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Chapter Text

Frank was still buzzing from the excitement of the ceremony and reception that had followed. Their closest friends and family had been present for the intimate gathering at the botanical gardens where they had proudly declared their love for one another. The previous day had been everything he’d dreamed of since he and Anthony had their first date years ago.

Currently, Frank was laid out on the bed of their resort hotel in Jamaica, anxious to see what Anthony had been doing in the bathroom for so long. The two had collapsed into bed the previous night after the festivities, too exhausted to even cuddle before waking a few hours later to catch their flight.

Anthony had insisted on Jamaica as a “dream honeymoon spot”. He’d done all the planning and found them a gorgeous, boutique resort that catered to couples and was gay friendly. It was romantic, secluded, and everything Frank had ever wanted.

On arrival, Frank had immediately showered and changed into a t-shirt and fresh shorts so as not to feel the plane stench clinging to his skin. They grabbed a quick dinner before walking hand in hand down to the beach to watch the sunset. Frank was exhausted from running on less hours of sleep than he was used to, but the anticipation of the first night of their honeymoon kept him fidgety.

“Close your eyes,” Anthony’s voice echoed from the bathroom, the door cracked just a bit.

Frank obeyed, eyelids fluttering closed. Anything for his husband. God, he loved saying that.

Frank heard the door creak and felt Anthony’s slight weight on his as he straddled the older man’s thighs. He could feel something silky against the skin of his bare thighs, clad only in navy blue boxer shorts.

“Open your eyes,” Anthony said.

Frank did what he was told and his hands immediately shot to Anthony’s thighs, which were covered by white lace thigh high stockings. As his eyes travelled up Anthony’s body, he saw his husband in the prettiest white negligee he’d ever seen. Underneath the sheer fabric, Anthony wore a pair of white panties, barely covering his cock.

“Goddamn, Anthony,” Frank breathed, fingers trembling as he ran them down the silky fabric of the thigh highs.

“Do you like it?” Anthony asked, shyly.

It was then that Frank noticed the smudged eyeliner, the glossy lips. His cock twitched with increased interest. Anthony hadn’t worn makeup since the early days of their relationship, when he was embarrassed about his skin.

“I’ll show you how much I like it,” Frank growled, and flipped Anthony onto his back, throwing his husband’s legs over his shoulders.

Anthony giggled, then gasped as Frank massaged the front of his panties, encouraging a wet spot to blossom as his cock leaked with anticipation.

Frank dipped his nose into the crook of Anthony’s neck, taking a whiff of the scent he had applied. He’d swiped it from Frank’s suitcase when they arrived. Frank loved it when Anthony smelled like him.

“Mine,” Frank murmured into Anthony’s neck, tongue darting out to taste his freshly showered skin.

“Of course,” Anthony agreed, his fingers twisting into Frank’s hair, which had curled in the humid island air.

Anthony ran his fingers up Frank’s bicep, tracing lines of tattoos, some more faded than others. “My big, strong husband,” he murmured. “So glad you’re here to protect me.”

Frank smiled at that. He knew “strong” was an exaggeration, but Anthony liked to feel small and delicate underneath him.

“My pretty little husband,” Frank smiled, his hands trailing down the front of Anthony’s negligee. “You look way too good in that. I’m going to fuck you right now.”

Frank reached for his suitcase which he had thrown haphazardly on the floor next to the bed, but Anthony stopped him.

“I’m ready.”

Frank raised an eyebrow.

“What did you think I was doing in there?” Anthony shrugged, the strap of his top sliding down his shoulder. It made him look even more debauched.

Frank groaned, imagining Anthony fingering himself underneath his pretty lingerie, sucking his glossed bottom lip into his mouth as he contained his moans.

As if he didn’t believe it, Frank slid his hand into the front of Anthony’s underwear, past his leaking cock, and felt a trail of lube leading to his entrance. He circled the rim of Anthony’s hole, feeling that he was indeed stretched adequately for Frank’s cock.

“Okay, but you’re keeping this on,” Frank motioned to the top which spread out around Anthony like a fan.

“You really like it huh?” Anthony blushed, looking down at himself. The outfit was clearly meant for someone with curves, evidenced by the top gapping over his flat chest. He did note how pretty the lace looked against his tattoos, his nipples peaking against the fabric and cool air.

“You look—“ Frank searched for the right word. Beautiful didn’t even come close. He was gorgeous, but it didn’t seem to fit either. Anthony was perfect. He had truly married the most beautiful man in the world. “Radiant.”

Anthony felt his cheeks warm even further. Frank was staring at him with a look in his eyes that signaled lust, yes, but there was something more to it. Of course, Frank loved him, they’d just gotten married after all— but the look revealed the fact that Frank would do anything for him, go through any obstacle to get Anthony what he wanted or to protect him from the world.

“Come here, baby.” Anthony tugged at Frank’s hair, needing their lips connected so badly.

Frank obeyed and placed a gentle kiss on Anthony’s glossed lips. His tongue darted out to taste the sweet vanilla flavor. He was going to lick it all off and then devour the man underneath him.

The kiss deepened as Frank slid his hand between their stomachs, inching the panties down. Anthony whined as he broke the kiss to slide them all the way off Anthony’s legs, tossing them aside and quickly discarding his own clothing so he was totally naked.

Anthony sighed, taking in the sight of his husband’s naked body. He’d seen it countless times, but he knew he would never get sick of it. Anthony loved putting his hands underneath Frank’s shirt and just feeling his soft belly. His chest would certainly fill out the lingerie better than Anthony’s and the younger man loved to suckle and bite at Frank’s nipples whenever he could. The older man was so responsive. Anthony loved getting him worked up with feather light touches over the span of hours and ending the day by getting pounded into the mattress.

Frank grabbed Anthony’s legs and hooked them over the swell of his hips, rubbing his cock against Anthony’s lubed hole. Anthony arched off the bed, gasping at the feeling of Frank’s throbbing cock against the sensitive skin.

Anthony never got used to the feeling of Frank entering him. It felt new every time. That’s how special he made Anthony feel.

Frank’s breath sped up as he bottomed out and went still, giving Anthony a minute to adjust.

“I cannot believe I get to see you like this,” Frank admitted. “Be with you like this. Every time feels like such a privilege.”

Anthony was starting to get the dazed look in his eyes he always got when he was talked to like that so Frank continued.

“I think you were made for me,” Frank confessed, meaning every word. “How can we fit together this well and it just be a coincidence?”

Frank looked down at where his cock was buried in Anthony, his negligee slipping off his shoulder as Frank had pushed inside him. Frank really believed that the universe had brought them together.

“Need you here forever.” Frank’s composure was starting to slip as he felt the burn in his arms from holding himself up.

“You have me forever, baby.” Anthony moved his trembling hands to link with Frank’s, their wedding bands clicking together. He squirmed, getting antsy for Frank to move inside him. “Fuck me, please.”

Frank obeyed, not able to resist the look in Anthony’s eyes, the utter devotion.

Anthony’s hands wrapped around Frank’s neck and pulled him down on top of him. He knew Frank was tired from holding himself up and he liked the feeling of his weight on top of him, the pressure as Frank was fucking into him.

Frank’s whimpers grew desperate as he couldn’t hold off anymore. His thrusts became more rapid and shallow, whispering sweet things into the crook of Anthony’s neck.

“Come for me, baby, let me feel you,” Anthony breathed, gasping as his own orgasm washed over him, the friction of his cock on Frank’s stomach too much to handle.

“Fuck, bunny, love you so much,” Frank whimpered along with some other nonsensical words as he bit down on Anthony’s shoulder and rode out his own orgasm.

Anthony felt like he could lay there like that forever, he and Frank connected in the most intimate way. But Frank eventually did roll away— not far, just onto his side— licking his lips as he looked at Anthony with a dazed look in his eyes.

“You know it’s going to be a long vacation if you do that every time I show you a new outfit.”

Frank couldn’t wait to see what else Anthony had brought.

Chapter Text

July 16th, 2025 Cleveland, OH

Geoff let out a disappointed sigh as he approached his small merch table in the lobby of Mahall’s. Of course, there wasn't a line waiting for him after his set. They were all in the other room, eagerly awaiting Anthony’s arrival. After all, that’s who they were here for.

With the exception of a few fans in the front row singing along, and the nice kid in the wheelchair who chatted with him as he was packing up his stuff, no one seemed to care about his little acoustic set.

It was early on in the tour and the first night he’d really felt like he bombed, so he was taking it hard. He’d tried to watch some of his friends’ sets every night, but he was just too bummed that night. So he gathered up his small supply of merch and trudged up the stairs to the apartment that served as their green room.

He sat in silence on a couch by the windows for the remainder of Anthony’s set, hearing rumbles of songs he recognized. He scrolled on his phone, checking Liza’s Instagram story and tried not to miss Lola too much.

Once he heard footsteps on the stairs, he put his phone down and tried not to look so despondent, faking a smile as a sweat soaked Anthony approached.

There wasn’t proper air conditioning in the room they’d played, so Anthony went straight to the shower to wash off the buckets of perspiration. He emerged a few minutes later in a fresh white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair dripping onto the towel draped over his shoulders and sat down on the couch next to Geoff.

“What a ride, man,” Anthony started, filled to the brim with a wild energy he always got after a show. “I fucking love touring.”

“Mmm,” Geoff agreed, trying to smile, but apparently failing, if Anthony’s sudden frown was any indication.

“What’s wrong?” Anthony asked, energy switching from elation to concern for his friend.

Geoff shrugged, looking down at his fingernails. He had started to pick at them, something he’d inherited from Anthony.

Anthony stood and motioned for Geoff to also stand. The younger man led them to the bedroom while the other guys chatted and munched on food from the bar downstairs.

Once the door was closed, Anthony turned to Geoff, a dark, but concerned look in his eyes.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

Geoff’s eyes filled with tears, an involuntary response under the caring gaze of one of his closest friends.

“Come here.” Anthony opened his arms for a hug.

Geoff sunk into the other man’s arms with a sigh.

“You did great,” Anthony started. “And if those motherfuckers don’t realize that, they’re not worth your time.”

“It’s harder than I expected to be up there by myself,” Geoff admitted. “It’s different when you have a whole band supporting you.”

“You can’t hide behind your persona as easily,” Anthony agreed. “It’s vulnerable.”

Geoff nodded. “Yeah, it’s really scary.”

“Let me make you feel better.”

Geoff shook his head. “It’s okay, really, I’m fine.”

Anthony’s eyes darkened and he moved closer. Geoff could feel the heat radiating off the younger man’s skin, his musky, clean fragrance freshly applied. “I bet I can make you feel even better though.”

Geoff stiffened, but he was intrigued. “What did you have in mind?”

Anthony’s clear blue eyes turned stormy. “Get on your knees.”

Geoff obeyed as if he wasn’t in control of his own body, falling to the floor and falling into subspace almost as fast. He folded his hands across his lap like he was trained to.

“Beg for me, puppy.”

Geoff looked up at Anthony through his lashes, all thought of anything but Anthony’s cock gone from his mind.

“Please, sir.”

Anthony backed up toward the bed, sitting down when his calves touched the edge. “Tell me what you want, pup.”

Geoff whined. His head was full of soup, warm and fluid and he just wanted to be a dumb dog and have his mouth filled with cock.

“You want my cock, baby?”

Geoff nodded, scooting closer on his knees.

“Get undressed,” Anthony commanded. “Puppies don’t need clothes.”

Geoff fumbled off his clothes awkwardly, not daring to fully stand up for fear of punishment. He reached for the key around his neck, but Anthony’s hand darted out to grip his wrist.

“Keep it on. A dog needs a leash.” Anthony grabbed the end of the necklace and tugged Geoff closer.

Geoff gasped as his face pressed into Anthony’s clothed crotch. He could feel the hardness through the fabric and his mouth salivated.

“You’re such a good boy, Geoffy,” Anthony breathed, hands threading through the older man’s hair to press his face further into his hard cock. He was always hard after a show and usually jerked off in the shower or with one of his bandmates, but he hadn’t thought to do it in his rush to clean off that night.

Geoff whined, sounding a little too much like an actual puppy, tongue darting out to lick at the material of the other singer’s sweatpants.

“Gonna suck my cock like a good pup?”

“Please, let me.” Geoff nuzzled against Anthony’s crotch, breathing in his clean scent.

“Whatever you want, cupcake.” Anthony reached into his sweatpants, palming himself a few times before pulling out his cock.

Geoff whined and scooted closer, sitting back on his haunches to be level with Anthony’s already dripping cock.

“You were such a good boy tonight. I think you deserve a treat.”

Anthony ran his hand through Geoff’s hair, pulling his head back to look him in the eyes. Blue met blue and Geoff sighed, his lips falling open greedily.

“Pretty baby,” Anthony cooed, hands drifting down Geoff’s neck to reach for his necklace again. His fingers twirled around the chain, pulling it taut against the older man’s neck.

Geoff groaned, inches away from Anthony and let out a hot breath that tickled the tip of the other singer’s cock. The younger man shuddered.

“Tell me you want it, baby.”

“Please, sir, I want to taste your cock— come down my throat, choke me with the leash.”

“That’s a lot of demands for such a little puppy,” Anthony mused. “But I think you deserve a taste.”

Geoff sighed in relief. He needed a cock in his mouth to flush out the remaining thoughts of the night. He wanted to feel used, like just a hole for Anthony’s pleasure.

Anthony relented and guided Geoff’s head to his cock, where the older man promptly sucked the tip into his mouth.

Geoff’s thoughts became even more fluid, filled with chants of Tony, Tony, Tony as he swirled his tongue around the younger man’s length.

“So good for me,” Anthony moaned, his head falling back. “So lucky to be on the road with you. I bet Liza misses you though.”

Geoff’s heart swelled at the mention of his partner.

“She gives you lots of treats, doesn’t she? Let’s you get down on the floor and worship her.”

Geoff groaned in agreement, words falling short as his mouth was full of warm, wet cock. He thought about Liza at home, probably cooking something good, making the whole apartment smell warm with spices. He didn’t deserve her. She was too good, put up with his shit for too long. His eyes filled with tears thinking about all the people who loved him, all the love he didn’t deserve.

“Puppy.” Anthony cupped Geoff’s cheek with his palm. “You’re perfect and you deserve every ounce of love that comes your way.”

Geoff had a hard time accepting that. Tears threatened to spill over his lashes, his reddened cheeks. He let them.

Anthony loved seeing people cry. It was so fucking hot, especially when their mouth was full of his cock. He shivered seeing the streams of tears falling down Geoff’s face, his red lips obscenely traveling up and down his length. He’d love to see his cock disappearing into Geoff’s other hole— they hadn’t done that in a while.

“Fuck, baby, almost there,” Anthony warned, his hips canting forward. His cock wouldn’t reach the back of Geoff’s throat, but the thought of the older man gagging on him was enough to push him over the edge.

Geoff whined around Anthony’s cock, twirling his tongue as his eyes fluttered shut. Another grunt and Anthony spilled hot into Geoff’s mouth, the older man drinking him down eagerly.

“Good boy,” Anthony patted Geoff’s head, running his fingers through the other man’s sweat-stiff hair.

Geoff sat back, his naked ass on the floor as Anthony’s softening cock slipped from his lips. He whined, not daring to say a word, but hoping his need was communicated through his desperate look.

“Puppy wants to get off now?” Anthony asked, teasingly. “Well go on, get yourself off like a dog.”

Geoff whimpered, embarrassed heat filling his cheeks. He wanted Anthony to touch his cock, but he knew that wouldn't happen, not tonight.

“Don’t be shy now.” Anthony pulled the chain of Geoff’s necklace, forcing him to fall forward.

Geoff felt so degraded, so disgusting, but he loved it. He shuffled on his knees so that he could get enough contact with Anthony’s leg.

He gasped and his head fell onto Anthony’s knee, mouth agape.

“There you go, baby.”

Geoff grunted, hips moving against Anthony’s sweatpants clad leg. It was dry and uncomfortable, but he didn’t dare spit in his hand and get off that way because Anthony hadn’t given him permission to touch.

Anthony’s fingers wound into the older man’s hair and he felt a tug at the end of the caress. It sent him over the edge, whimpering and shuddering against the other singer’s leg as he came on his grey sweatpants.

“Clean it up,” Anthony demanded.

Geoff pulled back to reach for his shirt, but was stopped by another tug at his chain.

“You know what I meant.”

Geoff felt another wave of arousal blossoming in his gut. His own cum was dripping down Anthony’s pant leg, onto his bare foot. The older man bent down, starting at the tip of Anthony’s toes, licking and suckling any bit of remaining sweat and grime. He liked it better when they were dirty, but he would take any chance to worship Anthony’s feet.

“You’re such a nasty little puppy,” Anthony keened. “I should fuck you properly when we get back onto the bus. You would like that wouldn't you?”

Geoff nodded and continued to lick up Anthony’s leg, the dry fabric becoming moist from his tongue. He slurped up his own cum, enjoying the bitter, salty taste of himself.

“Come on, let’s shower,” Anthony suggested. “Want me to prep you in there?”

Geoff nodded eagerly.

Anthony pulled him to his feet by the chain and led him to the bathroom, shedding his own clothes.

“Good boy,” Anthony said, praise evident in his voice as he pressed his naked body to the older man’s. “Maybe I’ll fuck you gentle, like the sweet puppy you are.”

Geoff turned to melted butter in Anthony’s arms, cock swelling with anticipation of what was to come.

Chapter Text

It was Anthony’s idea and for that, he felt horrible.

The vacation started out great. Their Airbnb was even cuter than in pictures. It was nestled in the Poconos, a short drive away from their home in the Pennsylvania countryside.

Anthony was the one who’d wanted to go on a walk. Always the nature boy, even in the dead of winter. So they bundled up in their peacoats and hats, holding hands through their mittens.

It was a nice day, Frank admitted, overcast and quiet as the snow dampened the sound of their boots crunching. They didn't venture far away from their oasis of warmth as Anthony always got cold quickly.

They had just rounded the corner on the way back to the cabin when Frank’s stupid ankle gave out and he went tumbling down the small hill and into the frozen pond that wasn’t frozen enough to catch his fall. He went right through the ice with a yelp.

“Frank!” Anthony yelped, shuffling down the hill.

The pond was only about a foot deep around the edge where the ice had cracked under Frank’s weight, but he struggled to right himself. His lungs ached for air and he tried to avoid gulping water as he floundered. Thankfully, Anthony’s hand reached out and pulled him up with a surprising amount of strength.

“Baby, oh my god, are you okay?” Anthony’s panicked question came out more as a squeak as he attempted to dust the water off Frank’s already soaked coat.

Frank coughed and sputtered and shook the wet hair out of his face like a dog. “Jesus, fuck!”

“Did you swallow any water?” Anthony’s hands were all over his husband, checking him for blood or lacerations or needles sticking out of his arm. “Did you hit your head?”

Anthony looked like he was ready to undress Frank right there and check every inch of his skin. He probably would have if it weren't below freezing.

“Ant, I’m fine!” Frank assured him, unbuttoning his soaked jacket and throwing it off, only to reveal his hoodie, sweater, long sleeve, and t-shirt underneath were all soaked as well.

“Fuck, let’s get you inside before you turn into a popsicle.”

“Wouldn’t you like to suck on that?” Frank laughed, feeling the cold seeping into his bones already and wondering if he was becoming delirious.

“Not funny,” Anthony scolded. He was already thinking about how sore Frank would be the next day, worried that he’d fucked up his bad wrist or shoulder even further in the fall. If they had been closer to town and not basically snowed in, Anthony probably would have insisted they go straight to urgent care.

Instead of panicking, he dragged Frank back to the cabin where he forced him to undress and get in a warm shower. While he was showering off the pond water, Anthony started a fire in the rustic fireplace in the living room and mixed up two cups of hot cocoa.

Frank emerged from the bathroom in his flannel pajamas and plopped down on the couch next to Anthony. He accepted the mug and heartily drank it down.

“You feeling better?” Anthony asked, taking the empty mug from his husband’s trembling hands.

“Marginally.” Frank grabbed for the throw blanket on the back of the couch.

Anthony remembered seeing a heated blanket in the closet of the bedroom and he went to retrieve it.

Frank sighed with relief when he was covered in the blanket that was rapidly heating up.

After a few minutes of cuddling together on the couch, Frank was still trembling.

“Are you okay?” Anthony grew concerned again. What if they hadn't gotten in quick enough and Frank had hypothermia? How did you treat that anyway? Should they brave the road off the mountain and go to the hospital?

“Let’s just get closer to the fire,” Frank suggested.

Anthony gathered some pillows and the comforter off the bed to put down for some padding on the floor. Once a nice nest was created, Frank laid down in the middle and settled in with his eyes closed. But he was still shaking.

“I didn't know how b-b-bone chilling c-c-cold water could be.” Frank’s teeth chattered as he spoke. He couldn't remember ever being that cold.

“Let me wrap you up, baby,” Anthony offered, moving the heated blanket and throw from the couch so he could wrap Frank up like a burrito. When he was nice and cozy, the younger man laid down on top of him.

Frank groaned, comforted by the slight weight of his husband combined with the warmth from the fire and multiple blankets. But still, he felt a chill on every inch of his skin.

“I really think we should go to the hospital, Frank,” Anthony said, tone somber.

“No,” Frank whined. “Skin to skin me like a baby.”

Anthony hesitated. He usually didn't say no when the older man asked him to undress, but he was increasingly concerned that his husband was delirious.

“Come on.” Frank squirmed under the blankets, pulling an arm out to tug at Anthony’s pajama shirt.

“Fine,” Anthony relented. “But if this doesn’t work, we’re going to the hospital.”

“Whatever, lemme see them t-t-tiddies, baby.”

Anthony rolled his eyes. His chest was so flat it would never be described as tiddies. He was sure Frank was sick then. It was only a matter of time before he was wrestling the older man into their truck and toting him down the mountain for medical attention. Still, he humored the request.

Anthony peeled off his own clothes then began the process of unwrapping Frank from the blankets and then his flannel clothing. The older man was slick with a thin layer of sweat.

“Nope, you are absolutely sick, Frank, this is not good.” Anthony reached for his pajama bottoms, about to throw them back on and force Frank into town. Clearly, he needed medical attention.

“Noooooo,” Frank whined, throwing his arms around Anthony’s neck and pulling him back to the floor. “See, I’m already feeling better, I’m not chattering anymore.”

Anthony hated to admit it, but Frank was in fact not chattering. He still didn’t look good. Well, he looked good, of course he did, Frank was his husband and he was naked on a pile of blankets in front of a fireplace where they were having a romantic vacation– no, he couldn't get distracted just because Frank’s naked body looked so— naked.

Frank frowned, sensing Anthony’s hesitation to cuddle with him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Anthony shook his head and laid down next to Frank, pulling the throw blanket over them. It barely covered their feet and Anthony could feel the warmth of the fireplace on his toes.

“Mmm, that’s better.” Frank nuzzled his nose into the crook of his husband’s neck, breathing in his scent.

They lay there for a few minutes, Anthony dozing off while the older man nestled into his arms.

“Baby?” Frank asked, quietly.

“Yes?” Anthony responded, not opening his eyes. He could have laid there forever.

“I’m okay now,” Frank responded, his voice pitching up.

That alarmed Anthony enough to open his eyes. “Are you sure?”

Frank’s cheeks were red and warm and he looked up at Anthony, his pupils dilated from the low light and perhaps something else.

“Well… now I’m horny,” Frank admitted.

Anthony scoffed. “How can you go from hypothermia to ‘I’m horny’ that quickly?”

“Look at you!” Frank retorted. “I just think you’re hot! It’s hard not to get horny when you’re naked pressed up against me.”

Anthony giggled, nuzzling his nose into the soft fluff of Frank’s overgrown hair. “You’re so sweet even when you’re being nasty.”

Frank frowned. “Are you gonna accept it or do I need to take a cold shower?”

“That’s the last thing you should do!”

“Then kiss me!” Frank demanded.

Anthony obliged, pulling him in for a rough kiss that made the older man squeal.

Frank’s skin was warm to the touch, the clammy sheen from earlier gone from the surface. He sighed as Anthony ran a hand up his chest.

“What do you want, baby?” Anthony asked, his breath coming out hot against Frank’s ear.

“You.”

“More specifically?” Anthony prodded.

Frank frowned incredulously. “Touching me.”

Anthony rolled his eyes. Frank was never good at asking for what he wanted. Thankfully, they’d been together long enough that he could assume.

Fingers curled in Frank’s damp hair, pulling him close for another kiss. He sighed as Anthony’s tongue grazed over his own, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. Pressure applied to the roots of his hair as Anthony tugged at it, eliciting exactly the response he was looking for. Frank moaned into his mouth, becoming putty under his weight.

Anthony ran his hand down Frank’s belly, teasing the tip of his cock with his fingertip. The older man was already leaking. He twitched at the contact, hips bucking upward as he whined again.

“How do you still react like a teenager?” Anthony asked, teasing as he pressed light kisses to Frank’s neck.

Frank arched his back, trying to get more friction between their skin, frowning. “Stop teasing me.”

“But you’re— so— cute—“ Anthony’s words were punctuated by Frank’s grunts as he continued to run the palm of his hand on the underside of the other man’s cock.

“Come on,” Frank begged, his voice on the verge of cracking.

“My needy baby,” Anthony cooed. “Fine, but only because I’m still worried about you.”

He finally relented, gripping Frank with the force of his full hand.

Frank thanked him by exposing his neck in a stretch, words of affection tumbling from his mouth in a nearly incoherent babble. Anthony took note of a few: fuck, like that, please baby.

“Such a good boy,” Anthony praised, knowing how much Frank enjoyed it. “Look at you, so good for me.”

Frank’s eyes flew open and his brow creased in concentration. He was close— Anthony knew that look.

Anthony also knew what brought him over the edge. He nestled his nose into the crook of Frank’s neck, increasing his pace while simultaneously biting down at the sensitive skin underneath his ear.

“Ah!” Frank came with a cry as teeth met skin.

As soon as he had milked the last drops of Frank’s orgasm, Anthony collapsed next to him in a sweaty heap.

Frank rolled onto his side after a few deep breaths and looked at Anthony with a grin. “If I told you I was still cold, would you fuck me in the hot tub?”

“Don’t try me.”

Chapter Text

The first person who sees them is Tucker.

“Oh shit, baby boy,” Tucker breathes. “That is so sexy.”

Frank’s face flushes as he grabs a shirt quickly and tries to fumble it over his head.

Tucker stops him with a hand trailing down his arm. A finger rests on the guitarist’s hip lightly and Tucker asks, “When did you get them?”

“Few months ago,” Frank admits, wrapping his arms around himself. “Wanted them to be healed for tour.”

“Why?” Tucker knows the answer, but wants Frank to admit it.

Frank blushes and ducks his head. It’s no use— Tucker isn’t much taller than him and can see his reddened cheeks clearly.

“Thought you guys would like them.”

Frank was correct. Tucker really fucking liked them. In fact, this was probably the hottest thing Frank had ever done in his book. Tucker was already a boob man, but this? This was the icing on the tiddy cake.

“Fuck, Frank, can I touch?”

Frank nods and drops his arms, letting Tucker approach.

“They’re prettier than I expected,” Tucker comments, his eyes tracing the gems at the end of the barbells. He’s used to seeing just plain silver balls on the end of piercings, but Frank is never one to be basic.

Calloused hands trail over Frank’s ink. Tucker revels in the soft skin of the younger man’s chest. “Very pretty.”

Frank sighs, his eyes fluttering shut as calloused fingers tease the edges of his nipple, grazing the end of the barbell.

“Always so sensitive.” Tucker teases, thumbing over his left nipple, then his right.

Frank sucks his lower lip into his mouth, eyes shiny with arousal.

“Even more so now it seems.” Tucker is curious, more an observer of Frank’s reactions than a participant.

Frank nods in agreement. It seems since he got them pierced, they’d been hyper sensitive, even after they’d seemingly healed. His wife had been absolutely cruel during the healing period. Thankfully, Frank was a slut for pain.

“Am I the first one to see them?” Tucker asks, still massaging the hard buds of Frank’s chest.

“Y-yeah,” Frank moans, learning into Tucker’s touch.

They’re interrupted by a knock at the door.

Tucker drops his hands and Frank sighs in frustration. “We can continue this after the set, baby boy.”

He winks and leaves Frank to collect himself.

⋆ ｡ ° ✩ ｡ ° ⋆ ° ｡ ✩ ° ｡ ⋆

Hayley is the next person who notices, followed shortly after by Travis who is trailing behind her into the green room.

“Oh, shit sorry!” She apologizes, throwing a hand over her face.

Frank sinks into the couch awkwardly, a throw pillow covering his chest.

Hayley exits the room quickly, but Travis hovers by the door, giving Frank a strange look.

He finally nods in Frank’s direction. “Nice.”

Frank looks away, embarrassed. Travis is the only one he hadn’t had a sexual relationship with up to that point, but he found himself wondering why and if that might change soon.

⋆ ｡ ° ✩ ｡ ° ⋆ ° ｡ ✩ ° ｡ ⋆

It takes a few days for Tim to notice.

Their relationship had always been different than with Tucker or Anthony. The roles were clear cut and rules defined.

Frank is to do what he’s told and nothing else.

Tim corners him after the show, in the green room with Tucker, Hayley, and some of the members of the opening band. Anthony and Travis are somewhere retrieving DoorDash.

“Frank.” Tim’s hand is on the wall to Frank’s left and he feels caged in by the taller man.

“Yes?” Frank swallows, half fearful and half horny already.

“Do you have something to tell me?” Tim’s blue eyes are piercing in a way that’s different from Anthony’s. There’s no gentleness there.

“What do you mean?” Frank asks, racking his brain for what he could’ve possibly done.

“Tucker told me your little secret.”

Frank swallows again, sending a look to Tucker. The drummer quickly distracts the other occupants in the room, giving them some semblance of privacy in the corner.

Tim’s right hand trails up Frank’s arm and to his chest, feeling for the barbells beneath his layered shirts.

“I don’t remember you asking for permission to do this.” Tim muses, fingers dusting lightly over the guitarist’s nipple.

“I forgot.” Frank pushed against Tim’s touch, desperately for more friction.

“I guess I haven’t been training you well enough.” Tim frowns. “We’ll have to do some reeducation later.”

“Yes, sir.” Frank nods, eyes darting to the other people in the room. They haven’t noticed, or are purposely giving the two of them privacy. Frank likes it when other people are in the room. He would love to get fully undressed and sit at Tim’s feet like a dog. He knows he doesn’t deserve that tonight though.

Tim smiles, pinching one of the nubs between his fingers before twisting.

Frank lets out a sound that’s a cross between a squeal and a moan. Electricity shoots down his spine as the sensitive skin is pinched around the barbells.

Tim leans in closer, twisting further so Frank is putty in his hands. “Be a good boy.”

“Nnnnngh.” Frank can’t form words as there are stars in his eyes currently. Tim is by far the most sadistic of all the men Frank fucks on tour.

“Wait for me in your bunk later,” Tim demands, letting go of Frank’s nipple and feeling the front of his pants for the hard-on he knows is there.

“Yes, sir.” Frank swallows, then whimpers as Tim grabs his crotch, squeezing his hard dick until it hurts. Tears form, but Frank’s pride refuses to let them fall.

Tucker chuckles as Tim releases his hold on Frank. The drummer knows exactly what he’s done.

⋆ ｡ ° ✩ ｡ ° ⋆ ° ｡ ✩ ° ｡ ⋆

To Frank’s surprise, it takes Anthony almost a week and a half to notice.

Tim has been Anthony’s choice this tour to assault on stage and Frank knows he’s been receiving punishments for it.

Still, it surprises Frank how little attention Anthony has given him. It turns the older man into a little bit of a brat and at that point in the tour, he is itching for Anthony’s touch.

Frank corners him on their first hotel night, as Tucker is distributing keys.

“I’ll room with Anthony,” Frank says before the question is even posed.

Once they’re in the room, Frank pushes Anthony onto the bed closest to the door.

“Francis, what—“

“Shut up.” Frank pulls off his hoodie to reveal bare skin underneath.

Anthony’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

“I didn’t think you were ever going to notice.” Frank complains, straddling Anthony on the edge of the bed.

“Holy shit,” the singer breathes. “Are those real?”

“You wanna find out?”

Anthony laughs. “You know that saying– pierced titties taste like keys and there’s no place like home?”

“No?” Frank gives him a strange look, wondering why he’s quoting memes when all the older man wants to do is fuck.

“Well I’m homesick.” Anthony finishes, dipping his head to allow his tongue to dart out and taste Frank’s skin, clean from the showers they’d just taken at the venue.

The singer suckles at Frank’s pecs, inching closer to the shiny piercings. Once he reaches a nipple, he sucks it into his mouth and rolls it around between his teeth. The barbell clanks against his teeth and Frank tastes like clean sweat from the short ride over.

The older man’s head falls back, his arms clasping around the singer’s neck. This was exactly the enthusiasm he was hoping for when he got them pierced. It fucking hurt like a bitch getting them done, and the few days after he hadn’t wanted to wear a shirt around the house because the friction had been painful.

But the increased sensitivity and pretty jewelry made it worth every second.

Anthony releases Frank’s right nipple with a pop, a trail of spit leading from his mouth to the older man’s chest.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” Anthony coos. “My pretty girl.”

Frank whines at that.

“You like that?” Anthony raises an eyebrow, his fingers creeping up Frank’s back and around the front to latch onto the neglected left nipple. He rolls it between his fingers gently. “My girl with her pretty tits.”

“Anthony,” Frank breaths, mouth watering at the sensation.

“What, baby girl?” Anthony continues to tease Frank’s nipples.

“Anthony!” Frank cries as Anthony lowers his mouth, taking his right nipple between his teeth while continuing the finger assault on his left.

“Want me to fuck your pussy while I play with your tits?”

“Please!” Frank is so hard in his jeans he’s fearful he might bust the zipper.

Anthony reaches for Frank’s crotch, rubbing the palm of his hand over his bulge. “Take your pants off for me, baby.”

Frank complies, standing up on shaky legs and discarding his jeans and underwear. He feels vulnerable under Anthony’s gaze, the younger man still fully clothed.

“All right, baby girl, lemme prep that pussy.”

Frank moans, resuming his place on Anthony’s lap. With his legs spread to straddle the singer, his cock is free to bounce as he squirms around. Anthony makes sure to make him as squirmy as possible.

The singer resumes his work on Frank’s chest, kissing and licking with his mouth while his fingers pinch and rub. It’s almost too much for Frank, he hasn’t had this much attention paid to his chest since he got them done.

Anthony reaches a hand down to palm at Frank’s cock, and it’s over. As soon as his hand wraps around Frank’s base, he’s done. Frank comes over his stomach with a loud whine. Anthony continues sucking on Frank’s tits, stroking him through it until he writhes from overstimulation, stretching his body away from Anthony’s touch.

“Aw, my girl couldn't hold it in, huh?” Anthony teases.

Frank growls, a bratty scowl on his face. He leans into Anthony’s ear, whispering, “I still have a wet pussy for you to fuck.”

“Oh, don’t worry, baby girl, I’m not done with you.”

Chapter Text

August 6th, 2025 Allentown, Pennsylvania

Anthony and Frank planned it well in advance.

Tucker was suspicious that Anthony would show up, being only an hour away from his hometown and during the break in his solo tour. But he was extra surprised when Frank texted him the morning of and asked him to let them in a few hours before doors.

Anthony could have gotten away with standing in the crowd, but all hell would break loose if Frank were to be spotted in the small room.

So the two of them settled for side stage, just out of view of the crowd. Anthony enjoyed it nonetheless, singing along to practically every song. Frank particularly enjoyed ‘The Lovesong Writer’ because Anthony swayed back and forth in his arms singing it.

Frank and Anthony were invited back to the hotel that night. Geoff knew something had been planned from the way Frank was fidgeting and Anthony couldn’t wipe the mischievous grin off his face.

When they entered Tucker and Geoff’s room, Anthony was the first to speak.

“We had an idea.”

Tucker’s brow raised in question.

“Only if you guys are down.” Frank added, nervously fidgeting with his ring.

“We’re always down when it’s you two.” Geoff replied, looking Frank up and down. He seemed to be in a submissive mood tonight, if his shy behavior was any indication.

Anthony pulled a strap of black leather from his backpack. Frank reacted immediately, his shoulders rounding and his head dropping submissively.

“Come here, kitten.” Anthony demanded.

Frank stepped closer, picking his head up so he could look into Anthony’s eyes.

Anthony wrapped the leather around his neck, fastening it in the back.

Tucker took in the worn leather, clearly well loved and used. It had decorative white stitching and a tiny gold bell on the front. Frank looked so fucking pretty in it. And fuckable. But Frank always looked fuckable. Tucker had fucked him ten ways from Sunday in the years they’d known each other.

“Is he collared tonight?” Anthony gestured to Tucker who had taken his bandana off to shower at the venue.

“Always is,” Geoff replied. “We switch from the bandana to his real collar.”

Geoff made a motion that Tucker understood and he went to retrieve it from his own bag. He knelt in front of his singer while he fastened it around his neck.

Tucker’s own was more masculine than Frank’s delicate collar. Norman had helped them pick it out years ago. They’d found a custom leather worker in Greenwich Village who had made a piece from Geoff’s drawing. The results were spectacular— Tucker’s delicate neck wrapped in blood red leather, a large O ring on the front for a leash, with stitching on the inside— ‘property of Geoff Rickly’. No initials— no ambiguity.

Geoff patted Tucker’s cheek gently. The drummer reacted by nuzzling into his palm and licking at his fingers. He was well trained and he would not be speaking for the rest of the night.

“What were you thinking?” Geoff turns to Anthony to ask.

Anthony smiled at Frank, who looked up at him with devotion. “I think my kitten wants to get fucked by your dog.”

If Tucker had a tail it would have been wagging furiously.

“What do you think, pup?” Geoff asked.

Tucker nodded his head enthusiastically. He was going to get to fuck Frankie. He loved fucking Frankie. It was almost as good as when he got to fuck Geoff.

“Go ahead, kitten.” Anthony gestured for Frank to undress.

Frank complied, shedding his shirt first, then pants. He stood in front of Anthony in just his underwear, looking up at him for permission.

“You’re gonna be such a good boy for Tucker, aren’t you?” Anthony asked, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of Frank’s underwear.

Frank nodded. He knew he was to stay quiet when he was collared, moans and mewls the only sounds allowed.

“Sweet kitten,” Anthony mused, hand inching toward Frank’s already hard cock. “You’re dripping for me aren’t you?”

Frank keened as Anthony’s finger brushed the tip of his cock, wet with precum.

“Let’s get these off.” Anthony removed Frank’s underwear, letting him step out of them so he could throw them to the side.

He stood in front of the younger man, eyes shining. Anthony took pity on him and laid a gentle kiss on his lips. Frank leaned in and tried to deepen the kiss, desperate for his touch.

Frank whined when Anthony pushed him away.

“Later, kitten.” Anthony promised, his index finger trailing the older man’s jawline. “Look how excited Tucker is to fuck you.”

The two of them looked over at Tucker, still kneeling obediently in front of Geoff. His eyes were focused on the guitarist as he stood naked, the only one in the room without clothes.

Frank suddenly felt embarrassed. He wanted to cover up, have Tucker cover his body with his own as he fucked him.

“Come on, pup.” Geoff motioned at Tucker to stand.

Tucker obeyed, standing in front of Geoff as the matching leash was clipped to his collar.

“You have to be gentle with Frankie, remember?”

Tucker nodded.

“He’s just a little kitten. If you get too rough, I’ll be there to stop you.” Geoff tugged on the leash as a reminder.

Tucker whined at the pressure on his neck. He would let Geoff choke him to unconsciousness if the other man wanted to.

“Come on, baby.” Anthony led Frank to the bed where both men sat, Anthony at the head of the bed with his legs spread, Frank on his haunches between them.

Geoff approached from behind Frank and positioned Tucker at the foot of the bed. Frank got on his hands and knees, his ass spreading so that Tucker could see the black butt plug nestled between his cheeks. It was glistening with lube.

Tucker swallowed. He didn’t know how he was going to control himself. Thankfully, Geoff was there to help him.

The drummer looked at Geoff for guidance, who motioned to remove the plug from Frank. Tucker did as he was told and was rewarded by a muffled moan from the guitarist, cum dripping from his hole. Anthony had fucked him earlier before putting the plug in. Tucker salivated at the thought of him and Anthony’s cum mixing together. It had many times before.

“Look how pretty he is all slicked up for you.” Geoff spoke into Tucker’s ear, sliding a hand around to the front of his pants to unbutton them.

Geoff pulled Tucker’s pants down just enough to free his cock. A few swipes of precum and Geoff was jerking him slowly, his own hard cock pressed into his ass. Tucker wished Geoff would fuck him while he fucked Frank. Frank could suck Anthony’s cock while that happened.

“Another time, puppy.” Geoff promised, reading Tucker’s mind.

“You can fuck him whenever you want,” Anthony voiced from the head of the bed where he sat with Frank between his legs, stroking the guitarist’s hair. “I made sure he was good and ready earlier.”

Tucker swallowed, imagining Anthony fucking Frank in his Doylestown apartment, plugging him up with cum, then torturing him with the hour drive to the venue. Hopefully he’d let Frankie come already that day.

Frank’s strength was wavering and he put his head in Anthony’s lap, letting his ass push up further into the air.

Tucker didn’t miss a beat and plunged into Frank’s waiting hole.

Frank made an unintelligible noise, muffled by the fabric of Anthony’s pants as Tucker bottomed out. It was a comfortable fit, prepped just enough for Tucker to enter smoothly, but Frank could still feel the delicious stretch.

“Be careful, puppy.” Geoff warned, tugging on the leash.

Tucker’s cock twitched at the pressure. He wanted to be bad just so Geoff would have an excuse to choke him out. The drummer allowed himself to thrust deeply into Frank, finding that spot inside him he was so familiar with.

Frank cried out as his prostate was brutally attacked. Anthony had made him come multiple times that day already and he wasn’t as quick to recover as he used to be.

“Tucker loves to fuck you, doesn’t he, baby?” Anthony patted Frank’s head, carding fingers through his hair.

Frank attempted to nod, but his head just jerked as Tucker thrust roughly into him.

“Such a good dog you have, Geoff.” Anthony continued. “So well behaved and pretty.”

Tucker beamed at Anthony’s praise, hips stuttering as it pushed him closer to the edge.

“Not always,” Geoff commented, wrapping the leash around his hand. He stepped closer to Tucker from behind, whispering in his ear, “you like when I have to punish you, don’t you?”

Tucker groaned, desperate to answer verbally, but knew what would happen if he did. He did like to be punished, loved it in fact. He relished the way Geoff grabbed his neck, pulling the leash, his head pushed to the ground where he was made to kiss the other man’s feet.

Instead of verbalizing, Tucker allowed his thrusts to speed up, not knowing if Frank was anywhere near completion, only chasing his own orgasm.

He saw stars as Geoff jerked the leash back, surely bruising his windpipe, covering Frank’s insides in more cum.

Tucker came back to reality still buried inside Frank, who was whimpering desperately for release. Anthony motioned for Tucker to get out of the way and flipped Frank onto his back when the drummer slid his cock out. There was a dazed look in the guitarist’s eyes and he grabbed at the air as if he couldn’t quite see where Anthony was.

“I got you, kitten.” Anthony murmured, gripping Frank’s cock in his palm. “Your turn.”

It only took a few pumps before Frank was spilling hot into Anthony’s hand, his mouth open in a near silent scream.

Fingers snapped and Tucker fell to his knees without a thought. Geoff’s cock was in his own hand and cum coated the drummer’s face before he could even wonder what was happening. Tucker licked his lips, catching as much of Geoff’s seed as he could.

Not long after, Anthony was releasing his own load onto Frank’s stomach, murmuring softly into the older man’s hair. Tucker noted the gentleness with which Anthony cleaned the other man, wiping his stomach with a discarded t-shirt and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Anthony had always been good at aftercare.

Geoff patted Tucker on the head, wiping a bit of drool from the side of his mouth.

“Come on,” Geoff motioned for Tucker to stand. “Let’s get you a shower, baby boy.”

“Cut that baby boy shit or I’ll be needing round two in the shower,” Tucker warned.

“Be careful what you wish for, handsome.”

Chapter Text

April 19th, 2025 Brooklyn, New York

Anthony knew how much he was pushing it by biting Tim. But he couldn’t resist. He was sick of biting his own arms or fingers or fucking microphone cord. He wanted to sink his teeth into another’s flesh.

Frank was jealous. Insanely jealous. Not that Anthony was giving another man attention, but that he was giving another man attention meant for him.

The singer had hardly acknowledged Frank on stage this tour. Frank had asked him to lay off in public, for fear of fueling more rumors, but he hadn’t thought it had meant the attention would be transferred to one of the other men.

Especially Tim.

Frank was fuming by the time they left the stage before the encore. He gulped down a bottle of water as he shot Anthony a warning stare.

Anthony shivered under the guitarist’s leer. He knew he had gotten the attention he wanted.

As the last notes of ‘Forgiveness’ rang out, Frank chucked his leftover picks into the crowd and stomped off stage. He waited just around the curtain for Anthony to exit.

The singer was beaming with energy as he was most nights. His face changed to a mischievous grin when he saw Frank.

“We need to talk,” Frank stated sternly.

Before Anthony could respond, Frank spun him around and pinned him against the wall, his chest pressed into the cold brick.

“You need to be taught a lesson,” he growled, grabbing the singer's hair and pulling his head back, his back arching deliciously under the pain.

“What would that be, Frankie?” Anthony teased, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“Who you belong to,” Frank sneered and pulled Anthony’s pants down without even unbuttoning the fly.

Anthony squealed as his body was jerked backward by the force of Frank unveiling his ass. His palms slapped flat on the wall in front of him, anchoring himself while the guitarist manhandled his pants around his knees. His bare ass was exposed in the relatively open hallway from the stage to the green rooms and he shivered with the fear of being caught.

Of course, the other men knew the kind of stuff they got into when Frank was in a mood. Tucker especially was cognizant to any change in his bandmate’s energy and would have gently warned the venue staff to stay away for a few minutes. Frank was quick when he was like this, not concerned about Anthony getting off or enjoying it. He actually liked it better when Anthony didn’t enjoy it.

“You can act however you want out there,” Frank started, grinding his clothed erection into the curve of Anthony’s smooth ass. “But remember who you belong to back here.” Frank punctuated the sentence by running a finger down Anthony’s sweat stained t-shirt. “And here.” A calloused finger dragged down his crack, teasing the singer’s hole.

“And who would that be?” Anthony teased, knowing exactly what he was goading Frank into doing.

Frank’s brow twitched in anger. He slammed Anthony against the wall, pinning the oxygen out of his lungs. The hand that wasn’t kneading the singer’s backside flew up to his neck, restraining what little movement he had left.

Anthony swallowed. He loved being thrown around, caged by the guitarist. He especially loved the feeling of Frank’s big hands around his throat. He knew the older man could choke him until he passed out— would have done it one time if he hadn’t panicked.

“You don’t get to fuck with me and not get a punishment.”

That’s exactly what Anthony was hoping for.

“Do you have anything to say?” Frank asked.

Anthony pushed his ass back against Frank’s fingers. “Fuck me!”

“That’s all? Whore.” Frank spit into his palm and rubbed the slick between Anthony’s cheeks.

“Yeah, that’s it, Daddy.” Anthony moaned as Frank pressed a finger into his entrance.

“You’re such a slut, Anthony.” Frank continued working his finger inside the younger man, adding another just as it became comfortable. “Biting at Tim, giving Tucker those bedroom eyes.”

Anthony moaned in agreement, pushing himself back onto Frank’s thick fingers. He liked Frank’s fingers the best, liked Frank the best really. He liked fucking Tucker, too, and of course Tim, and he’d only really fucked around with Travis a few times, but he’d like to do it more and— damn he was a whore, Frank was right.

The singer’s eyes fell shut as he began to imagine all his band mates fucking him at the same time, taking turns with his hole.

“Gonna fill you up with my cum,” Frank said, spitting on his fingers again so he could add a third.

“Please,” Anthony moaned.

“Please, what?” Frank removed his fingers and wiped them on his jeans, lining up his cock with Anthony’s entrance.

“Fuck me, Daddy, teach me a lesson.” Anthony begged, his hands on the wall shaking with need.

“You are such a—“ Frank paused, slipping into Anthony roughly. “Cockslut.”

Anthony’s mind turned to TV static as Frank pressed him into the wall, the older man’s cock nestled deep inside him.

“Fuck, baby, you’re— god—“ Frank’s facade was failing as he felt Anthony’s warm hole clench around his cock.

Anthony's breath caught every time Frank’s rough thrusts pushed him into the wall.

“Almost there, baby.”

Anthony didn’t like the gentleness in Frank’s voice. Usually he did, but not tonight. He wanted to be roughed up some more. So he did something bratty— he moaned Tim’s name.

The slap on his ass was almost instantaneous. It jolted Anthony out of his cock trance.

“Sorry, Daddy,” Anthony whined, not one bit sorry.

“Sluts like you never learn, do they?” Frank’s thrusts became more erratic as he neared his finish. “I should send you back to Tim with my cum dripping out of your ass.”

Anthony nearly melted. Oh yeah, he liked the idea of being passed around like a fuck toy.

“Oh fuck—“ Frank groaned and spilled into Anthony at the thought of his band mates doing the same thing later.

Anthony clenched around Frank’s orgasm, reveling in the feeling of his cock pumping inside him. The younger man loved being full of cum. It made him feel owned, desired. And it helped that it provided lube for the next fuck.

“Daddy, can I come?” Anthony begged, pressing his chest up against the wall, trying to get some friction on his cock, but Frank’s hands gripped his hips tightly.

“I only let good boys come.” Frank answered, sliding his sensitive cock from Anthony’s hole. “And you have not proven to be a good boy.”

Anthony whined, feeling the urge to stomp his feet. He wanted a hand on his cock. He was so worked up from the adrenaline of the show, and Frank’s fingers, then cock inside him he wanted to cry.

Frank slid Anthony’s pants up over the swell of his ass and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. “Figure it out.”

Then he was gone.

Anthony groaned and stomped away to find Tim.

Chapter Text

“It’s perfect.” Frank’s voice was breathy as Tucker revealed the item he’d held in a red satin bag.

It was a black collar made of soft leather with an O-ring at the front. Extremely standard except for one detail. Tiny spikes protruded from the inside, so pointed that they were sure to puncture the neck if yanked hard enough.

Frank was hard just from the thought.

It had taken months of discussion and negotiation. Tucker didn’t love hurting his bandmate— his boss, for fucks sake. Sure, he dabbled in spanking, if the decorative paddles hanging on the walls had anything to say about it. But actually hurting Frank, possibly drawing blood? He wasn’t thrilled about that.

He did, however, live for the shiny look in Frank’s eyes when the drummer spanked him a little too hard or wrapped his fingers around his throat. It didn’t matter that it was Frank’s name on the album and Tucker was just part of his band— the younger man was a submissive through and through.

Frank had never been a formal submissive before so it took time for the older man to train him to his specifications. They’d been working on it for weeks. But Frank had finally gotten there, fully broken in. The perfect submissive.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, please.” Frank whined, doing his best to contain his neediness.

He couldn’t help himself. Tucker had taken him to a fancy hotel room, stripped him, and then forced him to kneel for half an hour, with his arms behind his back and head tilted toward the floor. After that, he’d jerked him a few times to get him semi-erect, slipped a cock ring on, and left the room.

Frank had stayed there for what felt like forever, but turned out to be only ten minutes. Tucker returned with some drinks in hand— a Diet Coke for Frank and a Yerba mate for himself. He cracked open the can of Coke and held it to Frank’s lips so he could sip while still holding his hands behind his back obediently.

Frank’s wide eyes kept Tucker’s gaze as he drank, swallowing the cold liquid slowly. Even the way Frank sipped from his hand made Tucker shiver with arousal. He’d been so fun to train. And he was going to be even more fun to play with now that he was trained.

So the sight of Frank kneeling in front of him now took his breath away. Tucker couldn’t wait to fuck him into the hotel mattress. But first, the gift Frank had been waiting months for.

“You’ve earned this, baby,” Tucker started. “You know that, right?”

Frank nodded.

“You can speak, sweetheart.”

Frank’s chest filled with pride. He loved when Tucker called him sweet names. God, he loved making Tucker proud. He never thought he would get so much satisfaction kneeling at the feet of another man like that.

“Thank you, Daddy.” Frank moaned.

“Good boy.” Tucker patted the younger man on the cheek, eliciting a sigh and a nuzzle.

Frank continued to hold his hands behind his back like they were tied there, but Tucker could tell he was getting restless.

“You ready for your gift?”

Frank nodded excitedly.

Tucker stepped forward. “Gonna look so beautiful.” He undid the buckle on the back. “I even put a little extra something into it.” Tucker showed Frank the inside of the collar. Between two of the spikes was an embossing— of Tucker’s name.

Frank swallowed when he saw it. His eyes flicked up to meet Tucker’s. “I love it.”

Tucker smiled, patting Frank’s cheek lightly. “I knew you would, sweet boy.”

Frank sighed, leaning into Tucker’s hand.

“Let’s see how this looks.”

Frank presented his neck like he’d been trained, looking up at Tucker with doe eyes. The older man didn’t know how he did it— managed to look so vulnerable and innocent, but at the same time so ravishable.

“Good,” Tucker murmured, holding the collar to Frank’s throat.

Frank gasped and his face crinkled when he felt the spikes touch his throat. He resisted the urge to squirm by biting the inside of his cheek. The cool, sharp surface of the spikes pushed into him, making his skin buzz with electricity. Tucker made sure to fasten it just tight enough that Frank could feel the constant pressure.

“I’m gonna get you a matching leash,” Tucker started. “So you know who you belong to.”

Frank whined. He could picture himself in all fours, Tucker fucking him from behind, his ass in one hand and the leash in another, forcing his head back with a yank. The spikes would press into his throat deliciously and he would be bratty just so that Tucker would pull the leash tighter.

“How’s it feel, Frankie?”

“G—ah,” Frank inhaled sharply as Tucker tugged on the leather lightly. “Good, thank you, sir.”

Tucker motioned to the bed. “How about we put this to use, huh?”

Frank stood on trembling legs and laid himself out on his back. He wasn’t sure how Tucker wanted to fuck him tonight– it the first night Frank was his officially trained submissive.

As if reading his mind, Tucker said, “I’ll do whatever you want tonight– within reason,” he added. “You’ve earned that much for taking my training so well.”

Frank thought for a moment. His processing was slowed down from the confines of subspace, but he knew what he wanted. “Want to test the spikes, please, Daddy.”

“Of course, baby, that’s what they’re for,” Tucker smiled. “On your stomach, love.”

Frank rolled over, presenting his ass.

“Gonna look so beautiful with those points digging into your neck,” Tucker mused, running a finger down Frank’s spine. “Maybe they’ll make you bleed.” Tucker grinned as Frank squirmed under his touch. “Alright, baby, let’s see how much you can take.”

Yes, this was going to be so much fun.

Chapter Text

July 19th, 2025 San Francisco, California

Gerard was an idiot, but he wasn’t so much of an idiot he couldn’t tell something was wrong.

He knew it from the second they left the B stage, Frank stomping back into the green room without uttering a word. The grimace on his face said it all.

Gerard knew it wasn’t from the pain in his wrists— well, not fully. He knew Frank’s facial expressions intimately and could deduce even the slightest change in mood. That’s what happens when you know someone for more than half your lives.

Mikey exchanged glances with Ray, seemingly having a telepathic conversation that they left Gerard out of.

Frank was standing near one of the mirrors, wiping his sweaty face down with a hand towel more aggressively than the situation called for. Gerard considered approaching, but hesitated. Frank had been so touchy lately and the older man couldn’t figure out why.

Frank had always gotten into moods— he’d blamed it on anxiety and just being too keyed up and overstimulated. But Gerard felt like he’d been different this tour.

If Gerard didn’t know better, he’d suspect the younger man was missing someone.

No, Gerard though, there’s no way.

But it made sense. Frank’s sour moods, the constant checking of his phone, how distant he seemed on stage compared to the last tour.

It suddenly clicked. Gerard knew exactly who Frank was missing.

“Oh my god, you’re fucking Anthony!” Gerard blurted out.

The air in the room came to a startling stillness as everyone froze. Gerard himself couldn’t believe he’d said it out loud. Ray and Mikey exchanged another glance and quickly shuffled out of the room.

Frank inhaled then exhaled slowly, just like his therapist had taught him. Observe first, then react.

“You don’t get to act jealous that I’ve finally moved on.” Frank finally stated.

Gerard stiffened. He’d never considered the possibility that whatever he had going on with any of the Dunes guys actually meant anything– surely not “moved on” level?

Frank turned around, facing the older man who still had his camouflage jacket on. “What, nothing to say for once?”

“Where is this coming from?” Gerard asked. He was genuinely confused. He could understand if Frank was missing his other singer, especially if they were romantically involved, but why the aggression?

“You think I didn’t fucking see?” Frank asked.

Gerard wracked his brain for what he could have done to piss off his friend. He came up blank.

“Still doing that sickening high school act all these years later.” Frank shook his head, turning back to the mirror where he stripped off his sweater, then hoodie, revealing a blue t-shirt underneath.

Gerard froze.

“Ah, now it clicks,” Frank teased, meeting the older man’s eyes in the mirror. “You’re still so fucking starry eyed for her you don’t even notice.”

As much as Gerard liked when they fought and then fucked, he didn’t enjoy Frank bringing his wife into it. “Frank,” he warned.

“She loves the attention, doesn’t she?”

Gerard curled his fingers into a fist, trying to keep himself calm. He wasn’t going to do this again.

Frank turned around, meeting Gerard’s eye as he stepped forward. “You don’t actually act like that when no one’s watching, right? It’s really pathetic.”

“Frank, I’m serious, don’t—“

“Or what? You’ll hit me? Throw me around like you did back then? I don’t think you can do that anymore.” Frank prodded.

“Frankie, please.” Gerard knew it was true. He was too old and Frank wasn’t the skinny twink he used to be.

“Get down,” Frank growled, tone dropping.

Gerard swallowed, not able to decide if he was scared or aroused. “What?”

“You need to be reminded who you belong to out there.”

Gerard fell to his knees, the tingles at the edge of his mind warning that he was quickly falling into subspace. He hadn’t planned for his, didn’t know how much time they had, if the door was locked— but he didn’t care.

Gerard opened his mouth, expecting to feel the warmth of Frank’s cock on his tongue, but was disappointed. He opened his eyes to see Frank holding his flaccid cock in his hand, focused on Gerard’s face.

“What are you—“ Gerard started.

“Open your mouth and shut up.” Frank demanded, stepping forward.

He grabbed Gerard’s jaw with his free hand, tilting his mouth upward. Oh, Gerard thought, sticking his tongue out. He knew what this was.

Frank inhaled and spit a wad of minty saliva into Gerard’s waiting mouth.

The older man whined, allowing the saliva to drip down his tongue, toward his throat. Not what he was expecting, but pleasant nonetheless. Affirmations played in his head– useless, whore, dog. Things Frank used to call him. Some sweeter ones too– baby girl, love. It had been a lot longer since he heard those ones. From anyone.

“Who do you belong to on tour?” Frank asked, palming himself with his other hand.

Gerard didn’t have to think. “You.”

The singer could tell Frank was having a hard time getting erect. He thought it was partly because the younger man was dead tired and partly because he was pissed off at Gerard. And maybe a little of missing the person he actually wanted to get hard for. Gerard remembered how sad that was, pining for someone who was on the other side of the country.

“Take off your jacket.” Frank finally demanded.

“What?”

“Take off your fucking jacket.” Frank growled, growing more frustrated. Gerard couldn't tell if it was aimed at himself or not.

Gerard complied, confused. He threw it to the ground next to him.

Frank angled his body sideways, taking his cock in hand and started pissing on Gerard’s discarded jacket.

“Frankie,” Gerard whined, not moving to get up from his knees, but becoming increasingly aroused as Frank marked his territory.

Gerard didn't have anywhere to wash his jacket and they were flying home the next afternoon. He could rinse it off in the hotel sink, but it would still hold the stench until he was able to wash it properly. That thought aroused Gerard even further. Useless, whore, baby girl, dog.

Having relieved his bladder, Frank found it easier to palm himself to half mast. He stepped toward the kneeling man, inches away from his mouth and shook his cock, the last remaining drops of piss falling onto Gerard’s lips.

“Disgusting,” Frank sneered as Gerard lapped up the drops with his tongue.

The singer didn’t care. He liked being called names, liked the taste of Frank’s piss in his mouth. It was like old times, before marriage and kids and fame had fucked everything up.

“Suck,” Frank demanded, nudging his cock against Gerard’s lips.

Gerard whined, tonguing lazily at the head of Frank’s cock. The older man’s gaze trailed upward, noting Frank’s closed eyes as he jerked the base of his cock.

Gerard sat back, letting the cock fall from his lips. He smirked, feeling snarky tonight.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” he started. “You’re thinking about him.”

Frank slapped his cock on Gerard’s cheek, leaving a trail of precum and spit as his answer.

“I didn’t say you could speak to me,” Frank chided.

Gerard nodded.

Frank responded by grabbing the back of his hair and pushing his open mouth all the way down to the base of his cock. Gerard felt the back of his throat tremble, a response he hadn't had to control in many years, but thankfully had nothing to throw up, so he just made a choking noise that stoked the fire in Frank’s belly.

“Yeah, that’s good, all you're good for anymore,” Frank mocked. “Just a hole for my cum, and piss and–” Frank bit his tongue, more saliva pooling and he pulled Gerard off his cock just enough to dribble foamy spit into his mouth. He forced Gerard’s jaw shut so he would have to swallow.

Gerard’s pupils were blown so wide it didn't even look like he had iris. His own cock strained against the worn fabric of his jeans. If anything was going to make him come in his pants like a teenager again, this would do it.

Frank shoved a finger between Gerard’s lips, prying his mouth open so he could force his cock back in. Gerard just knelt there, allowing his mouth to be used.

“Still such a good fuck,” Frank muttered, voice becoming ragged as he felt his orgasm approaching. “At least you’re good for that.”

Gerard’s whine sent off a series of fireworks in Frank’s gut and he was coming down the older man’s throat without warning.

Gerard drank down his cum like a bottle of water after a show. He loved swallowing, knew it was part of what made him such a whore. Tasting Frank was like coming home.

His head was shoved backward violently as Frank’s cock grew sensitive. Gerard just knelt there, his legs starting to go TV static numb.

Frank took a few deep breaths and zipped himself back into his jeans.

“You can get off or go home, I don’t care.” He turned away and started to gather things to put in his bag. It was late and he wanted to call Anthony and then fall onto the plush hotel bed for a few hours of precious sleep.

Bag slung over his shoulder, he walked toward the door, only looking back to glare at the singer. “And don’t ever say his name to me again.”

Chapter Text

Warped Tour 2004

Frank’s vision was starting to blur. He’d had way too much to drink and not nearly enough water.

“Tuck, I don’t feel good.”

“Just a few more steps, Frankie.” Tucker wrapped his arms around the younger man, leading him toward the Thursday bus.

“Hey,” Frank slurred. “This isn’t my bus.”

“This one’s quieter.” Tucker offered. He knew Bert and Gerard were on the MCR bus creating a racket and god knows where Mikey and Pete were that night.

They stumbled onto the bus, where Tim was sitting in the front lounge reading. The bassist looked up with a questioning glance, but said nothing.

Tucker assumed the other guys were still out. It wasn’t that late and Tim was always the first one to return, usually a light buzz from a couple beers, but nothing more. Geoff was probably getting fucked up on Circa’s bus like he had been every other night of the tour. God only knew where Tom and Steve were.

“Let’s lay down,” Tucker suggested, dragging a pliant Frank to his bunk.

The two men fell into Tucker’s bunk easily and Frank narrowly missed hitting his head on the wall. He groaned and motioned for Tucker to pull the curtain closed. The drummer complied and rolled onto his side to face Frank. Tucker noted how young Frank looked in the diffused light from the front lounge, pupils dilated from cocaine and face relaxed from liquor.

“Thanks for helping me,” Frank continued to slur his words, looking up at Tucker with shiny eyes. “I don’t know why I let myself get like this.”

Tucker knew it was because Gerard had been spending every night with Bert. Poor Frank and his unrequited crush. Gerard had strung him along since the beginning, kissing and fucking him when it was convenient or there was no one else he wanted more.

Tucker wasn’t like that. Tucker actually cared about Frank. Not that Frank noticed. He was too hung up on his emotionally unavailable lead singer to notice his other friend’s feelings.

“How can I thank you?” Frank frowned, brows furrowing sadly.

Instead of answering, Tucker pressed their lips together. To his utter shock, Frank kissed back.

Tucker was over the moon that Frank was kissing him. It didn’t matter that he was drunk and hurting— Frank Iero was kissing him back– in his bunk.

That had to mean something, right?

“Tucker—“ Frank slurred against the drummer’s lips.

“Shh,” Tucker hushed him by reconnecting their lips.

He licked at the seam of the younger man’s mouth, requesting entrance. Frank granted it, pliant next to him. His back pressed into Tucker’s dirty sheets, head on the spit stained pillow his mom always sent him on tour with. Fuck, it was such a weird setting to be doing it, but Tucker didn’t care.

He had been pining for Frank practically since the moment they met. He had a serious girlfriend, but they’d always been open. Tucker just considered himself a man whore who liked pretty things. And Frank was a very pretty thing. That he wanted to kiss and lick and fuck and hold.

“Tucker, I’m not—“ Frank’s voice trailed off lazily.

“It’s ok, baby, I got you,” Tucker promised, taking Frank’s floppy hand in his own. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Okay…” Frank’s eyelids were drooping.

Tucker knew it wasn’t right to keep going when Frank was like this, but what if he never got another chance?

The drummer reached down to palm at Frank’s crotch through his jeans. He was half hard but his body was limp underneath Tucker, the cocaine and liquor fighting against each other in his system. Unfortunately, the cocaine wore off a lot quicker and Frank had his last bump fifteen minutes ago.

“So tired,” Frank mumbled, barely intelligible through the sloppy kisses the two men were sharing.

Tucker was rock hard in the way only young men got. He’d never imagined he would have Frank underneath him, pliant and soft. He looked so sweet and young. Fuck, he was young, Tucker remembered. He wasn’t even twenty three yet.

“Frankie,” Tucker whispered, hot breath dusting over his ear lobe. “I wanna fuck you.”

“Mmm, kay.” Frank’s head rolled to the side where he tracked drool on Tucker’s pillow.

The younger man’s reply was barely intelligible, but it was a yes, and that was all Tucker needed.

Maneuvering awkwardly, Tucker slipped Frank’s jeans off. Frank helped in the way he could, which consisted of rolling around like a dead worm and not much else.

“You ever been fucked by a guy?” Tucker was pretty sure Frank bottomed for Gerard, but he was ready to be surprised.

“Mmm, yeah, of course.” Frank’s face constricted like he was offended.

“Didn’t wanna assume…” Tucker trailed off.

Frank was having a hard time keeping his eyes open and he knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but the way the younger man responded under him was too hot. Tucker actually felt like he was going to overheat. He squirmed out of his own shirt and pants, leaving himself only in his boxers.

“You gonna—“ Frank hiccuped. “Fuck me—“ another hiccup. “Or what?”

Tucker shook himself out of his daze. He reached to the lube he kept under his pillow, flipping the top and squeezing some out on his fingers. Frank’s legs parted slightly and Tucker nestled between them.

Frank’s hole was glistening already. He’d been fucked that day— fairly recently if the lack of resistance when Tucker inserted his index finger had anything to say about it.

Tucker tried to ignore the flames of jealousy that stoked in his gut. Frank was with him that night. He’d felt safe enough to be dragged back to the Thursday bus, pulled into Tucker’s bunk. That’s all that mattered.

“You okay?” Tucker asked, ignoring how easily his finger slid in and out of Frank’s hole.

Frank just grunted, his cheek pressed into the pillow.

“I’m gonna use another,” Tucker narrated, but Frank wasn’t paying attention. His hips rolled ever so slightly at the stimulation, but his cock still lay half hard against his thigh.

Tucker slid his ring finger in alongside his middle and pointer, fucking into Frank slowly. His hole took it eagerly, but Tucker wanted to be gentle. Logically, he knew it was Warped Tour— everyone was sucking and fucking and it didn’t mean shit. But it meant something to him. At least he wanted it to.

The drummer furrowed his brow as he took his fingers out of Frank, reaching to fumble with a condom wrapper. “Frank,” he paused. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Tucker was giving him one last chance to back out, despite everything in him that screamed to just go for it.

“Yeah, fuck me.” Frank pulled Tucker’s face toward his with a surprising amount of strength, connecting their lips.

Tucker’s non-lube drenched hand flew to Frank’s face, cupping his cheek. Their tongues danced sloppily and Tucker’s hips rolled against the man underneath him.

The drummer couldn’t wait any longer. He shed his boxers and lubed up his own cock, jerking himself a few times while looking at Frank’s soft, slack body.

Frank hardly reacted when Tucker slid into his hole. The drummer tried not to be offended. He was just loosened up from the alcohol, he told himself. It didn’t mean anything.

Tucker was buzzed himself, but not nearly as fucked up as Frank. The younger man was practically passed out underneath him, belly jiggling as Tucker pounded into him erratically.

“Frank?” Tucker breathed, patting his cheek. “Hey, are you still with me?”

Frank didn’t respond, his head slumped to the side.

“Fuck, Frankie, are you okay?” Tucker stilled his hips, hand hovering over Frank’s mouth where, thankfully, he still felt breath.

He considered stopping for a moment. Really, he did. But this was also a once in a lifetime chance for Tucker. Frank had never shown interest in him, not like that at least. He was terrified Frank would sober up and realize he was making a mistake. What if Frank didn’t even want to be his friend anymore? No, he couldn’t let this opportunity pass him by.

Against his better judgement, Tucker continued fucking into Frank’s hole. He was gentle, even tender, in his irregular thrusts. Frank continued to lay unresponsive beneath him, his cock as limp as the rest of his body.

“Frankie,” Tucker whined, nuzzling into the crook of the other man’s neck. “I’ve wanted this for so long, you have no idea.”

Unsurprisingly, Frank didn’t respond.

Tucker continued. “Since we met, really.” Frank had been just out of high school then and Tucker had been terrified to make a move, for fear of cradle robbing accusations. By the time he was old enough to not be creepy, Frank had already joined My Chem and latched onto Gerard. At that point, Tucker figured it would be a waiting game. But years passed and the younger man still trailed after their friend like a lost puppy, desperate for any sort of attention.

Tucker hoped he didn’t seem that desperate himself.

“Frank, please— fuck,” Tucker whined and his hips stuttered. He knew his orgasm wasn’t far off.

He desperately wished Frank was conscious. Maybe then he would see how much Tucker cared about him. Maybe it would make a difference. He would forget all about Gerard and anyone else he fucked on tour to forget about Gerard.

“Frankie— fucking—“ Tucker swallowed, trying to keep his voice down. “I love you.”

He hadn’t admitted it to himself before, not with those words. But he knew the moment they slipped from his lips that it was the truth.

“Yeah, love you, baby,” Tucker chanted, pounding into Frank. “Would make you feel so good— if you just— let me!” he cried, cock twitching as he filled the condom with cum.

He continued to thrust gently as he rode out his orgasm, fucking into Frank to the point of overstimulation. He didn’t want to move, but his cock softened, practically slipping out of Frank on its own.

Tucker sniffled, mouthing at Frank’s collarbones, the ‘hope’ tattoo above his nipple. He wanted to get closer, for Frank to wrap his arms around his neck and pull him in for a sweet kiss.

But Frank was still fully unconscious, chest rising and falling as the alcohol kept him sedated.

Tucker pressed a kiss to Frank’s slack mouth. “You’re mine now, baby, all mine.”

Chapter Text

August 9th, 2025 East Rutherford, New Jersey

Frank tried to ignore the pit in his stomach. He had gone through his toolbox of coping skills– breathing, counting backwards, an ice pack on the back of his neck. There were still a few hours before the show and he really didn’t know how he was going to get through it.

It was the biggest show of their career. They’d played Madison Square Garden, Dodger’s Stadium, a 100,000 cap venue in the Philippines. But this was the hometown show.

Yeah, he was going to throw up.

He raced to the bathroom at the back of the green room, launching himself onto his knees over the toilet just before hurling. There was hardly anything in his stomach, so it was mostly liquid and tasted like bitter bile.

“Frank?” Mikey hovered in the doorway, concerned, but keeping his distance. “What do you need?”

“Tucker.” Frank coughed and another wave of nausea hit him.

Mikey frowned, confused, but went to retrieve Tucker anyway.

Frank continued to dry heave over the toilet until the drummer arrived. A warm hand was suddenly on his back and he felt more grounded, less swimmy in his thoughts.

“I’m here,” Tucker whispered, sitting down behind Frank on the tile floor of the bathroom.

Frank leaned back into him, grabbing blindly at his clothes. The older man was already in his show outfit, ripped up tank top and cuffed black jeans that had seen so many wears they were soft like sweatpants. The guitarist melted into the feeling of his long time friend, the security his presence provided. Tucker’s legs wrapped around him and pulled him close, settling against his chest.

“What’s wrong?” Tucker asked.

“Nervous,” Frank replied, eyes closed as he focused on Tucker’s warm body against his back.

“Okay, I’ve got you now.” Tucker nestled a kiss into Frank's hair, just above his ear. “Did you take your meds?”

Frank shook his head, unable to muster the energy to think about moving. His stomach still hurt and he was sweating, but also shivering.

“Can I go get them for you?” Tucker asked, hesitantly.

Frank whined, gripping Tucker’s leg. He did not want to be left alone, not when he felt like he was going to float away at a moment’s notice.

“Give me a minute okay.” Tucker shuffled to retrieve his phone from his back pocket. Frank gripped him harder, fearful of losing the grounding presence. “I’m not going anywhere– I’m just having Mikey get your bag.”

“Okay.” Frank’s voice was shaky and soft as he breathed deeply, methodically.

The guitarist barely noticed when Mikey arrived, only perceiving Tucker’s comforting voice. He assured Mikey that Frank would be okay, that he just needed a few minutes alone. The door clicked as Mikey closed it behind him.

Frank felt Tucker’s fingers at his lips and sighed, knowing the relief would only take about five minutes.

“It’s just half a tab, right?” Tucker asked, pressing the tablet to Frank’s mouth.

Frank nodded and let Tucker’s digits slip past his lips to place the medicine under his tongue. The two men sat silent on the floor as the tablet dissolved.

Frank felt it the instant it hit his bloodstream. His body relaxed further into the older man and his breathing slowed.

“Better?” Tucker asked, warm breath dusting Frank’s cheek as he nuzzled closer.

“Mmm,” Frank responded, eyes still closed. He wanted to stay in the comforting space of warmth and darkness for a little longer.

“Do you need me to stay?”

Frank gripped Tucker’s jeans in response.

“What’s wrong?”

Now that his nervous system wasn’t on high alert, he could voice his anxiety. “It’s our most important show ever, Tuck, I can’t fuck this up.”

“You never would,” Tucker assured. “You’re always perfect.”

Frank whined, wanting to disagree, but his dick was already responding to the warm body behind him, Tucker’s cock pressed against his back. He liked the floaty feeling the medicine gave him, different from the anxiety dissociation. It took his control away, but in a gentle way, the chemicals mimicking the feeling of subspace.

“You are the most talented musician I have ever worked with,” Tucker reminded him. “I never want to be in another band without you either.” That was a slight lie– he was about to play for the stadium with his first band, but Tucker couldn't exactly kick Norman out so Frank could join. But he would– if Frank asked.

Frank whimpered, the words of praise going directly to his cock.

“Aw, is that getting you hard, sweetheart?” Tucker teased, gently.

“You know it always fucking does,” Frank countered, pressing his head back into Tucker’s chest. “Come on, you don’t have much time before you go on.”

It was nothing new, the two of them on the floor, or a couch, or pressed up against a wall before or after a show. It calmed Frank, grounded him in a different way than the medication did.

“Plenty of time for you.” Tucker’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of Frank’s sweatpants, underneath his underwear. Unceremoniously, he pulled Frank’s cock out, settling the warm appendage on the outside of his pants.

“See, baby, feeling better already.” Tucker said, kissing Frank’s temple. He breathed in the scent of the younger man’s freshly shampooed hair, feeling a pang of arousal in his own gut. He loved his friends so much.

The pit in Frank’s stomach was barely noticeable at that point. All he could feel was Tucker— his hands, his strong arms, warm legs wrapped around his body.

“Tuck.” Frank bit his lip in an attempt to keep quiet, but he never was one for being good at that.

Frank’s needy moans were getting the drummer aroused, but it wasn’t about him. Besides, Geoff would be waiting for him after the set, ready to fall to his knees and thank Tucker for a show well done.

“Come on, baby, let it out.” Tucker knew the release of endorphins would further calm Frank’s panic. After, he could get a quick cat nap on the green room couch while the openers played and be relaxed and rested for their set.

Frank whimpered, his voice pitching higher, but restrained. He liked that his other bandmates were on the other side of the door– knew what they were doing in there. It took the focus away from his dread. Yes, this was a good way to not be in control. Tucker would take care of him.

Tucker always did. Since the beginning, the older man had been there supporting Frank in whatever endeavor he was involved in. While others went in and out— Gerard when he was too busy, Anthony when he was struggling with addiction— Tucker was a constant.

“That’s it.” Tucker coaxed, thumbing the slit of Frank’s cock to spread the precum beading at the surface.

Frank nearly choked on the moan that came from deep in his throat as the action sent a jolt down his spine. His back arched, pushing up into Tucker’s hand, trying desperately to fuck his fist.

“Are you gonna come for me?”

Frank gripped at Tucker’s shoulder, his wrist twisting uncomfortably. He would have to ice it later, but he didn't care. He was always sore after a show– this would be no different.

“Love when you come for me,” he continued, nibbling at Frank’s ear.

“Me— too—“ Frank bit his lip so hard he felt it nearly split. “Tucker, please.”

“Use your words, baby.”

Frank desperately wanted to ask for a kiss, but chunks of vomit still clung to his teeth. He also didn’t want to get up to rinse his mouth, pausing the hand rubbing up and down his cock. No, that was too good. Frustrated, he just squirmed against Tucker’s chest.

Tucker knew what he wanted, always did. With his free hand, he gripped Frank’s chin, twisting his neck around. Frank whined, his unfocused pupils blown wide as he looked at the older man.

Fingers dug into Frank’s jaw, not hard enough to leave a bruise— to Frank’s dismay. The guitarist was about to protest when Tucker captured his lips in an open mouth kiss.

Tucker could taste the vomit on his tongue, the sandwiches they’d eaten earlier that Frank’s stomach had rejected in his panic. He didn’t care. He knew nothing got Frank off faster than being manhandled and having a tongue shoved in his mouth.

Frank mewled into Tucker’s mouth, feeling like jelly in his strong hands. His hips bucked once again with a jolt of pleasure as Tucker squeezed at the tip of his cock. Another stroke and he was seeing stars.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” Tucker breathed into Frank’s open mouth. He watched in awe as Frank’s cock exploded with a volcano of cum.

The younger man squirmed as his cock quickly grew overstimulated. He desperately needed to rinse his mouth out and take another shower.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Tucker suggested.

Frank sighed, “Tuck, thank you.”

“I am always here when you call for me.”

Frank knew how true that statement was.

Chapter Text

July 26th, 2025 Los Angeles, California

All Frank wanted was a little affection. A small gesture to show him Gerard still cared. The older man couldn’t even manage that.

So when he walked into the green room and into Tucker’s arms, he was surprised that Gerard even noticed.

It was subtle– a raised eyebrow, a side glance. Just enough to alert Frank that he’d noticed their embrace.

Once they were all showered and changed into more comfortable clothes, Frank collapsed on a couch in one of the more secluded areas off the main locker room. He needed a moment of silence. And he needed to check in with his other friends.

Anthony and Geoff were in Florida that night and it was even later there due to the time difference. But knowing Anthony, he would be awake. The younger man seemed to survive on just a few short hours of rest on tour, the energy and excitement of being on the road the recharge his brain needed.

His FaceTime call was only on the second ring before it was answered.

“Francis!” Anthony appeared on Frank’s phone screen. He looked comfy in an oversized black hoodie and his clear glasses. Frank could see a small lump of blond hair sticking out of the covers next to him.

“Hi.” Frank relaxed as soon as he saw Anthony. “Where are you guys?”

“State wise? I think we just crossed into Georgia. Bus wise? Chilling in the back lounge. Geoffrey fell asleep on me,” Anthony explained, pointing the phone down so Frank could see the arm thrown across Anthony’s lap.

“Did not.” Geoff’s terse reply was muffled by the blanket covering his face.

“Where are you?” Anthony asked.

“We’re still at the stadium. Be here a few more hours. I just needed a quiet room to decompress in,” Frank explained.

Anthony pursed his lips. “Are you okay?”

Frank sighed. “I’m fine, just— you know how Gee is.”

Anthony nodded. They’d been over it multiple times. Where Gerard refused to show Frank affection, Anthony dripped with it. They were polar opposites in many ways.

“Where’s my drummer?” Geoff emerged from under the blanket, rubbing sleep from his eyes and groping around the couch for his discarded glasses.

Frank swiped up on the FaceTime call, minimizing the video. He flicked over to his messages to locate Tucker.

Your singer wants you.

Which one

You know which one.

B there in a min

Tucker entered the room about thirty seconds later. Frank snickered. He came running faster for Geoff than he did for his own wife.

“Where’s Geoffrey?” Tucker demanded, plopping down on the couch and putting Frank’s legs in his lap.

The phone was snatched from Frank’s hand when Tucker heard Geoff’s chuckle.

“Hi, puppy.” Tucker’s greeting oozed with affection.

Frank rolled his eyes and made a gagging motion at the older man.

“Hi, Tuck, you being good?” Geoff asked.

“I’m always good!” Tucker replied, offended at the insinuation.

Geoff chuckled. “Just checking to see how you were doing without a handler.”

Frank could hear the smile in Geoff’s voice. They were sickening sometimes. The guitarist kicked Tucker’s arm, jostling the phone around. “Give me my phone back.”

Tucker groaned, handing the phone back to Frank. “Fine, I have better things to do anyway.”

“Hey, don’t leave now!” Geoff protested. “You guys can’t go for a few hours anyway. Why don’t we have some fun?”

Frank and Tucker exchanged looks. They had seen the fuckery that Geoff and Anthony had been getting up to so far on their own tour.

“Ooooh, I like where this is going.” Anthony chimed in, poking his head back into frame.

Tucker’s eyes narrowed. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, Tucker, I found myself really missing you earlier…” Geoff started.

Comprehension dawned on Tucker’s face. “Are you trying to phone sex me through Frank?”

“I was hoping maybe Frank could help you,” Geoff stated.

Anthony’s whine reverberated through the phone.

Tucker looked at Frank, timidly. The other man shrugged.

“I’ll tell Frankie what you like, Tuck,” Geoff offered.

“He knows what I like.” Tucker insisted.

Geoff groaned. “You’re not good at this.”

“I’m a forty-seven year old man, of course I’m not good at phone sex!”

“Frank, shut him up,” Geoff demanded.

Frank giggled and threw his legs off Tucker’s lap to stand. He settled his phone on the coffee table in front of them, making sure the whole couch was in view. Once he was sure the frame was right, he strode back to the couch, slipped off his t-shirt and settled into Tucker’s lap.

Tucker was already flushed from Geoff’s teasing and his lips were warm as Frank captured them in a chaste kiss.

“Oh, yeah,” Anthony whined.

Frank smiled against Tucker’s lips. Anthony was such a little voyeur. Sometimes he liked watching better than actually participating. The guitarist was determined to put on a good show for him.

“Tucker, he likes to have his hair pulled.” Anthony offered.

“He knows that,” Frank interjected, leaning back on the couch and pulling at Tucker’s shirt. “Come on, Anthony, you can do better than that.”

Anthony huffed. “He likes to be slapped. Hard. And not just on the face.”

“That’s more like it,” Frank groaned, spreading his legs so Tucker could settle between them.

“Let’s get these off and see what we’re working with.” Tucker gestured for Frank to remove his sweatpants.

The two men did an awkward dance as they shed Frank of his remaining clothing. He was hard just from the talk. The tip of his cock slapped wetly against his belly in the rustling, leaving a smack of precum on his skin.

Tucker shuffled, pushing a lock of damp hair behind his ear. “What else does he like?”

“He likes to be overstimulated,” Anthony started. “You gotta play with his dick and his tits at the same time.”

Tucker could do that.

“Also,” Anthony added. “I wouldn’t mind seeing him bruised up a bit.”

“Pain slut,” Tucker muttered, grabbing Frank’s cock roughly.

Frank yelped, but didn’t deny it. He never denied Anthony anything and by proxy, Tucker could have whatever he wanted that night.

“Fuck yeah,” Anthony sighed.

Frank glanced over at the phone and could see Anthony’s hand in his sweatpants, palming himself as he watched Tucker work the guitarist. He had placed his iPad on the table and motioned for Geoff to come closer.

“Tucker? What does Geoff like?” Anthony asked, running his free hand through Geoff’s hair.

Tucker thought for a moment. The other singer was pretty vanilla, at least compared to Frank. “He just likes to be kissed while you jerk him off.”

Geoff whined. “You make me sound so boring.”

“Not boring,” Anthony added. “Just sweet.”

Frank could hear them kissing, but couldn’t focus on anything other than Tucker’s teeth, suddenly latched onto his right nipple.

“Fuck,” Anthony swore between kisses. “Pretty Frankie.”

Tucker bit down on Frank’s nipple. At the same time, he twisted Frank’s dick just slightly, pinching his skin a bit. The sound that came from Frank was like nothing Tucker had ever heard.

“Tucker— ah— do that again!” Frank begged.

“You really are a pain slut,” Tucker murmured against Frank’s wet nipple.

“Told ya,” Anthony echoed. “Come on Geoffy, look how Tuck is hurting Frankie.”

“Are you sure he’s okay?” Geoff asked in wonder.

“He can take it,” Anthony promised. “He’s a good boy.”

Frank cried out. The sensation of Tucker pulling at his skin and Anthony calling him a good boy was too much. The other man was right— he loved to be overstimulated. Pushed to the brink before tipping over the edge. He loved to come so hard it almost hurt.

“Tucker— fucking— slap me.” Frank begged.

Tucker obliged, gripping Frank’s chin before pulling back and landing a firm slap on his right cheek. He rubbed at the area, encouraging redness to blossom.

“Do that again,” Anthony demanded.

Tucker landed another slap, this time on Frank’s other cheek. The guitarist’s hips bucked up into his fist, fucking himself on the warm grip.

“Fuck,” Frank breathed. “Fucking— fuck me.”

Tucker smiled. Frank seemed to forget most words except ‘fuck’ when they were fooling around. “Don’t have the supplies, babe.”

“You better fuck me later then,” Frank demanded.

“That’s a big ask for such a submissive boy,” Tucker noted, gripping the base of Frank’s cock a little too hard once again.

Frank dissolved into nothing but a puddle of grunts and moans, a thin trail of drool forming at the corner of his open mouth. Tucker knew he looked good with a mouth full of cock, but it wasn’t the time. He had a show to put on for his other bandmates.

They seemed distracted, however. Tucker glanced at the phone to see the other two half out of frame, Geoff on top of Anthony as they sloppily kissed. The drummer knew Geoff would get off just from humping Anthony’s leg and having a tongue in his mouth.

God, he missed Geoff.

Of course, that was the moment Gerard decided to throw the door open, not even bothering with a courtesy knock.

“Hey guys— oh god sorry!” He flailed around trying to cover his eyes, but not really trying.

“Get out!” Frank shouted, pulling Tucker down on top of him as a shield.

Tucker let out a grunt as he tried to reach for Frank’s pants and failed. Instead, his full weight collapsed on top of Frank.

Tucker dissolved in a fit of giggles as soon as Gerard slammed the door shut.

Frank, however, was less amused.

“Fucking Gerard, always sticking his nose in my business, even after all these years—“ he pushed Tucker off of him and reached for his own clothing. “Fucking ignores me in public and then expects to enjoy me in private.”

“Frank,” Tucker reached for the guitarist.

“Don’t—“

“Do you still want me to fuck you later?” Tucker grinned.

Frank pouted, snatching his phone off the table and ending the call with the other men. Tucker was about to protest and insist he call back so they could at least watch Geoff get off when Frank’s scowl turned into a blush.

“Maybe,” he muttered, shoving his phone into his pocket.

Yeah, Tucker always knew how to make Frank feel better.

Chapter Text

Anthony was nervous. Frank could tell by the way he walked into the front lounge, picking at his fingernails. He came to a halt between Travis who sat on the end of the couch, and Tucker who was seated at the table with Frank.

“I wanna show you guys something.” Anthony’s voice was soft as he tried to sink down into his oversized hoodie.

Tim looked up from his tablet on the other side of the couch, killing time with a book before load-in that afternoon

“But you guys can’t laugh,” Anthony added.

Frank’s brow furrowed. “We would never actually laugh at you, Ant.”

“Yeah, but– maybe this time, you might.” Anthony reasoned.

“You can show us,” Tucker said, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on Anthony’s back. He knew how self conscious Anthony was. Tucker knew how much Anthony looked up to all of them and didn’t think he was worthy of being in a band with them, even after all those years.

“Okay,” Anthony relented. “Give me a minute.”

The other men exchanged puzzled looks as Anthony disappeared into the bunk area. There was a rustling and a few minutes later Anthony reappeared in— a dress.

It wasn’t just a dress though. It was a pretty blue a-line dress with a white underskirt. It fit him like a glove, even on his flat chest. His nipples were just covered by the bodice which laced in the front.

Travis gasped. Frank and Tucker looked unphased, but interested. Tim just looked up and sighed.

“I know where this is going,” the bassist groaned, closing the cover of his tablet.

Frank hit him on the arm. “Don’t be mean!”

“Not mean, just not interested in whatever the fuck this is. I’ll see you guys later.”

“Tim, wait.” Frank’s hand reached for the bassist, stopping him from grabbing his bag and exiting the bus.

Anthony frowned. Of course Tim didn’t like it. He liked Anthony in boy clothes and probably thought it was weird when he wore feminine things. Just like his wife had said. It was a stupid idea and he looked stupid and he should just—

“Hey,” Tucker’s voice broke the silence and Anthony realized there were tears streaming down his cheeks.

The singer looked up to see his bandmates focused on him with looks of pity. Or maybe it was kindness. Anthony had never been good at identifying facial expressions.

“Anthony,” Tim sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Anthony sniffled, hanging his head. He felt Tucker’s arms wrap around his bare shoulders, a shiver going up his back at the feeling of his friend’s calloused hands.

“It’s pretty,” Tucker said. “Really, it looks nice on you.”

“You think so?” Anthony asked, shyly.

Travis, who hadn’t spoken to the entire time, just sat on the couch opening and closing his mouth like he wanted to say something, then thought better of it.

“Tell him you’re sorry,” Tucker demanded.

Tim grimaced, but did it anyway. “I’m sorry, Anthony.” To get his point across, he placed a kiss on the singer’s forehead. “I just know where this is going and I’m not in the mood. I will see you later, okay?”

Anthony nodded. Tim had to be relaxed to get into sex, and he was constantly stressed on tour, so it didn’t often happen.

The other men, however, were intrigued.

Once Tim exited the bus, Frank rose to stand next to Tucker.

“It really is pretty, Anthony.” Frank echoed the drummer's sentiment, eyes grazing past Anthony’s chest, down his skirt and over his bare legs.

Anthony turned his gaze to Travis, who had yet to say a word. Out of all his bandmates, the other guitarist was the one he’d had the least experience with. They’d kissed a few times in their post set high, but that was it.

“Trav?” Anthony asked, shyly.

Travis hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing. “It’s— you look very pretty, Anthony.”

Anthony’s cheeks warmed, happy to impress all his bandmates.

“Yeah, fuck it, you look good,” Travis said, more confidently that time. “Come here.”

Anthony was more than happy to oblige. He was about to take a seat next to Travis on the couch, but he patted his lap instead. “I meant here.”

“Oh,” Anthony giggled. “Okay.” And he adjusted his fluffy skirt to blanket Travis’ thighs as he straddled the other man.

“We, uh, could get going, too?” The statement from Frank was more like a question.

Anthony craned his neck to look at the other two. “No, you should stay.”

Travis’ lap was warm and comfy as Anthony settled on top of him. He could feel the other man’s cock growing interested beneath his jeans. He also really wanted to show Travis what he had under the skirt.

“What do you have under there, cutie?” Travis asked, his hands resting on Anthony’s slim hips.

Anthony giggled as if Travis could read his mind. “Not much, just some panties.”

Travis inhaled. “Can I see?”

“Of course.” Anthony lifted the front of his skirt to reveal the soft blue panties, a nice complimentary shade to the dress.

“Very pretty,” Travis murmured, dragging a finger along the top of the underwear, just above Anthony’s cock.

Anthony whined, his hips gyrating involuntarily.

“You gonna give me a lap dance, pretty girl?” Travis teased.

“Yeah,” Anthony affirmed, swirling his hips so the small bump of his cock rubbed against Travis’ much more substantial bulge. “Want me to strip for you, too?”

“No.” The guitarist’s hand flew to Anthony’s shoulder, fingering the thin strap at his bony collar. “Keep it on.”

Anthony bit his lip. There was something even more erotic about getting off fully clothed. He also liked how small he felt on top of Travis. It made him feel so feminine. His cheeks became hot thinking about being treated like a dainty little girl, thrown around and fucked, his hair pulled while fingers were shoved in his mouth.

As if reading his mind, the other two came up behind him. He had almost forgotten they were still there. But then there was a hand around his neck and another in his hair. His head was pulled back and he made eye contact with Tucker.

“This what you want, baby?” Tucker asked. “All our hands on you at the same time?”

“Yes, please,” Anthony whined, but remembered his manners.

Frank was glad to oblige his other desire, his thick fingers dancing up the singer’s neck, chin, tracing his cheeks before penetrating his lips.

Anthony moaned around Frank’s fingers. He liked Frankie’s calloused fingers in his mouth, Tucker’s skilled hands tugging in his hair. And then there was Travis. Mysterious Travis, who was always the most restrained of the five, perhaps the odd one out.

Travis’ fingers, much less inked than Frank’s, massaged at the front of the singer’s panties, encouraging a wet spot of precum to blossom.

“You gonna come just from me rubbing your clit?” Travis murmured, seemingly mesmerized by the speed at which Anthony crumbled under their hands.

Anthony whined around Frank’s fingers, gently biting down. The fingers retreated and traced gentle circles over his cheek. Idly, he wondered what it would be like for Travis to call him a more feminine name, Annie perhaps.

“Come on, sweet girl, get those pretty little panties messy for us.” Tucker coaxed, pushing Anthony’s face forward so he made eye contact with Travis.

Travis wore a look of intense concentration, brows creased as he rubbed his fingers over the front of Anthony’s panties. He worked to establish a rhythm that would send Anthony screaming over the edge.

“Trav!” Anthony moaned, his head falling forward onto the other man’s shoulder. He could feel Tucker’s hands on his back, holding him steady. He didn’t know where Frank had gone.

“Good girl, you can do it.” Travis encouraged as he continued his assault on Anthony’s cock.

“Show Travis how much you can come, baby.” Frank’s breath was in his ear and that’s all it took to send Anthony over the edge, soiling his pretty panties with hot cum.

“Look at you,” Travis said. “Pussy all wet for me.”

Anthony groaned and if he hadn’t just come, he could have gone another round off that comment alone.

“Isn’t he so good?” Tucker asked.

“Been waiting for him to do something,” Travis admitted.

“Didn’t know if you wanted it,” Anthony said, letting his weight relax into Travis’ strong chest.

“Didn’t know how to tell you I wanted it.”

Anthony giggled. Of course, it was the dress that pushed the other man overboard. It always was. It’s how he and Brendan had started, then Frank.

“So,” Travis started. “What other outfits do you have?”

Chapter Text

August 15th, 2025 Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

“You’re such a fucking prick.”

“Right back at you, motherfucker.”

Gerard had Anthony pressed up against a wall in the Phillies locker room. The two men were spitting insults at each other as Frank watched on.

It started with a comment, innocent on Anthony’s side, about how Frank had upgraded to a better Aries lead singer. Gerard had not found it amusing.

“Guys, stop it! This is ridiculous!” Frank tried to push his way between them, but he wasn’t strong enough.

“Stay out of this, Frank,” Gerard growled.

“Don’t tell him what to do!” Anthony countered.

Gerard jerked Anthony against the wall, their bodies pressed together. “I will do whatever I damn well please. This is my tour, with my band, my Frank.”

Anthony saw red at that comment. He had been there for enough of Frank’s breakdowns over the years to let that slide.

“I’ll show you how much better I am than you.” Anthony grabbed Gerard’s cock through his pants with a growl.

Gerard froze, his face going slack. He was hard in his jeans and there was no hiding it. Conflict made Anthony horny. Apparently, it had the same effect on Gerard.

The older man grabbed Anthony by the front of his shirt and smashed their lips together.

Frank groaned and Anthony could practically hear the eye roll in his voice. “You guys are fucking ridiculous.”

Gerard pulled back just enough to whisper against Anthony’s lips, “Let’s take this somewhere else.”

Anthony nodded, letting himself be dragged to a smaller room with a door, throwing Frank an apologetic glance. The guitarist waved them off, knowing better than to try to stop them now. He knew how they both were separately– he could only imagine them going at each other.

Gerard threw Anthony onto the couch like a ragdoll once the door clicked shut behind them. The younger man didn’t get much of a chance to look around the room before Gerard was manhandling the zipper of his pants.

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” Gerard started. “I mean what the fuck, Anthony? I’ve known him for so much longer.”

“Doesn’t means shit—“ Anthony yelped as a hand snaked into his underwear, grazing the top of his cock. “You don’t get to just jerk him around like you do.”

Gerard chuckled. “How about I jerk you around instead?”

Anthony growled, but his hips told a different story, bucking up to try to get contact with Gerard’s fingers dancing at the edge of his underwear.

Gerard had mercy and pulled his cock out. He laughed at what he saw. “Look at this fucking baby carrot. You can’t do shit with this pathetic excuse for a cock.”

Anthony’s face flushed. He knew he had a small cock, but he knew how to use it. “I’ll show you what I can do with my mouth.”

Gerard raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, bet you don’t even suck cock, you closeted prick,” Anthony taunted.

Gerard’s lip twitched and he grabbed Anthony by the shoulder, forcing him off the couch, and throwing him to the floor where he landed on his knees.

“At least I can admit what I like,” Anthony said.

“Since you love cock so much, you’ll love this,” Gerard promised, working the zipper of his jeans.

He pulled himself out and Anthony had to admit he was impressed at what he saw. It was a far cry from his own underwhelming cock.

“Maybe,” Anthony mused, feigning boredom as he sat back on his haunches. His own cock was still out so he jerked himself a few times. He was a bit of a grower, but not much. Gerard wouldn’t know it, but he did like to be cock shamed.

“I think I’m going to like you better with a cock in your mouth,” Gerard growled, palming himself a few times.

“And I liked you better when you were out of Frank’s life,” Anthony countered, wrapping his long fingers around Gerard’s length. He licked his lips and spit onto the tip.

“I’m always in the back of Frank’s mind and you know it.”

Anthony snarled around the cock in his mouth. He was tempted to bite down on Gerard, teach him a lesson. Unfortunately, the older man was correct— Anthony did love having a cock in his mouth.

The younger singer quickly figured out that a mouth wasn’t enough for Gerard’s length. Reluctantly, he let go of his own cock, using one hand to grip the base and the other Gerard’s thigh as an anchor.

“Yeah, put that mouth to good use.” Gerard’s fingers snaked through Anthony’s sweaty hair. “Since it’s not good for singing.”

Anthony grunted, trying to pull away to retort, but Gerard’s hand held him steady.

“You should hear the way Frank talks about you,” Gerard started. “It’s pathetic really.”

Anthony bobbed harder on the older man’s cock, determined to finish him quickly so he didn’t have to hear his bullshit.

“Anthony did this, Anthony said that, isn’t Anthony so funny? Grow up.” Gerard rolled his eyes.

Anthony inhaled through his nose and then throated Gerard’s cock as deep as he could take it, swallowing around the tip. Tears sprouted at the corner of his eyes as his gag reflex triggered, but he kept going. Gerard had never been quiet about having a vomit kink anyway.

“Fuck!” Gerard swore, caught off guard by Anthony’s intensity. “Goddamn, you take cock like a pro. You aren’t a pro are you? I’m not paying you for this.”

Anthony pinched the skin of Gerard’s thigh, just enough to make him jerk. A moment later, the older man was coming down Anthony’s throat. He was tempted to spit into his hand and smear it on Gerard’s pants, but he figured that would be a bit too rude, even for the situation, so he swallowed the bitter taste, wishing he had an apple juice handy.

“Shit, I get why Frank is so obsessed with you.” Gerard noted, zipping himself back in his jeans and adjusting his shirt.

Anthony looked up at Gerard desperately, cock still hanging out of his pants, lips coated in semen.

“You didn’t think I was going to return the favor, did you?” Gerard laughed, patting Anthony on the head. “Oh, that’s cute.”

Anthony whined as Gerard turned to exit the room.

“Don’t worry, I’ll send Frank in to retrieve your pathetic ass.”

Chapter Text

“God, he looks pretty.”

“Don’t be so desperate.”

“Not all of us can be calm around a naked, willing body.”

“Well get over yourself.”

Tucker and Tim’s voices were muted, like they were standing on the other side of the room. Anthony didn’t know where they were. He didn’t know how long he’d been laying there on the hotel bed, all four limbs spread and restrained with satin ties, blindfold covering his eyes, and cock straining against the cage they had him in. He could only get half hard against the metal and even then, it was uncomfortable.

“Do you want to start or should I?”

“Go ahead, since you’re so obsessed with him.”

“Oh shut up, like you’re not also rock hard right now.”

The bed shifted under the weight of one of the men. Anthony didn’t know who it was until he felt calloused palms on his thighs, spreading his legs even more to expose his slick, prepped entrance.

Tucker. The singer breathed a sigh of relief. Tucker was always more gentle. Tucker would let him out and allow him to come finally.

Anthony moaned, unsure if he was allowed to speak.

Tucker took mercy on him and removed the blindfold.

Anthony blinked rapidly, adjusting to the dim light of the hotel room. Tucker hovered above him while Tim stood at the end of the bed, observing. Both men were naked and hard. Tucker’s lips were bright pink like they’d been making out. Anthony was so jealous. He wanted a kiss, too.

“There you are, sweetheart.” Tucker smiled, cupping Anthony’s warm cheek. “You’re allowed to speak.”

“Let me out, please.” Anthony strained at the ties on his wrists.

“No, I don’t think so, baby.” Tucker shook his head. “We have to get you good and fucked first.”

Anthony felt tears at the corner of his eyes. They had been teasing him all day, hinting at what their plan was.

“We’re only doing this because you can’t be trusted not to come,” Tim stated.

“Yeah, baby, you’re too greedy,” Tucker added. “Only good boys get to come.”

“I’m a good boy!” Anthony exclaimed, his feet wiggling as he tried to remain still.

“You have to prove it to us, honey.” Tucker’s words were calming, but his tone remained firm.

“I will, I’ll show you I can be good!” Anthony promised.

“Okay, baby, just a little longer, okay? Tim and I are gonna fuck you a bit first.”

Anthony nodded, watching as Tucker lined up his cock. The singer held back a groan as Tucker breached his entrance, gently until he was balls deep inside Anthony.

“Good boy.” The words of praise went directly to the singer’s cock, painfully twitching inside the restraint.

Anthony bit his tongue to keep himself from moaning loudly. He was going to keep being good for Tucker. He could get through it with the drummer and then Tim wouldn’t be too far behind and then he could finally be let out and allowed his release.

Tim stood stoically, silently judging the scene. He wouldn’t be as kind to the younger man, but he figured Anthony deserved to be eased into it.

Tucker fucked away at Anthony’s hole, letting his gasps and moans fill the air. Anthony could do nothing but lay there, jiggled slightly by the movement of Tucker’s hips.

The drummer didn’t want to come just, yet but he was approaching the edge. Begrudgingly, he eased his hard cock out of Anthony and breathed a deep breath.

“I’m gonna take a break and Tim is gonna take over okay, baby?” Tucker asked.

Anthony just nodded, not trusting his own voice.

The two men moved to switch places, Tim not saying a word to Anthony as he rubbed his cock head on the wet hole, lubing up his length. Then he was pushing in, much more aggressively than Tucker and with no ceremony.

Anthony groaned, wishing his hands were free so he could bite at his forearms, something to relieve the overstimulation of the other men’s cocks.

“Look at me when I’m fucking you.” Tim demanded, gripping Anthony’s face and forcing him to look directly at him.

The bassist knew how hard it was for Anthony to maintain eye contact on a normal day and double so when he was overstimulated. But this was a punishment, not the coddling that Tucker seemed to think it was.

“Hey.” Tim accented his word with a slap to Anthony’s cheek. “Don’t make me get the flogger out.”

Anthony whined, his hips bucking upward involuntarily. The threat of the flogger when he was so overstimulated, spread and restrained so he couldn’t squirm away from the impact— it was almost too much.

“Yellow.” Anthony whimpered, shying away from Tim’s gaze.

Tim froze. “Which part?”

“Can’t look at you,” Anthony admitted, his voice small. “Too much.”

“Okay, thank you for telling me.” Tim said, his eyes melting into a more gentle gaze. “Do you want to continue?”

“Yeah, just don’t want to do eye contact if I don’t have to.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Anthony,” the bassist reassured him. “You are in control here.”

It didn’t seem like it. But that’s what Anthony liked.

“Keep going, please.” Anthony requested. “Sir,” he added.

“That’s more like it.” Tim grinned and continued his assault on Anthony’s hole. He fucked so deep and hard, the tip of his cock was brushing against Anthony’s prostate with every thrust.

“Tim— I mean sir!” Anthony caught himself slip, but not in time.

Tim’s hips stuttered and stopped. Anthony could feel the penetrating glare and couldn’t look away from the ceiling.

“Tucker? Hand me the flogger.”

Anthony whined as Tucker obediently passed the flogger to Tim, who grabbed it and tested it out with a few light slaps on his own inner arm. He always liked a reminder of what it felt like to be the bottom, though he never did it himself.

“Color?” Tim asked.

“Green,” Anthony replied breathlessly.

Tim’s cock was still nestled deep inside him as the first slap of the worn leather came down on his lower belly.

“Ah! Thank you— sir!” Anthony cried as the sting sent buzzing up and down his spine.

Tim rewarded him with another slap, this time to his chest. Anthony whined as the leather slapped his nipples, then dragged over them as Tim pulled away.

“Have you learned your lesson yet?” Tim asked.

“Yes, sir, I’ll be good,” Anthony breathed, letting his eyelids flutter shut as Tim put the flogger to the side.

“I can’t decide if I want to come inside you or on you.” Tim mused. “Perhaps I’ll let you decide.”

“On my tummy, please, sir,” Anthony requested. As much as he liked to be filled, he also liked when Tim marked him like that. Besides, Tucker still had to finish. One bandmate for inside, one for outside.

“I’ll allow it.” Tim said, pulling his cock from Anthony’s slick hole and gripping himself in hand. “Gonna be pretty for me so I can come?”

Anthony’s eyes softened and he licked his lips. He knew how Tim liked him— satisfied and fucked out. His cock was straining at the cage painfully, but he did his best to look like the perfect submissive for Tim.

“You’re doing so good, baby.” Tucker was at Anthony’s head, his palm cupping his cheek.

“You’re too gentle with him,” Tim scolded. “He can take it harder than that.”

“We’re can’t all be hard doms like you, Timothy.” Tucker chided.

Tim responded by slapping his dick on Anthony’s belly, eliciting a whine from the younger man.

“Fuck—“ Tim’s chin fell forward into his chest and he was coming all over Anthony’s abdomen. “Good boy.”

“See, you can be sweet, too.” Tucker smiled, petting Anthony’s hair as he looked into his eyes, clouded from subspace.

Tim got off the bed to retrieve a washcloth. He sat on the chair in the corner and wiped the lube from himself. “Well? You can continue.”

Tucker obliged, mounting the bed once again. “You ready, baby?”

“Mhm,” Anthony whined, squirming at the restraints. He wanted so badly to reach out and graze Tucker’s cheek, lace their fingers together.

Tucker entered the younger man with an exhaled breath.

“Tuck, please!” Anthony begged.

“Not yet, baby, I gotta finish first and then we’ll take care of you.”

Anthony nodded, his head rolling to the side. He tried desperately to reach skin, just a small nip on his shoulder or arm to curb the overstimulation.

“Almost there, promise.” Tucker’s thrusts became more erratic. “Want me to finish inside?”

“Yes, please.” If he couldn’t come, at least he could feel how good he made Tucker feel.

Tucker let himself fall over the edge, his cock pulsing inside Anthony. The younger man felt warmth fill him— physically and emotionally. Tucker was so good to him. Tim kept him in line, but Tucker was gentle with him.

“Good job, baby.” Tucker said, his head dipping to place a kiss in the middle of the younger man’s chest.

Anthony squirmed, trying to push up into Tucker’s touch, but he was gone— off the bed in an instant. Tim was back, fiddling with the cage.

“All right, your turn, brat.” Tim said, unlocking the cage and throwing it to the side. “Since you wanted to come so bad, you’re going to come until you can’t anymore.”

Anthony gasped and pulled at the restraints as Tim gripped his cock roughly and started jerking him. It didn’t take much for Anthony to see stars, ribbons of come spilling through Tim’s fingers.

Tim gave him about thirty seconds to recover before he was gripping his cock again.

Anthony’s body jerked involuntarily, trying to get away from the overstimulation. But Tim was on top of him and his limbs were restrained. He couldn’t do anything except lay there and take it.

“Thank you, sir!” Anthony cried as the bassist jerked him through another orgasm, more cum spilling out onto his belly, mixing with Tim’s own.

“How many times do you think I can make him come?” Tim looked over his shoulder at Tucker who had taken a seat at the edge of the bed.

“I don’t know,” Tucker said, concern in his voice. “It looks painful.”

“He can take it,” Tim assured him. “You coddle him, call him baby boy. Really he’s just a whore who needs to be used.”

Anthony wiggled around, trying to loosen the restraints. He had to bite himself or he was going to have a meltdown.

“Tucker, hold his arms.”

“No!” Anthony cried.

Tim paused, giving him the opportunity to safe word. Anthony refused.

Tim motioned for Tucker to join them on the bed. The drummer hovered over the two men, gripping Anthony’s wrists so he couldn’t move so much.

“It’s for your own good,” Tim promised, resuming work on his exhausted cock. “You don’t know how to behave.”

Anthony didn’t know how he was still hard and how he was still producing cum, but for a third time, he was orgasming over Tim’s fingers. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes and he looked at Tucker desperately.

The drummer looked away.

“Tucker,” Anthony whined.

“Look at me, brat.” Tim lightly swatted Anthony’s cock.

Anthony obeyed, looking at Tim, but not directly in the eyes. The younger man focused on his jawline, a visual anchor to get him through the sensory overload.

Tim’s hand was working his cock again. There was no way he could orgasm again. He was exhausted, he couldn’t do it. But Tim’s skilled hands were building him up and then— waves of pleasure jerked through Anthony’s body. That time, his hips bucked up to fuck Tim’s fist, but nothing came out.

“Baby boy used up all his cum,” Tucker mused.

Tears finally fell from Anthony’s eyes. He couldn’t do it anymore. He would explode if he had to orgasm again.

“Tim, strawberry, fuck!” Anthony yelped as Tim’s hand gripped his cock again. “I’m done, please, stop.”

The hand was gone from his cock in an instant and both men were undoing the restraints and wrapping their arms around the younger man.

“You did so good, Anthony.” Tim assured him as he rubbed gently at the red spots the restraints had left.

“So good for us, baby.” Tucker echoed, pressing a kiss to Anthony’s cheek.

Anthony rolled over and nuzzled at Tucker. “Just want to be a good boy for you guys.”

Tim laid down behind Anthony, scooting close so he could be surrounded by the warmth of both men. “You always are, sweetheart.”

Anthony’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest. It was rare that Tim called him sweet names and he knew he had done a good job when he did.

“Always,” Tucker agreed.

Anthony hummed and nuzzled into Tucker’s chest while arching his back into Tim’s embrace. He had his two boys, it was all he needed.

Chapter Text

“Fuck, you looked so hot with your gun pressed to that guy’s skull.”

Anthony’s comment made Frank pause. They had just gotten back to the safe house after a job. It was a simple one— in and out. Or it should have been. Anthony’s dumb ass had gotten himself beat to absolute shit and he would have had his brains blown out if Frank hadn’t swooped in and put two bullets in the back of the guy’s head.

“Are you really fucking horny right now?” Frank said, incredulous. He was bent over the kitchen sink, scrubbing dried blood from underneath his fingernails. The last thing on his mind was sex.

Anthony came up behind him and wrapped his arms low around his waist. Frank could feel the heat that always radiated off the younger man. He could also feel his hard cock pressing against his ass.

“Of course you are.” Frank rolled his eyes and shut off the tap. He reached for a paper towel, drying his hands, and spun around in Anthony’s arms to face him.

Anthony had that look in his eyes that Frank recognized.

“Let’s go.” Frank gestured down the hall to the bedrooms.

They fell into the one with a king sized bed, made up carefully by the maid that morning. Anthony collapsed on top of Frank, careful to avoid the bruising that was blooming on both the men’s skin.

“Come on,” Anthony started, peppering kisses down Frank’s neck. “Need you to fuck me.”

“Give me a second to catch up,” Frank said, sitting up with his back on the headboard so he could pull off the black long sleeve he wore under the blood stained hoodie he’d left in the garage.

Anthony fidgeted with his own matching set of clothes. “Fuck, I’ve been hard since you pulled out your gun.” He slipped out of the black joggers, standing in front of Frank in just his underwear. “Would you fuck me with it?”

Frank narrowed his eyes at the smaller man. He was used to unusual requests but this one was— different than the usual unusual.

“Absolutely not.” Frank moved to pull his shirt back over his head, ready to call it a night.

“Wait!” Anthony threw himself on the bed and wrestled the shirt from Frank’s hands. “Sorry, just, could you just like, hold it to my head while you fuck me?”

Frank started to reply again, adamant that he would not be doing that, but Anthony pouted.

“Please, Francis.” Anthony’s eyes had that watery look like he was about to cry and fuck— that was Frank’s weakness.

“Fine,” Frank relented. “But I’m taking all the bullets out, the safety will be on, and my finger will not be on the trigger.”

Anthony nodded eagerly, laying back and arching his back so he could pull off his underwear. His cock bounced at the motion and he settled back onto the pillow.

Frank took a breath when he noticed the bruising on Anthony’s arms and chest. The color was just starting to develop, dappled blue and red between the tattoo ink. He was going to have a good shiner on his cheek, too. He hated when Anthony went on hits with him.

The older man stood, slipping his pants and underwear off and throwing them in a pile in the corner. His entire outfit would likely have to be trashed. But he didn’t give a shit. There was plenty of money to go around for new clothes.

“Hurry up!” Anthony shouted as Frank dipped into the bathroom to grab his rosehip face oil. He made a mental note to have the maid start stocking lube at the safe houses. Thankfully, she never asked questions, no matter how strange the request.

“Do you want me to fuck you dry?” Frank yelled back, rummaging around in the drawer. Tucker had left condoms there again, but Frank didn’t need those with Anthony. There wasn’t anyone else.

Frank could hear the younger man grumble in resignation. No matter how horny he was, he knew they would not be having a good time without adequate lubrication. They’d tried it just with spit once and Frank was far too thick for that to work.

He went back out to the kitchen to retrieve his handgun. Anthony’s laid right next to it on the kitchen table. In the light, he could see specks of blood clinging to the barrel. How many kills did that give him? Quickly, he pushed the thought away.

Instead, he unloaded the magazine and dry fired at the floor a few times, just to make sure. He double, triple checked that it was empty, then did the same with the safety.

He took a breath to center himself. His cock was hard from the sight of Anthony stripping, the feeling of stubble on his neck as he kissed down further and further. But it always took him a day or two to settle after a kill. Especially one where Anthony’s life had flashed before his eyes. The adrenaline had faded by then and his muscles ached, the weariness setting in.

Frank reentered the room to see Anthony’s legs already spread, playing with his cock.

“Always so eager.” Frank teased, throwing the bottle and gun down next to Anthony on the bed.

“Mhm,” Anthony replied, looking Frank up and down. His hair was sticking in all directions as he made an attempt to unplaster it from his skull. He had a smear of blood above his eyebrow that he hadn’t caught and Anthony found that even more arousing.

There was something about Frank after a kill, the blank look he got when he pulled the trigger and how the emotions all came rushing back after. He knew how hard it was for the older man, who hadn’t chosen this life and never wanted anything to do with murder or drugs or money.

But the way Frank held a gun— that made Anthony squirm. The fact that Frank had done it this time to protect Anthony, that made it even better.

“You want to prep yourself or do you want me to do it?” Frank asked, already knowing the answer.

Anthony looked at him incredulously. “You, duh.”

Frank smirked. He knew Anthony loved the feeling of his thick fingers spreading him open before his even thicker cock did the same.

The older man knelt on the edge of the bed, trailing his nails over Anthony’s tattooed chest, down his abdomen, admiring what was his. He loved how pliable Anthony was beneath him, the sharp inhale of breath from the younger man when his rough fingers finally met bare skin.

“That’s what I’ve been waiting for,” Anthony said, pushing up into Frank’s touch.

“You’re always waiting for me to touch you,” Frank countered, coating his fingers with two pumps of oil.

Anthony frowned. “So what?”

“That wasn’t a complaint,” Frank replied with a smile. “Just an observation.”

Anthony tucked his hand underneath the pillow, propping his head up further to watch what Frank was doing. Hazel eyes flicked up to meet blue as fingers circled the younger man’s rim, a gasp escaping from his lips.

“Good?” Frank asked, proud of himself for being able to elicit that sound with just a touch.

“You’ve hardly done anything.” Anthony bit his lip to contain a moan as Frank’s finger breached his entrance.

“I know you.” Frank shifted positions so he was hovering over the other man, inches from his lips. “Don’t try to hide from me.”

Never would, Anthony thought, gazing into Frank’s soft eyes.

Their lips pressed together gently, more resting against each other than kissing, while Frank thoroughly prepared him with his fingers. Once he was putty in his hands— which didn’t take much— Frank lubed his own cock up with another pump of oil.

“Ready?” Frank asked more for his own benefit. He knew Anthony was ready minutes ago, but he didn’t think one could ever be fingered too much.

Anthony nodded. He looked down at where Frank had lined himself up with his stretched entrance. His eyes clouded as Frank pushed in. Nothing made him feel more full than seeing where they were connected.

Frank let out a shaky breath once he was fully seated inside Anthony. He could have laid there all night, fucking into the other man with micro movements, just enough to get off slowly. But their ride would be there soon. And Anthony had wanted something specific.

Frank bit his lip and reached to his left for the discarded handgun. The metal was cold against his fingers, and he second guessed himself— had he completely emptied the chamber? What if the safety malfunctioned and he accidently pulled the trigger?

The desperate look in Anthony’s eyes as he dragged his finger along the barrel spurred him on. Blue eyes were clouded with lust and submission. The younger man was so— exquisite.

“Please,” Anthony begged.

“Anthony.” Frank’s voice was faint. He didn’t want to do what the younger man was asking, he wanted to fuck him gently— make love to him, do everything in his power to protect him.

“Frank, please!” Anthony cried.

Frank pushed his hesitation away. He could deal with the consequences another time.

“This what you wanted?” His voice deepened to a growl as he rested the end of the barrel against Anthony’s temple. “You wanna be treated like one of those thugs I take care of?”

“Yes!” Anthony’s eyes pleaded for more as his cry left his lips.

Frank made sure his finger was nowhere near the trigger, holding just the grip in his fist. He pushed the cold barrel roughly into Anthony’s skull, trying not to be too aroused by the desperate noise the action pulled from the younger man’s throat.

“Too bad I don’t fuck them before I kill them.”

Anthony swallowed, fully submitting himself to be used. God, why was the thought of being held down and fucked before he was executed so hot? He could think about that another time— psychoanalyze his fucked up thoughts.

“Gonna kill me after you fuck me?” Anthony asked, begging for Frank to say yes.

“Haven’t decided yet.” Frank settled on that, still too nervous to fully get into the role play. “Might want to keep you around for more fun.”

Anthony was ok with that, too. He could be kept as Frank’s fuck toy, used whenever the mood came over him. Made to do whatever the other man wanted.

“Choke me.” Anthony demanded.

Frank swallowed. Anthony’s neck was decorated in bruises, blooming blues and purples like a necklace. He’d taken a hit to his collarbone with the butt of a rifle and that spot was coming up an even darker color.

“Can’t choke you and hold this at the same time.” Frank punctuated the sentence with a shove of the gun into Anthony’s temple.

Anthony pushed at Frank’s chest, signaling him to change positions.

Frank rolled onto his back and let Anthony mount him, connecting their lips in a swift kiss before sinking back down on his cock.

“Now you have both hands.” Anthony shifted his hips so he was settled on his knees, Frank’s entire cock nestled inside of him.

Frank looked up at Anthony, dumbfounded at how devoted the other man was, how into this role play he had gotten. He decided to give him what he wanted.

“You could get away,” Frank started. “Nothing keeping you here except the fact that you’re a big, dumb whore for my cock and my gun.” He wasn’t sure if that was too much, but Anthony clearly indicated it was just what he wanted.

The younger man whined, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and rolling his hips. Frank’s words went straight to the tip of his dick. He was just a stupid slut who just wanted to fuck himself on a thick cock, consequences be damned.

“Come on, Frankie,” Anthony begged. “You said you would.”

That wasn’t necessarily true. Frank hadn’t promised him a hand around his neck. But the desperation in Anthony’s eyes and his dripping cock, aching for release, spurred Frank on. They would definitely have to talk about whatever the fuck this was later. But Frank was also incredibly turned on by whatever it was.

Frank’s hand trailed Anthony’s neck gently, tracing over the bruises. He pressed down and was rewarded by a hiss from the man above him. But he didn’t pull away. No, Anthony leaned into Frank as he pushed his finger into the bruised spots at his clavicle.

“Pain slut, huh?” Frank asked in wonder. The other man continued to surprise him. “Maybe I should give you some more pretty color.”

“Please,” Anthony begged, trembling as his cock twitched.

Frank rewarded him with a heavy hand around his neck, pressure from the sides so as not to actually cut off air, but to give him the feeling of being confined.

Anthony leaned into the contact, fucking himself on Frank. He didn’t even really care about the gun anymore, more than overwhelmed by the hand around his neck and the thick cock he was bouncing on. But he still saw white when Frank pressed the barrel to the center of his forehead.

“Frank!” Anthony cried as he came untouched, the hand around his neck and cold metal pressed to his skin the only contact he needed.

Frank dropped the gun onto the bed and gripped Anthony’s hips with both hands, fucking up into him until he was coming. The younger man was jostled around, bouncing on Frank’s thighs while he fucked himself through his orgasm. Anthony’s hole was sensitive from just coming himself, but he let himself be used for Frank’s pleasure.

Anthony collapsed onto the bed next to Frank, softening cock slipping out of him as he went boneless. He knew he was going to sleep for half the next day.

“Was that okay?” Frank asked once he’d come back to himself.

“It was amazing.” Anthony was still catching his breath. “It wasn’t too much to ask, was it?”

Frank wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but he would have done whatever Anthony asked, short of actually killing him. He nodded. “You know how I feel about you,” was his only answer.

Anthony tucked his head beneath Frank’s chin, nuzzling into his warm chest.

Frank sighed. “If you keep asking for freakier shit we’re going to run out of things to do by the time we’re fifty.”

Anthony smiled sadly. “It’s sweet that you think we’ll make it to fifty.”

Frank sighed. He knew the other man was right. One or both of them were likely to get killed on a job or by a rival family. But he pushed that thought away. What mattered was Anthony was with him that night.

He was safe for one more night.

Chapter Text

Anthony woke to soft moans coming from the bed next to him. He opened his eyes sleepily and looked over toward Tucker’s bed. The dim light coming from the bathroom revealed no signs of distress from the other man, so Anthony rolled onto his other side and closed his eyes again.

A few seconds later, he heard another whimper coming from Tucker’s side of the room. He was about to reach out, shake him awake, concerned he was having a nightmare, but then he heard Tucker’s voice, thick with sleep, murmuring something.

Something that sounded a lot like Anthony’s name.

The singer attempted to ignore Tucker’s quiet whimpers, but he was already reacting to it. He reached into his pajama pants and palmed his cock, trying to get off as quickly as he could.

“Anthony—“ Tucker’s voice was desperate and whiny and Anthony wasn’t sure if he was even still asleep at that point.

“Tucker,” he whispered. “Are you awake?”

The only response Anthony got was another low moan. Tucker was hugging a pillow and rutting against it lazily, with his eyes still closed.

Anthony swung his legs over the side of the bed and watched the drummer rub himself against the hotel pillow. Fuck, he looks good like that, Anthony thought.

“Please,” Tucker moaned. “Like that, baby.”

The drummer was clearly still asleep by the slurring of his words. Anthony had never seen him like that before, so pliable and desperate. He was usually so cool and in control.

Anthony laid on his side and trailed a hand down his chest to play with his nipples. He pinched one between his fingers and hissed, getting off on watching his friend have a wet dream in front of him.

He should be ashamed, he thought as his hand slid under the waistband of his pants again, inching toward his hole. He teased the rim of his entrance a little before adjusting himself so he could reach for the lotion in his overnight bag. He’d left his lube on the bus, so that would have to be good enough.

As he stretched himself open, he watched Tucker mouth at the pillow like he was kissing someone. Anthony wanted that to be him.

He knew it was fucked as he was doing it, but he felt an unseen force moving him to his feet, over to Tucker’s bed, rolling the drummer onto his back and easing the pillow out of his grip.

He let go of the pillow easily, his head rolling to one side. The tank top he was sleeping in was pushed halfway up his stomach and one of his nipples was sticking out the side. Anthony bent down and kissed the exposed red nub.

“Ah,” Tucker mumbled, pressing up into the kiss.

Anthony took that as a good sign and flicked his tongue around Tucker’s nipple, licking it to a peak.

The drummer continued to sleep as he squirmed around on the bed, getting more tangled in the sheets.

“Tucker?” Anthony called again, making sure the other man was really still asleep.

He got no response so Anthony stepped out of his pajama pants and knelt on the bed next to Tucker. He exhaled a soft breath as he squeezed more of the lotion on his fingers, moving to stretch himself even more.

“Tony,” Tucker whimpered, his fingers tangled in the sheets as he bucked his hips, trying to find the pressure of the pillow that was taken from him.

Anthony lowered Tucker’s pajama pants to his thigh. There was a smear of precum on them and more leaking from his hard cock. Still, Tucker remained asleep.

Anthony threw his leg over the other man, straddling him so their cocks bounced against each other. He couldn’t believe Tucker was sleeping through all the motion.

Anthony’s fingers grazed Tucker’s cock, gently at first to test the waters, then gripped tightly to align him with his own entrance.

Anthony let out a groan as he settled himself on Tucker’s cock. The drummer stirred and Anthony looked up to see his eyelids fluttering.

“Anthony?” Tucker mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “What are you—“

“Shhh, go back to sleep,” Anthony commanded, fully settling his hips flush with Tucker’s as he adjusted to the stretch of the older man’s cock.

“Wait, what—“ Tucker opened his eyes fully, pupils blown wide in the dim light. “Anthony, stop—“

“Be a good boy and just lay there.” Anthony swirled his hips, getting a feel for Tucker’s length and thickness inside him. It felt so good to be on top of the other man, taking what he wanted.

“Anthony, I’m serious, stop,” Tucker’s eyes flickered with something that looked like fear.

“You were saying my name,” Anthony reminded, even though he knew Tucker was unaware of what he’d been saying in his sleep.

“I don’t want to,” Tucker whined.

“This—“ Anthony bounced on Tucker’s cock to prove his point. “Says otherwise.”

Tucker whined, squirming underneath the singer.

“I’m gonna make you come, prove you want it.”

“No, please,” Tucker cried. There were tears forming in the corners of his eyes and it only made Anthony harder.

“Come on, baby, you love it,” Anthony teased.

Tucker squirmed, trying to push Anthony away. The younger man responded by pinning his arms above his head, holding his wrists together with one hand while trailing his other hand lightly down his throat.

“Why are you doing this?” Tucker whimpered.

“You were humping the pillow, sweetheart. You were practically begging me to fuck you looking like that.” Anthony stroked Tucker’s cheek affectionately, a gesture that seemed out of place.

“I don’t want—“ Tucker hiccuped and a tear rolled down his cheek. “Please, you’re hurting me.”

Tucker strained pathetically at Anthony’s grip on his wrists. The singer knew that Tucker was way stronger than him and could get away if he really wanted to.

“No, I’m not,” Anthony chided. “You like it.”

“I won’t tell anyone, please, just— stop,” Tucker whined, hips bucking involuntarily.

“I know you won’t tell anyone,” Anthony assured him. “Because everyone already knows what a whore you are.”

Tucker whimpered as Anthony wrapped his fingers around the drummer’s neck. Anthony knew how much the other man liked having something there. He didn’t wear those bandanas for no reason.

“Who’s going to believe that you weren’t asking for it, begging for it?” Anthony bent down and licked Tucker’s lips. He knew he was being cruel, but Tucker was still pliable underneath him, the fear in his eyes not matching his body language.

Anthony continued to ride Tucker’s cock, the older man squirming against his hold.

“Gonna make you come, baby,” Anthony said, tightening his grip on Tucker’s wrists and letting go of his neck, favoring jerking his own cock instead.

“Please, don’t want to,” Tucker cried. Another tear rolled down his cheek as his hips pushed up into Anthony’s hole.

“I know what you want, just trust me,” Anthony leaned down and connected their lips. Tucker’s mouth fell open submissively, letting Anthony tangle their tongues together.

They kissed messily while Anthony fisted his own cock, not quite able to get the right angle on his prostate with Tucker moving around so much, but enjoying the feeling of being filled nonetheless.

“Tuck, I’m almost there— Ahhhh, just like that, baby, so good for me,” Anthony babbled as he spilled into his own hand.

He didn’t let up on his pace, even as he became overly sensitive. Moving his hips in a way he knew Tucker liked, he gave the drummer’s nipples another pinch. Tucker’s back arched and the younger man felt the twitch of his cock one more time before warmth spilled inside of him.

Tucker whimpered, oversensitive as Anthony lifted off of him.

“You did so good,” Anthony panted, collapsing next to Tucker. “You’re done, baby, come back to me.”

The scene broke and Anthony pulled the drummer against his chest, covering them both up to their shoulders with the comforter.

Tucker remained silent, pressing into Anthony’s side.

“Are you okay?” Anthony ran his fingers through Tucker’s hair, holding the older man close to his chest. “I know we talked about it, but was that too much?”

Tucker let out a long sigh and relaxed into the younger man. “I’m okay.”

The drummer shivered a bit as the adrenaline drained from his body. Anthony massaged his shoulders, taking care so he wouldn't be sore in the morning.

“You did so good for me,” the singer said, his tone low and comforting.

“Thank you,” Tucker breathed. “I needed that.”

He couldn't explain why, but he wanted to be taken advantage of sometimes, felt like he needed it to remain sane. Thankfully, Anthony was down for anything.

“Me too, baby, me too.”

Chapter Text

“It’s so pretty, Trav.”

Frank’s eyes scanned the kitchen, their remodel finally complete. They had just finished the last piece of backsplash. The tile glittered in the shine from the under cabinet lights. He had picked out the pendant light above the sink himself– a blown glass wave of greens that was going to look beautiful at night.

“You have great taste, love,” Travis said, wrapping his arms around Frank from behind, his hands resting on the other man’s belly.

“You married me for my taste, didn’t you?” Frank joked, leaning back into his husband’s embrace.

“No,” Travis started, one of his hands trailing down Frank’s back and over the swell of his backside. “I married you for this juicy ass.”

Frank gasped, faking offense as he spun around in Travis’ arms. His disdain turned into giggles when the other man pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“You know, you look so good in those little overalls you wear,” Travis started.

“Yeah?“ Frank raised his eyebrow, rocking back and forth in his husband’s arms. “I guess I’ll have to wear them more often.”

“Hopefully with nothing underneath so I can fuck you easier.”

Frank smirked. “Kitchen remodel got you feeling horny, huh?”

“You look so fuckable right now.” Travis delivered the line with a straight face, but he felt like he was shivering with want.

Frank looked down at what he was wearing. It was just a pair of cut off sweat shorts and a white t-shirt that was covered in paint. He was fairly sure he smelled sweaty, although he couldn’t tell over the smell of Travis’ cologne. He was sure his long overgrown hair was greasy and sticking to his head with unwashed perspiration.

Frank realized Travis was serious as he was backed up against the counter, the small of his back pressed to the edge. Arousal clouded his normally soft eyes. “I’m fucking serious,” he breathed. “I don’t know what happened. I feel like I’m in heat.”

Frank grinned, pressing his body against the solid warmth of his husband. “Oh yeah? You gonna breed me?”

Travis growled. That seemed to awaken something in him. ”Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

Frank played along. “How about you fuck me instead?”

Travis was happy to oblige. Before Frank knew it, he was being lifted onto the countertop, his shorts and underwear thrown off in one swoop. He yelped as his bare ass hit the quartz countertop.

“Trav!” He cried as his legs were forced apart. He was half hard from the manhandling and Travis quickly coaxed his cock to full mast.

“Gonna fill you up,” he promised. “Make you come so hard you clench around me and milk my cock.”

Frank whined, the words going straight to his own dick.

Travis continued. “Fuck you so good you’re gonna walk funny.”

“Please!” Frank’s palms slapped the countertop behind him for stabilization as his hips bucked up into Travis’ fist.

Travis reached for a bottle of olive oil on the counter, not wanting to move to grab proper lube. He needed to be inside the younger man as soon as possible.

Frank’s eyes became hazy with lust as he leaned back on his wrists, ignoring the zaps of pain as he did so. He spread his legs as much as he could himself and let Travis support him by wrapping an arm underneath one knee. With his free arm, Travis poured oil onto his fingers, coating Frank’s entrance.

“Ah, Trav!” Frank cried as a thick finger breached his entrance.

“Taking my finger so good,” Travis commented. “You’re aching for my cock, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy!” Frank’s voice cracked when Travis added a second finger.

“Greedy little hole,” the older man mused. Frank’s entrance was sucking in his fingers like it was thirsty.

“Just— fuck— me— already!” Frank’s begging was punctuated by Travis’ finger curling into his prostate.

“I’m gonna do more than fuck you, baby.” Travis promised, unzipping his jeans to pull his own cock out. He was rock hard from no direct stimulation, just Frank’s needy moans enough of a turn on. ”You’re not leaving this countertop until you’re pregnant.”

Frank groaned, his head falling back as Travis lifted his legs onto his shoulders, entering him smoothly.

“You gonna put a baby in me?” Frank asked desperately as his legs began to shake.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” Travis promised. “Keep pumping you full of loads until you can’t take it anymore.”

Fuck, that’s all Frank wanted. It had been so hot seeing Travis put in the counter top, change out the appliances. He was a provider. Even though Frank didn’t have the right equipment, he desperately needed this man to put a baby in him.

“Come on, deeper,” Frank begged, squirming his body to try to take Travis’ cock.

“Lemme readjust.” Travis pulled away, still inside the younger man and reached for a dish towel. He folded it up and laid Frank on his back, placing the towel underneath. From the new angle he could thrust in balls deep.

“Oh fuck, Trav!” Frank cried as the new angle hit his prostate perfectly, sending jolts of pleasure up his spine.

“God, baby, you look so good.” If Travis wasn’t already throbbing hard, he would be just at the sight of Frank laid out on the counter.

One of Frank’s hands was tangled in his T-shirt, the other in his own hair. He couldn’t reach his husband from this angle and he needed something to hold onto or he would explode.

“You gonna come for me?” Travis let one of his hands inch toward Frank’s cock.

“You first!” Frank demanded. “Wanna feel you inside me.”

Who was Travis to deny him that? The older man pounded away at his husband’s hole, the fire in his gut stoked by the desperate sounds coming from the other man.

“I’m so close, Trav, please!” Frank gasped at the thick fingers his husband had wrapped around his cock, jerking him roughly.

“Fuck, me too, baby.” Travis growled as he was pushed over the edge by Frank’s walls contracting against him.

“That’s it, I can feel it!” Frank dug his nails into the palm of his hand, teeth cutting into his bottom lip as his own release came over him.

“Wait!” Travis moved to pull away, but Frank stopped him. “Isn’t it supposed to help if you stay inside? You know, for it to take?”

Travis grinned, leaning down to capture Frank’s lips in a kiss. “Damn, you’re really into this, huh?”

Frank blushed, but wrapped his legs around his husband’s back, holding him in place. “Maybe you should try it more often.”

“Maybe I’ll get you one of those pregnant bellies to wear around the house.”

Chapter Text

“Quit it!” Tucker swatted at Anthony, who was currently latched onto his shoulder by the teeth.

Anthony pulled away and pouted. “I feel like I’m teething.”

“We’ll get you one of those autism chew toys,” Frank suggested from across the room.

Anthony frowned. He didn't like it when his band mates treated him like a kid. It didn’t help that he was the youngest of the group either. “Tuck tastes better.”

Tucker pushed Anthony away as he neared with his teeth bared again. “Anthony! I’m serious!”

Anthony groaned in frustration. He had so much pent up energy he felt like his insides were shaking. He didn’t know what to do other than run or fuck or bite whoever was in his vicinity. The three of them were attempting to work on new material at Tucker’s house, but Anthony was not in the right headspace.

The younger man turned his attention toward the guitarist, who was fiddling with something on the computer. Frank shot him a warning glance, so he plopped back down on the grimy couch with Tucker.

“Don’t you dare,” Tucker warned.

Anthony snuggled up next to the drummer with a scowl. “Why do you hate me?”

“Don’t hate you, baby boy, we just need to focus.”

“I can’t focus!” Anthony cried, tears springing to his eyes as he pushed his face into Tucker’s baggy hoodie. His fingers wormed into the pocket and his mouth latched on to Tucker’s neck.

“Anthony.”

The younger man failed to heed Tucker’s warning and before both of them knew it, his teeth were out and biting at the skin of the drummer’s neck.

“Goddamn it!” Tucker yelled, throwing Anthony back onto the couch.

Anthony fell onto his back limply, eyes glazing over. He had thought biting was enough, but maybe he did need something sexual to ground him. The way Tucker’s hand had gripped his neck as he’d thrown him back on the couch sparked something in his gut.

“Don’t fucking do that again.” Tucker scolded the younger man. “Your fucking teeth are like needles, fuckin’ hurts.”

“You need to actually teach him to behave one of these days,” Frank said idly, typing away at his keyboard.

Tucker huffed, standing from the couch so he could take a proper breath without Anthony breathing down his shirt. “Easier said than done.”

“I could help you.” Frank offered.

“Do what?” Tucker asked, confused.

“Teach him a lesson. For real this time.”

Tucker frowned. He was offended at the implication that he couldn't keep Anthony in line by himself. But fuck if it wasn’t tempting. The younger man had been a huge pain in the ass recently.

Anthony giggled. “What do you know about teaching lessons, Frankie?”

Frank narrowed his eyes, calmly closing the laptop. “You wanna find out?”

Anthony shivered. Frank was using his “dad voice” and it was doing something particularly strange to him– specifically his dick.

Tucker wasn’t exactly sure what they were playing at and his confusion was obvious to Frank in his look.

“To clarify, I’m talking about doing some behavior modification with baby boy here,” Frank clarified. “Of the sexual sort.”

“Oooh, I want to have my behavior modified!” Anthony sprung up from the couch, bouncing on his heels.

“It’s supposed to be a punishment, Anthony.” Frank’s glare penetrated Anthony’s skin, feeling it through his clothes.

“What does Daddy want me to do?” Anthony asked, looking up through his eyelashes. He felt small already, like Frank’s baby girl. He wanted Tucker to be his daddy, too.

“Come here.” Frank spread his legs and tapped his lap.

Anthony obeyed, taking his place on Frank’s lap. He sank down, legs spread over the older man’s thighs. He liked how it felt to sit in Frankie’s lap. A shiver ran down Anthony’s spine as a finger traced along his jawline. Yes, Daddy would take care of him.

“So eager to behave now,” Frank teased.

“Yes, Daddy,” Anthony responded, his cock growing hard from Frank’s tone.

“Why were you being a bad boy for Tucker, huh?”

“Just wanted attention,” Anthony responded, his lip quivering.

“Well you’ve got my attention now.” Frank cupped Anthony’s jaw, forcing his head up. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Anthony whined at the small amount of manhandling.

“Tucker, how should we punish baby boy?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think he deserves to squirm around like that.”

Anthony could feel Tucker’s warmth behind him and soon felt the press of a soft belly on his back. The younger man groaned, pushing back against the drummer who had him pinned between himself and Frank.

“Hold him still,” Frank commanded, thumbing Anthony’s jeans open.

Tucker wrapped one arm around Anthony’s chest and the other— Anthony gasped as Tucker’s dominant hand was wrapped around his neck.

The younger man went boneless as he fell back against Tucker, his head on the drummer’s chest. He looked up, baring his neck further.

“Daddy,” Anthony murmured, looking into Tucker’s cloudy grey eyes.

Tucker didn’t answer, just increased the pressure around Anthony’s neck. It didn’t restrict his breathing— not yet at least, but put a pleasant constraint on his windpipe that made him feel trapped.

“Look at your pathetic little cock.” Frank stared at Anthony’s dick in his hand with curiosity. “No wonder you’re such a bratty bottom— it’s all you can do.”

Anthony moaned, his hips wiggling. Frank’s other hand went to the smaller man’s thigh, holding him in place.

“Bad boys don’t deserve to get off that easily.” Frank said. “Come on, Tuck, let’s show him how he needs to behave.”

Tucker pulled Anthony off Frank’s lap, hand still lightly around his neck. “You gonna be good for us, sweetheart?”

Anthony nodded, puckering his lips. Tucker denied him a kiss, only squeezing harder on his neck while he tucked his cock back into his pants.

Tucker led them down the hall and into the guest bedroom where he kept his supplies. Anthony obediently sat on the edge of the bed while Tucker and Frank sorted through the toys.

“Undress,” Frank commanded.

Anthony squirmed out of his sweatshirt and jeans. He received a swat on the butt from Tucker and quickly discarded his underwear too.

“Lay down on your back, sideways on the bed.”

Anthony did as instructed, Tucker kneeling at his head while Frank walked around the bed to his feet. His legs were nudged open by the guitarist, rough hands on soft calves. He squirmed, knowing he was about to be restrained.

Tucker approached with a length of rope, expertly tying Anthony’s hands together and resting them on his chest. If he was in a more grounded state of mind, Anthony would have admitted the pretty blue color against his skin, the texture of the rope. But he was already floating, his two doms’ hands on him.

“Is Daddy gonna fuck me?” Anthony asked dreamily, looking up at Tucker’s upside down face.

“I don’t think so baby, you have to earn that.”

Anthony gasped at the feeling of Frank’s warm hand on his cock, jerking him a few times. The younger man whined as soon as the sensation was gone.

“This is a lesson, not to be enjoyed,” Frank reminded.

Anthony squirmed as he felt something cold touch his bare thigh. He didn’t know what the fuck that was. It wasn’t a sensation he was used to. Was Frank going to fuck him with a metal dildo?

“This is going to get intense, so I need to know you remember the colors.” Frank paused, rubbing circles onto Anthony’s thigh.

“Green for good, yellow for pause, red for stop completely,” Anthony recited like it was his own name. They’d used it enough— how could he forget?

“Good boy,” Frank said, adding a slap onto the last comforting rub. “That’s the last time you’re going to hear that tonight.”

The air hummed with an electric current. Anthony only realized it wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him in subspace when Frank pressed the metal down onto his thigh again, delivering a small electric shock to his skin.

“Fuck!” Anthony yelped, straining at the ropes around his wrists. It was useless— Tucker held him still with his strong arms.

“What are you?” Frank asked.

Anthony was confused and reeling from the shock. “What?”

Frank’s answer was to deliver another zap, this time to his other thigh.

“I don’t know what you want!” Anthony cried.

“What are you, baby boy?” Tucker asked, hand resting on his jugular.

Anthony pushed up into Tucker’s hand, vision becoming cloudy. His cock jumped as Frank pressed the wand to his skin, closer to his balls.

“Dumb little baby,” Frank sighed, clearly shaking his head. “He’s just so stupid and brain dead isn’t he?”

Tucker nodded. “Stupid and pretty.”

Frank shrugged. “Not even that pretty.” He jabbed the wand into Anthony’s hip crease, making the younger man shudder. “Stupid, little baby,” Frank teased. “Say it.”

“Stupid,” Anthony repeated.

“Stupid— what?” Frank punctuated the question with another zap, this time just below Anthony’s belly button.

“Baby,” Anthony whined, his stomach filling with warmth.

“What are you?” Frank’s nails dug into Anthony’s thigh. He could feel the pulse of the electricity right above his balls.

“Stupid little baby.”

“You’re learning.” In response, Frank brought the wand down on Anthony’s balls, just a tap.

Anthony screamed, his eyes locking onto Tucker’s gaze. “Daddy, please! Make him stop!”

“He has to teach you a lesson, baby. We have to teach you.” As a reminder, Tucker squeezed the sides of Anthony’s neck, causing the younger man to squeak.

“I don’t know if he understands yet,” Frank mused.

“Maybe a few more,” Tucker suggested.

Frank resumed on Anthony’s thigh, just below where his balls rested. “Just a stupid little baby who can’t keep his teeth to himself. How do you like it when you’re on the receiving end of pain?”

Of course, Anthony loved it. He felt himself becoming cock drunk, needing any form of stimulation on him— especially if it hurt.

“I’m sorry, Daddy, won’t do it again!” Anthony cried, arching his back as far as he could with Frank holding his thighs and Tucker’s hands caging his neck while his hands were tied.

“How am I supposed to trust such a dumb little girl? She can’t even remember her manners.” Frank chided.

“Stupid, idiot,” Anthony repeated, blubbering.

“Let’s show our stupid little slut what she’s good for.” Frank locked eyes with Tucker. “Tuck, you wanna go first?”

Tucker released the grip on Anthony’s neck, much to the younger man’s dismay, but he was soon pulling his cock out of his pants and stroking himself inches above Anthony’s lips.

Anthony groaned, his cock pulsing as Frank delivered another shock to his lower belly. Without Tucker’s hand around his neck, he could squirm more, push up into the wand.

Anthony lost all sense of time, but soon Tucker was coming in spurts on his chest, covering his hands and the rope in trails of cum. The two doms switched and Frank took up the position at Anthony’s head, gripping his own cock between tattooed fingers.

“Dumb babies are only good for taking daddy’s cum,” Frank teased, only making Anthony’s cock twitch harder.

Tucker twirled the wand in his hand. It was something he rarely used— really only with Frank who had the most delicious pain kink when he subbed. Curiously, the drummer pressed the tip of the wand to the skin underneath Anthony’s balls.

“Daddy, stop!” Anthony yelled, arms straining against the restraints.

Ignoring Anthony’s protest, Frank chased his own orgasm, covering the younger man in his own ropes. He admired the glittering trail down Anthony’s neck, the two men’s cum mixing on his chest.

Frank groaned, releasing his spent cock and dragging his hand through the seed. He scooped some up and shoved a finger past Anthony’s lips.

The younger man moaned around Frank’s fingers, nibbling as he licked up the cum.

“What did we say about biting?” Frank scolded, pulling his fingers back.

Anthony squirmed, his legs shaking with overstimulation. His cock had been weeping the entire time and he was surprised he hadn’t come just from the shocks. “Daddy, I’m sorry, but please—“

“Stupid baby, I can’t read your mind.”

“Wanna come!” Anthony howled, thrashing against his bound wrists.

“What do you think, Tuck?” Frank shrugged. “Think he’s learned his lesson?”

“Let’s see,” Tucker mused, tapping the wand against Anthony’s balls.

“Stupid— baby— dumb,” Anthony babbled as the electricity coursed through his cock.

“Yeah, I think he’s good and trained.”

“Dumb little girl gonna come for her daddies?” Frank asked, cupping Anthony’s chin and pulling him so his head hung off the edge of the bed. Frank knelt at the younger man’s head, pressing down on his windpipe with enough force that Anthony couldn’t answer.

His eyes rolled back as Tucker tapped the tip of the wand to the head of his cock. The only sound that escaped his lips was a desperate squeak.

Tucker took pity on him and wrapped a hand around his aching member. As the drummer squeezed his cock, Frank increased the pressure on his neck, enough that Anthony stopped breathing for a second and then it was over. Anthony really thought he blacked out for a second when he came hot all over Tucker's fingers.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ Anthony swore as he came back to himself, Frank releasing his neck. Tucker continued to fist his cock until he was squirming away from the overstimulation. “Tuck, that’s enough— fuck!”

Frank pulled the release knot on the rope and was immediately rubbing at the singer’s wrists. He knew there would be bruises from the intensity in which Anthony was pulling at them, but it made him feel better to try to rub some bloodflow back into them.

Tucker was on him with a warm washcloth, wiping the sticky trails of cum from his chest and hands.

“You did so good, baby,” Frank murmured, pressing a kiss to Anthony’s forehead.

“You don’t actually think I’m stupid, right?” Anthony asked, lip quivering as he came down from the adrenaline rush.

“Absolutely not, sweetheart,” Frank assured him.

Tucker assisted in shuffling Anthony flat onto the pillows, covering his naked body with a fuzzy blanket. The two men joined on either side, holding him tightly.

“Never, baby,” Tucker agreed.

“I don’t mean to be a pain in the ass,” Anthony started. “My head just gets so fucking loud.”

“I know, sweetie,” Frank replied. It happened to him too, just in a different way.

“Are you guys still mad at me?” Anthony’s eyes filled with tears.

“Baby, no!” Frank cupped Anthony’s cheek. “We are never actually mad at you.”

“Never,” Tucker agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of Anthony’s head. “We love you so much, sweetheart.”

Anthony’s heart swelled, tears splashing down his cheeks. He felt so loved, being held by his two closest bandmates. He couldn’t feel bad or sad when he was with Frank and Tucker— his two daddies.

Chapter Text

“You look like a meth dealer in that picture.”

Tucker burst out laughing as he took his phone back from Geoff. He hadn’t intended to pass the photo around, but he’d found it too hilarious, out of character to not show the guys.

“Wait, give that back.” Geoff reached over the couch of the bus. “You look hot as fuck.”

Tucker recoiled, not because Geoff was calling him hot— of course that was a given. But the fact that Geoff found him hot in that particular picture? Looking like white trash with his unshaven facial hair and white tank top? Geoff always had strange taste.

So that's how, two weeks later, they ended up in some shitty midwest divebar, pretending not to know each other.

They were somewhere between Ohio and Missouri— God only knew what kind of homophobes and racist shitheads they could run into. That made Geoff’s dick tingle with even more danger.

He walked in first and sat down at the bar, ordering a seltzer with lime. After what felt like a million years, Tucker slid up next to him and ordered a Coke.

They exchanged glances, Geoff nervously sipping his drink. They’d never done anything like this— pretended not to know each other in public. Would the other patrons notice? The place was a shit hole so he doubted they would give a fuck about a drug deal, but what if they were suspected of being together? That was part of what Geoff liked, of course, the fear of being caught.

Tucker raised his glass as he took a sip of his Coke. God he looked good, Geoff thought. He looked like he could beat Geoff’s ass, slap him around a bit in his white tank top and aviator sunglasses. He looked greasy, dangerous— in a way that made Geoff’s stomach tighten.

The drummer signaled that he would be in the bathroom. Geoff slipped away a few minutes later.

“Did you bring what I wanted?” Geoff asked as the door slammed shut behind him. He knew Tucker had checked to make sure no one else was in there.

“It’s right here.” Tucker patted the pocket of his jeans. “Payment first.”

“How much do I owe you?” Geoff asked. He knew there was no sense fumbling for his wallet. He knew the cost— he just wanted Tucker to say it.

“I think you know.” Tucker grabbed Geoff by the collar and yanked him into the single stall. The drummer latched the door and threw the other man against it. “Why don’t you put that pretty mouth to good use?”

Geoff nearly melted. He loved when Tucker ordered him around. He couldn’t convince the other man to do it often— he was too gentle. But something about the pretend anonymity got him in character better than any bedroom scene ever had.

“Is this how you treat all your customers or am I special?” Geoff asked, falling to his knees. He nuzzled his nose against the seam of Tucker’s zipper, breathing in his scent.

“That remains to be seen.” Tucker grunted as the singer nosed at his half hard cock. “So far I’m not impressed.”

Geoff took that as a challenge. While one hand massaged Tucker's thigh, the other painstakingly undid the button of his jeans, then pulled the zipper down. He mouthed at Tucker’s underwear, leaving a wet trail of spit from his lower belly to his cock head.

Geoff loved everything about Tucker, but he especially loved his tummy. It was the softest part him, aside from his eyes. He pushed up the white tank top, mouthing kisses onto the other man’s soft skin.

Tucker groaned and threaded his fingers through Geoff’s overgrown hair.

“This all for me or do you have someone else waiting for you?” Geoff bit his lip as he looked up at Tucker.

“You’re the only customer slutty enough to pay this way,” Tucker replied, pulling at the ends of Geoff’s hair.

The singer sighed into the touch, nuzzling into Tucker’s hand.

“God, you’re like a dog desperate for a treat.” Tucker breathed, his cock growing harder as Geoff’s breath danced over his stomach. “It’s right there for you, puppy.”

“Tucker–” Geoff whined, pulling at the other man’s underwear to free his cock. It sprung from its confines and Geoff drooled. God, he was a dog, wasn’t he?

“I don’t remember giving you permission to use my name.” Tucker yanked Geoff’s head back so he could look into his eyes. Geoff couldn't see Tucker’s through the sunglasses, but Tucker could see the lust apparent in Geoff’s bright blues.

Geoff was about to apologize when his head was forced onto Tucker’s cock, thick heat sliding down his tongue. Tucker slammed Geoff down so that the singer’s nose met pubic hair.

“Don’t make a fucking sound,” Tucker threatened, not letting up on his grip.

Geoff whimpered around Tucker’s cock, the sound muffled. He stiffened when he heard the door open and what sounded like two people shuffled in.

“Man, someone’s taking a shit again,” one of the men complained.

“Better hurry up, then,” said the other.

Geoff heard the rustle of a plastic bag and what sounded like a credit card on the sink. So this was in fact the type of place that was frequented by users. Not that Tucker actually had any drugs in his pocket.

The drummer glared down at Geoff in warning and set a pace himself. Geoff relaxed his throat, letting his mouth to be used as a fuck toy.

The other men exited, allowing Tucker to exhale shakily when the door snapped closed. “Fuck, such a slut– just letting yourself be used in this disgusting bathroom.”

Geoff moaned in agreement, hands flying up to grip Tucker’s ass. He desperately wanted to slip a finger inside of him, but knew what would happen if he tried that.

“Wish there was room to fuck you–” Tucker moaned, punctuating the sentence with a thrust. “Bet your little hole is just as good.”

Geoff tried to mutter a ‘please’ around Tucker’s cock, but his mouth was so full it just came out as a grunt. Tucker’s pulse sped up at the vibration and he couldnt stop himself from fucking into Geoff’s mouth as he pressed the man against him.

The singer was hard in his own pants, but he hadn’t been given permission to do anything but kneel there and have his face fucked. He looked up at Tucker, a question in his glance, hoping the drummer would have pity on him.

“Oh no, puppy, this is a transaction, not about your pleasure.”

Geoff groaned, but kept his hands on Tucker’s thighs, rolling his hips to get the slightest friction against his pants.

“Gonna finish in your mouth and you better fucking swallow.” Tucker commanded, his thrusts speeding up as he approached his climax.

Geoff’s whimpers grew more desperate as he gasped for breath in between Tucker’s thrusts. There was drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth and his eyes teared from the exertion. Tucker thought he looked like a beautiful mess.

The drummer’s hips stuttered and he pushed Geoff’s head flush with his body as he shuddered down his throat.

“Good boy,” Tucker breathed as Geoff’s throat contracted, drinking him down obediently.

Geoff was pulled off Tucker’s cock just before the point of overstimulation and he sat back on his haunches, his own cock straining against the fabric of his pants.

“Was that enough?” Geoff panted, wiping the corner of his mouth on the back of his long sleeve.

Tucker thought for a second. “I’m not sure if that quite covers it. Might have to take you back to my car and fuck your greedy little ass.”

Geoff grinned, eager to get back to the bus. He would let Tucker do whatever he wanted while he was dressed like that.

Chapter Text

Anthony was laid out on the hotel room bed, prepped and ready for the line of men waiting to use him.

It had taken weeks of preparation to get to that point. Naturally, Tim organized it, being the most meticulous of Anthony’s bandmates.

The singer had approached him shyly after the other men had discussed birthday plans. Anthony of course had said he just wanted to spend the day with his kids, maybe invite his friends over for dinner. Later, when he was alone with Tim, he had disclosed his real wish— to be fucked by a handful of men, one after another.

So that’s how they ended up in a fancy hotel in god knew what city, a precious two days off from shows. He would likely need the whole next day to recover, having never before taken that many cocks in one night. Tim had stretched and plugged him that morning so he would stay open and ready, making sure that he would be adequately relaxed. They spent most of the day on the bus, driving to a new city where they would be able to get some rest before resuming the tour.

Anthony settled into the pillow under his chin. Tim had placed another one under his belly, so his ass was presented, but he didn’t have to hold himself up the whole time. Being fucked by all six men back to back was going to take time and Tim didn’t want Anthony to strain himself. At least not his muscles. His hard cock was pressed into the pillow so he would have some stimulation as the men fucked into him.

“Who do you want first, baby?” Tim asked softly from where he knelt at Anthony’s side.

The other men were all lined up beside the bed, stroking their cocks to stay ready. Geoff and Frank were making out lazily on the couch while Travis and Keith stood further away, more timid than the others. Travis had never fucked Anthony and Keith had never fucked Anthony with anyone. Both men felt awkward being naked in a room full of other men, so they just had their pants unbuttoned. Tim was fully dressed and not worried about himself because he needed to monitor how Anthony was doing.

“Want Tucker,” Anthony replied. Tucker had the smallest cock of all of them and he wanted to work his way up. Travis and Frank were on the thicker side so they would be last. Before Tim, of course, who had the place of honor as the very last man to fuck him that night.

“You heard him, Tucker,” Tim commanded.

Tucker made his way over to the bed, the most comfortable one with this situation. Besides Tim, Tucker had known Anthony the longest. The drummer was also so excited to be asked for first that he knew it wouldn't take him long to fill Anthony with his cum.

“Gonna warm you up, baby,” Tucker murmured, settling his hands on Anthony’s hips. He worked the plug out from the younger man’s entrance, handing it off to Tim to be washed. “Ready?”

“Mhm,” Anthony answered, cheek resting on his arm as he looked at Tim. His eyes fluttered, making Tim blurry when Tucker eased himself inside.

“Feels good, Tim,” Tucker remarked as he settled himself fully into Anthony.

“He wanted to use the small plug so it would still feel nice and tight,” Tim responded, patting Anthony’s hair.

Tucker rested a hand on Anthony’s lower back, anchoring himself as he started to rock into him. “So sweet, thinking about us”

“‘M always thinking about my boys,” Anthony sighed, relaxing into the warmth of Tucker’s cock.

It was a familiar feeling– something they’d done hundreds of times over the years. He always felt comforted sandwiched between Tim and Tucker. Anthony liked different things about all the men– Frank was a freak and would try anything once, Geoff was even more submissive than Anthony, Keith was a steady grounding presence at home, Tim and Tucker were home away from home, and Travis was an interesting new addition.

Anthony let his mind drift as he was gently fucked into. Soon, Tucker’s breath stuttered and he spilled hot into Anthony’s hole. The younger man sighed, feeling the warmth spread through his lower half.

“Always so good for me.” Tucker pulled his spent cock out and leaned down to place a kiss on Anthony’s spine.

“Who’s next, sweetheart?” Tim asked, dabbing a few beads of sweat from Anthony’s forehead.

Without missing a beat, Anthony answered. “Geoff.”

Geoff pulled away from where he was sitting on Frank’s lap, fully naked except for his glasses. Frank whined as their fingers separated.

Tim clicked his tongue. “You’ll get your turn, Frank.”

Tucker took pity on the guitarist and settled in his lap, nipping at his nose. It took Frank forever to get off due to his medications and sometimes it didn’t happen, so Tucker was more than happy to oblige him in some extended foreplay.

Geoff lined himself up with Anthony’s entrance and pushed in at Tim’s signal.

The younger man hardly reacted. Geoff’s cock felt much like Tucker’s. He would have thought he’d be able to tell the difference, but Anthony had had so many cocks inside him over the years that they seemed to blur together. Plus, he couldn't reach up and pet the men’s faces when he was being fucked on his stomach, recognize their unique facial features as his eyes clouded with pleasure.

It only took Geoff a few deep thrusts to finish inside the other singer thanks to the heavy petting from Frank.

“Next?” Tim noticed the temperature increase in the room and gestured to Geoff to adjust the air conditioning. It was only going to keep getting warmer and he wanted Anthony to remain comfortable.

“Keith,” Anthony blubbered, his words starting to slur.

Keith approached the bed timidly, stroking his cock a few times before laying a gentle hand on Anthony’s back. He wouldn't be able to get as deep as the other men with his pants still around his waist, but he would do his best to satisfy Anthony.

“This okay?” he asked, shyly. He fingered Anthony’s entrance where the other two mens’ seed was leaking from.

“Yes– please, Kiki,” Anthony begged, pushing back against his friend’s thick finger.

Keith pushed away his nerves and thumbed the tip of his cock inside Anthony’s hole. Once he was seated inside, he had to admit it kind of made his spine tingle to have the other men watching him. Of course, Tucker and Frank were too busy with each other to pay attention, but Travis studied him curiously while Geoff watched more casually from the end of the couch.

Tim’s focus was on Anthony, monitoring his facial expressions for any sign of discomfort. He was ready to stop the scene at a moment's notice. Anthony had a safe word, but Tim knew he would be too fucked out to use it.

“You don’t have to be so gentle with him, Keith,” Tim remarked. “I’m making sure he stays within his limits.

“Okay.” Keith thrust into Anthony, experimenting with the angle. Anthony rewarded his efforts by pushing back against his cock, trying to take him deeper.

“Just like that, Kiki, just like it’s the two of us.” Anthony’s speech was muffled as he ground his face into the pillow.

That stoked the first in Keith’s gut. He set a gentle pace and fucked away at Anthony’s hole, quickly tipping over the edge at the singer’s walls contracting around him.

“Trav next,” Anthony begged before Keith was even fully out of him.

Keith chuckled, catching his breath from his orgasm. “We’ll keep you full, baby, promise.”

Travis switched places with Keith, patting him on the back. The two men felt a certain camaraderie in the situation, although they barely knew one another.

“Let me know if this is ok, Ant,” Travis nervously positioned himself behind Anthony, stroking his cock. He was a significant step up in girth from the previous three men and didn’t know what Anthony’s pain tolerance was. “Tim, should I finger him some more?”

“He should be okay,” Tim assured. “He likes the stretch.”

Anthony moaned in agreement, reaching out a hand toward Tim. The bassist gripped his fingers tightly and Anthony smiled, baring his teeth in a dopey, fucked out way.

Travis pressed his cock head against the slippery rim of Anthony’s hole. He slowly eased his way in, monitoring for changes in Anthony’s breathing. Tim nodded, assuring the other man that it was okay.

Once he was seated fully inside Anthony, he sighed and paused for a moment. It was certainly a stretch and Anthony’s walls squeezed his dick in such a pleasant way.

“Fuck me, Trav,” Anthony whined, the pillow becoming wet with spit as he mouthed at it.

Travis’ chest flared with confidence at Anthony’s reaction, the way he was able to make the singer feel with just his cock. He placed his palm on the small of Anthony's back, rubbing small circles with his thick fingers.

“Okay, baby, I get it,” Travis chuckled, rolling his hips to establish a rhythm.

Travis was thick enough that he brushed against Anthony’s prostate with every thrust.

“Goddamn it!” Anthony cried, squirming. His muscles ached from laying on his stomach for what felt like hours andhis cock leaked onto the pillow beneath him. “Fuck, why have we not done this before?”

“Don’t know cause– fuck– you feel good.” Travis’ strong hands gripped Anthony’s hips, pounding into him. His anxiety about fucking the smaller man has completely dissolved, replaced with growing pleasure in his gut.

“Tim, it’s too good!” Anthony yelped, tears wetting the pillow further.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Tim reassured the younger man. “Just two more and then I’ll fuck you and let you come.”

“Almost there–” Travis warned before finishing with a grunt deep inside Anthony.

“There’s so much,” Geoff murmured in wonder as he watched Travis slide out of Anthony’s hole. He was red and glistening in the low light of the hotel room.

“Always room for more.” Tim smiled and patted Anthony on the back of the head, giving him a little scratch that the younger man pushed up into.

“Frankie, your turn.” Anthony’s muffled voice called out for his other guitarist.

“Fucking finally,” Frank groaned as Tucker slid off him to allow him to stand. He arched his back like he’d been sitting there for hours, bored, as if he wasn't being jerked off by hot men the whole time.

“Tim, I’m so close, I don’t know if I can do it,” Anthony whined, shivering despite the warmth of the room.

“We’ll keep you grounded, honey. Besides, Frankie is almost there anyway. Tuck and Geoff did a good job on him.” Tim was proud of his oldest bandmates. He had trained them well as submissives.

Frank approached Anthony from the foot of the bed, his cock pulsating in his hand. It usually took him a while, but Tucker had been working him eagerly and he was sure the tight heat of his singer would push him over the edge in no time.

He wasn’t wrong. Entering Anthony, he quickly established an erratic pace, coming hot into the younger man soon after.

Anthony whined as Frank’s cock slid out from him. He felt like he was gushing with all the cum. What if he sloshed when he stood up?

Frank swatted him on the ass before pressing a kiss to his spine.

“Hey, be nice,” Tim warned.

Anthony actually appreciated it. He felt so close to exploding, the slap to his cheek was grounding.

“Okay, everyone out. Thank you for your service, but you are no longer needed.” Tim was up ushering them out of the room.

“Happy birthday, Ant!” Frank called.

“I hope we made it a good one!” Tucker added.

They had indeed. Anthony would have to thank them properly later. Tim would be sure to also extend his gratitude. But it was his turn with Anthony, and he intended to make sure the younger man’s birthday ended with a bang.

After the door was shut and locked, Tim approached the bed, laying a gentle hand on Anthony’s back.

“You did so good, baby.” Tim assisted Anthony in rolling over, taking his trembling hand as he did so. “You took them all so well.”

“Wanted to make you proud.”

“You did– you always do, sweetie.”

Anthony smiled, settling on his back as Tim adjusted the pillows underneath him to prop him up. The bassist ran a warm washcloth along his bottom to clean up the leakage. There was still so much inside him. Anthony wondered if he was bulging with it. He looked down and his eyes were so unfocused he couldn't even tell. He brought his hand to his belly to feel if it was distended. He felt a little bump that he wasn’t used to, but he wasn’t sure if that was because of the forceful fucking from the last two men’s thick cocks.

“You’re so good,” Tim continued, peeling off his clothing so he could be fully flush against Anthony. He lowered himself onto the bed and placed a kiss on Anthony’s lips, the first one he’d been given that night. “You’re such a good boy for me.”

“That’s all I want.” Anthony’s eyes shimmered with moisture. Tim was quick to kiss the tears away.

“Happy birthday, baby boy.” Tim whispered, pressing kisses to Anthony’s forehead, eyelids, nose, chin. “You ready for your next gift?”

“Mhm.” Anthony blinked up at Tim, not even sure what to expect. He knew he was going to get fucked and finally get to come, but Tim was being sweet, even for him.

Tim captured Anthony’s mouth, nibbling on the younger man’s bottom lip. Anthony loved to be manhandled when he was being kissed– he wanted to feel like he was being consumed. Tim always did exactly what he wanted. The bassist kissed forcefully, bringing a hand up to cup Anthony’s cheek while the other hand grasped Anthony’s thigh. He hooked the younger man’s legs over the curve of his hips, lining up his cock and pushing in slowly. Anthony gasped into Tim’s mouth, feeling the air pulled from his lungs. Yes– this was the angle he had been craving all night. This way the curve of Tim’s cock pressed against his prostate with every thrust.

Tim hardly let Anthony have any room to breath as he fucked into him, deep and slow.

“Tim!” Anthony’s cries were muffled into the other man’s mouth as they breathed into each other.

“You wanna come, baby?” Tim asked, breath hot on Anthony’s chin.

“Please!” Anthony gasped.

Tim gripped the younger man’s cock, holding himself up shakily on one hand.

“Looked so good getting fucked by all our friends,” Tim panted, his orgasm approaching rapidly. “Who else do you think would want to fuck your pretty hole?”

Anthony cried out, hips bucking into Tim’s fist.

Tim continued. “You think I could give Craig a call? He would like a turn on you, I bet.”

“Already has— years ago.”

Tim sunk his teeth into his bottom lip to hold himself off. He wanted Anthony to come first. But the image of Anthony getting fucked by men he hardly even talked to anymore was just too much.

“Come for me, love.”

Anthony did as he was told. He spilled hot into Tim’s hand, hips twitching up to milk himself dry. Tim followed right after— the singer squeezing his cock too much of a pleasant sensation to hold off any longer.

“Fuck!” Anthony cried as Tim thrust through his orgasm, pounding at his sensitive prostate.

“Goddamn baby,” Tim sighed and collapsed on top of the younger man. “You did so fucking good.”

Anthony couldn’t answer. He was too full, too fucked out. He couldn’t believe he’d taken six of them in a row.

“Fucking hell, gonna sleep for days,” Tim groaned. He gently pulled his softening cock out from Anthony and laid down beside the singer.

“Thank you,” Anthony whispered.

“Of course, baby, it’s what you wanted.”

“It’s what I needed,” the younger man sighed. “Seriously. Thank you.”

Tim would do anything to keep hearing that.

Chapter Text

Frank was no stranger to freaky requests. But what Anthony wanted was dangerous, especially for them.

Nonetheless, Frank did his research. He found a bar in another city that was popular for these kinds of meet ups. After hours of scouring forums, he had found a man in the music industry, someone who would be discreet and wouldn’t demand anything from the interaction other than the pleasure of the act. When he finally unveiled the plan to Anthony, the younger man was bubbling with excitement.

“Thank you, Francis. You have no idea what this means to me.” Anthony engulfed his boyfriend in a hug. “Will you watch?”

Anthony’s blue eyes pleaded with him. Although he wanted to fuck a complete stranger, he still wanted the older man in the room with him. Frank thought it was sweet that his boyfriend still wanted him near for that.

“Of course, baby,” Frank agreed.

Frank was looking forward to it. There weren’t any new things to try after years in a relationship, but this was one of the few things that they hadn’t explored.

When the day arrived, Frank put on a nice pair of pants and a button up shirt. Even if he wasn’t getting involved, he wanted to look nice. Anthony on the other hand looked stunning. He wore a tight pair of dark jeans, a V-neck T-shirt under a black cardigan and put on his sweet, musky fragrance.

They walked a few blocks from their hotel room to the bar, hand-in-hand while Anthony shook with anticipation. Frank held his hand tightly, a grounding force next to him.

They sat down at the bar and ordered Cokes. Frank checked his phone nervously, confirming the correct time.

When his man walked in, both Frank and Anthony‘s heads whipped up and watched him enter. The man was tall, easily over six foot, and lean but muscular underneath his camo print jacket. He wore nicely fitted jeans and work boots. His head was adorned with a baseball cap and his facial features obscured by sunglasses and a face mask.

“Oh, Frank,” Anthony sighed. “He’s perfect.”

He was everything Frank wasn’t and the older man tried to fight back jealousy. He knew Anthony loved him and found him attractive, but he also knew how much Anthony liked being manhandled, something Frank was only able to do to a certain extent.

“Would you like a drink?” Frank offered.

The man shook his head. He had been instructed to make minimal conversation and keep his face obscured with a mask. Anthony shivered as he imagined the man’s big fingers trailing down his back, fucking him open roughly.

“Let’s get to it then.” Frank was also nervous, but knew he had to put on a brave demeanor for Anthony.

Neither man had ever done anything like that before. Sure, they fucked around with Tucker at times, but this was different. This was dangerous.

The man knew Anthony’s safe word, and Frank’s too, if it came to that. They just had to trust that he would respect it. Frank knew more about him than Anthony— who wanted to keep it that way.

To Anthony, this was a big man with a huge cock who liked to fuck little whores. And Anthony wanted to feel like a slut— nothing more than a hole for a stranger’s pleasure.

Frank led the other men up to their hotel room. There was a comfy chair in the corner, a perfect cuck chair, Anthony had joked earlier. Frank settled himself in the seat and watched Anthony squirm awkwardly.

“Don’t act shy, baby.” Frank smirked, spreading his legs and leaning back comfortably in the chair. “You know what this man is here for.”

Anthony flicked his eyes to the man, who was unbuckling his belt and revealing his black boxer briefs. The younger man liked it best when men wore tight fitting underwear. He could see the outline of the man’s half hard cock through the fabric. He was thicker than Frank, longer than anyone Anthony had ever fucked.

Anthony swallowed nervously. “How do you want me?”

“On your hands and knees like the dog you are,” the man answered tersely.

Anthony inhaled. Without needing instruction he undressed, throwing his clothes on the floor before looking at Frank for permission.

“Go ahead, baby.”

Anthony positioned himself on the bed, hands and knees like the man had instructed. He heard the clink of his belt as it hit the floor, the rustle of the man’s jeans as he revealed his cock. The younger man craned his head to get a look. The stranger’s cock was practically pulsing in his hand as he fisted himself to full hardness. Anthony nearly drooled, realizing how much this stranger got off on situations like this. It clearly wasn’t his first time.

Frank inhaled and Anthony glanced over to see him palming his cock through the fabric of his jeans.

“Frankie,” Anthony whined.

“Not now, baby,” Frank chided. “You’ve got a job to do.”

Anthony whimpered, his own cock weeping pathetically between his legs. He’d been half hard for hours, not being able to calm down enough just thinking about what was planned.

“Is the whore ready for my fingers?” the man asked.

“Yes, please.”

“Yes, what?” Frank asked.

Anthony swallowed. It was so unbelievably hot that Frank was domming from the cuck chair. “Yes, sir,” he responded, looking Frank directly in the eyes as he said it, as if he was talking to his boyfriend as much as the anonymous man about to fuck him.

“Better.”

Anthony’s pleasure center lit up simultaneously from the praise and the feeling of the man’s thick finger circling his hole. He groaned, pushing back against the intrusion. The stranger responded by breaching his entrance, sliding his finger past the second knuckle.

Anthony quickly asked for another.

After the third, Anthony felt like he was going to topple over from the feeling of fullness, the pleasant stretch. He didn’t know how he was going to take the stranger’s huge cock.

As if reading his mind, the stranger teased his rim with the other hand. “Shall we try a fourth?”

Anthony bit his lip. He never needed that much with anyone else, but he was afraid if they didn’t prepare him adequately, the pain would outweigh the pleasure.

The younger man realized the stranger wasn’t going to do anything without explicit consent so he nodded, adding, “yes, please, sir.”

“Goddamn, baby, you’re doing so good.” Frank admired Anthony from the corner of the room, watching his boyfriend get finger fucked by another man. He couldn't believe how hot he was finding this. He couldn’t stand it, he had to take his cock out and jerk himself while he watched.

Anthony could feel his eyes glazing over and was helpless to prevent it. He felt his hips rocking back onto the man’s fingers, fucking himself wantonly. The stranger was careful to avoid the spot Anthony was desperately trying to find.

A sigh of relief and pleasure fell from Anthony’s lips as the man’s finger finally brushed against the bundle of nerves.

The stranger chuckled at the reaction. “You moan like such a bitch,” he commented. “You’re going to be so fun to fuck.”

Anthony’s arms trembled at the comment. Fuck, he loved to be talked to like that. Sure, Frank could get into dirty talk, but it felt so much more depraved coming from someone who didn’t even know his name.

Anthony couldn’t stand it. He shouted, “fuck hurry up then!”

His outburst was rewarded by a sharp smack to the thigh.

“Whores don’t make demands,” the stranger scolded.

Anthony looked to Frank for help, who just shrugged and continued jerking his own cock.

The younger man whined, falling to his elbows, unable to hold himself up any longer. He felt arms snake around his waist, holding his ass up in the air and he relaxed into the firm grip.

He felt the tip of the stranger’s cock at his entrance, flush with the skin of his ass. Frank had ensured the stranger got tested beforehand so Anthony could really feel like a slut, used and filled to the brim with seed from an unknown man. He moaned just the thought. He wanted Frank to fuck him after the man left, pushing the cum further inside him, mixing with his own.

“You can do it, baby,” Frank encouraged, fingering the tip of his cock as he watched his boyfriend fall apart underneath the anonymous man.

Anthony’s eyes fluttered shut, adjusting to the pressure of the man’s huge cock inside him. He knew he was making Frank so proud— being so good for him. He wanted to show this man what a good fuck toy he was.

“Fuck,” the man groaned as he bottomed out inside Anthony. “For a little slut, you’re so tight.”

Anthony beamed with the praise. He was a cockslut, but he kept himself small and tight, perfect for being used by a big man.

The man pushed on Anthony’s head, forcing his face into the sheets. “Be a good girl and lie there while Daddy fucks you.”

Anthony’s mewls were muffled by the sheets. His body jerked with every thrust from the stranger, the only friction on his cock came from it slapping on his stomach as he was pounded into from behind.

“Gonna come just from Daddy’s cock, like a good slut?”

“Yes, Daddy, please!” Anthony cried, fisting his hands in the sheets as the man continued to brutally pound into his prostate.

Frank watched in awe from the corner of the room, surprising himself at how much he enjoyed watching this muscular man abuse his boyfriend’s hole. He was close to the edge, but decided he wanted to finish inside Anthony that night so he let go of his cock and watched as the stranger chased his own pleasure.

The man wasn’t far behind, one particularly tough thrust and he buried his cock deep in Anthony, letting him be filled with anonymous cum.

The force of the man’s orgasm was enough to throw Anthony over the edge, coming all over the hotel sheets with no direct stimulation.

He collapsed, out of breath and fucked out. He hardly noticed as the stranger zipped himself back into his jeans, retrieved his belt, and exited the room without fanfare.

Frank was next to him in a second, running a hand through his hair and whispering praise in his ear. “God, baby, you have no idea how hot that was to watch.” Frank’s breath on his ear lobe made him feel hypersensitive and he squirmed against the feeling.

Frank flipped Anthony onto his back, the younger man still in a post orgasm daze and buried his cock deep inside. It was an easy fit now that he was fucked loose by the meaty stranger.

“Not gonna take long,” Frank groaned, fucking himself to a peak with the lubrication from the anonymous man’s cum.

Anthony barely noticed as his hole was once again pumped full of seed.

“God,” Frank sighed, sliding his sensitive cock out of Anthony’s hole. “You look like a glazed donut.”

Anthony giggled in his post fuck fuzziness. “You gonna eat out my hole?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Frank growled, tucking himself back into his pants and collapsing next to Anthony on the bed. “We are definitely doing that again, right?”

Chapter Text

August 7th, 2025 Baltimore, Maryland

Eventually, Geoff always fell to his knees. At some point in the night, he ended up with his back toward the audience, facing Tucker, screaming into the microphone as he writhed around on the floor. It was cathartic, dirty, grounding.

It also drove Tucker crazy.

So that night, he’d fingered Geoff while he pressed him against the wall in the grimy green room, shoving a small plug into his stretched entrance, then zipped him back up with a smirk. That'll show him, Tucker thought.

Little did he know how much Geoff could take.

The singer was unhinged that night, rolling around on the disgusting stage at Ottobar. It was one of those venues like they used to play– air conditioning not able to keep up with the summer humidity so condensation formed on the floor and turned it into a skating rink by the end of the night. Geoff especially loved the no barricade shows where he could get up in the faces of the front row, feeling their hot breath on his lips as they screamed the words back at him.

Tucker could hardly look at him during ‘Falling Bomb’. Geoff was on his knees, spread like a fucking whore, tugging at his shirt like he couldn’t stand the feeling of it on his sensitive skin. It got even worse during ‘Lovesong Writer’ when Geoff’s attention was turned toward Tucker, seemingly losing interest in the crowd. He was on his knees again, this time jerking off the microphone like it was a fucking cock. His thin t-shirt left nothing to the imagination as it clung to his soft hips.

At the end of the set, Geoff barely got down the two steps that led to the green room before Tucker was grabbing him by the belt loops and throwing him into the wall.

“Tuck— what—“ Geoff’s cry was cut off by Tucker smashing their lips together.

“Why do you have to act like that?” Tucker growled against the singer’s lips. “On your fucking knees like that, jerking off the microphone. I mean, what the fuck Geoffrey?”

Geoff gasped as Tucker raked his nails down the thin fabric of his sweat soaked t-shirt. “You’re the one who— fucking— fingered me to shit earlier.”

“Guilty,” Tucker admitted. “Gonna fuck you to shit now since you’re so fucking worked up.”

“At least— fuck, not right here, Tuck!” Geoff begged as Tucker spun him around and pressed his face into the wall. They were barely out of sight of the crowd, crew rushing to tear down equipment.

“You didn’t seem to notice the crowd early when you were pretending to throat fuck the mic.”

Tucker’s wrapped thumbs slid under the singer’s waistband, pulling his pants down just enough to access his hole. Geoff pushed back against him, desperate to get off quickly. Of course he’d been acting like a whore all night— Tucker had worked him up and then threw him on stage. What else was he going to do?

“You guys good?” Steve asked as he slid past, carrying a loop of cables.

“Just need a minute,” Tucker answered, yanking the plug from Geoff as the singer gasped.

“Enjoy.” The guitarist smirked as he walked away.

“Oh, I will,” Tucker muttered, grinding his bulge against Geoff’s bare ass.

“Make it quick!” Geoff demanded, resting his palms against the wall.

The singer tried not to think about how many germs he was surely picking up as his mouth fell open and he breathed hot against the surface of the wall. Tucker fumbled his own pants open, grinding against Geoff’s back. His nails dug into the other man’s hips. Those fucking hips he’d had to look at all night.

“Ah!” Geoff cried out as Tucker entered him.

“God— fucking tight.” Tucker hadn't stretched Geoff as much as usual before the show.

Geoff’s toes curled at the stretch, attempting to hold himself up, but failing. Tucker gripped his waist, throwing an arm around his middle and pressed him into the wall for support. All those arm days at the gym were coming in handy.

“Coming!” Tucker warned, slamming his cock into the other man.

Geoff came in his pants with a cry, with nothing but the sensation of Tucker’s cock dragging in and out of his tight hole and the friction of his jeans on his cock.

The two men took a moment to catch their breath and then they were tucking themselves back into their pants. Geoff patted his hair, mussed up and crunchy from drying sweat. It wasn’t an attempt to cover it up— everyone knew what they did.

“You better not do that shit on Saturday,” Tucker warned.

Geoff couldn’t make any promises. They would be playing to their biggest crowd ever in just two days at MetLife stadium. Even he couldn’t predict how that was going to make him feel.

The singer smirked. “We’ll see.”

Chapter Text

Anthony woke up with a start. No– Tony woke up with a start. Tony was little. He didn’t know how he’d gotten little in his sleep, but there he was, reaching for his stuffed otter. He sat up in his bunk for a moment, clutching Roscoe and listening to the sounds of his band snoring.

The only light emanated from the nightlight in the front lounge. It was just enough for Tony to crawl out of bed and seek out Keith’s bunk directly underneath his. He didn’t like to be alone when he was little, especially in the middle of the night. He wanted to snuggle with his daddy.

Keith was still awake, his hand moving under the covers. Tony pulled back the curtain and watched as Daddy’s hand stilled and their eyes locked.

“Anthony?”

“Can Daddy cuddle me?” Tony whined.

“Sure, baby, I didn’t know you were little.” Keith adjusted himself so Tony could slip into the bunk beside him.

“Woke up little.” Tony slid into Daddy’s bunk and snuggled up next to him.

Keith shifted uncomfortably, pressing the palm of his hand against his crotch.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?” Tony was concerned. Daddy looked uncomfortable.

“Sorry, baby, Daddy just had an itch,” Keith said, adjusting the blankets over his bottom half.

“I can help you scratch it,” Tony offered helpfully.

“Not that kind of itch, baby.” Keith shook his head.

Tony’s cheeks heated up. Oh, so that’s what Daddy meant. Sometimes Tony got an itch in his pants, too, and he rubbed at it until he felt better. Tony was little, but he wasn’t so little that he didn’t know how good it felt to touch his private parts.

“Sometimes I have to scratch, too.” Tony admitted. “I’m getting a little itchy now.”

Keith frowned. Their thing had never been sexual. It was about comfort, whenever Anthony needed it and only ever initiated by Anthony. But Keith had to admit he found his friend quite attractive and they had known each other for long enough that maybe it wouldn’t be so weird if they took it to that level.

“Are you sure, baby?” Keith asked, hesitating. He wasn’t sure if this was even a good idea to do without prenegotiation. But Anthony looked so hot when he was little. He'd gotten off to thoughts of his bandmate needing help with basic tasks, so helpless when he was in little space.

“Wanna touch Daddy,” Tony pouted, the hand that wasn’t holding onto Roscoe playing with the drawstring of his own pajama pants. “Wanna touch myself, too.”

“You can touch yourself, baby.” Keith settled back on his pillow, inviting Anthony under his blanket. He set Roscoe above their heads so the other man’s hands could be free.

“Okay Daddy,” Tony said, putting his hand down his pants. He didn’t have underwear on so his hand brushed his cock, making him twitch. He giggled. “Feels good.”

“Yeah, baby, that’s why I was doing it.” Keith smiled at Anthony’s innocence.

Tony turned his head to look at Keith while he played with his cock. “What were you thinking about before that made you itchy?”

Keith swallowed. Should he admit what he was actually thinking or lie? He decided to take the plunge. Anthony wouldn’t respond poorly when he was little. “You.”

Tony’s eyes lit up in the dim light. “Daddy was thinking about me and got itchy?”

“Yeah,” Keith sighed. “Think about you a lot.”

Tony giggled. “I like to think about Daddy, too.”

“Yeah?“ Keith was surprised, but pleased. “What do you think about?”

“Think about Daddy touching my private parts,” Tony moaned, palming his cock a little harder.

Keith swallowed. Logically he knew that Anthony was a 43 year old man— he wasn’t taking advantage of an actual child. But what would the other men think if they knew? Everyone was aware that Keith was the dad of the band, sure, but this? This had to be taking advantage of Anthony’s vulnerability.

“Anthony I—“

“Please, Daddy,” Tony pouted, squirming around in the small bed uncomfortably. He was starting to get too hot and his cock ached and he wanted to feel the rough skin of Daddy’s hand on him.

Keith relented, rolling onto his side. He propped himself up on his elbow, back to the wall. Anthony’s already big blue eyes were blown even wider in the dark light of the bunk. The singer was wearing the women’s pajama shirt he’d worn on a stage a few nights previous with the matching pants. The top few buttons were undone and it hung off his skinny shoulders. Keith needed to make sure he ate more often.

“Can I— do you want me to— uh, kiss you?” Keith stuttered, nervously. They’d kissed before in the way that Anthony kissed all his friends on the mouth, but not in this context. He wasn’t sure it was appropriate. There was fucking and kissing and when you combined the two it meant something that he wasn’t sure that Anthony wanted.

Tony was slightly taken aback. He hadn’t considered kissing Daddy. He didn’t know that was allowed! His eyes widened as he said, “yes, please!”

Keith smiled at Anthony’s enthusiasm and readjusted himself so he could lean down and cup the singer’s chin. “You’re so cute, baby.”

Tony giggled at Keith’s breath tickling his lips. His tummy felt like it was full of bubbles.

The other man connected their lips gently. Anthony pushed up into the kiss, his hand still tangled in his pajama pants.

“Daddy tastes good,” Tony commented as they parted.

Keith smiled. “Thanks, baby, it’s just toothpaste.”

“Yummy,” Tony giggled, his tongue darting out to lick at Keith’s lips.

“Do you want Daddy to touch you?” Keith asked.

“Wanna see Daddy first,” Tony said.

Keith leaned back against the wall, sliding the waistband of his pajamas down just enough to pull his cock out. Tony sighed when he saw Keith’s cock hard for the first time. It looked yummy— like a lollipop. Maybe he would suck it sometime. That was a thought for another day.

“Happy?”

“Mhm,” Tony said, feeling fizzy in his tummy. “Daddy, touch me now.”

“Okay, baby.” Keith’s hand snaked its way down the front of Anthony’s pajama bottoms, nudging the other man’s hand out of the way. “Tell me what you like.”

“Just like being touched there,” Tony sighed, melting into Keith’s hand. “It’s nice when someone else does it.”

“Yes, it is,” Keith agreed. He adjusted so that he was pressed against Anthony’s side, his bare cock making contact with the other man’s hip.

“Daddy feel good, too?”

“Yes, baby, Daddy feels very good,” Keith answered, rutting against Anthony’s hip in time with the movement of his fist.

“Daddy makes me feel so good,” Anthony whined, hips rolling into Keith’s fist. His hand untangled from the sheets and brushed Keith’s face. “Daddy, you’re so cute.”

“Fuck,” Keith grunted, resting his forehead against Anthony’s shoulder. “Anthony— don’t say that.”

“Why?” Tony whined. “You are!”

“Just— really hot.” Keith’s lips fell open, mouthing at Anthony’s collar bone through his pajama shirt.

“That’s good!” Tony countered. “Hearing good things makes my tummy feel fuzzy.”

“Fuck, me too,” Keith groaned, rolling his hips against Anthony’s side.

“Can I touch you?” Tony asked, shyly.

“Yeah, baby.” Keith adjusted to that Anthony could reach, the singer’s hand moving to brush his cock. He groaned as Anthony’s long fingers danced at the tip experimentally, like he’d never felt anything like it.

Tony giggled. “Daddy’s thick.”

“Thanks, baby,” Keith snorted, burying his head in the pillow.

Keith continued to jerk Anthony with one hand while his other hand found its way into the smaller man’s hair. He noticed how soft it was, slightly overgrown. It made him look youthful. Not in a weird way— nothing weirder than what they were doing now anyway. He looked innocent, how Keith imagined he looked as a teenager before everything happened. Keith had been present for most of everything supporting him through it, letting him stay at his house for weeks at a time.

“Daddy—“ Tony whined, hips stuttering.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” Keith made sure to keep his movements even, firm as he jerked Anthony toward the edge.

“Yeah—“ Tony whined as he came all over Keith’s fingers, coating the inside of his pajama pants.

Keith breathed as Anthony’s hand stuttered, the other man frozen in ecstasy for a moment. When he caught his breath, he met Keith’s eyes in a wide blue stare.

“Daddy?” Tony asked.

“Yes, baby?” Keith shuddered as Anthony’s finger twitched, catching the head of his cock.

“Can you show me how you like to be touched?” Tony asked, shyly.

Keith smiled. He was proud of his boy for asking, for being brave about not knowing his new partner. “Of course and thank you for asking so nicely.”

Tony lit up bright pink from the praise.

“The angle is a little awkward, but this is good.” Keith directed Anthony’s hand toward the base of his cock, adjusting his fingers so they squeezed a bit more. He placed his own hand on top of Anthony’s, moving him at the pace he enjoyed, but was still able to feel another’s hand on him. He always missed that on tour. He supposed he had it now.

“Daddy’s so warm,” Tony sighed, nuzzling his forehead against Keith’s stubbly cheek. “Maybe next time he can get on top of me? That would feel nice.”

Keith grunted at ‘next time’. He assumed this was a one time thing, something Anthony just needed that night for whatever reason. Warm tendrils of pleasure licked down his spine as he thought about being on top of Anthony, pressing their cocks together. Maybe even fucking him.

He’d never actually fucked a man before and it scared him, but it was also something he could imagine himself doing with Anthony.

“You almost there, Daddy? Want your tummy to feel funny like mine.”

That pushed Keith over the edge. He cried out as he came, biting gently at Anthony’s shoulder. It leaked through Anthony’s fingers onto his own, their hands melting together in the slick of his cum.

“Fuck, baby, sensitive,” Keith groaned, pushing Anthony’s hand off his cock. He wiped both of their hands on the other man’s already ruined pajama pants.

Tony giggled. “Need new jammies.”

“Yeah, baby,” Keith agreed. “Want me to help you get cleaned up?”

“Yes, please!” Tony answered, snuggling closer to Keith. “Can we cuddle for a minute first?”

“Of course, baby.”

Keith would never deny him anything.

Chapter Text

“Finish your food, Anthony,” Tucker demanded, sliding Anthony’s half eaten sandwich back towards him.

It was just an Uncrustable, really one of Anthony’s favorites— a safe food. But his stomach curled looking at it.

“I’m done,” Anthony grimaced, pushing the plate away.

Tucker looked up from his phone. His glare quickly softened as he saw the feeling of distress on Anthony’s face.

“Don’t feel good,” Anthony explained, wrapping his arm around his stomach.

“What do you need?” Tucker asked.

“Are there any protein shakes left? Those are easier to stomach.”

“Lemme check.” Tucker got up from his place at the table to check the small bus refrigerator.

The fridge stayed stocked with various drinks and condiments collected from Anthony’s venue DoorDash orders. Behind the Martinelli apple juice was one last unopened chocolate Ensure. Anthony’s therapist insisted he travel with plenty of safe foods and drinks for when even the safe foods weren’t enough.

Tucker grabbed the bottle and cracked open the lid. Anthony didn’t mind being taken care of when he was feeling like this and Tucker liked taking care of him. It was like having a little brother.

“Thanks,” Anthony said as Tucker set the bottle down in front of him, making no move to take it.

“Anthony,” Tucker warned.

The singer pulled his legs up on the bench seat, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Just not hungry, Tuck.”

Tucker motioned for Anthony to scoot over and joined him on his side of the table. “You have to try to drink.”

“I know.” Anthony’s whine was muffled by the fabric of his sweatpants. “Just don’t have the energy.”

“That’s because you haven’t eaten,” Tucker reasoned.

Anthony groaned, fists balling up in the fabric of his shirt. He wanted to bite his fingernails, but knew Tucker would only scold him more. He was trying— really he was. But it was so hard when on tour, with the limited predictability and constantly changing schedules.

His bandmates were what kept him grounded. They all knew how to handle his problems in their own way, but Tim and Tucker were usually the ones that ended up putting in the most work. Frank tried but he dealt with his own mental struggles and Travis just had a hard time understanding.

Tucker was the gentle one, coaxing and comforting. Tim was there when Anthony needed discipline or a more of an authoritative figure. Tucker was his older brother while Tim was his dad.

Anthony’s eyes filled with tears as he ruminated on the fact that he couldn’t even self regulate like a fucking adult. It was nearly evening and he had only had half of the Uncrustable all day. The thought of any of his safe foods turned his stomach, but he knew he had to eat.

“Can you feed me?” Anthony asked.

Tucker paused. Anthony must be feeling really bad to ask that. He had requested it of Tim a few times, but never Tucker.

The drummer looked at Anthony, downtrodden and misty eyed. The other man looked up at him with such love. Tucker felt a stir in his own stomach that he didn’t trust at first.

“Can you do a few drinks?” Tucker asked, reaching for the bottle in an attempt to ignore the feeling brewing in his gut.

Anthony nodded, putting his feet back on the floor and turning to Tucker who held the bottle up to his lips. The singer latched on and tipped his head, drinking slowly.

“There you go. A few more, okay?” He put the bottle back to Anthony’s lips and a bit of liquid dripped from the corner of his mouth as he tipped it back. Tucker set the bottle on the table and used his thumb to wipe the spill from Anthony’s mouth. “You’re doing good. Do you think you could take a bite?”

Anthony nodded, glowing eyes focused on Tucker. He would do whatever the other man asked. Anthony felt safe with the drummer. He would never do anything to hurt him or make him uncomfortable.

Tucker noticed the shift in Anthony’s eyes. It transformed from a far off look to a focused gaze, totally locked in to what Tucker was asking him to do. He wondered idly what else he could get Anthony to do in that state, but quickly brushed aside the thought. This was about getting some food into the younger man— not whatever the hell his brain was currently telling him.

Instead of trying to make sense of his racing thoughts, Tucker instead took the sandwich and held it up to Anthony’s mouth, the plate underneath it to catch any crumbs. The younger man opened his mouth, teeth sinking into the soft bread. A bit of strawberry jelly dripped onto his chin. He smiled as Tucker wiped it up with a paper towel.

They sat there while Anthony finished the sandwich in slow bites and Tucker tried not to think about how cute Anthony looked eating from his hand. Once the sandwich was gone, he took a couple more drinks of the shake to finish it.

“Wanna nap now,” Anthony sighed, proud of himself, but still exhausted.

“Okay.” Tucker thought it was a good idea. They had the rest of the day off and didn’t have to start load in until tomorrow at one, so Anthony would have some time to rest and then eat some more.

“Can I sleep in your bunk?”

“Of course.” Tucker let him sleep there often, knowing how his smell comforted the younger man.

Anthony fidgeted with his fingers. “Will you lay down with me?”

That wasn’t an unusual request either, but Tucker was feeling some type of way about Anthony’s lips at that moment. “Give me— a minute.” The drummer fumbled for a reason. “I need to get my laundry together first.” It was a lame excuse, but they were planning on visiting a laundromat later that evening, so he figured it was passable.

Anthony dragged himself to the bunks, collapsing on Tucker’s well loved pillow.

The drummer sighed, running a hand through his hair. Fuck, he was going to need a second in the bathroom.

Chapter Text

“We need help.”

Frank was reluctant to pick up the phone. He knew it would be a repeat of what happened last time. The two alphas in the band would reluctantly drag themselves over to the omega room. Tim would scold Anthony for not putting it on the calendar and Travis would coddle him. Their ruts would get triggered and the two of them would fight over who got to fuck Anthony.

Anthony was the only fertile omega in the band. That’s right— while Frank was also an omega and still experienced a heat when triggered by another omega or an alpha’s rut, he was completely sterile– had been since birth.

His bandmates never made him feel less than for that. In fact, it made Anthony jealous. He was allergic to heat suppressors so he had to take regular birth control as he had decided he didn’t want pups from a young age. The pills didn’t impact his scent and it still drove alphas wild when he was in heat.

So while they still enjoyed fucking Frank— whether he was in heat or not— Anthony was absolutely irresistible when he was.

Frank began to explain, “Anthony is starting his heat and I’m okay for now, but it will be triggering me soon, too.”

Tim groaned and Frank knew he was running his hand over his face in exasperation. “We’ll be right over.”

Within minutes, there was a knock on the hotel door.

“How long has it been?” Travis asked when Frank let them in. He eyed Anthony curled up on one of the beds like he was in pain.

“Just a few minutes,” Frank explained. “He noticed it early this time.”

“Thank God.” Tim eyed the other alpha. “We have time to decide who gets who. I do not have the energy for a fight tonight.”

“Agreed,” Travis said, sitting down on the bed next to Anthony.

They had just played a show and were looking forward to the opportunity to get a proper night’s rest on a hotel night. Frank supposed that idea was out the door.

Tim’s lingering glance landed on Anthony. He’d always favored the younger man— not because he disliked Frank, but Anthony could be more of a brat and it reminded him of Tucker.

Tucker, Tim's husband, was the only beta of the group. Usually betas paired off with each other, but the two had been friends since before puberty and had made the choice to be together despite societal expectations.

Tim and Tucker’s relationship was tested because of this, however. Tim still needed an omega to fuck his rut out with. They came fewer and further between the older he got, but they still happened. Especially when he was around an omega in heat. Tucker was just happy when it was Anthony, not Geoff triggering his husband’s rut. He’d always been far more threatened by Geoff, who desperately wanted an alpha to claim him and give him pups.

Travis noticed Tim’s gaze and took it upon himself to make the decision. “Come on, Frank,” he said, approaching him gently. “Do you want to stay here or go to the other room?”

“Stay here.” Frank’s breath hitched as he felt a pang of arousal deep in his gut, his only indication that his own heat was beginning to set in.

Travis sat on the edge of the bed next to Frank, making the younger man’s skin tingle. The heat was setting in and his eyes flicked over to the other bed. Tim was already finger fucking Anthony, the younger man writhing beneath him. His heat had fully taken over, his pupils dilated and locked in on Tim, like no one else was in the room.

No one ever looked at Frank like that.

Sure, he’d fucked ever member of his band, including Anthony, but there was nothing like being with a fully fertile omega in heat. He would never be able to simulate the power that had over an alpha. It was the only thing omegas had and Frank couldn’t even do that.

Travis frowned at the younger man. “Hey, look at me.”

Frank obeyed. It was extremely difficult to disobey an alpha during a heat, but not impossible. Frank didn’t have the strength to try to fight it, however. He gazed into Travis’ warm eyes, another pang of arousal coming over him.

“We don’t have to,” Travis reminded him. “I can get you the dildo and you can handle it yourself.”

Sometimes Frank had to do that. When he was home alone or on tour with only his beta and omega crew. But there was a perfectly good alpha sitting right in front of him. More than perfectly good actually, Travis was ideal with his fat cock and thick hands that grabbed Frank roughly and held him down when they fucked.

“No!” Frank’s hands flew out to grab possessively at Travis' upper arm. He shuddered as he felt the warm skin under his fingertips, his thick bicep. “I want to.”

Travis nodded, fingering the hem of his shirt. He thought for a second, a pensive look on his face before he threw his shirt off and moved to undo the fly of his jeans. Frank did the same, removing his sweatshirt and t-shirt underneath. He was still enough in his mind to be self conscious and he covered his chest with his arms subtly.

Not subtly enough because Travis noticed. “Don’t be shy. You know you’re good looking.”

Frank flushed. He knew objectively he was cute, but he had a hard time accepting that people found his body attractive. He was soft in all the wrong places.

“Take off your pants, puppy,” Travis demanded, his voice dropping again to the tone that was so hard to refuse.

“Ah, Tim!” Anthony shouted from the other bed.

Frank glanced over to see Tim entering the singer roughly, slick glistening in the light of the bedside lamps. Watching his friend get fucked right next to him didn’t help the itchy feeling under his skin.

He knew his heat would consume him soon. So he asked, “how do you want me?”

“However you want, puppy.”

Frank loved that nickname. It made him feel melty all over. Obediently, he removed his pants and underwear, throwing them to the floor. He laid back against the stack of pillows and spread his legs. “Like this.”

Travis nodded, also disrobing fully. He climbed onto the bed, nestling himself between Frank’s legs. Now that they were in front of each other naked, Frank felt insatiable. His insecurities melted away and all he could think about was being filled by the other guitarist’s thick member.

“You ready for me?” Travis asked, a finger trailing along Frank’s opening. The younger man was dripping with slick, his body ready to take an alpha’s seed. It wouldn’t do anything, but Frank liked the feeling of being filled nonetheless.

Frank’s hips pushed against Travis’ hand, begging to be penetrated. “Please,” he begged, not giving a fuck anymore. He needed to be fucked.

Travis moved to line himself up with Frank’s entrance, teasing his hole with the head of his cock. “Need any fingers?”

“No.” Frank shook his head. He was positively aching to be filled. It also didn’t hurt that Travis was so thick the first few thrusts would feel like he was being ripped in two— which he fucking loved. It wasn’t uncommon for omegas to be masochists, but Frank took it to the next level. He loved to be bitten, spanked, thrown around. He’d even asked to be burned a few times.

“Alright, puppy,” Travis sighed, the tip of his cock breaching Frank’s hole. He sank in slowly, fully bottoming out against the younger man with a groan.

“Fuck me,” Frank demanded, feeling shaky as Travis’ girth split him open. “Fuck, please, fuck me, Trav.”

It had been a while since Travis fucked Frank in a heat and the submissive look in the younger man’s eye was getting to him. He knew Frank couldn’t conceive, but everything in him wanted to fuck the other guitarist until he was full of pups.

“You look fucking edible,” Travis breathed as he fucked into Frank slowly, stretching him out. “I could claim you right now.”

Frank cried out, head fuzzy with the thought of Travis putting a claim mark on him, signaling to all other alphas that he was taken. Of course, Frank thought he was destined for a life of solitude due to his infertility. No one wanted a damaged omega.

“I wouldn’t do that without talking to you first, of course, when you’re in the right state of mind,” Travis babbled, not quite so taken by his arousal that he couldn’t remember clear consent.

“I’d let you,” Frank whimpered. “You know I’d let you.”

Travis shook his head, falling to his elbows so he could hide his face in Frank’s neck. “You’re just saying that because of the heat.”

Frank knew he was probably right and if he was thinking more clearly he would deny it, convince Travis to not waste his time on a defective omega like him. But he let the fantasy take him, allowing him to sink into a dream where he was surrounded by a loving alpha and as many pups as he’d ever want.

Frank went boneless as Travis’ deep thrust brushed against his prostate. His head fell to the side and his vision unfocused. He could see Tim still fucking into Anthony, foreheads connected as they breathed into each other. An outsider would have thought they were a mated couple the way they looked at each other.

Frank’s vision blurred further when he realized he was crying. What Tim and Anthony had was everything he’d ever wanted. He pressed his cheek into the pillow and let the tears fall.

Travis was too far gone to notice the tears wetting his own cheek as they fell down Frank’s neck. He nuzzled into the younger man, fucking into him so deep he wondered if he was hurting him. Of course, that would have just been a bonus for Frank.

“Gonna knot you, baby,” Travis murmured, dragging his teeth along Frank’s neck, down his collarbone. His finger latched onto a nipple and Frank gasped, hips twitching.

“Please, wanna come with you inside me!” Frank begged, resisting the urge to fist his own cock. He wanted to orgasm as Travis filled him with cum, plugging him up with his knot.

“God— so—“ Travis came white hot into Frank at that moment. He was so tempted to bite down on his soft neck, claim him as his own.

Frank cried out, feeling Travis inflating further inside him. He felt like he was going to explode from the heat pheromones, the cum sloshing around inside him, and his own imminent orgasm.

“Come for me, pup.” Travis gripped Frank’s cock and started jerking it, rolling his hips so his knot pressed deeper.

Frank came with a sob, spilling into Travis’ fist. He worked the smaller man through his orgasm, to the point of overstimulation. He stopped when he noticed the tears on Frank’s cheeks.

“I’m fine, just— fuck,” Frank sighed, trying to laugh it off. “You fucked me so good I cried.”

Travis knew it was a lie, but he went along with it to spare Frank’s feelings. Maybe they would talk about it later, maybe they wouldn’t. It didn’t matter. Everyone would go back to acting like nothing had happened, like every other time Anthony had gone into heat on tour.

Chapter Text

You paid way too fucking much for the floor seats. Your view of the main stage wasn’t even that great, being a partially obstructed view. You supposed that’s what you got for splurging on a whim.

The opening band was just about to go on and you were beating yourself up for making a stupid financial decision when Tucker Rule walked past you.

He was getting stopped by a few people here and there, but for the most part, he was just another crew member roaming the floor in uniform.

And boy, did that uniform fit him well.

You had always been a big Thursday fan, probably more so than My Chem, attending more shows than you could count over the years. You’d spoken to Tucker on multiple occasions, as one of the more active members of the band, standing outside after the shows with all your friends. In fact, you’d seen him a few weeks prior at one of the East Coast headliners before the MetLife show.

Surely, he wouldn't remember you.

Tucker walked out of view and you brushed it off as the opener took the stage. A few hours later, you had pretty much forgotten about it because of how awesome the B stage set was. You gathered your things, parting ways with your seat mates as new friends. You were prepared to go back to your hotel room and get a good night’s sleep before making the journey back home in the morning. That was until someone tapped you on the shoulder as you were turning to leave the section.

You spun around and were dumbstruck to see Tucker standing in front of you, clad in the Draag jumpsuit the crew members wore. He had a goofy smile on his face as your eyes met.

“I know you!” he exclaimed.

You were stunned. How had he remembered you out of the thousands of people who surely fawned over him constantly. You were nothing memorable.

“Yeah, from a couple weeks ago.” Tucker nodded, the recognition sinking in. “How have you been?”

“I, uh, great, I’ve been great!” You fumbled for words that didn't make you sound like an idiot.

You couldn’t believe he recognized you. You had waited outside after the show in Baltimore with your friends when Tucker appeared to chat with the small crowd. Somehow, forty-five minutes had passed and he was still outside talking to the group. He kept laughing at your jokes and you brushed it off as him being kind and high from the adrenaline rush of a show.

“I’m glad you made it!” he said enthusiastically.

You were surprised he remembered you telling him you were unsure if you could figure out a way to get to the show. You had bought the ticket on a whim, deciding to figure out transportation later. Unfortunately, your car had died and it had just gotten a new battery yesterday. Tucker had joked about giving you a ride, but again you had brushed it off as kindness. He really was a sweet man.

“Do you want to, um.” He shuffled on his feet awkwardly as people exited the section around you. His voice lowered as he asked, “come backstage?”

You didn’t know how to respond. You felt frozen to the spot, unable to make words come out of your mouth.

“Sorry, that’s weird, maybe, I— uh, just thought you’d like to see how it all works.” He tried to walk back the question, wringing his hands nervously.

“I’d love to!” you managed to blurt out.

His eyes softened and he smiled. “Come on!” He motioned and before you knew it he was grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the section, around the main stage and into the belly of the stadium.

The hallways were winding and you feared you were going to get lost. Thankfully, Tucker seemed confident in where he was going. You noticed there wasn’t a single crew member as you walked further into the locker room area.

Tucker came to a stop at the end of a hallway, turning around and looking at you for a moment. You furrowed your brows, wondering if he was lost.

The next moment, he was backing you into the wall and pressing his lips against yours. You squeaked with surprise and he quickly jumped back.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” He wore a lot of pure horror on his face. “I don’t know what came over me— fuck I should have asked!”

“It’s okay!” you insisted.

“I mean, fuck, I don’t even know how old you are, you look so young. Shit, you’re not underage, are you?” He really started to panic then, fingers pulling at his already messy hair.

“It’s okay!” you said again. “I’m twenty-two, it’s perfectly okay!”

His face relaxed a bit, but the expression of guilt remained. “You’re still really young.”

You lowered your voice, “Old enough to know what I want.”

His eyes darkened. “What do you want?”

“You.”

His lips crashed back into yours, your head knocking against the wall in a way that would have been painful had you not been so focused on what was happening. Your hands shook as you wrapped them around the back of his neck, holding him close like he was going to drift away. His tongue darted out and soon he was sucking on your bottom lip, panting like you were stealing the oxygen from his lungs.

His hand moved from the back of your head, down your neck, over your t-shirt. You gasped as he cupped your breast, the warmth of his hand seeping through the thin fabric of your bra. You could feel him smirk against your lips as he massaged your soft skin, feeling your nipple peak as he did it.

You groaned, pressing your hips into his as he continued to massage your chest. You could feel his hardness and you quickly moved away, pushing your back into the wall.

He backed away a bit, putting a few inches of space between you, eyes silently asking if it was okay to continue.

“Wait— is this okay?” you asked, clarifying, “With your wife?”

“Oh, yeah, this is fine.” He shrugged, looking you up and down. “God, she’d love you, too, actually. You’re just her type.”

You shivered at the thought of him fucking you from behind while you made out with her. You had never even imagined that as a possibility before, but you quivered at the idea that it could be attainable. “Do you, um, do this often then?”

“Not often, but enough to know what we like.” He smirked. “Why? Do you want to come back to the hotel?”

You panicked. This was all seeming too real. “No— I—“

“I was just kidding, sweetheart,” he laughed. “I’m not waiting that long to get my hands on you. At least not this time.”

Your heart pounded. This time?? Before you could think about what the fuck that meant, his lips were colliding with yours again and his fingers were sliding under the waistband of your jeans. Your body jerked as he ran a finger over the front of your panties, already soaked from him sucking on your lip and touching your tits.

“Damn, you really do want it, don’t you, baby girl?” he whispered in your ear.

All you could do in response was gasp because he was unzipping your jeans to get more room. You glanced around the hallway, worried.

“Nobody knows we’re back here, don’t worry,” he assured you.

You all but forgot your worries as his fingers slipped underneath the elastic of your panties, creeping lower to make contact with your clit. You jumped when he touched you there.

“This is what you really wanted, huh? My hands all over you?”

You bit your lip. “You look so fucking good in that uniform.”

He smirked. “I know.”

You nearly screamed when two of his fingers breached your hole, his warm digits working in and out. He continued to fuck into you as you squirmed, hands clutching his shoulders for stability. You felt like your knees were going to buckle, but he had you.

“Would love to get my mouth on you,” he murmured against the skin of your neck, hot breath dancing over the sensitive area.

“Maybe next time,” you breathed, hips rocking against the pressure of his hand. His thumb was working your clit while he continued to fuck in and out of you.

“So you do want there to be a next time?” he raised an eyebrow, teasing you.

“If you eat pussy anything like this, then absofuckinglutely,” you replied. You could feel your orgasm quickly approaching.

“I’ve been told I’m insatiable, baby girl,” he whispered against your lips.

“Tucker— fuck—“ You let out a sound that was a mix between a squeak and a cry as you came, shuddering against him.

“That’s it, good girl,” he stroked you through waves of pleasure as your nails dug into his back.

“Um,” you stammered after catching your breath. “Do you want me to— do you, too?”

“Watching you was good enough for me.” He shook his head with a laugh. “You could give me your number though.”

“Seriously?” You were shocked he actually meant what he said about next time. “Oh— yeah, of course.” You zipped your jeans back up, fumbling around in your back pocket for your phone you weren’t sure was even still there. Thankfully, it hadn’t fallen out in the shuffle. You gave him your number and a second later received a text that read xoxo <3 - tucker. You giggled. “What, don’t know how to use emojis?”

He responded by pulling you in for another kiss, this one deeper. It was unexpected, but pleasant. “You can teach me.”

It had been worth every penny you spent on that ticket.

Chapter Text

August 9th, 2025 East Rutherford, New Jersey

Some of them hadn’t even expected Tim to show up, but Tucker knew he would be there. It was their biggest and most important show ever and even if Tim wasn’t playing with them, he wanted to be there to support his oldest friends. Tucker had beamed when Tim appeared backstage, escorted by a crew member, but the smile quickly melted from his face when the taller man threw him against the wall.

“I heard what you fucking did,” Tim growled, pressing Tucker into the cold wall. “Can’t leave you even for a few days.”

“I just wanted to check on them!” Tucker cried, trying to squirm away.

He knew Norman had probably told on him. But he didn’t do anything wrong! He'd just gone to check on someone he’d guest listed at the last venue and simply wanted to make sure it had gone smoothly. He didn’t anticipate standing outside for almost an hour talking with (and lowkey being bullied by) a group of mostly women.

“The way I heard it, you were flirting. Care to explain?” Tim’s cold eyes drilled holes into Tucker.

“Tim, there’s nothing to explain!” he insisted, squirming under the bassist’s touch.

Tim didn’t miss a beat and slapped the drummer firmly across the cheek. He didn't even have to say anything before Tucker was correcting his mistake.

“Sorry, sir,” Tucker whined. “I promise, sir, it was innocent.”

Tim contemplated letting him go for a second. He seemed sincere, but the bassist couldn’t help the flare of jealousy in his chest thinking about his submissive flirting with a bunch of young women.

“Even if it was innocent,” Tim started, letting up on the pressure of his forearm against Tucker’s chest. “Brats still need to be reminded of their place from time to time.”

Tucker whimpered, pushing against Tim’s arms. He was basically caged in by the taller man and it was already having an effect on his cock. Tim pulled away and demanded, “Get down.”

Tucker didn’t even flinch– he just fell to his knees, eyes on Tim’s feet, and hands behind his back obediently.

“You’re going to kneel there and repeat after me, got it?”

Tucker nodded, adding, “Yes, sir.”

“I will not flirt with other people without permission.”

Tucker lifted his head up, meeting Tim’s eyes. He knew he was being bad, but he just couldn’t sit there and act like he had been doing anything bad. “I wasn’t flirting!”

Crack. Tim slapped him clean across the cheek, the same cheek he had smacked before. Tucker’s eyes welled up with tears at the sting. “What did I tell you about talking back?”

“I’m not trying to talk back– I’m just not lying about what happened!” The drummer’s cheek stung and he flinched when Tim raised his hand again.

Seeing this, Tim softened, gently laying his hand on Tucker’s cheek and rubbing. He wasn’t lying just to be a brat. He genuinely believed he hadn’t been flirting. But the drummer’s demeanour was flirty by default, and he had to be reminded to be aware of that. “I believe that you didn’t mean anything by it.”

Tucker mewled and rubbed his cheek against Tim’s palm. “I really didn’t, sir. I wanna be a good boy for you.”

“You are,” Tim said. “Most of the time.”

Tucker frowned. He wanted to be good all the time, but he just couldn’t help himself from being bratty sometimes.

“You have to remember how pretty you are–” Tucker whimpered and pushed against Tim’s hand at the compliment. “Sometimes people can see normal conversation as flirting when it’s coming from someone as attractive as you.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Tucker whined, pushing forward to rest his forehead against Tim’s stomach. He was so warm and safe and it calmed Tucker’s nerves.

“You’re going to be a good boy for me tonight, aren’t you?”

Tucker nodded eagerly.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes, sir.” Tucker answered. “I’m going to be so good for you.”

“So to be a good boy, you’re going to put these on.” Tim reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of women’s panties.

Tucker whimpered at the sight. He was no stranger to women’s underwear, but wearing them kept him constantly half hard and they had such a long show that night. “Tim—“ Tucker's whine was cut off by another sharp slap.

“You’re going to be a good boy and put them on,” Tim demanded.

Tucker’s cock was already responding to the prospect. He would feel the lace against his hard on any time he moved— and move around he did, especially when he was behind his kit. There was also the bonus of not being a ton of privacy to change between his Thursday outfit, to the crew member jumpsuit, to the Draag uniform. Someone would inevitably see him and his ass cheeks on full display in the green room.

Tim held a hand out, the panties in his other hand. “Come on. Let’s go to the bathroom.”

Tucker let himself be pulled to his feet and around the corner into a bathroom. He didn’t have to be asked to undo his pants once the door was clicked shut. The drummer toed off his shoes, pants and underwear hitting the floor. He kicked them to the side, standing half naked in front of Tim, who was studying him up and down.

“You’re such an easy little boy.” Tim stepped closer, grabbing Tucker’s squishy hip. “Hard just from that little bit of talk.”

“Yes, sir,” Tucker agreed, leaning into the touch. He wanted Tim to squeeze down, leaving bruises on his hips. Maybe he would later.

“Here you go, baby.” Tim held out the underwear.

Tucker got a good look at them. Really they were quite innocent— just a little pink bikini cut with lace around the edges. It was the innocence of them that got Tucker really hard. He imagined Tim pinning him down, pulling the panties to the side, and fucking his pussy— wait, what? Tucker shivered at that image of Tim holding him down, calling him a slutty little girl. He shook the thoughts out of his head, not wanting to think about what it meant. He was a feminist for Christ’s sake!

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Tucker blushed, taking the panties from Tim’s hand and stepping into them, sliding them up his thighs and adjusting his cock to sit as comfortably as possible in them.

Tim ran his fingers along Tucker’s side, trailing down to the lace waistband. The fabric was soft against the drummer’s skin and Tim’s hands were warm. “I knew they would be pretty on you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Tucker felt himself becoming more pink with embarrassment and arousal. How he was going to make it through hours of work in these he didn’t know. He thought about slipping away between sets, but knew it was an unspoken rule that he was not allowed to cum without permission.

“You’re going to be good for me tonight, aren’t you?” When Tucker didn’t immediately answer, Tim grabbed his jaw, jerking his gaze upward. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” Tucker moaned as Tim’s other hand pressed into the front of the panties, just above the head of his cock. His body went slack, leaning into Tim’s hold as the taller man rubbed his cock through the panties like it was his clit.

“Good girl,” Tim whispered.

Tucker’s hips jerked and he whimpered desperately. “Sir, please— don’t make me wait all night.”

Tim thought for a moment. He had intended to tease Tucker, then send him onstage with a hard on. But perhaps he could think of something more humiliating. “If you come now, you’re not allowed to clean yourself up. You have to walk around with dirty panties all night. Up to you.”

Tucker didn’t hesitate. “I want to come, sir!”

Tim shrugged. “All right, nasty girl. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Tucker moaned as Tim started to work his cock through the thin fabric in ernest. The bassist’s hand was experienced, having known Tucker’s cock for close to three decades. Even through the panties, Tim jerked him with practiced movements, quickly establishing the rhythm that brought the drummer to the edge quickly.

“Sir— I’m—“ Tucker choked on his words as he came on himself, coating the inside of the panties.

“Good girl,” Tim coaxed the drummer through his orgasm as he shuddered against his chest. Once Tucker’s breathing had slowed, Tim pulled away, reaching for the discarded pants and underwear. “I’ll be keeping these.” He gestured with Tucker's pair of black boxer briefs.

Tucker had no choice but to keep on the panties, lest he wanted to go commando, which would not be a comfortable option in the dress pants. He flushed, imagining his soft, sticky cock rubbing against the pants. Who was he kidding? He would get hard the instant he had to change clothes, wondering who else would notice. Kayleigh surely would. And she never held back on teasing him.

“All right, baby, go out there and kill it.”

Tucker frowned, grabbing at Tim’s hips. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find you later.” Tim slapped Tucker’s ass gently, eliciting a whine from the drummer. “We’re not done.”

Chapter Text

April 26th, 2025 Columbus, Ohio

“Well that was an abysmal crowd,” Tucker noted just a few steps offstage. He grabbed one of the towels Hayley was handing off to them and dabbed at his forehead.

“Yeah what the hell was with the lack of energy? Detroit was so good,” Frank countered, passing off his guitar to a tech.

Anthony followed closely behind, not uttering a word, and headed straight for the green room.

“Who’s going to check on him?” Tim asked after the awkward silence that followed the singer’s departure.

Tucker looked around. “I‘m pretty sure it’s your turn.”

Tim sighed and disappeared into the green room.

Frank turned toward Tucker and sighed. “He was off after New York, too, but I thought it was because of the holiday. One of us should have invited him over. I don’t know if he had anywhere to go.”

“Tim will take care of him,” Tucker said, somewhat to remind himself that Anthony was in good hands. The drummer had tried to cheer him up on stage, but his usual tactics had fallen short.

Tim returned a few minutes later. “We’re sharing a room tonight. You, too, Tuck.”

Tucker shrugged. It wasn’t unusual. Anthony usually stayed with Hayley while Tim and Tucker roomed together, but sometimes the three of them ended up sharing one king size bed.

Frank shot them a look, almost wanting to ask if he was invited, but thought better. Usually when Anthony needed comfort, he needed those two.

Anthony was silent through load out. He didn’t order a copious amount of food from DoorDash, just a cake from a local bakery. He took one bite and grimaced, offering it to the crew. Once back at the hotel, he slipped into the bathroom with his backpack.

Tim spoke when he heard the shower turn on. “He needs us to be gentle tonight.”

Tucker thought he was saying it more for his own sake than anything else. The drummer was always gentle with Anthony— he didn’t know any other way. “What are you thinking?”

“It has to be all about him,” Tim started. “I’m thinking we tie him up pretty— blindfold, too.”

The thought of Anthony tied and blindfolded got Tucker’s heart racing. It had been a while since they had the time or space to do anything like that. But leave it to Tim to organize.

Tim unzipped his backpack to reveal a length of soft blue cotton rope. Why the hell he had that with him on tour was beyond Tucker, but the drummer was glad he did.

Tucker didn’t know shit about tying, so he left Tim to prepare the rope. He did, however, have a bandana that worked as a perfect blindfold. He dug out the violet one from his backpack and unfolded it, taking care to work out the creases so it would be comfortable against Anthony’s skin.

Anthony emerged from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his hips. He didn’t react when he saw Tim preparing the rope, Tucker smoothing the blindfold. The younger man laid down in the middle of the bed, resting his damp head against the pillow, and waited.

Tim approached the bed on one side, eyeing Tucker cautiously. “We want to make you feel good tonight, is that okay?”

“That’s fine,” Anthony replied softly. He sounded almost broken.

Tucker raised an eyebrow, but didn’t prod. “Gonna tie you up and blindfold you.”

“Okay.” Anthony shrugged.

Tim nodded at Tucker who approached from the other side of the bed. They sat on either side of Anthony, Tim laying a hand on his bare chest while Tucker took his hand.

“What’s your safe word?” Tim asked, stroking Anthony’s clean skin.

“Strawberry,” Anthony replied, emotionless.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Tim hesitated, needing to ensure Anthony was in the right headspace.

Anthony finally turned his head to look at the bassist. He could see the fragility in Anthony’s eyes, the fact that he would cry if he didn’t let himself dissociate. Tim was going to get him back in his body and let him feel those emotions in a safe space.

Tim trailed his hand up Anthony’s chest to cup his cheek gently in acknowledgement. They had always been able to communicate without words. Anthony’s brows furrowed, the only hint of expression since they had left the stage that night. Tim knew he would have the younger man eating out of his palm soon.

“All right, baby boy, let’s get you tied up first so you can watch.”

Tucker sat back as Tim gathered the rope first around Anthony’s wrists, then tied them together. The bassist raised Anthony’s arms over his head, then worked the rope up the younger man’s arms, crisscrossing it in diamond shapes along his forearm, all the way to his elbow. He left just enough space between fiber and skin to allow Anthony to squirm a bit. He considered tying an anchor to the bed frame, but Anthony wasn’t in the right headspace to be that restricted.

“Pretty,” Anthony murmured, eyes upward to see what the bassist was doing.

Tucker noticed Anthony’s curious gaze as Tim tied the ropes. His cock lay only half hard against his thigh, more interested in the intricacies of the rope than what was to come next.

“Should we do your legs, too?”

Anthony nodded.

Tim reached for another length of rope to wrap around the singer’s ankles. He maneuvered the younger man so his thighs were spread and feet pressed together.

Once Tim was finished, Anthony’s attention was back on Tucker. The drummer swallowed, feeling engulfed by Anthony’s blue eyed stare. He didn’t say a word, just laid there looking so fucking pretty. Tucker couldn’t stand it. He leaned down and placed a kiss on Anthony’s lips. The younger man responded by squirming up into his touch.

“There we go,” Tucker whispered. “Finally got a reaction.”

Anthony frowned. He wanted to continue being grumpy. If he was grumpy, he wouldn’t feel what he really felt— disappointment, like he had let everyone down. He was the frontman, he was supposed to make sure the show went well. When the crowd failed to respond— no, his mind was wandering and he didn’t want that.

“Stop thinking about it, baby boy.” Tim’s voice distracted Anthony and he looked over at the bassist who had a gentle look in his eyes.

“But—“

“No,” Tim said firmly. “Focus on this.” He pulled at the loop on Anthony’s wrists, stretching his arms out.

Anthony sighed, enjoying the restriction. It was almost like a weighted blanket. He felt safe, especially with two of the men he had known the longest. It had been so long he couldn’t even remember the first time he and Tucker had fucked. It had probably happened in a drug fueled haze. The first time with Tim was more recent and during a period of sobriety. But both men always treated him with such care.

“Do you want the blindfold or is this enough?” Tucker gestured to the rope beautifully tied around his limbs.

“Blindfold,” Anthony responded. If he had been in a better mood he would have asked for a gag and maybe headphones. He loved having every sense restricted so he could focus on the men touching him, doing whatever they wanted.

Tucker took care to lift Anthony’s head. He was being treated so gently for someone who was about to be teased and fingered and maybe even fucked. Oh, fucking might be too much.

“Are you guys gonna fuck me?” Anthony asked once his vision was dark, turning his head to either side to hear their answer.

“Do you want that?” Tucker asked, his voice close if the warm breath in Anthony’s ear was any indication.

“Don’t know yet,” the singer answered. He was already getting decision paralysis. He just wanted the two men to decide for him— take care of him however they thought was best.

“We’ll check in with you in a minute, baby,” Tim’s voice appeared on his other side, about as close as the drummers’.

Now that his sight was restricted, Anthony focused on the feeling of being naked and tied under their gazes. His drummer and his bassist. The backbone of his band. He missed his guitarists, too, but he always had a special bond with Tim and Tucker. Tucker, who initially didn’t even tell him who was in the band, knowing he would psych himself out if he knew. And Tim, who didn’t even want to be in the first band, but Tucker knew how to drag him along whenever he went. His boys, who never judged him, even when everyone else did.

He felt lips on his. He thought it was Tucker, but he couldn’t quite be sure. Both of them had the same amount of stubble and Anthony couldn’t reach up and feel for glasses. Whoever it was pulled back and hovered just barely above his own lips. A hand reached out gently and grazed his cock. He noticed he was at full hardness now. The fingers felt calloused at the tips. It was Tim then. He knew the feeling of both of their hands intimately.

“Want Tim to finger you while I suck your cock?” Tucker asked, so sweetly for what he was asking.

“No!” Anthony whined. “Want kisses.”

Tucker chuckled and Anthony thought he could hear Tim as well. “Okay, sweet boy, we’ll take turns, how about that?”

“Sounds good,” Anthony purred, hips rocking as Tim began to stroke him gently.

Tucker pressed a kiss to Anthony’s lips, not moving to part them with his tongue or take it any deeper. He kept laying sweet pecks on the younger man until he was squirming. The gentle kisses weren’t matching what Tim was doing to his cock.

“You want more, baby?” Tucker teased.

“Yeaaaaaaah.” His answer came out in a long whine, more desperate that he intended.

“Should we give him more, Tim?”

“I think he’s earned it. Look how pretty he is,” Tim responded.

Anthony keened. Tim wasn’t usually that sweet. He expected it from Tucker, but not from Tim. He must have looked extra pathetic leaving the stage that night.

Tucker nodded, then remembered Anthony couldn’t see. “Yeah, he always looks pretty, but you did an extra good job with the rope. He looks so helpless.”

Tim hummed. “We have to take good care of him, then.”

Anthony twitched at Tim’s finger brushing against his entrance. His finger was wet with lube as he teased the younger man’s hole. He wasted no time and Anthony shuddered as the finger breached his entrance. Tim worked him slowly, barely to the second knuckle.

“More, please,” Anthony pleaded.

“Thank you for asking nicely,” Tim praised and rewarded the younger man with a second finger, fucking deeper this time.

Tucker resumed kissing him, a little more forceful this time to match what Tim was doing with his hands. The drummer’s tongue demanded entrance and he somehow licked into his mouth at the same pace Tim fucked into his ass. Anthony was amazed at their rhythm, but he shouldn’t have been. They had been playing together for almost three decades. Anthony’s mind wandered thinking about other things they might be able to do in sync.

“Can I come on your chest?” Tucker’s shaky whisper was warm on the singer’s lips.

Anthony nodded. He didn’t realize it before, but Tucker was already jerking himself. He pulled away to Anthony’s dismay, but was soon coating the younger man’s chest tattoo in cum.

“So pretty.” Tucker ran a finger through his own fluids, scooping a bit up. “Spread out for us.”

Anthony whined, pressing his head back against the pillow. He could feel the soft rope against his cheek and he shivered, not knowing where Tucker was. Then there was a wet finger at his lips and he was opening up and— oh, he tasted Tucker’s cum on his tongue. He loved tasting Tucker. It made him feel floaty and warm.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Tucker asked.

“Warm,” Anthony replied. “Safe.”

“That’s good, baby,” Tucker patted Anthony’s hair which had become a mussed up mess in his squirming. “What should we do next?”

“Want Tim,” he answered almost immediately.

Anthony groaned at the loss of Tim’s fingers, but was soon placated with a soft kiss from the other man. A new pair of fingers filled Anthony and he was back to floating.

“Can I try something new?” Tim asked in between kisses. Anthony heard the nerves in his voice and his curiosity went into overdrive.

“Sure,” Anthony answered cautiously. “Can you tell me what it is though?”

“Of course,” Tim said. “I want to try riding you.”

Anthony’s brain short circuited. “Like, riding my dick?”

“Would you like that?”

Anthony was helpless to control his reaction. Tim had never offered that before. His fingers started twitching and he desperately wanted to bounce his leg. “Fuck yeah, I would like that.”

“Gonna have Tucker help, okay?”

Anthony nodded eagerly. He didn’t even care when Tucker’s fingers left his own hole. He was going to get to fuck Tim. Or be fucked by Tim, seeing as he could hardly move. The singer almost asked to have the blindfold removed so he could look at Tim’s face, but was given the sweetest noise as Tucker’s finger worked into the bassist.

Once Tim was ready, he straddled Anthony at the waist, sitting back on his haunches so his lubed hole rubbed against Anthony’s cock.

“Are you ready for me?” Tim asked.

Anthony nodded, then verbally answered, “yes, please.”

“Tucker is gonna help keep me steady cause your legs are spread so pretty for us and I don’t want to mess that up.”

Tim inched back as Tucker took Anthony’s cock in hand, guiding it toward the bassist’s hole. Anthony liked that they were still working together to make him feel good. And feel good he did. Tim was tight, even for Anthony. He didn’t often get fucked. The singer knew what a privilege it was to have him like this.

Anthony saw stars beneath the blindfold as Tim started to move. It was almost agonizing how good it felt. The bassist’s hand gripped his side as an anchor, helping to ground the younger man from fully floating off into subspace.

“Gonna add to Tucker’s here.” Tim trailed his other hand up Anthony’s stomach, swiping through the ropes of Tucker’s drying cum. “You’re like our little work of art.”

Anthony cried out, his dick being absolutely tortured by the squeeze of Tim’s insides. “Tim— can I come?”

Tim cupped Anthony’s cheek with a smile. “Of course, sweet boy, that’s the point.”

That’s all the permission Anthony needed. The next moment, he was shooting hot into Tim. The other man stilled atop him, careful to not hurt his sensitive cock. Tucker came up behind the bassist and jerked him while he waited for Anthony to soften inside him. Tim was soon coming into Tucker’s hand, his desperate moan muffled by the drummer’s mouth.

“You’re so good.” Tucker untied the blindfold around Anthony’s head and threw it to the floor.

Anthony blinked up at him blearily, a satisfied grin on Tucker's face. Tim’s eyes were closed, hand anchored on Anthony’s lower belly, catching his breath.

Tucker turned toward Tim. “You, too.”

Tim grimaced and moved to his knees, letting Anthony slip out of him. “Stop it. This is about him.”

“I can appreciate both my boys at the same time.” Tucker pressed a kiss to Tim’s forehead, causing the bassist to blush.

Once Anthony was untied and Tucker returned from the bathroom with a warm washcloth to wipe them both off, they lay on either side of the bed.

The singer turned toward Tim, who had slipped his pajama pants back on. “I’m sorry— I’m sure it would have been better if I were bigger,” he apologized. He knew how to use what he had, but he didn’t exactly have the most satisfying cock to ride.

“Stop it.” Tim demanded. “You are such a good boy. You better not let anyone make you think otherwise, okay?”

Anthony’s blurry eyes filled with tears. He didn’t feel it, but he would be brave for them. His two boys who always believed in him.

Chapter Text

Frank knew better than to do what he did. But Tucker’s punishment was always so delicious. He was so good at spanking the guitarist in just the way he liked, leaving his ass decorated with the prettiest colors.

So he did it anyway. Just to get the punishment.

“You get ten and you will recite a rule after every one. Understand?” Tucker waited for an answer.

“Yes, sir.” They didn’t have ten rules, but Frank knew where the drummer was going with this.

“Over the couch.”

Frank propped himself up over the arm of the hotel couch, kneeling on the foam pad Tucker had placed there for his comfort. Sir always had his best interests in mind, Frank thought dreamily as he presented his bare ass. He was completely naked except for his black leather spiked collar. Tucker had turned the heat on in the room to keep him comfortable.

“Ready?” Tucker experimented with a few swings in the air.

Frank swallowed as the instrument made a whining noise as it cut through the air. Tucker had chosen a cane instead of a paddle. He was really pissed that night. The guitarist was in for a deliciously painful time.

“I need a verbal answer,” Tucker hummed.

“Yes, sir, I’m ready.”

Tucker dragged the cane down Frank’s spine gently, tickling his skin. “You need to be reminded of your place in the hierarchy.”

Frank sighed at the contact. “Yes, sir.”

Tucker brought the cane down on Frank’s ass with a soft whap. It was gentle, a warm up really.

“One,” Frank sighed. “No touching myself without permission.”

“Good boy.” Whap.

“Two. Always say please and thank you.”

The next one stung. Frank’s skin was starting to bloom a beautiful red and he squirmed under the feeling.

“Three. Always follow direct instructions.”

“Stick your ass out a bit more for me,” Tucker demanded.

Frank complied and was rewarded with another smack. He moaned out, “four. No coming without permission.”

The next impact landed just under his butt cheek. He jolted forward, hard cock bouncing against the couch. “Fuck— five.” He paused to inhale deeply. “No fucking other people without permission.”

“And did you do that?”

Frank shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Liar.” Tucker punctuated his reply with another lash. When Frank didn’t answer, he asked, “count?”

Frank let out a shaky breath. “Six, sir.”

“If you continue lying to me, I’ll add another ten,” Tucker threatened. “Now tell me the truth. Did you fuck someone else without permission?”

“Yes, sir, I did,” Frank admitted with a whine.

Tucker brought the cane down hard on Frank’s red cheeks, eliciting a moan that sounded like a squeak.

“Seven,” Frank counted after a few seconds.

“And who did you fuck without my permission?” Tucker wondered teasingly. They’d already talked about it, but he was to answer for his punishment.

Frank swallowed. “Anthony, sir.”

“I’ll see that Tim gives him a fitting punishment as well.” Tucker rubbed at Frank’s bare skin, encouraging more redness to bloom. He brought the cane down more gently this time, giving Frank some respite.

“Eight.”

“I can’t even imagine what you two get up to. You must have had a sub off— a race to the bottom.” Tucker grinned.

Frank’s face grew red. Anthony was only slightly more submissive than Frank, but he was eager to please whereas Frank was an absolute pillow princess. They had mostly ended up rutting against each other while making out. He wondered if it had even been worth it. Yeah, it was worth it. The singer was so soft and sweet, moaning Frank’s name into his neck. Frank sighed, thinking about it. He loved Anthony. And he loved Tucker. He loved all his bandmates so much.

“Two more, baby,” Tucker reminded him.

Frank took a deep breath and braced himself for another spank. He was tempted to brat and get more, but his cock had been aching from the moment Tucker collared him hours ago.

The ninth impact was the worst one. Tucker was taking his time, massaging feeling back into Frank’s cheeks between each whip.

Frank let out a shaky breath, his legs trembling. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t come already. “Nine.”

Tucker practically forgot it was a punishment. Frank took pain so well, it was almost professional at a point. And fuck, he looked good taking it. His thighs jiggled with the impact and he squirmed underneath the feeling of the switch.

“One more,” Tucker narrated. “You take punishment so well.”

He brought the cane down hard on an already angry red spot. Frank cried out, wondering if he’d broken skin. He brought his wrist up to his mouth and bit down on the delicate skin there, riding out the stinging that was the aftermath of a particularly rough spanking.

“Ten,” Frank groaned.

“Lay down,” Tucker said, his voice more gentle. “Let me put some aloe on you, baby.”

Frank complied, peeling himself off the corner of the couch and shuffling over to the bed where he fell face first into the soft sheets. His ass and thighs ached, but Tucker would take care of him.

“So pretty like this,” Tucker murmured, squeezing out a bit of gel from the bottle he’d set on the bed earlier.

Frank groaned as the aloe soaked into his abused skin. He liked the sting of aftercare almost as much as the initial spanking.

Tucker pressed a kiss to Frank’s lower back, licking over his tattoos. He knew the younger man was desperate to come, but it needed to wait— he needed to assure he was taken care of properly. His own cock was straining in his pants, too, but he was patient.

The drummer took painstaking care to make sure the aloe was completely rubbed in and dry. Once he was completely sure– evidenced by Frank’s increased squirming as his cock pressed into the bed– he leaned over the other man’s shoulder and whispered, “You wanna get off now, baby?”

“Please!” Frank’s voice cracked as he scrambled to turn over. Tucker helped him as his energy was clearly drained. Once he was on his back, the drummer admired him. What bare skin shown through ink on his chest was flushed from exertion and extended arousal. He looked good enough to eat, definitely good enough to fuck if he had the time to do that. But Frank had known his punishment was coming all day and Tucker felt bad continuing to torture him.

“Should I touch you here?” His hand grazed the younger man’s face. “Or here?” He moved toward the center of his chest, avoiding the obviously erogenous zones. So perhaps just a bit more torture before the end.

“You’re just being mean!” Frank hissed, biting down on his lower lip to keep himself from crying out of need.

“You’re right,” Tucker relented, trailing his hand further down Frank’s belly. “You seem to have learned your lesson.”

“Tucker!” Frank whimpered, turning his head into the pillow to muffle his cry as Tucker gripped the base of his cock and squeezed.

“Look at how wet you are,” Tucker mused, spreading beads of precum over Frank’s shaft. “Is this for me?” Frank shot him a dirty look that implied he knew the answer to that question. “You gonna make a mess for me?”

Frank didn’t even reply. He just shuddered and came all over Tucker’s hand after just a few swipes at his slit. A fleeting thought crossed his mind– such a fucking easy whore. All it took to make him crumble was a whip to his ass and a hand on his cock.

Tucker agreed, but had the good sense not to say anything. Besides, both of them already knew. He did wonder how easy Frank would be after twenty. That could be interesting. He smirked. “I wonder how many it would take to make you come untouched.”

Frank bit his lip, tempted to ask the other man to try it that night. But he knew better and Tucker would want to wait at least a week before hitting him again. “Well, you aren’t finished,” Frank mused. “How about we try that on you?”

Tucker had truly met his match with this man.

Chapter Text

“Fuck, Anthony,” Frank moaned. His head hit the headboard so violently he was worried the neighboring room would hear. The thought was gone almost as quickly as it emerged as Anthony continued bobbing up and down on the guitarist's cock.

The singer looked gorgeous sucking cock. Frank thought he looked gorgeous doing basically anything, but he was biased. Most people had to agree that Anthony looked amazing with a dick in his mouth. He’d gotten such reviews— many from band mates.

“Don’t know how— you look— god damn it,” Frank blubbered. Anthony’s eager tongue licked up and down his shaft, making his brain short circuit.

Anthony’s blue eyes shone in the dim light of the hotel room. He laid on his stomach in a pair of pajama bottoms, perched on his elbows. Frank shivered under his gaze.

The younger man smirked around the tip of Frank’s cock. He loved to make the other man feel like he was melting. He pulled away, a thin trail of spit connecting his mouth to Frank’s tip. “Can I try something?”

“I’d let you do anything right now.”

There was an idea. Anthony could think of a few things he’d like to do with Frank in this position. However, there was one thing he hadn’t tried with the guitarist. “I want you to throat fuck me.”

Frank blinked. He had no concept of what the fuck that even felt like. “Um, okay?”

Anthony sensed his hesitation. “It sounds crazier than it actually is,” he explained. “I just want you to fuck my mouth like you fuck my ass.”

Frank took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Okay, do you need to lay down or?”

Anthony pushed himself up to a sitting position. “I’ll kneel. Just pretend you’re fucking me against the wall or something.”

Frank was far too old to be doing all that, but he appreciated the image. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t dreaming as Anthony placed a pillow on the floor and got to his knees. He looked like he was preparing to pray or something. The thought sent a shiver down Frank’s spine. He rose from the bed, knees cracking as he moved.

Looking up at the man standing above him, Anthony grinned. He was still wearing his vest and long sleeve combination from the show, pants long discarded and underwear pulled down around his thighs. He was scruffy and due for a haircut and — “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

“Thanks, baby.” Frank rolled his eyes, carding his fingers through Anthony’s hair. He tugged his head back, looking him in the eyes. Anthony eyed his slick cock greedily. “Ready?”

“‘Mmm,” Anthony hummed, admiring Frank's cock like it was a meal. “Fuck my mouth, baby.”

Frank didn’t need more encouragement. He took his cock in hand and rubbed the tip against the singer’s lips, spreading sticky precum all over him. Anthony’s eyes glazed over as he tongued the tip, soon sucking the head into his mouth. He almost nibbled, like he couldn’t get enough of the taste.

“You love tasting my cock, don’t you?” Frank mused.

Anthony’s eyes seemed to answer ‘yes’ as Frank pushed himself deeper into the younger man’s mouth. He was nearly to the hilt when Anthony moaned around him, sending an electric shock down his spine at the vibration. That broke his last inhibition. He rolled his hips experimentally. He’d never helped this much before, never used Anthony’s mouth as just another hole. The thought of the younger man just taking it made his cock twitch inside the wet cavern.

“Gonna fuck you now,” Frank warned. He knew Anthony was ready, but he said it more for himself. He started with a gentle roll, pushing his cock further than Anthony has taken him before. The guitarist swore he could feel the other man’s uvula but there was no way his cock was that sensitive.

Anthony’s muffled groans turned to desperate squeaks. He was just as into this as Frank— maybe more. The corners of his eyes flooded with tears from the effort of relaxing his throat. The younger man could feel the head of Frank’s cock at his throat. He wondered what it would look like, if there was a noticeable bulge as Frank thrust in. He wanted to try this laying down, Frank hovering over him, pounding away at his throat like it was his greedy hole. His hands rested on Frank’s bare thighs, fingers digging into soft flesh, begging to take him deeper.

Frank thrust in earnest, his cock growing accustomed to the feeling. It was different than fucking Anthony’s ass. It was more similar to fucking a woman actually. His cock had never made anyone cry though. And that was really doing it for him.

His hips pumped erratically, one particularly harsh thrust and Anthony convulsed. His eyes went wide and his back stiffened as liquid dripped from the side of his mouth. But Frank hadn’t come. He was getting close, but the older man was positive he hadn’t.

Anthony’s cheeks grew a bright red and he let Frank’s cock slip from his lips as he sat back on his heels. He ducked his head and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

“Did you—“ Frank started, hardly believing the thought that had crossed his mind.

“I’m so sorry, holy shit,” Anthony whined, shuffling to his feet. “Just a minute.”

Frank stood in the middle of the room, unable to move. Anthony had just vomited on his cock. And fucking hell that was hot.

He heard the sink running and the muffled sounds of gargling. Soon the younger man was back in the room, on his knees like nothing had happened.

“Holy shit,” Frank breathed. He twitched as Anthony ran a warm washcloth over his cock, wiping the remnants of puke from him.

“Can I keep going?” Anthony asked, shyly. He felt dirty for wanting to continue after getting sick all over his partner. But something about Frank’s cock being so deep in his throat it made him vomit up his dinner was so unhinged it made his skin tingle with arousal. He didn’t think he’d ever been this hard just from sucking cock.

“Jesus,” Frank moaned. “How the fuck did I get so lucky with you?”

Anthony shrugged and ran his hand along Frank’s shaft. His tongue darted out to trace a circle around the tip, sucking the additional precum that had accumulated in his absence.

“Fuck, baby, that’s so hot,” Frank started, babbling like he always did when he was close to orgasming. “You wanna make me feel good so bad you puke all over me.”

Anthony flushed, but didn’t deny it. He would do anything to make Frank feel good. Nothing compared to the feeling, the sound of Frank coming.

Frank was more reserved this time, not wanting to fuck Anthony’s mouth so deep it made him sick again. He would probably have nothing but stomach acid to expel anyway. The guitarist gently rolled his hips, balls slapping against Anthony’s chin.

“Gonna come,” Frank warned.

Anthony clamped down on his base, anchoring himself to receive Frank’s cum down his throat.

Frank didn’t hold back. He practically yelped as his cock exploded, coating the back of Anthony’s throat. The younger man relaxed his mouth, letting Frank ride out of his orgasm. Once he stilled, Anthony slid off his cock, smiling as he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue to show Frank how much he had come.

“Fuck,” Frank groaned, running a hand through his mussed up hair. “You have no idea how fucking good you look.”

Anthony had a bit of an idea.

Chapter Text

July 11th, 2023 Portsmouth, Virginia

”You never hung out with a masochist before? Fuck. It’s gonna be a long tour.”

⋆ ｡ ° ✩ ｡ ° ⋆ ° ｡ ✩ ° ｡ ⋆

Tucker was going to wait to say anything until they got back to the hotel. Really, he was. But then Frank went and shot him the brightest grin as they were exiting the stage and Tucker couldn't resist. He grabbed the younger man and pulled him close, pressing his lips to Frank’s ear.

“I’m going to see how much of a masochist you really are,” Tucker whispered.

A shiver went up Frank’s spine as he froze in place, his arm still held out to the tech who had taken his guitar from him.

He was in for a long night.

⋆ ｡ ° ✩ ｡ ° ⋆ ° ｡ ✩ ° ｡ ⋆

The band and crew stood inside the lobby of the Renaissance Portsmouth hotel as Hayley checked them in.

“Frank can room with me,” Tucker said, grabbing one of the keys from Tim as he went to distribute them.

Anthony raised an eyebrow at Tucker. He usually roomed with Tim while Frank stayed with Anthony so the switch up was a little unusual. Anthony knew what it meant though. He shot a cheeky grin at Frank and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Have fun,” the singer wished them a goodnight in his sing-song tone.

Tucker and Frank went to their room where Tucker instructed Frank to shower and then they would discuss what they were doing. The drummer called Tim while waiting.

“What’s up, Tuck?” Tim answered after the first ring.

“Can you help me out tonight?” Tucker asked, nervously.

“What do you have planned?” Tim sounded like he was shuffling through his bag.

“Not a solid plan, but,” he paused. “Can you bring the knives?”

Tim was silent for a moment too long and a pit started to form in Tucker’s stomach. Maybe this was a stupid idea.

“Are you sure?” Tim asked. “I mean I know you’ve practiced, but you two haven’t done a scene with real blades yet, have you?”

“That’s why I wanted your help,” Tucker admitted.

Tim swallowed. “You want me to like, watch?”

“More so supervise, but yes. I think Frank needs it tonight.”

“Have you discussed it?” Tim asked.

“No, I wanted you to help.” Tucker faltered. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea. But he had promised Frank something. “You know he can sometimes want shit that’s too much and I have a hard time saying no.”

Tim grunted in agreement. Tucker had safe worded way more times than Frank. Sometimes he let Frank push him too far and ended up needing more aftercare himself.

“Let me get Anthony settled and I’ll be over in a minute.”

“Thank you, I–” Tucker wasn't sure what he was trying to say, but wanted TIm to understand how thankful he was for the security blanket.

“I know.”

Tim was the knife expert. Really, he was the expert on everything. He researched and practiced meticulously, and was a stickler for safety and protocol. He would be able to keep his cool when Tucker started to slip.

Tucker didn't trust himself not to seriously hurt Frank. He’d practiced with blunt edges, both on Frank and on himself. He’d even used a sharp knife on himself just to know what it felt like. But Frank wasn’t good at recognizing his own limits and Tucker would never forgive himself if he caused the younger man serious harm.

Frank was still in the shower when Tim arrived. He was probably using his fancy body scrub and deep conditioner. He liked to smell and feel extra good before a scene– said it helped him get more into it.

“You okay?” Tim asked, setting his bag of supplies down on the bed opposite from Tucker.

Tucker swung his legs over the bed and laid back, throwing a hand over his face. His gut was a mix of nerves and arousal. He knew he wanted to hurt Frank– knew Frank wanted that too. He pictured himself straddling the younger man’s legs, holding his throat while he cut patterns into his chest with the other hand.

“We can start with the blunt edge, make sure you’re really in the space for it,” Tim suggested. He unzipped the case and looked over the selections. He had mostly small knives, better for travel, with a couple blunt edge and plastic ones thrown in for simple sensory play.

He handed Tucker an unsharpened training knife, small and thin and gold plated.

“That one’s pretty,” Frank noted, emerging from the bathroom with damp hair, wearing only a pair of tight black boxer briefs.

Tucker could smell the sugary woods scent of Frank’s shower products from the bed.

“Not the point,” Tim reminded him. “But nice nonetheless.”

They all knew how Frank liked nice things.

“We need to talk limits,” Tim started. “Frank?”

Frank sat at the edge of the bed, fiddling his ring nervously. “Just don’t fuck up my tattoos. Other than that, do whatever you want.”

Tucker thought for a moment. He supposed he didn’t really have any limits he could think of in the moment. He just wanted to make Frank feel good and he knew pain was a quick way to do that.

“I have something I would like to add,” Frank said, shyly.

Tucker nodded his permission.

“Okay, it’s kind of fucked up, so it’s really fine if you don’t want to,” Frank started. “I want you to like, keep going even when I tell you to stop.”

“Okay,” Tucker shrugged. “We’ve done that before. ‘Stop’ means keep going, but ‘red’ means stop for real.”

Frank fiddled with his fingers nervously. “I was thinking something more like we make up a fake safe word and you ignore it.”

Tucker thought about it for a moment. He was struck by the image of Frank struggling underneath him, begging him to stop. His cock stirred in his shorts as he imagined holding a knife to Frank’s throat, pressing hard enough to just draw the slightest bit of blood. His eyes would glaze over, words not matching the lust in his eyes as he fell further into subspace.

“Okay,” Tucker swallowed, nerves and arousal blooming simultaneously in his gut. “Yeah, we can do that.”

“So colors can still be used, but we can use ‘Jersey’ as the fake safe word.”

Tucker nodded, looking to Tim for reassurance who also nodded. It seemed fine with the bassist. He was fine with anything as long as it was properly negotiated.

“Just to clarify, say ‘red’ and I will stop immediately. But if you say anything else, especially ‘stop’ or ‘Jersey’, I'm going to keep going?”

“Yes, please.” Frank bit his lip. “I don't want you to be mean about it, though.”

Tucker understood. He was usually soft with Frank, even when they were doing more intense stuff. “I would never be mean to you, baby boy,” Tucker dropped his voice to a more soothing, deep timbre, running his fingers along the outside of Frank’s face.

Frank softened at his words and his eyes flicked over to Tim.

“I’m just here to supervise,” Tim clarified. “This is between you and Tuck.”

Frank’s attention wandered to Tucker again, who was tracing circles on the palm of the younger man’s hand. “You ready?”

Frank nodded.

“I’m going to tell you everything I do before I do it, okay?”

Frank nodded again, squirming this time.

“You’re doing so good sitting still for me, baby,” Tucker murmured, lightly pressing his lips to Frank’s forehead.

“Tuck,” Frank whined, nuzzling his damp hair underneath Tucker’s chin.

“Patience, love, we have to get everything prepped.” Tucker brushed his lips against Frank’s, barely a kiss, before getting up and going to the bathroom.

Tim set to work washing and sterilizing the knives while Tucker grabbed some towels. He also grabbed two t-shirts from his overnight bag. He didn't intend on drawing much blood, but he also didn't want to get anything on the white towels. He did not want to have to explain that to hotel staff.

Once their supplies were ready, Tucker laid Frank down, making sure he had enough pillows under his head and even one under his knees to make sure he was comfortable. He wanted all the attention to be on the intentional pain, not anything else. The drummer straddled Frank’s legs, settling just above his knees.

“Tim? What do I start with?” Tucker was suddenly nervous. He had played around with knives before, but nothing serious— he had only been brave enough to cut his own skin once.

Tim stood and handed him the gold training knife they’d talked about earlier. Frank’s eyes followed every movement of the knife as it was passed from Tim’s hand to Tucker’s. His throat bobbed in anticipation as Tucker turned it over in his hands, watching it sparkle in the lamplight.

“A pretty knife for a pretty boy,” Tucker mused, bringing the blunt edge down to rest against Frank’s lower belly, just above one of his swallows.

Frank’s eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of the cold metal on his skin. It was similar to the feeling of being prepped for a tattoo. He knew the feeling of a needle breaking through skin was different, but the adrenaline rush before felt the same. He allowed himself to sink into the fantasy as Tucker brushed the edge lightly along his skin from hip to hip. The younger man squirmed as more pressure was added, just enough that if it was actually sharpened, it would be close to slicing him with the movement.

“You like that?” Tucker asked, voice wavering as arousal licked at his gut.

“Fuck– yeah,” Frank answered, opening his eyes. His pupils were blown wide already, glittering with tears. He was silently begging to be hurt.

Tucker swallowed. He didn’t know how he felt about having this much power over the younger man. Sure, they’d done the power play thing before, but this was different. He’d never seen Frank submit so quickly.

“Get the sharp one,” Frank begged. His lips were already red and puffy from biting down on them.

Tim raised his eyebrow when Tucker looked over, confirming he was comfortable with it. Tucker reached out, handing Tim the blunt one which was replaced with a small black one that glittered silver at the edge. The drummer turned it over in his hands, watching as Frank’s eyes followed every movement. He could really get the younger man to do anything at that moment.

“Can I cut your clothes off?” Tucker finally asked. Yes, that was a good place to start.

Frank nodded, but Tim interjected. “Don’t ask him. If you want to, tell him that’s what you’re doing.”

Tucker shook his head, embarrassed. “You’re right, fuck, okay, I’m gonna cut these off of you.” He slid the edge of the knife under the waistband of Frank’s underwear, hardening his facial expression. He was the Dom in this situation– even if Tim appeared to be the one in control with his confident stoicism.

Frank gasped and dug fingernails into his palm as Tucker sliced through one side, the fabric falling open and exposing his left leg. He wanted to buck his hips, get some friction on his cock as the thin fabric clung to his wet tip, but he knew Tucker would end the scene immediately if he did something that could possibly injure him.

Tucker slipped the knife under the other side, tearing through the leg with a rip. He pushed the tattered fabric away, exposing Frank’s hard cock. Frank hissed, the little bit of stimulation from the moving air just enough to make him desperate.

“You look so pretty when you’re helpless.” Tucker was in awe. Frank had never looked at him quite like this. He understood how people could get a power trip from it.

“Show him how pretty you think he is,” Tim encouraged. He leaned forward in the armchair, resting his elbows on his knees with his hands collapsed together. Tucker felt like he was being studied.

Tucker moved to place the flat edge of the knife against Frank’s stomach, obviously avoiding any contact with his cock. Of course, he was teasing the other man, seeing how far he could push him. A sick part of him did want to hear the fake safe word and he didn't know how far he would have to go to hear it. The drummer hesitated as he turned the knife sharp side down. He drew it slowly across Frank’s skin, lightly enough to just leave a red mark of irritation.

“Tucker, please,” Frank whined. His cock dripped, twitching with every movement of the knife. He was sure he was going to come just from the sharp edge on his skin.

Tucker swallowed, dragging the knife higher, up his sternum, but still not finding the courage to press down. He felt Tim behind him and then a hand on top of his, encouraging him to apply more pressure as he pulled the knife to the left, over Frank’s ribs.

“You’re not pressing down hard enough.” Tim’s voice was muted against his ear, the other man’s warm breath ghosting along the drummer’s neck. “Don’t be scared– you know what you’re doing.”

Tucker allowed Tim to help him press down, drawing just the smallest hint of blood at the tip of his Dunes triangle. The drummer was overwhelmed by an image of his name there, first dripping with blood, then healing to a fine white scar– only noticeable if you looked close. He was scared at how hot that made his skin feel.

“Look at him,” Tim whispered. “He wants it so bad.”

Frank did want it and the expression on his face was evident. His breath was coming in short gasps, throat bobbing in concentration. He was doing so well at holding still.

“Do it again,” Tim commanded. “He can take it.”

Tucker’s hand trembled as Tim kissed down his neck, hooking his chin on the drummer’s shoulder, and guided his hand to Frank’s chest. The guitarist yelped as the blade glided over his nipple.

“Right there.” Tim placed Tucker’s hand just above the sensitive nipple. “Do it yourself this time.”

Tucker took a breath and pressed the tip into the swell of Frank’s chest. The younger man cried out as the blade pierced his skin. Tim patted him on the back in approval and left the drummer to his work.

“Tucker— I can’t— please—“ Frank gasped as the older man cut a thin line into his chest.

“You can’t what?” Tucker teased, easing another shallow cut into Frank’s skin.

“Can’t— need to come, please.”

He glanced over to see Tim sitting down again, nodding in approval. It made him want to continue. “It’s not time for that, baby, I have to finish making you pretty.”

Frank looked down at Tucker’s work. His eyes were blurry, but he could see the other man working on a crosshatch design on his chest. It was shallow enough that it wouldn’t mess up his tattoos but drew enough blood that it beaded on his skin. It was fucking gorgeous.

“Think I want to mark you as mine,” Tucker admitted. He knew it was a sick fantasy, but Frank was just as twisted as he was— even more so.

“Please—“ The tears gathering in Frank’s eyes spilled over, running down his reddened cheeks. His cock twitched as Tucker ran his finger through the blood on his chest, smearing some on his nipple as he passed. “Tucker, Jersey, please!”

Tucker froze and looked to Tim for reassurance. He badly wanted to ask Frank for a color, to double check that he was serious about wanting his fake safeword ignored.

“Keep going,” Tim assured him. “Don’t take him out of it.”

Tucker looked back at Frank whose mouth was open, panting as he cried fat tears. He looked like he was being tortured, but the older man knew he could easily get away if he really wanted to. Frank liked the feeling, pretending he was being held down and cut against his will.

“Yeah,” Tucker swallowed. “Think I need to put my initials right here—“ He pushed the tip of the knife into a blank spot just below Frank’s nipple.

“Don’t— please.” Frank’s voice was strained as he begged Tucker to stop. But he never said ‘red’.

The T was easy. Just two lines. Tucker took more time with the R. It was sloppy, but it would do. He pressed harder, hoping it would scar, but unsure if he had the balls to go deep enough. When he was done he sat back on his haunches and admired his work. The spot on his ribs was hardly visible, just a test patch really. His chest bloomed with beads of red on the crosshatch pattern. It almost looked like a tic tac toe board. Maybe he could cut X’s and O’s into the skin as well. Tucker smiled, thinking about Frank as his little play thing, a canvas to put pretty things on.

“Tucker,” Frank moaned.

“What, baby?” Tucker asked, innocently. He knew what Frank wanted. But he wanted the younger man to say it.

“I’ve been so good– can I please?”

“Please what?” Tucker held up the knife, a thin line of red along the edge. He was tempted to lick it off, but knew Tim would scold him. Instead, he wiped the blood off on the edge of his own white t-shirt. He wanted a little souvenir from their time that night.

“Touch me or fuck me or– something!” His moan was unrestrained as he squirmed underneath the older man. “Please, just let me come.”

Tucker handed the knife off to Tim and smiled. “I’m gonna suck your cock, how about that?”

Tim watched Tucker out of the corner of his eye as he wiped the knife off with an alcohol wipe. The other man had quite the oral fixation and couldn’t help but get his mouth on some part of his partner, even when he was domming.

The drummer lowered himself onto his stomach between Frank’s legs, pushing them apart. He licked his lips as if Frank’s cock wasn’t dripping enough. The younger man looked filthy– covered in drying sweat and blood. Tucker thought he looked beautiful. He wondered how long it would take the scratches to heal, if the other guys would notice when he was changing backstage. Would they stay there long enough that he would go home with them? If the initials didn’t scar, would Frank tattoo Tucker’s name onto his body?

Frank gasped as Tucker gripped his cock, licking the underneath from balls to tip. The younger man tasted clean from the shower and salty from precum. Tucker loved how his eyes rolled back and his toes curled when he tongued his slit. He made sure to maintain eye contact as he slid down on Frank’s cock, slowly, until he could feel the tip hit the back of his throat. Then he moaned around the appendage, slowly establishing a rhythm of bobbing up and down. He teased the tip by swallowing around it, working the base with his hand. He was tempted to slip a finger in Frank’s hole, but he felt how close the younger man was in the way his legs tensed.

Tucker pulled off, letting a trail of spit dribble from his mouth. “Come on, pretty boy, you can come for me.” He sucked on Frank’s tip, fisting his shaft at the same time and grabbed onto the younger man’s hip as he bucked up to meet the motion.

Frank came with a yelp into Tucker's mouth when he felt nails pressing into his skin.

“So pretty,” Tucker said, lapping up all the cum that had dripped out of his mouth and onto Frank’s shaft. “I could do anything to you right now.”

Tucker wanted to spit on Frank’s stomach, rub the cum into the cuts, but he knew that wasn’t a good idea so instead, he stuck out his tongue, allowing the cum to drip back onto Frank’s cock, down the shaft, over his balls, onto his hole.

Frank groaned and let his head fall back on the pillow, completely spent.

“Tucker?” Tim asked. “Do you want to come?”

“Yes,” he whined, noticing how the blood dried on Frank’s stomach. He wanted to lick it off. He wanted to press the cum into Frank’s ass and use it as lube to fuck him. He wasn't sure either option was appropriate. Frank lay exhausted underneath him and he knew it would only be a matter of time before he was dropping and would need to be cared for.

“Go ahead— touch yourself,” Tim encouraged.

Tucker did as he was told– much to his dismay, Tim was still his Dom and he would always listen to the bassist. He sat up, shuffled to his knees and fisted his own cock while hovering above Frank’s spent body. He was coming in less than a minute, worked up from all the moaning and squirming the younger man had done. Tucker milked his own cock, adding to the mess on Frank’s spent member.

“Goddamn baby,” Tucker breathed, more out of breath than he’d ever been from jerking off. He collapsed next to Frank and felt his legs start to shake. He didn't realize he’d exerted that much energy.

Tucker heard Tim curse, setting the knives to the side and running to the bathroom for something. It was then that he realized his vision was getting weird and the room seemed to be spinning.

“Tuck?” Frank spoke from next to him, but his voice sounded underwater.

Tucker didn’t think he was having a panic attack because his body felt fine. He just felt– fucking exhausted.

“Drink this.” Tim was pulling him up to a sitting position in bed and shoving a glass of water at him.

Tucker stared at him, unsure of how to take the cup from his hands. “You gotta take care of Frankie, I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“You’re dropping, baby,” Tim explained. “You have to drink this.” The bassist was handing him an unwrapped granola bar. “And you have to eat. I need to clean Frank up.”

Tucker took the food and pressed it to his lips, chewing mechanically, and then taking a sip of the water. He felt a little better as it washed down his throat. Why was he trembling?

Tim took great care to clean the younger man with alcohol wipes. Frank hissed at the burn but Tim rubbed small circles on his sides as he wiped the cuts clean. Once the wounds were clean, Tim applied gauze to them, wiped the cum from his lower half, and wrapped him in a blanket. Frank hummed as he was comforted by a warm hug from the bassist.

“Tucker? How are you feeling?” Tim asked, grabbing a blanket for the drummer and throwing it around his shoulders.

“Weird,” Tucker replied. He didn't feel completely in his body.

“I’m going to make some tea, you cuddle with him while I do that, okay?” Tim’s eyes were gentle and his voice was calm. He’s a good Dom, the best, Tucker thought.

Tucker snuggled into Frank’s side, careful not to apply pressure to his midsection. He wrapped his arm around the younger man’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss on the cheek. “Love you, Frankie.”

“Love you, too, Tuck.” Frank replied weakly. He shuffled over and nuzzled into Tucker’s chest. Tucker noticed he was getting some feeling back, able to sense Frank’s stubble through his shirt, his warm breath.

Tim returned with two paper cups with lids. Tucker could smell honey mingling with chamomile. Good, another sense, Tim would be proud of how he was grounding himself.
“I added a bit of cold water, but it’s still hot, so be careful,” Tim warned, rounding the end of the bed to hand the other cup to Frank. He helped the younger man sit up enough to drink and Frank sighed as the warm tea hit his throat.

Tucker made a similarly contented sound as he tasted it. Tim always put the right amount of honey in for him. Tim, Tim, Tim. The name echoed gently in Tucker’s mind, a comforting mantra.

“Frank, you did so good,” Tim hummed, pressing kisses to Frank’s forehead. The younger man purred at the praise, sipping his tea with his eyes closed. “You did, too, Tuck. I’m so proud of you.”

Tears welled up in Tucker’s eyes. It’s not that Tim never complimented him, but it always meant so much when he did.

“Thank you, Tuck,” Frank added, his hands wrapped around the cup of tea. “I felt so safe with you.” He looked up at Tucker from his position half laying on the headboard, his eyes shining with devotion.

Tim looked from Tucker to Frank, then back to Tucker again. The drummer felt a tear splash down his face, but he felt more grounded, more in the room. Tim frowned. “I feel like I should stay with you tonight.”

Tucker shook his head, setting his tea on the bedside table. “I’m okay now, Tim. I promise.”

Tim studied the other man for a moment, running through an inventory of nonverbal cues to tell if he really was okay. He seemed satisfied with Tucker’s state because he sighed, patting Frank on the head before standing up. “Just please text me if either of you feel off, okay?”

“I will, don’t worry,” Tucker replied. He looked at Frank who gazed back at him, blinking slowly.

“I’ll check on you guys first thing in the morning,” Tim promised.

“Wait!” Tucker called as Tim turned to exit the room. “Do you want me to get you off?”

Tim smirked, patting his pocket for his phone. “I’m good. Anthony knows I’m on my way.”