Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Damiano wakes up a few hours later, finding himself cuddled up to his still blissed-out lovers. Fucking Thomas had been a wild ride, certainly. Sometimes, Damiano doesn’t know how they do it. How they’re able to make this all work between them. The kinks they play with really fuck with his head sometimes- which isn’t all that strange when he thinks about it. They really mess with his headspace, and now, with Thomas’s too. Damiano himself has never felt the need to control someone else (not to say he never did it, but compared to this, that had all been pretty vanilla anyways). He can imagine that Ethan and Victoria have their own, intense dom headspaces too. He wonders if it never wears them out the way it does for him. In the best sense of the word, of course. 
He turns his head to check the time and groans. It’s 8 pm, and while they could stay in bed and probably crash throughout the entire night, it’s for the better if they get out of bed now. Try to stick to a somewhat more natural sleeping schedule, if they want to properly survive the upcoming weeks. 

“Victoria,” he whispers sweetly, pressing a soft kiss at the nape of her neck. The girl stirs, and he kisses her again. And again, until she finally grabs his arm and tugs it more snugly against her chest.
“Cucciolo,” she mumbles, and he loves how she instantly knows it’s him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he mumbles, taking in her scent. “We should get up, though.” He doesn’t have to explain himself. She knows what he means, and she nods slowly, still trying to fight her drowsiness.
“Yeah,” she replies with a sigh. She sniffs once, and stretches her body, and slowly tries to wake up the two other boys as well. Damiano can’t help but grin widely when he sees how Ethan’s arms have wrapped themselves ever so protectively around Thomas’s shoulders, the younger boy all squeezed between them.

“Mmmdon’t wanna wake up,” Thomas whines quietly, making a disgruntled noise and trying to hide underneath the blankets. Ethan kisses the top of his head. 
“You’ll miss out on Damiano’s famous cipollate con pancetta, though,” Ethan says smugly and Thomas peeks up from underneath the drummer’s embrace.
“That’s a good point.” Damiano laughs and shakes his head.
“You’d do anything for food, wouldn’t you?” Thomas shrugs, trying to sit up now. 
“What can I say? I just happen to be blessed to have an amazing cook as a boyfriend,” the guitarist answers, and Damiano just bumps his shoulder.

Soon enough, they’ve all made their way up into a seated position, which is hard, really, after a good ‘I-just-fucked’ nap. Damiano runs a hand through his hair, looking outside the window. The clouds are rolling in fast and he’s glad. Maybe a good rainstorm will cool things down a bit more.
“Damiano?” Victoria says innocently. Too much so. He turns around to look at her. She trails her fingers across his collar. He frowns. Oh, God. “You know you’re our good boy, right?”

Damiano nods slowly. He doesn’t know why, but he feels something’s coming for him. Something unexpected. Or else she wouldn’t look at him like that. 

“You’re not allowed to come, for the rest of this week.” 

Damiano’s heart sinks in his chest and his lips part in shock. What? Why? Is he being punished? What’d he do wrong?
“Signora-” he tries, but she quickly shushes him.
“You were wonderful, but you misbehaved a lot today, baby. Can’t have you get sloppy now, can we?” Damiano’s cheeks burn with embarrassment and he nods. He understands what she’s talking about. When they’d been shopping, he’d been too risky kissing her in public. At the house, he’d tried to hump her leg without permission. And he talked. A lot. While fucking Thomas.

“I understand,” he whispers, trying to sound brave. Victoria looks at him, and from behind her, Ethan and Thomas have their eyes on him too. “Mi dispiace.” 
Victoria coos sweetly at him, good boy , pressing a kiss on top of his forehead. She then gets up from the bed, getting ready to freshen up and get dressed again. Damiano swallows, clenching his jaw. 
He should be happy, to be put in his place. He likes that. He should like that. He’s a fucking sub, he wants to have them take full control. The tag dangling from his collar the very proof of how fucking proud he is to be owned.

Then why do her words make him feel so empty?

-

Damiano is quiet, for the rest of the evening. Unable to shake the nagging feeling in his chest. He doesn’t understand it. Maybe doesn’t want to understand. He laughs along with his bandmates, jokes around when needed, but on the inside, he knows something is off. He sighs. He’s probably just tired. Right?

---

Thomas wakes up in the middle of the night. He sighs, disoriented, and tucks his knees in a little more, tugging the sheets against his back. On the rooftop, he can hear the soft clatter of rain, and it makes him smile. Fucking finally. He tries to relax his muscles, ignoring how stiff and sore he really feels- and realizes that something is off . 
His eyes flutter open, and in the faint light of the moon shining through their window, he can make out his partners’ bodies on the bed. Except- Except for Damiano.

Huh? That’s odd.

Thomas wonders where he could be. Out for a smoke? Writing music? He closes his eyes again, resting on the pillow. He’s sure Damiano is fine. It wouldn’t be the first time he has a midnight writing session. 

---

The next night, Damiano isn’t there either.

---

On the third night, Thomas can’t take it anymore. He turns around, gently trying to wake both Victoria and Ethan.
“Something’s wrong with Damiano,” he whispers. Ethan makes a confused noise, and behind him, Victoria yawns involuntarily, sitting up slowly.
“What do you mean?” She whispers.
“He hasn’t slept in our bed for three nights in a row now.”
“Wait, what?” Ethan rushes out and sits upright too. “What are you talking about?”
“Exactly what I said. He hasn’t slept in our bed. For the past three nights. I wake up, and he isn’t there.”
“That’s nothing like him,” Victoria mumbles, worry clearly written all over her face now too. Even if Damiano skips a night of sleep to write or whatever, he would always come back to bed at the cue of sunrise. “I’ll go check on him?” She asks. Thomas and Ethan both nod, and with that, she’s gone. Thomas looks at Ethan, and Ethan stares back.
“Did something happen?” The drummer asks. Thomas gives him a clueless shrug.
“I really don’t know.”

---

Damiano is out on the patio, staring up at the sky. It’s a beautiful night. No longer cloudy, like the nights before, and the chilly yet clear summer breeze keeps him grounded. He takes another drag from his cigarette. He’s lost count of how many he’s had if he has to be honest, but he couldn’t really care less at this point. He feels immensely jealous of his lovers, who are probably all sweetly tangled up in the sheets. Do they even know he’s gone? Probably not, he thinks bitterly.

“Damiano?”
The boy turns around in surprise, finding Victoria standing in the doorway. He huffs, turning back, his hand suddenly unsteady when he inhales again.
“Can’t sleep?” he asks. Victoria doesn’t answer. Instead, he can hear her footsteps approaching and she sits down on the chair next to him.
“What’s wrong?” She asks. Not trying to be subtle about it. Damiano’s chest constricts and his throat tightens, and in frustration, he extinguishes his cigarette in the ashtray. 
“Couldn’t sleep, that’s all,” he replies shortly. He’s aware he sounds like a fucking douche right now, but for once in his life, he’s done communicating. He doesn’t understand his own thoughts, they’re a fucking mess, and he really, really doesn’t want to deal with them any more than he already is.
“I see,” Victoria breathes, eyeing him. It’s clear she doesn’t believe him. Damiano loves her. He really fucking does, but at this moment, he can’t stand her being next to him. 
“It’s okay,” he says slowly, his fingers already itching to light another cigarette. Jesus, this is getting out of hand. “You can go back to bed.”
“Nah, I can keep you company. Must be boring, to be alone.”
“ Victoria ,” he bites at her. “I want to be alone.” He presses his lips together, shocked by the sudden outburst. Instant guilt washes over him and he hates it when he sees the hurt flicker behind her eyes. If he didn’t feel so conflicted he would have apologized right away, but the words don’t come.

I want to be alone. Damiano thinks to himself, and he realizes how bad it sounds. He hates being alone. He’s scared of being alone. Of feeling abandoned. And now he’s pushing her away from him with the one unspoken rule they have. Never to cross the need for privacy.

“Damiano, are you sure?” Victoria asks tentatively. She knows of his fears. She isn’t stupid. If he says he wants to be alone, something is terribly wrong. Yes , his brains tell him to say. Yes, I am sure. Go.
“No,” he chokes out and his eyes sting with hot tears. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he sobs.
“Oh caro, caro ,” Victoria rushes and she gets up from her chair, leaning in and hugging him from the side. “It’s alright, Damiano, I’m here. I’ve got you,” she mumbles and strokes his back. Damiano falls against her, clutching onto her baggy T-shirt that she sleeps in, and cries. He feels he could explode from the way her hands feel on his back. Warm, and gentle. Holding him so preciously. He’s fucking pathetic. Touch-starved. 
“M-mi dispiace,” he sobs. “Mi dispiace… Victoria, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to cry.”

Victoria tells him it’s alright. She holds him. Shushes him gently. One hand rubbing his back, the other one stroking his hair. Damiano doesn’t think he’s ever felt this small. 
“Did something happen?” She asks finally when his sobs no longer impair his voice. Damiano shrugs weakly, feeling terribly unsure of himself. 
“I don’t…” Damiano’s voice falters and he takes a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds, then slowly letting the air escape his lungs again. “It’s pathetic.”
“I don’t believe it,” she says sweetly, squeezing his shoulder. Damiano gulps and looks at her. 
“I feel… Wrong. Eh,” he stammers, trying to muster up the courage to find the right word to use. “After you said I couldn’t come for a week, I… Shit, I feel useless. Like… Like a bother? And it’s fucking stupid , as if I need orgasms that bad! I don’t, I don’t,” now that he’s talking he can’t seem to stop. He doesn’t see the shocked expression on Victoria’s face. 
“I feel like I’m cast aside- and of course, I’m not stupid! I know a punishment isn’t supposed to be fun . I shouldn’t like it- I- I just feel as if I’m being punished for who I am , and-” this is where his voice breaks again. He licks his lips, playing with his hands nervously. “I don’t like repressing myself,” he finally concludes. “All my life I’ve fought to express myself the way I truly am and repressing that- It feels wrong .”

They’re silent, after that. Damiano knows how bad it sounds. As if having damned orgasms is a requirement for him to be happy. But that’s not it, not really. Sexual expression is important to him. Being told off for it… It haywires his brains and makes him malfunction. 
“Damiano,” Victoria says, voice unsteady. “I am so sorry . I am not punishing you for who you are- Shit. Damiano, I-” she shakes her head, then lifting his chin to make him look up at her. Damiano can see the pain on every inch of her face. He wants to lean in, caress her cheeks with his thumb and tell her not to worry about it. But he can’t. “Why didn’t you safeword?” 

Damiano looks at her. Astounded.
“Safeword?”
“Honey,” Victoria looks horrified. “You know you can safeword out of a punishment too, right?” Damiano casts his eyes down and feels shame color his cheeks once again. Victoria repeats herself. “Right?”
“I- I didn’t-” Damiano says, he feels so fucking tense. “If I safeword out of a punishment, then what’s the point?” 

Victoria licks her lips, clearly weighing her next words carefully before she speaks.
“You’re right about punishments not being there for fun,” she starts slowly, emphasizing every single word. “But they’re not supposed to make you feel like shit. This is clearly a hard limit for you, Damià. And that’s okay. There’s absolutely no shame in that. We all have limits.”
“I just want to be good for you,” Damiano whispers, feeling his eyes sting again and he inwardly curses at himself. 
“Icarus,” she mumbles, and that’s enough for a tear to escape and roll down his cheek again. “My sweet Icarus, you’re flying too close to the sun.” He sniffs and nods, pressing his face into her shirt again. 
“I know,” he says, the reference finally making things click. “I know.”

They stay like that for a while. Many thoughts still run through Damiano’s head, but he knows that Victoria understands him now. That’s she got him. Keeping him safe. She’ll protect his wings, make sure he doesn’t fly too high, or too low, for that matter. And finally, for the first time in days, his eyes start to feel heavy. Sleep slowly clouding his mind.
“Come,” Victoria whispers, after who knows how long. “Let’s get inside. Ethan and Thomas are worried sick too.” 

Damiano nods and lets her guide him back inside. Ethan and Thomas are indeed awake, and when they see him, they invite him into their arms. With a confirmative nod from Damiano, Victoria summarizes for them what happened.
“Damiano,” Ethan whispers gently, pressing a kiss on top of his head, while Thomas’s arms wrap around his waist. His lovers hold him. Protect him. “ Ti amo. We love you, so much.”
“Exactly the way you are.”

Damiano lets himself be cuddled and consoled until finally, his body catches up with his lack of sleep and he drifts off into a deep, warm sleep. Forgetting about his worries, stalling dealing with that until the next morning.