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In the heart of a rocking tour bus the lullaby of the road hums into the night, pavement slipping beneath the wheels like black satin on skin. The gloaming exterior paints the distant cityscapes into ephemeral silhouettes as the bus continues its relentless journey onward— from one city to the next, one show to another. A twist of fate—or more accurately, a sudden influx of new band members—has thrown them together into the tight bed at the back of the bus. The boundaries of their personal space have all but disappeared, the corners of their solitary worlds blurring together in the close quarters. It's a situation ripe for discomfort, but there's a surprising ease to their shared space. The hum of the engine, the rhythm of the road, and their relaxed banter make for a strangely soothing symphony.
Within the confines of this ceaselessly shifting space, Swiss and Dew lay together, smashed into the same Twin XL bed bolted to the wall of the tour bus. Above them, the circle dot light that they’ve stamped to the ceiling flickers dimly, the batteries slowly dying and blinking their protest.
Swiss is the taller of the pair, his height casting an elongated, phantom-like shadow that dances along the cramped spaces of the bus. His eyes glow, twin moons orbiting in the firmament of his face. His fangs, though smaller than traditional ghoul fangs, are just as potent, a disarming aspect of his otherwise disarmingly captivating persona.
Dew, in contrast, is shorter, his stature dwarfed by Swiss's looming frame. But in his compact form lies a strength that belies his size. His eyes, too, radiate with an ethereal glow, shimmering like two stars nestled within a nebulous canvas of foggy gray skin. His fangs are smaller but no less significant, promising a sweetness that both beckons and disconcerts.
Tonight, however, they may as well have both been ten feet tall and six-limbed, judging by how tightly cramped they are.
This proximity pulses with a palpable tension that thrums through the air like a plucked string. Their closeness is both an opportunity and a challenge, a dance along the fine edge of comfort and the unsettling thrill of the unknown. The bed, small as it is, cradles them together, the jostling road causing their bodies to shift, brushing against each other in transient whispers of contact. Dew, his body heat already cranked to an abnormal 11, grumbles his distaste every so often when Swiss expresses how hot he is. The tour bus shudders and rumbles beneath them, echoing the strange, electrifying tension that's slowly filling up the tiny bed.
Their hearts thump in their chests like drum beats set to the rhythm of the road, matching the accelerating tempo of their bubbling affection. Their bodies, tucked into the narrow confines of the small bed, find an unfamiliar comfort in the other’s presence, a silent acknowledgement of an emotion that dares not speak its name.
As the tour bus continues its relentless journey into the night, Swiss turns to look at Dew, his luminescent eyes catching the other Ghoul’s gaze in a silent conversation. Dew, understanding the unspoken invitation, moves closer, the pulse of his heartbeat echoing in the hushed confines of the bus. He licks his lips, forked tongue darting out to wet them as his eyes fixate on Swiss’ mouth. The Multi Ghoul, braver or perhaps just more restless, eventually breaks the invisible barrier between them. He turns to Dew, his eyes luminescent in the dim light, a silent question hanging in the air. Dew, feeling a spark of daring, meets his gaze.
“You know we’re the only ones who haven’t uh-”
“Yeah, Cirrus mentioned.”
“Do you think it’s actually-”
“Inevitable? Yeah. C’mere, Firefly.” Swiss smirks before leaning in and closing the distance between them, his broad shoulders seeming to dwarf the smaller Ghoul. Then, as the tour bus cruises into the welcoming arms of the night, their lips meet. It's a gentle kiss, an exploration as hesitant and tentative as it is thrilling. It’s a soft, hesitant kiss, a delicate exploration that marks the crossing of the invisible boundary that has held them at bay. As they pull away, their glowing eyes meeting once again, there’s a quiet affirmation in their gazes.
“You know den mom ‘s’always right, don’t you?” Swiss asks, rolling his eyes with a smile that shows off his fangs. Dew’s cheeks darken almost imperceptibly under the flickering light on the ceiling of the small bunk. “Your partner won’t mind if I make you mine for the night, will he? …Will you?”
“If he does, you know Cirrus would squash the shit outta that feud,” is Dews only answer as he moves forward again, brushing his lips over Swiss’. Swiss nods against him and finally pulls him close, allowing his forked tongue to slide along the smaller Ghoul’s lower lip, seeking permission to deepen the affair. When Dew nods his silent consent Swiss pushes further, levering the smaller Ghoul under him and swinging a leg over Dew’s thighs.
“This okay?” he asks. When Dew nods and makes a little noise of desperation Swiss smirks, leaning in to kiss him again and he grinds his hips down over Dew’s growing bulge in his fire-emoji pajama pants. Another gasp leaves Dew’s lips and Swiss takes this as encouragement, grinding down harder onto him and eliciting more small gasps of sudden need.
“Cirrus- is gonna- have a fuckin’ field day,” Dew says between kisses, his lips pressing insistently against Swiss’.
“Can’t wait to see when you cum. Wanna see you blush and squirm under me… that perfect body of yours, those lips…” Swiss trails off as he starts to press kisses of passion to Dew’s jawline, tracing a path from his jaw to his collarbone. When his fangs scrap gently against Dew’s skin, biting just gently, the smaller Ghoul gasps, his own hips suddenly rocking up to meet Swiss’, already on a downward grind.
“Fuck!” Dew hisses, bracing his feet on the bed and giving himself the leverage to rock up and into Swiss harder. “Make me cum, man. Don’t play around.”
“Playing is part of the fun, isn’t it?” The response clearly isn’t what Dew wanted to hear, if the huff of annoyance and frustration was anything to judge by. A small curl of smoke puffed out from his nose and Swiss erupted into a loud laugh, punctuating it with another pointed roll of his hips.
“Hey, keep it down please!” comes a chipper sounding response from the other end of the bus, where Cumulus no doubt sat with her journal and pen. It’s a fair request— it’s well into the dark hours of the night and the rest of the bus is either asleep or on their way to be.
“See? Just make me cum already so we can get some sleep. I don’t want the others to-”
“To hear? Is that what you were going to say, Firefly? You don’t want the others to hear when I make you make those beautiful sounds?” As if to punctuate his argument, Swiss grinds his hips down again, slotting their cocks beside each other and pulsing himself lightly. Dew catches a groan in his throat, his fangs appearing briefly as he bites down on his lower lip.
“Fuck! It’s- fuckin’ embarrasing.” Beneath his grumbles and protests about wanting to remain silent, his moans and little breathy whines of pleasure catch up to him, eventually becoming just slightly more than audible. Swiss in response only tries harder, rocking his hips down onto Dew’s cock in a rhythmic motion that has the smaller Ghoul practically begging for release.
“Mm, no it isn’t. Let them hear how perfect your sounds are, yeah?” Swiss finally brings his hand to Dew’s cock, gripping his shaft in the palm of his hand and stroking him over his pants. Dew bites his lip hard enough for his fangs to draw little dots of blood, prompting Swiss to lean down once more and seal their lips together.
Swiss tightens his grip over Dew’s clothed cock, squeezing him in time with his heartbeat and his own hip movements. It doesn’t take long before Dew is squirming underneath him, gasping and panting and begging for release. Swiss gives it to him with ease, working his cock until Dew cums hard, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to stay mostly silent. Words of praise fall from Swiss’ lips as he kisses up the column of Dew’s neck, leaving small bite marks in his wake.
“So fuckin’ hot when you cum for me, you know? Always wanted to know what it sounded like, what it looked like…” He trails off, pressing another firm kiss to Dew’s lips before rolling off of him again and flattening himself against the wall of the tour bus bed.
“Don’t you want to?” Dew asks as he looks down at himself, holding his pajamas gingerly away from the wet outline of his cock. He curls his lip a little in annoyance, looking back at Swiss. “You could have stripped me at least.”
“Baby, I couldn’t handle that much perfection at once,” Swiss says with a laugh. “Leave that for Aether, he can get all of you. I’ll work my way there.” Dew rolls his eyes at the compliments as he usually does, gesturing to Swiss’ cock again with a raised eyebrow. “Nah, I’ll finish later, thinking about the sights and sounds.” Swiss reaches out a hand and swoops Dew’s hair behind his ear tenderly while Dew flushes harder than he had when he came.
“If you tell anyone I came in my pants, I’ll-”
“Cum again?”
“Shut up. Let’s go to bed, Swiss. I’m exhausted, and we hit Berlin tomorrow.”
“Please!” comes the answering chirp from a, now exasperated sounding, Cumulus.