingly oblivious to the message he was literally screaming at her. The whole time she didn’t flinch, just smiled proudly up at him when he did gesture towards her and she captured it.
She had no idea that it wasn’t for the camera though.
He wanted her to feel this, to have this same chest-aching desire but she seemed totally unaffected. He belted lyrics into the mic and it helped alleviate some of the want.
But he knew he’d have to go back to that room at the end of the night. That he’d have to try to sleep while she surely would place herself on the couch again. And maybe she’d have a proper hoodie this time, and he wouldn’t have an excuse to bring her close again.
Maybe last night had been a fluke. Maybe she hadn’t seen how much he did enjoy her presence.
The doubt and the want for understanding - the desire to tell her exactly how he felt crushed him.
+
He doesn’t see her again until he’s finally back at the room after a few drinks with the rest of the crew.
He toes his shoes off and freezes in place when he sees the couch is empty. Adrenaline surges through him. How had she not made it back?
He whips out his phone but sees the slight movement in the bed, and steps closer.
A grin spreads across his face.
He was surprised at her boldness. She’d made it to the room far earlier than he had and had commandeered one of his hoodies he’d left hanging up for herself. With the hood up, she looked totally at peace covered with the duvet, the pillows cradling her.
He wished it wasn’t weird for him to take a picture of how adorable she looked. Her lower lip jutted out slightly in a pout, her brow creased like she was thinking too much even in her sleep. It wouldnt’ surprise him if she was.
He quickly washed himself clean from the nights activities then found himself frozen before the bed.
Would it be too much to slip beside her? She was obviously warm tonight, wrapped in his hoodie and sleeping peacefully. What if she didn’t want him here tonight? If she had expected him to take the couch?
Why was he so nervous about this now? He’d just… acted last night. He’d taken control and just done it and she hadn’t been upset with him then.
Doing. That was the solution to anxiety. Do something or else you’ll spiral.
So he slid beneath the covers and faced her. Smiling to himself at how simple this was, and at how much of a high it gave him. He knew this would destroy him when she was no longer so close. He knew he would fall from this euphoria like Icarus plummeting to the sea. He would be grateful for the drowning despair later, because this fleeting pleasure was worth it.
He didnt’ care, he decided. Not anymore. He’d already broken so many rules, he’d developed feelings far deeper than he initially thought. He was entirely, thoroughly fucked - so what was one more tally on his score?
Her nose twitched, and the crease in her brow deepened for a second. His heart hammered in his chest, blood surging in his ears.
Then, she was scooting closer to him, her hands wandering - not far - to find him.
Relief washed over him like a cool tidal wave. He pulled her close, both of them clinging to each other. One of her hands tucked in between them, the other found its way to his waistband, which had him tensing for a moment.
Then her fingers hooked beneath his waistband, and rested on his hipbone. Her fingers pinned there between his skin and the elastic of his sweats.
He was tense, but she settled quickly after that.
What was this placement? It had him panicking. Was this just… chance? Was it a hint at something more?
He re assessed.
He was much bigger than her. Like… over a foot taller. He towered over her but it never really seemed to make a difference to either of them in any way. He’d led them though large crowed before, and she’d done a similar thing with hooking a finger in his belt loop.
Her arm barely wrapped around him. This had to be for stability, so her arm wouldnt just fall back to her side.
Maybe the contact was nice for her too.
He settled himself again, taking slow, deep breaths to not think about how close her hand was to his now hopeful cock.
It was nothing sexual, he told himself. His body didn’t care though.
+
I’m warm.
Fuzzy, melt in your couch with soup warm.
It feels incredible. I nuzzle into the warmth, smiling. I’m not sure if I make a sound, but someone responds.
“Morning.” Vessel’s voice is groggy, rough with sleep still and incredibly cute. I groan, refusing to open my eyes just yet. I push into the warmth more and feel his soundless laugh.
My cheeks go red, and panic sends my heart racing.
I feel his laugh because I’m stuck to him like glue. My leg is hiked up over his hip and im plastered to him like we did this all the time. And my hand is - oh god.
I gasp and attempt to pull my hand free of his waistband - but im clammy and it stays stuck for a few seconds too long while i panic. “I am so sorry-” I stammer, but he still holds me. It limits how far away I can pull, and I’m glad for it secretly.
“Nothing I’m complaining about.” He says with that gruff voice and a wicked grin. My blood heats, a thrum of excitement going through me at his lazy, casualness at how he’d enjoyed my touch.
I bite my lip, feeling my cheeks go warm at his insinuation.
“Yeah?” I tease, and flick one of his nipples playfully. I intend to get up and get ready after, but Vessel caught my finger as I pulled away. He then placed my hand back on his hip, right where it’d been before, just not tucked so intimately.
“Just stay for a second.” He sighs, sounding strange. I try to look up and see his expression but he seems almost asleep.
Then, I notice his breathing. He is asleep.
I shake my head and grin, but I do enjoy resting on him. He’s warmth embodied and it feels so good to have a personal space heater fighting for me against the cold of the room.
My fingers tentatively leave his hip to trace along his waistband, tracing soft touches that i can see leave goosebumps behind. My stomach flutters when i notice his body responding in other ways as well.
I’m honry. So fucking horny ever since seeing him on the bus without a shirt on a few days ago. He’d been fresh out of the shower and smelling amazing - and i hadn’t had time alone to take care of my needs since then.
I was a victim, really.
His hips roll achingly softly upwards to my touch, and my mouth falls open at how gorgeous he is. How the outline of his cock is growing more and more beneath the sweats. I wonder what it would feel like, how the weight of him would feel so right in my hand - in my mouth. I wonder if he’s just as freaky as I think he is.
He exudes dominance in his everyday life. From the way he slams food in front of me while im too busy editing to eat, to the way he guides the group places when no one else will take the lead. His bands whole motto is ‘worship’ - how’s a frontman of a band like that not into body worship? I envy his previous partners.
My fingers accidentally brush over the tip of his cock when i reach up to pin my hair behind my ear, and i grin when a small, almost inaudible sound comes from him.
I watch for a long moment while his body flexes in different ways, his hips rolling so sweetly, so slowly into the air. Searching for stimulation. He is mouth watering sexy, and i want him badly.
I nearly choke when he sighs and adjusts, propping a hand behind his head and the other going directly down his sweats. I nearly lose it. His wrist forces his sweats down, revealing the soft skin of his cock - the tip jutting out over the waistband.
I can’t help myself. My own body is practically vibrating with the erotic scene before me. I circle the tip with a finger, earning a soft sigh from him. I do this a few more times before he’s shifting again, and his hand moves more intentionally for a beat.
“Having fun?” He asks groggily, and I’m not surprised he’s awake now.
“Qutie a bit.” I answer in a husky voice.
He pulls himself free of the sweats, on full display for me. He strokes himself slowly, thoroughly while I watch. I trace a finger from his base to tip, and a breathless laugh leaves him.
“Been driving me crazy.” He says idly. “Watching you try to change quick in the bus, seeing your bag open and those panties inside.”
I look up at him with an innocent smile. “Didn’t know you’d be bothered, my deepest apologies.”
“Yeah you will be sorry.” He grins, and suddenly sits upright. He grabs the wrist of my hand that’d been playing with him and pulls me to him, crashing our lips together.
There is nothing gentle or tender about this kiss. It is full of need from both of us. Immediately we’re on the same page. I lap at his lower lip and his tongue joins mine, not fast or demanding but deep and rhythmic - making me imagine what it would feel like elsewhere. I am lit from inside, my very blood burning with how fucking hot this is.
I arch into him, pressing my torso to his. I want him everywhere. One of his hands goes to squeeze one of my breasts, and he practically growls when he grips a hip.
I don’t think its anything specific, i think its just him that turns me on. Him in general. How he is, how he’s touching me like he’s afraid he’s going to lose me. With every twitch of his fingers, every violent kiss there’s something unsaid lingering behind it.
“So fucking perfect.” He mutters, giving the hip hand a shake - admiring how i feel beneath his grasp. His hands are huge. They encompass me with warmth everywhere he touches and it sets me on fire. There’s so much feeling behind everything - every graze of his skin against mine feels scared. I melt to his touch, pilant like I wanted to prove how good I could be for him.
My hands graze over every part of him, from his hair to his neck and to trace his cheekbones with my thumbs.
He tangles a hand in the back of my hair and pulls me down to him so he can kiss and lick my neck. “I want you.” A kiss just below my ear. “I want to fuck you in every way possible right now.” A long firm lick down to circle where my pulse frenzies. He’s driving me insane with just the way his mouth feels on me, not to mention what he’s saying.
His hands trail over my ass and and sqeueze, reverent in just feeling me it seemed. “Tell me we can, that we will.” He bites the base of my neck, near my collarbone and i grind down on top of him. With the shorts I wear, the heat of his cock brushes the inside of my thigh and i groan.
One of his hands trails from my ass and comes back around, pressing me back by the hip so there’s a bit of distance between out bodies and he can- oh.. God. His thumb finds my clit through the shorts immideately, and rubs firmly just a few times.
“We will. We will-” I nod, curling my body to his. I am so needy, so hot for him that I just want to feel something inside me. I don’t care if it’s his fingers or his tongue or his cock - but I would prefer one of the three. I can feel my shorts inner lining sticking to me with how soaked i am.
“That’s right.” He hums, watching me with an intense stare while he toys with me. “That’s right we will.”
My thighs close around his hand but it doesn’t stop him. He just works harder, increasing his pressure but not the exquisite pace. I feel his cock twitch a few times beneath me, and i want to touch him the same - make him as crazy as he’s making me.
The second I go to reach for him, he takes the wrist of that hand and pulls me forward again, so we’re kissing. His fingers leave my clit, and I hear a thud to the side. These kisses are lazy, heated and patient - and i realize he’s pulling a condom over himself.
“Let me taste you-” I whine,
“You agreed we’d get to that.” He says devilishly, his fingers returning to my psusy- only they’re exploring my entrance now, coating himself with my wetness before pushfing two fingers in slowly, pulling them out again and repeating until he has me whining and needy for more than just the two.
When he pulls them out, he raises them to his mouth and stares at me while he laps at them, lickign them clean.
I’m hypnotized, but not enough to keep me distracted for long. I reach down and line him up with me, then lower deliciously slowly onto him.
It takes a few minutes, but once he’s fully hilted we sit like that for a moment. My mouth presses kisses to his shoulder, rocking gently while my body adjusts to the sweet stretch of him.
“So fucking good.” He groans, guiding me up slightly, then back down.
He seats an easy pace at first, gentle. When I start really grinding against him, he gets the message. I want more. He flips us gently, and shoves a pillow under my loewe back. His hands roam over my stomach, my breasts and chest - the way his eyes drag over me is the most erotic part though. Like he’s trying to memorize every piece. He rocks his hips slowly into me at first in the new position.
“I’d trade being a singer for being a painter, if it meant I could capture you like this.” he says - his eyes wandering all over me.
Then he’s snapping into me, hard and fast and completely relentless while he grips my hips to hold me exactly how he wants me.
And I love it. I whimper and moan like a submissive bitch because god for him I am. I am completely without him having to even do anything to prove his dominance.
Normally, I’d fight this - tell him to fuck off and make a partner work to fuck me, but he’s different. He’s new but he’s already shown me that he wants me - as a friend, and now as a lover. He doesn’t need to work to show me that he cares, he’s already shown up and done it long before I started toying with him in bed.
He fucks me until my legs tremble and my thighs beg to coles together for friction - and when he notices it, he slows. He drags his thrusts out, making them slower, more targeted and I nearly whine and complain until he brushes against something exquisite inside me.
I gasp and tense, gripping his forearms with surprise at what he’d done. My nails bite into his skin and he seems to enjoy it, his own fingers tensing on my hips. No one had ever bothered to try to find my g-spot before, but he’d done it woutht even needing me to guide him.
“Fuck-” my eyes are wide, I can feel it so when he looks at me with a knowing, smug grin I shake my head. “You’re going to make me cum.” I warn.
He’s not shocked. “Good.”
He continues thrusting slow, deliberate movements that bring me closer and closer to that edge. Everything tingles and seems so fast with how he’s getting me there with such ease.
My toes curl and pop, and he groans encouragingly. “That’s right love.”
He seems to be in no rush for himself, erasing any guilt at ruining his orgasm. I teeter on the brink, almost stuck there for a second.
Then he thumbs over my clit, just the pressure alone sends me twitching and curling while my body milks his cock. My legs tremble and he’s leaning down so i have something to latch onto, holding me close while tremors wrack my body. His cock continues its easy pace inside me and he’s moaning and laughing. “So fucking good, so good.”
He presses kisses to my temple, my forehead and my nose while I pant, coming down from the peak. He sets a bit of a faster pace, and his abs flex while he chases his own orgasm. “So good for me.” He praises, his hands gripping my breast or my hip. He bites his lip and his brows pull together - his breathing becoming ragged and labored.
I grip his back, nails digging into his skin. I want to see him finish. More than that, I need it.
“Cum for me.” I demand. It’s through teeth and with flushed cheeks and wild hair, and he can’t resist.
On one last thrust, he holds himself deep inside me - his hips stuttering small movements. He breathes a string of curses while he cums, resting his forehead against mine. I feel his cock twitching, releasing inside me. I am upset I cant feel all of him, that the condom’s in the way of this being as filthy as I want it to be.
“No condom next time.” I breathe hard. “I’m clean.”
He grins and pulls me to lay on my side with him as my big spoon. “Yeah, me too. Birth control?”
“Yes.” I confirm, biting my lip. “So what part did you mean I was going to regret?” I ask, propping myself up on an elbow.
“The part when you’re too sore to walk after I’m done with you.” He says, and ducks beneath the covers. His lips find every part of my skin delicious, apparently.
Sleepy cuddles with vessel and everytime you try to get comfy something comes up like itching, vessel poking you with his chin, a window is open and it's cold
Until you try to get up for something and vessel gets so frustrated he just pins you down and falls asleep on you. Good luck getting up.
helloooo :D
omg thank you sm for sending a req! not only was this an adorable idea, it was really fun to write!
i hope this is what you were asking for haha, i did my best 😅 this is also my first time doing something like this and i am still relatively a new writer 😭
but anyways, i hope u enjoy!
cw: none! just lots of fluff :)
a/n: requests are open!
also shoutout @livyatan--fell for being my editor 😭😭😭
*platonic relationship btw*
The warm sun dipped below the tall trees as the night approached, cooling the air to a more manageable temperature, but it was still hot. The heat was no joke this summer. The air was stuffy and hot, like when you open up the oven to check on your muffins and the hot air blasts you in the face. It felt like no matter what you did, you were still sweaty and irritable, emphasis on the irritable.
So that’s how you ended up sprawled on the couch with nothing but shorts and a tank top on, eating a mango popsicle with the enthusiasm of a dead body. II, IV and Vessel realized that the only way to keep you from murdering everybody else in the house was to keep feeding you fruit popsicles and leaving you alone. III learned the hard way, and that way was a book being thrown at his dick, and you bet he didn’t come near you after that.
Taking the last bite of your popsicle, you sighed, more like groaned, and threw the wooden stick onto the floor.
As if he was summoned, Vessel walked into the living room and stood in front of you with his hands on his hips, “Who are you expecting to clean up your mess, huh?” he sighed, shaking his head.
You looked up at him, blinking slowly, and then slumped forward, sliding off the couch and onto the floor. You picked up the stick, lazily reaching your arm up and presented it to Vessel.
“You I suppose” you mumbled from the floor.
He chuckled softly, taking the stick from your now sticky hand and padded out of the living room. You remained on the floor, which was much cooler than the couch, and felt yourself dosing off.
The crinkling of plastic packaging made your eyes shoot open, like a dog hearing a bag of treats open. You eagerly looked over to the sound to see Vessel unwrapping and handing you a fresh strawberry popsicle.
“Yay, thank you” you smiled, licking the yummy treat.
Vessel hummed and crouched down next to you, scooping you up in his arms, and plopping onto the couch with him on top of you, squashing you like a bug.
You immediately tried to break free from his hold, “Vess, it’s too hot—get off me” you groaned, trying to push the Vessel, who was by no means small, off of you.
“But I got you another popsicle! Please just let me hold you” He fake whined, giving you that stupid pouty face that always made you laugh.
“Yeah, but it’s like, a million degrees in here and you are a furnace” you snorted, rolling your eyes at his antics. That just made him wrap his arms around you tighter, nuzzling his face into your very sweaty neck.
“Vessel, let go of me”
“No”
“Let go or else”
“No”
Grinning, you gently poked the back of his neck with your now melting popsicle, causing him to yelp. Because he was petty and immature, he wrapped his arms tighter around you, fully pinning you down onto the couch.
“Stop moving” Vessel hissed.
You sighed, giving up on trying to break free, and took another bite of your popsicle.
“You’re lucky I love you” you hummed, resting your free arm around him.
Vessel hummed, resting his chin on your shoulder, which wasn’t quite resting. Digging into your shoulder was more accurate. His breathing grew quiet, falling into a steady rhythm, indicating that he was somehow fast asleep. Either this was payback for the short temper you had all day or he was simply too much of a sweetheart to push off. Nonetheless, It was going to be a long and sweaty night.
i am open to requests/recommendations for oneshots btw 😻
i cannot promise that i am able to do it but i can do my best 😭🙏
*~ also i only do platonic stuff rn! feel free to look at my master list to get a rough idea as to what i write about lol but i am always up for a challenge.
i can write something in first person using any gender/pronouns
or i can write something in my version of V (i can make it any gender/any pronouns for it as well)
Think my lil blurbs manifested a British man coming into my job and ordering very nearly what Cafe Reg! Ves did, and doing the same things. I’m in a very weird midwestern town, I’m so confused. Delighted to be told cheers instead of thanks, but confused
