Chapter Text
III was jerking off thinking about his bandmate, again. In his bunk, again. Stroking his hand up and down, picturing himself buried deep in his tight warmth, inhaling his cologne that he’d nabbed from his bag and sprayed himself with before settling in, alone.
He leant back against the thin mattress, shuddering heavy breaths out and wishing it was his fingers instead, imagining how he’d wrap his fingers around his throat and squeeeeze. What little sounds would he make? When he whispered what a good boy he was being for him.
He started speeding up, stroking in earnest as he could practically hear the way his skin would smack against his, as he’d thrust up into his hole. How he’d cling to him, begging him to go faster, harder. Precum leaked from his pretty pink tip, his hand gripped around his length, the sounds of his low moans masked by the speakers he had blasting heavy music.
III jerked desperately, his other hand reaching for his own throat, bucking his hips up and tightening his grip. He could feel himself edging closer, shutting his eyes tight with the mental image of him shirtless behind the kit projected onto his eyelids, how he’d ruin it, ruin him. He let go, whimpering as his dick pulsed, swollen and blushing as he came all over his hand. Letting out a shuddered breath, he reached for the tissues he’d brought with him, but as his eyes met II’s instead, standing in the gap between the curtain and the corridor, he let out an almighty scream and rolled so fast over to the far side of the bed that his knees crashed into the wall.
His bandmate had walked in him wanking on the tour bus, in his bunk. II stood frozen, his fingers still resting on his curtain, music blasting loud and masking his own surprised noise of shock. III managed to grab his phone from where it had slid under the covers and paused the music, avoiding looking at II as he shouted over and over how sorry he was and could he please, please piss off for a second?
III smacked his face as he heard the curtain pull shut, followed by a dirty chuckle. Just hearing his bright laughter made him instantly hard again. Fuck.
On the other side of the curtain, II stifled his laughter with a sharp bite his lip, shifting from one foot to the other. It was his bunk, and he’d just been kicked out. Clearly III hadn’t heard him get back onto the bus over the apocalyptic blast of deathcore coming from his speakers.
Still, it wasn’t the most embarrassing thing in the world to walk in on. III had witnessed him the week before spooning a midnight snack of strawberry jam straight from the jar into his mouth like an animal, so now that he’d accidentally seen his dick, they were sort of even? But did he have to do it in his bunk?! To keep his own sheets clean? Menace.
III heard his little sigh from the other side of the curtain, the sound driving him insane with need, his dick throbbing in his hand again. He needed to be splashed with cold water, or kicked so hard in the balls he’d be sick (actually that thought only made him harder), he wanted to be sprawled out under him with II riding him and FOR SLEEPS SAKE MAN STOP IT. III tore his hand off himself, double checking the curtain was shut and shuffled his boxers back on so fast he nearly kicked the ceiling.
“Hey, Three?” II’s voice called from the corridor, feet tapping on the floor as he walked towards the front of the bus, “I’m going to crash in your bunk tonight, and in the morning, we’ll pretend that never happened, okay? Like, I didn’t see anything, so don’t worry. Three?”.
III called out an affirmative, mentally smacking himself for how whiney his voice came out. He crawled under the covers, reaching an arm out to flip the light switch, and the bunk was cast in darkness. The silence was deafening, he could hear the blood swim around in his ears as he tried to get comfortable, pulling the pillow over his head and silently screaming into the mattress. It smelled like II. Double fuck.
He wasn’t getting sleep any time soon, so he kicked off the covers and lay in the dark, listening to the quiet sounds of his bandmate down the bus. He assumed he was getting ready for bed, taking off his clothes and slipping off his necklace. His dick kicked. How had II’s night off gone? Was he texting the group chat now, telling the guys about their disgusting bandmate who wanked in his bed with the curtain wide open like some sick exhibitionist? How would he feel if he knew he was thinking about him, always thinking about him. He’d kick him out of the band faster than you can say The Night Does Not Belong To God.
He heard a small tap. By his bunk. Well, II’s bunk. Was that? III shook his head as he closed his eyes and tried to think about the most mundane thing he could to get to sleep. Time signatures, maths problems. That article Vessel had sent him about loam soil.
II knocked on his wall again, slightly more insistent now, and he realised he hadn’t imagined the sound. III rolled over the bed, pulling the covers over himself before pulling the curtain open a crack.
II was in pj bottoms, his hair pulled up in a messy topknot, scythe necklace still fixed in place along with a frown. III wanted to crawl under a rock. He looked so cute!
“Not being funny, but like, why in my bunk?”
Shit. III thought back to earlier that evening, letting himself back onto the bus slightly drunk, fumbling around II’s things before he found his cologne and inhaled it straight from the bottle. Snuggling into II’s sheets before he could second guess when they’d be back, or how long he’d have this time.
“No comment?”
“Menace. Move, let me at least get my phone charger.”
“It’s in your bag.”
“What? I didn’t put it in there, it…” his voice trailed off as he shuffled down the corridor in bunny slippers. III almost laughed at how they made his feet look comically large.
“You went through my things? What did you…” he stormed back and forth before standing in front of where III lay, his arms crossed as he took in a breath. “Are you wearing cologne? You never wear cologne.”
Double shit. III wanted to crawl into the earth and let himself be worm food.
“It’s, I… shower gel?”
“Three don’t lie to me. I know that scent. It’s my favourite, and I’m almost out.”
“I’ll buy you another bottle.”
“Forget it. Why are you going through my things? And wearing my cologne?”
Because I’m in love with you, III almost said. He schooled his features. “I was looking for something.”
He paused, scanning him. “Lotion? Lube?!”
III was shocked for half a second at the accusation, before quickly remembering what II had walked into.
“No. I’m so sorry for violating your privacy, I promise this is the last time, it won’t happen again.”
It was II’s turn to be shocked, hearing his friend sound so serious, professional almost. He clicked his tongue, trailing his eyes over III’s bare chest before meeting his gaze. His steel blue eyes were fixed on his, his expression one of regret. At least the menace was actually genuinely apologetic about his, erm, choice of wank location.
II almost said, hey, don’t worry about it, my bunk your bunk mi casa es su casa, but something clicked in his head that stopped him short.
“What do you mean,” II paused, “again?”
III paled.
II narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth but was interrupted by the sound of Vessel and Ivy piling back onto the bus, along with his drum tech, and a couple other familiar faces.
III pulled the curtain shut, leaving II standing in his bunny slippers with a scowl on. “Night, II. Sorry, again! I’ll wash the sheets, promise!”
*
II tried to put it out of his mind. Their bunks were nearly identical, and just because this one smelt like III, didn’t make it any less comfortable for the night. He could ignore that III had gone through his bags, couldn’t he? He could let it go that for some reason III had used his cologne, even though he was running low and he doubted they’d have that specific one in duty free. He’d pretend he hadn’t seen III fisting his dick so hard it looked borderline painful, ribbons of translucent white cum spilling over his fingers and OH GOD.
II rolled onto his back, rubbing his palms hard over his eyes. Vessel and Ivy were becoming an item. III moaned about third-wheeling but he was perfectly happy to just support his friends as they explored their feelings for each other and to not get involved with anyone on tour himself. Especially, not someone from the band.
Especially not III, who he’d known for years, knew way too much personal information about, had spent way too much time with and knew better than to even consider, who he now suspected had been sneaking into his bunk, spraying himself with his cologne, and having secret, sordid wanks.
Which sounded like the start of a fan fic. Or one of those disgusting romantasy books Vessel liked to read. It was definitely not going to keep II up all night, thinking about it. Him.
Was III asleep? Or was he touching himself again? II wondered why the image of him scrunching his face up as he came was so, perfectly beautiful. His vulnerability, his need.
Shit. He liked III. A lot, too much, to now know how staggeringly large his dick was.
II put his headphones in, watching a series of drum covers in an effort to distract himself from how wet he’d got all of a sudden.
*