Chapter Text
It was embarrassing to be fucking his fist to fantasies of the one band member that wasn't fair game.
Ridiculous, frankly, considering that at any given moment on tour, there was at least one band member within 20 feet of III who was fair game and would more likely than not entertain his hard-on. Maybe it was the novelty of a new face and the sheer untethered number of possibilities that came with the aforementioned new face.
When he laid in bed, he spent an unreasonable amount of time imagining what IV was like in bed, what he was into. The guitarist was so professional, so at ease with his instrument, but still so stiff with his performance. That first ritual, he was so far off to the side of the stage that the lights barely caught him. He was meek when faced with a crowd. And it was so damn endearing in hindsight that III had to bite his fist to keep from cooing at the memory. It made him think that IV went down hard when he was finally caught. Gorgeously submissive, needing someone more confident and sure to show him what to do, and being so yielding to it once he finally let loose. He couldn't count the number of times he lost it to the thought of IV begging for more, or how his eyes would look while rolled back in helpless, overwhelmed pleasure.
At the same time, IV was a bit of a firecracker when given the chance. He had strong opinions. Could get a bit stubborn about not asking for help. Vessel figured that IV was just feeling a bit insecure about his place so he wanted to make sure he was pulling his weight, even if it set him apart from everyone, which III understood as a concept but if IV wanted to feel like he belonged, trusting everyone to have his back seemed like a big part of it. Those moments where IV got too stuck doing his own thing and getting worked up made III think IV could be a bit of a brat. A guy who needed to be pinned down and shown his place the hard way until he was a mewling mess cumming hands-free as III railed him over an amp, or something to that effect.
Shit, he wanted to fuck him so bad.
III was biting his fist hard in an effort to keep himself from making pathetic little whimpers as his other hand moved urgently over his aching cock. His eyes were screwed shut, clinging to the perfect fantasy of IV's ass meeting the cradle of his hips, taking him so beautifully and thanking him with a voice rendered breathless by the way III was pounding him without mercy with a hand on the back of his neck to keep him right where he was and right where III wanted him and fuck, there he went past the edge. He hissed out a breath as thick spurts of cum streamed over his knuckles and the sweet relief of orgasm washed over him.
Gentle pulses pushed the last few drops out and he helped himself along with a couple lazy, squeezing strokes as he blinked sleepily down at his flagging erection. That was a good one. Great start to the day. Not as ideal as fucking his cum into IV, to which this was a sorry substitute, but he felt satisfied enough to clean himself up and prepare for another day of tour life. He peeked over the edge of his bunk to look out for any hapless people he'd crush to death if he dropped down right then. The narrow hallway between their bunks was clear so he made his way down with a grunt.
A hand still stained with remants of black paint scrubbed over his face before creeping around to ruffle at the absolute nest his hair became. He padded over to the dining/meeting/recreation area where the rest of the band was waiting for him in assorted states of grogginess.
"Good morning, Sleepy Token," he offered cheerily as he slid into the booth along with everyone.
"Just as funny as it was yesterday, and the day before," Vessel said in an exasperated tone, but the smile on his face let III know he was fine, just as he was yesterday, and the day before. He was mostly bright-eyed, surely up first as always.
II, meanwhile, to the untrained eye seemed to be in some state of crisis slumped over the table with a can of Red Bull in a vice grip. To the informed, he was just going through his personal process of waking up.
IV was looking at his phone with an orange slice in hand. There was a drowsiness around those baby blue eyes but they all looked about the same in that regard.
Settled in, III eyed the spread laid out for breakfast. Toast and eggs and meat. Fresh fruit. All of it looked fresh, really. "Someone feel fancy enough to get us real food?"
"I figured we needed a morale boost," Vessel explained with a half-shrug. "Tour's already a bit hard."
"Could be worse," III offered as he leaned over to snag a sausage. "We got a bit of help."
A solemn nod was shared and they came to a silent agreement that it could, in fact, be worse. It had been worse and they were on the up and up as far as III was concerned. Still tough, nonetheless. No techs to their name but some of the other bands' techs felt enough sympathy to volunteer some of their time. Small blessings.
III's attention was turned to IV, still scrolling idly on his phone and working his way through the orange.
"You scared you're gonna get scurvy or something?" III blurted out.
IV looked up to give him a confused stare. "What?"
"You know. Scurvy. Like what pirates got. Vitamin C's s'posed to fix it."
"Oh. Nah."
What was more devastating than a joke going over someone's head? When a joke went over the object of your desire's head. III's ears were turning red from embarrassment but he kept rolling with the punches. Something had to land eventually.
"Well, still good for you regardless, yeah."
"Yeah."
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see II give him a look of utmost sympathy, head pillowed atop his arms just for that. That made him feel a bit pathetic. It was the kind of look someone would give to you if you had said a relative died or you told them you had some manner of parasite and it was fatal.
IV's phone buzzed like an angry hornet and he rose up from his seat, then made his way off the bus to take the call. III let out a breath; saved by the bell.
For a few blissful moments, the bus was quiet other than the sound of III trying to bury his embarassment with food.
"That was hard to watch," II said, those heavy-lidded eyes trained on III.
"Was it really that bad?" he shot back, already knowing the answer.
"What's really bad is how obvious it is that you're rubbing one out up there," Vessel said around the rim of his mug, innocently looking away as he took a delicate sip.
That made III jolt up, the red of his ears spreading to his cheeks at an impressive rate. "Oh, come off it. You don't mean that, right?"
"A man has needs," II said in a vague show of support, slowly becoming more vertical as the caffeine began to take effect.
"If one of those needs is desperately jacking off to IV, sure," Vessel said plainly.
III was mortified, mouth opening and closing but nothing coming out.
"Why don't you just ask him if he wants to fool around?" II asked as he rubbed at the back of his neck and Vessel leaned his shoulder against his.
"'cause I don't even know if he's into guys, babes," III said as he dragged a hand down his face in exasperation. "We've gone over this."
"I'll ask." II gave a resolute nod. "Settle it once and for all."
Before III could even begin to rail at him about what a stupid idea that was, IV rejoined them, who looked to be in good spirits and set his phone facedown before he got back to breakfast.
"Did I miss anything?"
"No. You into guys, though?"
"What?"
"Do you go after men, mate."
"Oh. I mean..."
III looked away and tried to chew his toast as quietly as possible while still appearing nonchalant and disaffected. The flat grey plain of parking lot asphalt stretching out beyond the window was particularly arresting on that fine morning.
"...sometimes, yeah. Depends on the guy but could say the same for girls or anyone, really."
It took a great deal of effort for III to keep nibbling at his toast as if he hadn't heard the best news of his goddamn life.
"Now why the hell did you ask that?"
"What's wrong with some cheeky banter over breakfast?"
Once breakfast was cleared away, the band had to go about their day as usual. A trip to the gym was on the schedule for all of them and they scattered about to go through their respective routines.
III put on a thrash album and took to a treadmill for his warmup. The mindless task gave him time to think, and having his earbuds in put off an air of 'do not fuck with me right now' that he needed. Being on tour meant that he could barely take a shit alone so privacy was a hell of a commodity, and even this was just making do.
So what was he going to do?
IV was into guys sometimes. That was a hell of a lot more than he expected to find out when he woke up. Shit, he could get himself off to that fact alone. It was a miracle that he wasn't nursing a raging hard-on the entire time — this crush on IV made him feel like a teenager. Giddy and stupid and so fucking horny that he got dizzy sometimes.
He bumped the speed up, going from a jog to a run. Eyes straight ahead but not seeing anything.
When he joined the cult and the band by extension, it wasn't as if he was looking to fuck his fellow devotees. Though he did ask if chastity was a requirement right off the bat and he could still remember the way Vessel laughed, reassuring him in a clever way that left III unprepared for what devotion in this context meant.
Worship came in many forms and suffice to say he came from many forms of worship.
III reckoned that Vessel and II had been going at it for about as long as they had known each other. When III joined, it didn't take him long to find himself sandwiched between the vocalist and the drummer — he was a simple man, at the end of the day: if he was extended a gracious invitation for a threesome, he would show up. And after that, it had been like this for almost as long as they knew each other.
There were two other IVs before the IV who stuck around. Nice enough guys, nothing really wrong with them. But the oath of anonymity often clashed with the rockstar aspirations of metal guitarists and, though they kept a level of devotion to Sleep from what III could tell, they couldn't take the full plunge. That was what made their IV special: he was willing to shed who he was and give himself over to worship. No apprehension, no questioning. He let the unknowable and incomprehensible in to render himself a vessel, just like the rest of them.
Sweat worked up across III's skin, still not seeing what was in front of him, lost in his thoughts.
They were all vessels to Sleep. Vessel got to be Vessel because he was The First, is all. It rolled off the tongue better than Him, the first thing he went by after the band started putting things out — that got confusing quick: 'Where's Him?' someone would ask. 'Him is... He is... Him's in the green room?' Hence, Vessel. Then they just went down the line from there: II, III, IV. All of them vessels, all of them entwined by and with something higher.
To be entwined was to be made holy. It connected them all to Him — the real Him, the only Him — and by extension, to each other. It was the truest tether to another living thing that someone could ever experience. But it did have the odd side effect of leaving them all wanting to be wrapped up in each other, as close to each other as their human bodies could possibly handle. Which, yeah, the first three managed well enough with copious amounts of fucking.
III didn't really understand how IV could cope without it. The time they went off in their own directions after their first tour, before their IV joined up, was torture. It felt like withdrawal, like his body was going without something it became so used to, so dependent on. Vessel and II never had to go through that because they had each other, and III went off on his own because he lived a couple towns over, at least until the following month. That was after 2 weeks of sweating it out on his own until he showed up in the middle of the night at their doorstep looking half-dead, reaching for them with a deep sort of starvation that bordered on zombie-like. He had a sense that II thought he was just being dramatic. Vessel was far more willing to roll with it, though they both dragged him inside and fussed over him until they figured out what was wrong, then vowed to fix it. Thus, he was moved in a street over.
(II affectionately called III their overgrown outdoor cat with how often he let himself in and out of their flat. To be honest, he figured they should all just move in together. They were practically living together as it was and you could tell it was serious when his laundry began to mingle with theirs and they didn't complain about anything beyond lost socks. He hadn't asked yet on account of nerves. Moving in was serious, though at the same time joining a cult was serious too.)
He wondered if IV was aching for contact. Merely weathering through it with stoicism as if his body would settle that new need when it was more like hunger. Deeper than hunger, even.
It was then that a hand came into his line of vision, snapping at him, and the startle made him trip over his own feet and had him gripping the treadmill's handles for dear life as he tried to find his stride. Somewhere in the drama, he was caught by the arm and waist. The speed was dropped to a practical crawl and then he was popping an earbud out to glare at whoever interrupted him.
"You could've fuckin' killed me, mate!" III exclaimed, but all the fury in him deflated when he saw it was Vessel, standing there with a sheepish look and hands raised in placation.
"Sorry, sorry. I was calling out but your music's too loud, love."
Heart racing from his warmup and fresh near-death experience, he gave up on the treadmill and shut the thing off. His steps slowed to a stop and he rubbed a hand over his face out of exasperation.
"'s fine. But if you kill me like that, you're digging my grave on your bloody own. Now... What do you need, babes?"
III reached for his water bottle, taking a sip with brows arched high in expectation.
Vessel's anxious expression eased. He rubbed a hand over III's arm in apology.
"I wanted to ask if you'd meet me in the showers later."
"Oh? What for?"
"You've been a bit high-strung lately. I thought it would be a good idea for me to sort that out for you."
Well, that got III's attention.
"Yeah? You gonna fuck it out of me, love?"
"Yeah. That's the thought."
"You know I'll be there."
"I know. Just needed to give you a time and a place."
III was grinning and Vessel grinned back. He ducked down to give him a kiss, quick and sweet, and Vessel returned it with as much sweetness.
"I'll see you. Turn your music down."
"Yeah, okay."
He put his earbud back in and dialed the volume lower while he watched Vessel turn heel and go back to whatever he was doing — what a truly beautiful man. Tall and a bit gangly but filled out well with muscle. Whatever compulsion Vessel had to prance about with his torso on display was surely heaven-sent. A gift to humanity. Then a pretty face to match. A pretty smile. Gentle and kind most of the time but a firm guiding hand when he needed to be, charismatic and strange as he was, and III was smitten with him. It was hard not to feel that gravity to him, that pull — it was something III felt even before he was entwined. No wonder Sleep chose him as The First. Not even gods could ignore how perfect he was.
What a lucky boy III was to have his attention.
The rest of his gym time went without incident. He got his strength training in, spotted II with his lifting, and managed to sidestep spotting IV on the bench press because the thought of his dick being that close to IV's face while he was sweating and his arms looked particularly incredible made him want to combust. With Vessel's invitation buzzing in his head, III had to take great care not to rush through everything to go wait in the showers like an obedient mutt for Vessel to come around. That was still the energy he had as he waited in the locker room, though, antsy and bouncing on his heels with his eyes on the entryway.
When Vessel rounded the corner, III's face lit up and the way Vessel's eyes crinkled as he smiled and laughed was just about everything to him in the moment.
"How long have you been waiting?"
"Just the right amount."
Vessel laughed again and gave III's arm a fond squeeze. "Go on, get undressed already."
III took to the task with zeal, only slowing when Vessel pulled his own shirt up and over his head. How could he not stop and stare at the way Vessel's muscles stretched and moved as the line of his body reached up so he could take his shirt off, then the flex of his arms. He watched as Vessel hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats and began to drag them off those shapely, underappreciated thighs and then Vessel was snapping his fingers at III again.
"If all you wanted to do was watch, I guess we don't need to share a shower after all."
That jolted III back into motion. He was made bare in an instant, his own display not anywhere near the pure sex that Vessel's undressing gave off, but Vessel still looked him over in appreciation. Wiry, lanky body and all. Sporting a semi. Looking down at Vessel in anticipation who merely grabbed him by the wrist and led him off to the showers. He pushed III into a stall and pulled the curtain closed behind them, turned the water on and III jumped at the cold, repeating this as he found himself pressed up against the wall with Vessel not far behind. A shiver went through him when he felt the hot, hard line of Vessel's cock glide over the curve of his ass.
"When's the last time we were alone?" III whispered over the hiss of the water.
"God, I don't know. Too long."
Vessel dragged III down by the hips and he obediently bent his knees a bit. In truth, he didn't have it in him to be the trouble on stilts he often was, because Vessel was right about him being high-strung and needing sorting out. He needed this. They both knew it. So when Vessel pressed up against him and, after a breathless moment of bleary eagerness, sank inside, III let out a sigh of relief.
"There you go, pretty boy," Vessel murmured close to his ear. "Just be good for me and take it."
His lashes fluttered at that, weighed down by droplets of water, brain fogging with submission and arousal as Vessel eased in to bottom out with a slow, delicious roll of his hips. It pressed inside III deeply and he in turn pressed his face to the cold tile in front of him, eyes rolled back. Spidery fingers gripped at his waist as a rhythm built: a push and pull, over and over again, the pace increasing until the sound of wet skin on wet skin rose above the white noise of water raining down on them. III couldn't tell if the water was heating up or if it was just the warmth of lust and exertion shared between them.
Hands were splayed against the shower wall and III was struggling to keep quiet as Vessel pounded him like he truly was trying to fuck the anxiety out of him. People were wandering through the showers and he was certain anyone could put two and two together and know what was going on behind the curtain, so keeping quiet felt like a moot point, but he wasn't going to complain when Vessel clapped a hand over his mouth. The action pulled III back against him, gave Vessel better leverage, and III felt like he was being taken apart by how good it felt. Teeth dug into III's shoulder just as Vessel got a hand around his neglected cock. III's breath hitched and he bucked into that fist with all the desperation of an animal in rut and he vaguely heard Vessel laugh behind him. Teasingly scolding him for being so very eager and just like that, III was undone.
He came all over Vessel's hand as he was given short, firm strokes and shook through it. Vessel wasn't far behind him, with his forehead pressed to III's shoulder and a low growl rumbling through his chest as he shoved himself in as far as their anatomy would allow.
Entwined.
Cumming inside. Giving in. A waking recognition of a connection so profound and integral that to speak of it in a tongue so mangled and simple as a human language was nearly a sin in itself. This was close. Good. Holy.
Meant to be.
Vessel kept his hips flush to III's ass as they both worked on catching their breath, bodies still buzzing with their respective orgasms, and reached over to thread his fingers with III's and squeezed tight. III shut his eyes and thanked whatever incomprehensible things ruled above and below for the chill of the tile on his overheated cheek.
"Feel a bit better?" Vessel mumbled close to III's ear.
"Mm."
"Mhm?"
"Uh-huh."
"Good."
"...Kiss."
III could almost feel Vessel smiling. He eased his hips back to pull out and then guided III to face him, who moved with clumsy limbs and a bit of a dazed expression. A broad hand cupped III's face and they both leaned into each other. They kissed and it felt like coming home: tender and warm, familiar and safe.
Water-slick arms went around Vessel to pull him close and III licked into his mouth with a groan, then Vessel nipped his lip in return. They pulled back and rested their foreheads against each other which left III feeling terribly lovesick.
"Love you, Vess," he said softly.
"Love you, III."
"It doesn't... feel like enough, you know?"
Vessel's brow raised. "You want another go right now?"
"Well. Always. But that's not what I mean. What I mean is that 'love' doesn't feel like a strong enough word."
"And who's the poet now?"
"You are, you cheeky bastard. Now give me a better word."
"What, just like that?"
"Coal under pressure makes diamonds or some shit like that. Go on."
"Good God. I just came, give me a minute."
They both shared a laugh and pressed together, III's back to the wall and Vessel's head tucked in against his, enjoying the warm spray of the shower overhead and each other's company.
"What about 'need'?" III offered.
"Yeah?"
"Like, I need you, Vess. 'Cause I can't live without you. You know?"
"Hmm."
"What? What's with the 'hmm'? Tell me it's perfect."
"It's perfect."
"You're only saying that because I told you to."
"There is just no winning with you. I need you too, darling."
Eventually, Vessel and III cleaned up and piled back onto the tour bus with the others. They had a couple hours to kill before sound check and intended to do fuck-all with that time.
The seating area put on the mask of a recreation area, with Vessel stretched out on the couch playing his Switch and II (their switch) tucked in under his chin to laze on his chest. IV was occupied with a book in the dining booth, also laid out across the seats with his back to a wall, earbuds in and tapping his foot to an unheard beat. III was sat on the floor flicking through his phone for tourist spots and good restaurants — they weren't bogged down by PR bullshit and were seeing a good amount of success on the tour already, so if Vessel was in a morale-boosting mood, III thought he could convince him to take them somewhere.
Even without PR, there was hardly any time to put toward playing tourist instead of music. It annoyed III; their first tour in the States and he could hardly do anything with how thoroughly booked they were. Shows on back-to-back-to-back nights. Strict routines to keep them all sane. He appreciated the sheer amount of attention and effort, but it was no wonder why he was so high-strung. This felt like the first real break they had in ages.
"What are you up to?"
III looked up to find IV with his book held open to his chest, peering over at him with polite interest. The slouch III was in straightened up in an instant and he gestured broadly at his phone and the landscape speeding by, all dust and desert past buildings whipped by sand and baked by sun.
"Trying to find things to do 'round here."
"Yeah? Like what?'
"I dunno, tourist trap shit? You ever have a burrito?"
The conversation seemed to hook IV enough to get him to save his place in his book and set it aside, curling himself up from his sprawl to sit and face III.
"From the Taco Bell that opened up back home, I guess. It was pretty shit."
"Can't say Taco Bell was my favorite thing either. There's s'posed to be a lot of good Mexican food 'round here. I wanna try it all."
When IV smiled, III almost missed it — it was more like a brief quirk of the corner of his mouth. III smiled enough for the both of them in response.
"You a foodie?"
"I just like eating good food, you know? There's so much to try and we have been speeding right past all of it."
"Yeah. Shame that we don't have the time to go check it out."
IV looked away from III and there was a brief moment of internal floundering. Did he lose his interest already?
"Hey, Vess?" IV called out.
III couldn't help but pout, turning his attention back to his phone and scrolling through all the restaurants he could find on Google Maps. He was only a little devastated.
"Yeah?" Vessel called back, gaze still trained on his Switch.
"We haven't had lunch yet. You think we could stop somewhere... local? You know. For morale."
That got both Vessel and III to look up. IV didn't ask for much and they all knew it. III could see the way Vessel was working through the request and playing it back against their itinerary for the day, the time, how far they were from the venue, the way the stars were aligned. For his part, III looked over at Vessel with big, pleading eyes.
Fold, damnit. Say yes. Fucking say yes. I will blow you if you say yes, I swear.
It was hard to tell if III's psychic pleading reached Vessel, but he still nodded his agreement. III couldn't help but cheer.
I owe you a blowie, you beautiful perfect siren. Oh, thank fuck.
He looked to IV next as if the guitarist was a goddamn angel. Or maybe the patron saint of hungry bassists. He would blow him for this too if he could work up the nerve to offer.
"III, why don't you look for somewhere to go? Just let the driver know when you pick."
"Gladly!" III exclaimed with a toothy grin.
"Shh. II finally fell asleep."
"Oh. Sorry, love."
"'sokay."
Trying to be more mindful of his volume, he turned back to IV.
"Hey, thanks for that," III said softly.
"You got all excited about it, I had to try something."
That made III's heart soar.
He had a good breakfast, a shower quickie, found out IV was into guys sometimes, and they were all going to have some local Mexican food. Then maybe he would get to blow the whole band in the green room.
What a great day.
What a spectacular day.