It’d been a concoction of memories and sentiments that had led Marc to compare the two men a few times. While Viktor had never cared what people thought about them, Chris still looked anxious when they weren’t alone. Their friends joking and calling them Mac and Cheese didn’t help with the guitarist’s self-consciousness, either.
The bassist knew it was better this way, and he low-key loved that everyone was so accepting. At least they didn’t have to sneak away after every rehearsal or come up with excuses to leave when they were hanging out anymore. Even Erik, who had rightfully been selfish and worried about his own future and the band’s fate since the fight back in July, seemed truly happy for them.
However, there were moments when Marc wished they had let Søren swallow the lie and not tell the others shit. But oh, well.
“Jesus, I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired, dude.” He let himself fall onto one bed and ran both hands down his face. They were shaky and cold, although the temperature outside was fairly hot. But it was only normal. Their inner clocks were fucked up, living ten hours ahead of their usual time zone, and the weather changing from cool autumn to warm spring was also kind of shocking for the body. “I’m feeling sick.”
“Really?” Chris asked, concern clear in his tone.
“Yeah,” he replied without looking at him. “I know I’m awake, but it feels like a dream, and I’m clammy all over. Ugh.”
“A shower might help with that.”
“I can’t even move.” Marc froze as he raised his head and saw Chris walking into the bathroom, butt-naked. He was slender and so graceful under his grungy vibes and attitude.
Fuck it.
It was late. The bassist was dead in life and still feeling torn because this gorgeous human covered in ink wouldn’t let him in completely. But he was weak, too fucking weak. Couldn’t choose between pleasure and pain. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, his heart always overruled his mind. If sex was as far as their intimacy could go, he’d take it every chance he got. For Chris, Marc would settle with this half-assed fairytale.
“Didn’t you say you couldn’t move?” Chris teased while leaving his toiletry bag on the vanity top.
“Yeah.” The bassist bit his bottom lip as he smacked and groped Chris’s ass. “But you make it impossible to stay away from you,” he rasped, stealing a quick kiss from him.
“Good.” Chris slid the shower screen open before turning on the water.
Marc took off his tee and pants, not wasting a second before stepping into the shower behind the guitarist, hands immediately reaching for him. He really was a masterpiece, and not only because of the human-moth hybrid with its eyes covered, surrounded by alchemist circles and other esoteric symbols, tattooed on his back. Every move, every cheeky smile, every word, every glance… Everything about this man was like a spell binding him to a beautiful tragedy.
“When I said a shower might help you, I didn’t mean banging.” Chris hissed as Marc grabbed his shaft. “Dude, you need to go to Dickaholics Anonymous. It’s not normal how obsessed you are with my cock.”
The bassist laughed. “How can I not? Have you seen this?” he asked as he kissed his shoulder and gently stroked his length, thumbing the piercing. “It’s fucking perfection. All hard and eager, just for me.”
“Well, hmm…” A moan vibrated in Chris’s throat as he ran his fingers through his hair, getting it completely wet. “It’s impossible for it to stay down when you’re all naked and touching me like that.”
“You want me to stop?” Marc rasped as he continued pumping up and down. The sight of his friend’s body tensing and shuddering, fighting the urge to come undone, had the bassist all over the place. It’d been just three days since they had last fooled around, but it felt like an eternity.
“Fuck, no.” Chris turned to face him, bracing himself with a palm pressed on the wall and the other gripping the top of the screen. “Make me come like only you know how to.”
An animalistic grunt bubbled in Marc’s chest. “You have lube in there?” He slanted his head, pointing to the bag on the sink.
“Yeah,” Chris said with a breathy moan. “We have an entire month ahead of us… sharing a room, with no responsibilities other than rehearsing and performing. And no fucking need to hide…” He bit his bottom lip, thrusting into his friend’s fist.
Marc smirked. “You planning to get your ass stuffed that much, huh?”
“Yeah.” Chris dropped one of his hands to the bassist’s shoulder, slowly gliding it over his skin until his fingers curled into the back of his neck. “I was never against some anal play, but you bring the game to another level.” With their foreheads touching, he stared deep into his eyes. “The way you fuck me… I can’t get enough.”
Chris smashed their lips together, caressing his chiseled chest and abs, and finally his cock. Marc walked forward, trapping him between his body and the wall. And there they stood, under the rain shower, with their tongues entangled while their hands jerked each other into a frenzy.
They enjoyed a nice and gentle fuck, too. The bassist loved watching his dick slowly easing in and out of Chris’s ass while he tried to repress the moans, but violence worked better for them. This man was a bottom, a bratty one at that. He knew. Marc knew. Even if he always ended up getting what he wanted, Chris enjoyed fighting with him for power, pushing his buttons so he’d end up grabbing his neck. The asshole seemed to have taken a liking to being choked and manhandled.
“Are you gonna come, Marco Polo?”
Marc frowned, gritting his teeth. “If you keep it up like that, yeah.” He panted. “So you better stop it if you want me to fill that tight hole of yours with my cum.”
“Make me,” Chris said as he jerked the bassist off, squeezing the head of his cock with every stroke.
“Fuck!”
Marc let go of his friend’s dick and, in a swift movement, clutched both of his wrists, turning him around and bending his arms behind his back. Neither of them were brawny, more like lean, with some muscle definition here and there, and both were practically the same height. But the bassist was definitely stronger. Something that gave him the upper hand when Chris didn’t want to give up control so easily.
