Chapter Text
IV feels alive.
Electricity flows through his veins like he’s a live wire. Every word, every movement, every touch, sets him off in a way he wasn’t prepared for.
The adrenaline, the rush, wasn’t something new during a performance. That just came with the territory. Pouring your soul into music that is so wholly a part of you is one thing. Getting to experience sharing that piece of you with hundreds— no, thousands of people, is an experience that he doesn’t know how to put into words. Doesn’t want to.
Instead, he lets himself simply feel.
Fuck, does he feel a lot of things right now. A swirl of complicated emotions— overwhelmed, happy, exhilarated. All he knows is that he feels good, so fucking good. He’s riding a high so hard he’s actually afraid of the inevitable fall. He can’t find it in himself to care when he feels like this.
He feels, he breathes, he takes in the moment. Lets himself take in the crowd screaming for them, cheering them on, crying for them. It’s an incredible feeling… he loves it. Knows his bandmates love it as well.
Watching Vessel strut around the stage, rare confidence oozing from every action is sexy. He can hardly find it in him to look away. Then there’s III who takes every chance he can to tease him, sneaking risqué touches whenever he can, pulling on his mask, the kissing. He might just lose his mind from that alone. And fuck, II is perched up on his drum set rolling out the sickest beats while looking incredible. It’s hot— he’s hot.
None of these things are inherently sexual, but seeing his boyfriends in their element, looking good, feeling good, does things to him.
Oh, does it do things to him.
IV can’t place why this ritual feels significantly different. He was on edge from the very beginning, feeling so good that it blurs the lines in his mind. Lines that he carefully draws while on stage. And with the lines blurred, his brain so easily crosses the wires that hold on to adrenaline and arousal.
He’s horny. God, is he horny.
It’s not like he hasn’t been in this position before. Not like he’s the first one to go through this either. Hell, Vessel always gets on stage with his dick hard, clearly visible from his thin pants. So what if IV got a little turned on while performing? It’s bound to happen once or twice.
Except, that he’s never dealt with it quite like this.
His cock is solid, fucking aching in his pants. Tucked away against his thigh or else his dress pants would leave nothing to the imagination. He makes sure to keep his guitar mostly placed in front of him, hiding anything from view. It’s a good thing so that the entire venue doesn’t see his predicament, but an equally horrifying turn of events for him. He gets delicious friction by simply walking around the stage and his guitar. He’s forced to take it as they go through song after song, pretending like he’s not rock hard in front of hundreds of people.
It’s absolute torture— or rather it should be.
The more turned on he gets the more the lines, the boundaries, fade away. And everything, everything, is making the heat in his gut that much more intense… The thought of no one knowing how hard he is as he effortlessly plays their songs. The weight of every single oblivious gaze that lands on him. The fact that he’s in public, surrounded by a crowd so big that he can’t even make out everyone.
Everything has his cock aching, so fucking horny, he swears he’s throbbing in his pants.
It’s fucked up. Wrong on so many different levels. But even the wrongness of the situation triggers something more.
He struggles to remember how he got to this point, unable to think properly.
Hell, maybe it was his own fault. The way he dropped to his knees for Vessel as easy as breathing, triggering memories of a heavy weight in his mouth.
Fuck—
His cock dribbles out some precum, smearing on the inside of his boxers. It’s dirty, he’s hot all over.
IV closes his eyes for a moment trying to clear his head, and releases a shaky breath. Just a couple more songs to make it through.
He makes himself comfortable on a ledge on stage aiming to take a much needed break from the constant friction. What he doesn’t foresee is that he placed himself at a much better vantage point.
He tries— fuck does he try to focus, but he finds he can’t tear his eyes away from Vessel. The body paint and mask contrasts his personality so nicely, it’s jarring every time IV sees him like this. Confidence looks good on him, downright sinful. And his dick seems to agree.
IV is so tunneled into following each sway of Vessel’s hips that he doesn’t notice III approaching him until he feels a hand land on his knee. The touch burns even through the thick material of his pants and as III’s hand starts trailing up higher on his thigh.
IV easily gives in and lets their gazes meet.
III’s eyes are intense, even if the rest of his expression is hidden by the mask. III looks at him like he sees right through him. Like he knows exactly what IV has been going through for the last hour. He finds that he wants III to know how turned on he is, needs him to know. He holds his breath as III’s hand gets closer and closer to where he’s aching, the tension between them so thick that the air feels hot and sticky.
IV can’t breathe.
His eyes flutter at the first touch to his cock, the action carefully hidden behind his guitar. He forces himself to hold eye contact as III cups his dick through his pants and just rests his hand there. The friction is heady after so long of nothing, but it’s not enough. He wants more, needs more.
It feels like he needs it like he needs air to breathe.
Screw the show. Screw the audience. III can have him in whatever way he wants right here on the stage. He’s hot all over, turned on, and just a little shameless that he’d let everyone watch too. Watch as he lets III do what he pleases with his body, at this point it doesn’t matter to him.
His cock is throbbing as his thoughts turn filthy.
Suddenly III’s leaning up for a kiss, hand still gently pressed right where he needs it. IV goes greedily, taking whatever attention he can get, but gets stopped after one quick peck with a rough grip on his jaw.
“Pay attention, slut…” III whispers between them, a warning weaved into his tone.
III’s new occasional pet name for him already gets him worked up on any regular day, but using it now, with everything going on—
IV can’t help the pitiful sound that escapes him, somewhere between a whine and a whimper. He leans down for one more kiss chasing after his lips. To his delight III lets him go easily, mouths crashing together. He can’t help but resent the barrier their masks create, longing for skin contact.
This moment between them seems to simultaneously last forever and not long enough, because all too soon III is leaning back. He leaves with a mean squeeze to IV’s hard cock, earning a gasp, and goes back to his side of the stage like nothing ever happened.
IV’s left reeling— his thoughts are a jumbled horny mess and his gut feels like a string that’s been pulled taut.
The change in tempo, signaling the start of a different song, gets his attention. He takes a few steadying deep breaths and distracts himself by paying extra attention to the cords. Thankfully, the outro songs are heavy with the guitar, providing a decent distraction from the arousal that still simmers in the background.
By the time they’re through with the last song, he feels more clear headed than what he began with. They act a little unhinged as they say their goodbyes, reveling in the energy the crowd brings.
IV has almost— almost forgotten his predicament until he and II finally make their way to the changing room in the venue.
The second he’s through the door it’s being slammed shut and he’s shoved against it.
“What—”
There’s a rough grip under his jaw, his head is pushed back against the door—exposing his throat— with a thud. Then III is shoving his thigh right against where he’s been aching all night. His legs spread easily for the other man, not even giving it a second thought.
“Fuck, III.”
Blood is rushing to his head so fast, it’s roaring in his ears. He can vaguely hear himself gasping over it. Can vaguely hear III speaking to him, though, he can’t make out the words.
All he knows is his aching cock is getting the friction he so desperately wanted all night.
The sudden arousal—on top of being damn near edged for hours— is so thick his thoughts are quickly getting murky. IV likes it rough and III will take every opportunity he can to use that to his advantage.
III’s leg is deliciously rubbing against his dick, providing a continuous friction that’s hurtling him closer and closer to an orgasam. It’s almost mortifying how little it took to get him so close. How he’s about to cum in his pants like he’s twenty again.
Like he’s a slut.
He closes his eyes, surrendering to the pleasure with a moan. He’s so, so, close. The tight pressure in his gut is too much. But at the same time it feels so fucking good he wants it to keep going.
III works him up so effortlessly, hitting every sweet spot right where he needs it, exactly when he needs it. He’s right on the edge, about to dive off head first when—
It stops.
Everything stills so suddenly IV’s left gasping for air that refuses to enter his lungs. At the sudden loss of pressure, he feels disoriented. Confused, maybe.
It takes him a while to understand III didn’t let him cum.
The pressure on his head lets up, and he’s being guided to look at III’s face. He’s still wearing his mask, but his eyes are so pretty. Hold so much love. Grounds him back to the present.
His thoughts come slowly back to him.
“There you are, baby… that's it.” He can hear III say finally.
IV’s eyes flutter at the tone of III’s voice. It’s sweet, caring, as he coaxes him back to coherence. As much as he likes it rough, III like this is something he’ll never get tired of.
He gets no warning when his mask is being pulled up over his head. He briefly wonders if he looks as desperate as he feels.
“Oh, look at you…” III whispers softly, cradling IV’s head in his hands. He leans down and presses a clothed kiss to IV’s lips.
IV returns the kiss as best as he can, having just been denied so recently. He’s wound tight still, craving more.
It’s not enough, nothing is enough. “III, I need more. Please, please.”
He’s begging, but he’s long passed being embarrassed. He’s rock hard, on edge, and frustrated. IV would do just about anything to get any of his boyfriends to touch him. Shamelessly, he starts rocking his hips forward, getting delicious pressure from the thigh shoved between his legs.
III lets him take what he needs for the time being, watching with intense eyes as IV gets lost in the pleasure.
III hums. “I’d suggest you stop if you want more, baby.”
He knows better than to think that was anything but a warning. With a pathetic whine IV stills his movements, cock throbbing in protest.
“You have two options. Take care of this little problem yourself—”
III grabs on to his dick roughly, grip none to kind, earning a choked off groan from IV.
“Or, you can let me show Vessel and II just how much of a slut you are. Choose wisely, my love.” III says, the contradicting words making his head spin.
He’s dizzy with the arousal, with want. He wants III to strip him bare. To call him a slut. To make him act like a whore. Because he is. Fuck, he is for them. For his bandmates— his boyfriends.
Another mean squeeze has him answering quickly.
“Ah— III. The second option, please.”
“Yeah, that’s what you want?”
He whimpers, cheeks pinking over because he knows III is going to make him say it.
III grips his jaw once more and directs his gaze over to where Vessel and II are sitting on the tiny couch in the middle of the dressing room.
Then he’s leaning down, lips grazing by his ear.
“The second option doesn’t include you getting to cum, but it does include me fucking you while you use your mouth to please one of our good boys… Still want it, slut?” III whispers just for him to hear.
His skin is on fire with the way Vessel and II are watching them. He likes being watched, clearly if the concert is anything to go by, but with his boyfriends doing the watching he feels safe. Loved. Hot. It makes him want to please them, do anything they want. Do anything III wants.
Except, what III wants doesn’t get him any relief right now. He also knows better than to think the first option will be any different.
They’ve talked about edging him before, and ever since he expressed that he wanted to try it, III has made no move to act on it. That is until now. He should’ve known III would choose the precise moment he’s wound up so tight to indulge him.
“Yes.” He manages to say, more than a whimper than anything else.
“That’s my good boy…” III praises, tightening his grip. “Know what you need to do now, yeah?
“No.”
He knows, but he’s not past being petulant.
“I think you do.”
“Please don’t make me today. I can’t.” His voice is small, whiny, even to his own ears.
IV looks at his other two boyfriends sitting on the couch. They’re both being good and just watching like they’re supposed to. Although, they are holding hands. It’s cute, he almost smiles at that.
Except that he knows III means to make him choose which one to please. He’s done it before, but IV hates being forced to choose. It makes him feel like he’s failing the other one. He’ll feel that especially hard today.
Though, III is never truly mean. He places a tender kiss on his temple.
“Okay, my love. I got you always, yeah?”
His chest aches at the assurance, he turns his head to chase after III’s lips only to be met with the fabric of his mask. Even with the barrier he desperately pushes his tongue against the fabric trying to meet III’s tongue. It’s nasty, oddly wet, but he’s so horny he can’t bring himself to care.
III breaks them apart—since they’re not actually getting anywhere with the mask on— and he separates them completely, tenderly cupping his cheek.
“Bend over the arm of the couch onto Vessel’s lap. You can fuck II later when you’re allowed to cum.” III lightly demands, adding on the last bit so IV doesn’t get upset.
He perks up with the promise of fucking II, which is always a treat.
Before he can make it far, III stops him. “And don’t forget your manners, slut.”
Blood rushes to his cheeks and more importantly his dick. He doesn’t even think it’s possible for him to get any harder at this point.
He gets himself into the position III requested, but not before he leans up to kiss Vessel sweetly. There’s black paint everywhere, his mask is slightly in the way, and the angle is awkward. IV just doesn’t care.
Kissing Vessel, really kissing him, is incredible. He kisses like he has nothing better to do but drive you insane with just his tongue. Sometimes IV feels like it works.
They only break apart when III is knocking his legs apart so he’s spread out further and roughly pulls down his pants down to his thighs. It’s only enough to expose his ass. His dick throbs. He’s all but panting in Vessel’s mouth, thinking about nothing but how much he aches.
“IV.” III says sharply, a warning.
Fuck. He mumbles out an apology that he’s not sure is heard, upset with himself that he almost forgot what he was supposed to be doing.
However, Vessel nuzzles his nose affectionately, effectively distracting him from any self spiraling. “Ask me. C’mon, baby.”
The action is tender and sweet. IV smiles.
“Can you fuck my mouth?” he manages to get out.
He’s certain he’ll be entirely too distracted to be able to properly give a blowjob. He’s got to focus on not cumming while getting fucked. Not to mention how long he spent already on edge. He can hardly think straight.
He doesn’t want to think.
“Yeah?”
III doesn’t wait for them to finish hashing it out, because without warning he’s working IV open. The lube is cold, but the slick slide of his finger is perfect. It’s only one and somehow it feels like so much more. Not even a few seconds go by before III’s sliding in a second finger. It’s much too soon. The stretch burns, but fuck the feeling is incredible .
IV moans. “Yes. Vess, please.”
He’s not exactly paying attention as Vessel fumbles with his pants—very preoccupied with the heaven III is putting him through— before he’s got a cock in his face.
He opens his mouth instinctively, and then Vessel is guiding him down, pushing him about halfway. The stretch, the weight, fuck, the headiness of Vessel’s natural musk. His saliva pools in his mouth, slipping past the corners of his lips and dripping down the shaft.
IV honestly can’t count how many times he’s given a blowjob to Vessel, but this will actually be the first time he’s fucked his mouth. And with how large he is, IV can’t wait.
The first small thrust of Vessel’s hips is accompanied by the slippery slide of a cock on his hole. The dual point of contact is already driving him halfway insane, he’s not sure how he’s going to last. He doesn’t even remember when III finished fingering him open, everything jumbling together in the haze of his pleasure.
III lets his cock catch on his rim, the tip blissfully sliding in. He places a heavy hand on IV’s lower back, and then he’s leaning over IV.
III starts pushing in, sinfully slow—
“Oh, what a sight you are.” III marvels breathlessly as his hips come flush against his ass. “I wish you could see yourself. Split open on my cock and drooling all over Vessel’s.”
He’s full everywhere. So fucking full. It gets even better when III starts slow controlled thrusts.
“I bet you wish we were still up on that stage, yeah?”
IV trembles slightly, white hot shame wrecking through his body that melds into pleasure. Yes, yes, yes.
“Let everyone watch as we use you.”
Yes, he wants that desperately. Wants them to use him. Make him please them however they want as everyone watches. He wants it so bad. He’s only vaguely aware of the garbled moans slipping past Vessel’s cock in his mouth.
“Yeah? Show everyone what a slut you are?”
Fuck, yes. He is. He is. He’s—
“How you’re just a whore that belongs to us?”
IV has just enough presence of mind that his hand flies to his own dick, where he tightens his grip at the base, potentially cutting off the best orgasam of his life. It’s almost painful this time to deny himself.
It's then that Vessel pulls him off, cradling his head against his chest. Saliva drips down his lips onto Vessel’s stomach, pitiful whimpers escaping as well. He vaguely registers II wrapping his hand around the cock that he abandoned, before he’s closing his eyes.
His mind is muddy and thick. Finding coherent thoughts past his ruined orgasam is hard. All IV knows is that he doesn’t want to disappoint III ever.
“Nuh uh, there ya go. You don’t even need to cum do you?”
He weakly shakes his head, feeling the beginnings of tears well up in his eyes. He never quite understood how Vessel so easily cries during sex, but he thinks he’s starting to. If he always felt like this he’d be crying too.
He feels raw. Stripped bare for them all to see, even if he is still fully clothed. So sensitive that every touch, every word, feels infinitely large. Somehow, III makes him feel precious and filthy all at once.
The bliss he feels right now—as Vessel lovingly holds him, while III simultaneously chases his own high— is so wonderful. He finds that III is right, he doesn’t need to cum.
“Do you remember your manners?” III asks, his voice is strained as his thrusts become more erratic. Harder. Deeper.
IV sniffles, trying to hold in the tears. It’s hard when everything he feels is so intense. He’s nothing but a dam threatening to break at any moment.
He searches through his muddy thoughts trying to find exactly what III wants. He can’t remember. Can’t fucking think, but—
IV moans pathetically. “Thank you, thank you…”
That’s it. That’s all that III needs to reach his own release. A few more sloppy thrusts and then he’s stilling, every drop of cum making its way into IV’s body. The satisfaction of III reaching his peak melds into IV’s pleasure, adding to the haziness in his mind.
“My good little whore,” III murmurs against the back of his neck. “Always so good for me.”
A tear or two escapes at the praise—or maybe the slight degradation— but he successfully holds back the rest of them. Every thought, every emotion, feels tangled up inside of him. Not having a physical release after so much time is disorienting. Exhausting.
It’s a good feeling but he doesn’t know what to do with the pent up emotions battling in his chest, and can’t think about it long before III is pulling back.
There’s some shuffling around for a few moments and someone is wiping him down softly, getting the majority of cum so it won’t be too uncomfortable on the ride back. IV leans heavily into Vessel—who is still holding him tightly like he’s precious— and takes many deep breaths.
Somewhere between the tender after care, loving caresses, and the sweet nothings from III he slowly grounds himself back to the present. Every knotted emotion in his chest untangles, leaving him breathing easier.
III maneuvers him so he’s sitting up on the arm of the couch, tucking IV’s very sensitive and half hard cock back into his pants. Once III has him put back together to his liking, III cups IV’s face in his hands.
“Baby…” III murmurs, and kisses each corner of his eyes. It’s soft and so sweet. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” His voice cracks as he speaks after taking so much in his mouth, but he means it.
III’s face splits into a wide grin. “Good, because I got more planned out for my little slut.”
He blushes a deep shade of red before he can think about it, clutching onto III’s shirt.
“More?”
“Mhmm”
“Will you let me cum?”
“Eventually.”
IV pouts. “I can’t take much more. My dick might fall off.”
The bassist laughs like he’s delighted, which in turn only makes IV pout harder. III wastes no time in leaning down so they can kiss deeply. It’s unrushed, warm, and passionate. Pleasant tingles travel up and down his spine, reigniting the heat in his gut to a low simmer.
He sucks at III’s tongue, enjoying the obscene sounds it elicits before he’s pulling back. They lean into each other, enjoying the closeness, the tenderness.
“You can take it.” III says with finality.
IV’s heart beats faster at the gentle command. He’d take anything if III told him to.
The trust they’ve all built with one another is huge and so important to IV. Time and time again the bassist has taken care of them in more ways than one. Known exactly when to stop. When to keep going. How to check in. How to communicate. He’s gotten so intimately familiar with each of their bodies in almost every way possible. They’re still learning, but IV trusts him with anything. Trusts III to never push him into something he can’t truly handle.
IV cherishes that trust close to his heart, letting it keep him warm. Easily handing over everything to III for however long he wants it. For whatever he wants.
A sudden knock on the door shatters the cozy bubble they’ve created.
They’re all groaning in unison. They have very limited time after each ritual to get cleaned up and their things situated. And without fail they’re late every single time… because of a certain someone.
“This time is IV’s fault.” III says gleefully, like he knows what everyone else is thinking.
IV scoffs. “And who literally attacked me the second I walked in here?”
“You were hard first!”
“And?”
In disbelief, III looks over at his other boyfriends for help but Vessel and II are already giggling. They both know who is right.
“Sorry, III. This is all you.” Vessel shrugs, trying to hide his grin.
“Oh, most definitely your fault.” II is agreeing easily.
Delighted with the back up, IV smiles brightly and pulls III down for one last peck before he can get too sulky. “Don’t pout too hard, baby. We love you.”
“But—”
“No buts, we really need to get going. And you two have some explaining to do.” II says pointedly looking between both III and IV.
Now they both look sheepish as II turns into his business mode, scolding them for good reason. IV doesn’t even have it in him to pretend to be embarrassed.
It takes no time for them to pack up even through all the playful teasing and banter. However, it only provides a small distraction. His previous predicament slowly creeps back up on him as the arousal never fully faded. The teasing touches from III only make everything worse, and his sensitive cock aches with being fully hard again.
IV sighs and resigns himself to waiting. He can take it.