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IV had always trusted his gut more than most people did. It had saved his ass on stage, in crowds, in countless sketchy tour vans and more than a few hookups he’d had no business surviving. But that night—car coughing its last breath on the shoulder of some unlit backroad while his phone blinked a futile “No Service”—his gut hadn’t screamed danger .
It had whispered, go deeper .
He didn’t know why he listened. He’d never been the type to just wander into the woods, especially not without a flashlight or sense of direction, and especially not under a slivered moon that barely touched the treetops. But there was something in the air. Thick. Heavy. Almost… melodic. A tug beneath the skin, like every cell in his body had been rewired to pull north by some internal compass he hadn’t known was there.
So he walked.
Branches clawed at his arms. Pebbles bit into the soles of his boots. But he kept going, jaw set, breath tight, eyes scanning a forest that never quite opened.
Until it did.
The first thing he saw was a man. Tall. Barefoot. Dressed in pajamas that were soaked up to the knees with mud, padding silently along the narrow path like he was sleepwalking through a dream. His feet bled, but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t seem to feel it. Just moved.
IV froze. Half-raised a hand. Didn’t speak.
Then, voices. Distant. Desperate.
“Vessel?”
“Where did you go? Vessel!”
The name meant nothing. But the moment it left those voices—worried, strained, unmistakably real—IV saw something shift. The man in pajamas paused. Looked up at the sky.
Didn’t wake up.
IV didn’t think. Just moved.
He stepped forward, reached out, and took the stranger’s hand.
It was cold.
But it squeezed back.
They reached the clearing ten minutes later, the trees parting like breath from lungs as the path opened into an eerie kind of moonlit symmetry. In the center: a crumbling manor house, vines curling along the cracked brick, windows like watching eyes.
He didn’t have time to absorb the strangeness of it. Because before he could ask where the hell they were, two figures broke through the trees like a wave crashing against shore.
“ There! ” one of them shouted. “ Ves—oh, thank fuck— ”
The taller of the two rushed forward, reaching out to catch the pajama-clad man as he swayed. “You found him—he’s okay—God, his feet—”
The other—more compact, more composed—turned to IV and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You brought him back.”
IV blinked. “I didn’t—he just—he wasn’t awake, and I—”
“You helped. That’s enough.” The shorter one smiled, tired but genuine. “Please. Come inside.”
And IV—dripping sweat, heart pounding, clothes ruined—nodded.
Because it was the only thing that made sense.
He expected to be robbed. Murdered. Drafted into a cult. Something. That’s what every part of his rational brain screamed the moment he stepped inside the manor. The floorboards moaned. The wallpaper was peeled back like old skin. The chandeliers looked like they hadn’t held a full set of bulbs since the 1960s.
But the couch?
The couch was incredible .
He fell asleep almost instantly.
In the morning, the light filtering through the dusty windowpanes was golden and syrup-thick, and the air was heavy with the smell of bacon and maple and sweet citrus shampoo.
IV blinked up at the ceiling, confusion giving way to something rarer: peace.
He’d forgotten what it felt like not to wake up already braced for the day.
“Good morning,” came a voice from the kitchen.
The same short one. Calm. Warm.
“You made it through the night.”
IV sat up slowly, squinting. Three figures stood around a wide kitchen island—eggs cracking into a bowl, toast popping, coffee steaming.
The barefoot man—Vessel, he assumed—was now dressed in a hoodie three sizes too big, sleeves hanging past his fingertips as he stirred pancake batter in slow, thoughtful circles. The tall one—blond, cocky grin already in place—leaned against the counter, sipping from a chipped mug.
IV opened his mouth.
“Bathroom’s second door on the left,” said the one with the eggs. “Towels are clean. Help yourself.”
He hadn’t said a word yet.
And somehow, already, he felt like he belonged.
It was terrifying how easily he slotted in.
No questions. No raised eyebrows. No awkward what-are-you-doing-here energy. Just… acceptance .
One minute, he was washing dishes next to II—he eventually learned their names followed the Roman numerals they used in the band—and the next, III was tugging him along the path to retrieve his things from his dead car like it was the most normal thing in the world to move a stranger in overnight.
A week later, his guitar hung on the studio wall between III’s and Vessel’s.
A month later, he was fixing a leak in the attic.
The days bled into each other, easy and strange. The manor seemed to warp time—hours disappearing in the haze of recording, nights slipping by in a dreamy half-consciousness filled with strange laughter, starlight, and the low hum of whatever god the others kept whispering about but never named.
But the strangest part?
He never wanted to leave.
It took longer to get used to the affection .
IV had always considered himself confident—comfortable in his body, his rhythm, his space. But not with intimacy. Not with belonging.
The others, though… they didn’t play coy.
II would bump shoulders with him at the stove. Slide a hand to his lower back while passing him tools in the workshop. Tap their feet together under the table during dinner.
III treated him like a favorite toy—constantly ruffling his hair, tugging him into tight bear hugs that left his feet dangling, smacking kisses onto his cheek with zero warning.
And Vessel… Vessel was the quiet one. But he curled into IV like ivy on stone, head tucked against his shoulder during movie nights, hand sneaking into his beneath the blanket, breath slow and even as he fell asleep like it was safe there.
IV didn’t ask questions.
He just learned how to breathe again.
He noticed the shift slowly. Little things.
How II and Vessel no longer stepped aside when they kissed in front of him. How III didn’t bother hiding the way he groped II in the kitchen while IV leaned against the fridge. How all of them kept turning toward him instead of away—folding him into the moment, the space, the tension.
It didn’t feel like a test. Or a performance.
It felt like an invitation.
The first time II kissed him—really kissed him—IV didn’t think.
He just kissed back.
The first time III pulled him down on top of him on the couch, hand sliding under his shirt, Vessel watching from the other end with his cheeks pink and his lip caught between his teeth, IV moaned into it.
And the first time Vessel took his hand at bedtime, didn’t let go, and led him to his room instead of his own…
IV followed.
Love wasn’t spoken in the manor.
It was touched. Breathed. Moaned.
It lived in how II always refilled his water glass before he asked. How III massaged his shoulders without comment when he looked tired. How Vessel left sticky notes in his guitar case: play this next, I think you’ll like it .
And IV, for all his confidence, found himself stunned by it. Overwhelmed. Wrecked, in the best way.
Because for the first time in his life…
He didn’t have to prove he belonged.
He just did.
And maybe that’s how he ended up here.
Naked. Covered in sweat and spit and come. Kneeling over Vessel’s body on his bed, their cocks grinding together in slow, desperate rolls as the taller man writhed beneath him.
Vessel looked ruined.
And IV reveled in it.
His back arched in slow tremors, thighs trembling where they spread beneath IV’s hips, skin slick with sweat and smeared slick and the faint pink marks of IV’s mouth. He was flushed from his chest all the way to his ears, lips parted and kiss-bruised, panting like he couldn’t quite catch his breath. And yet he still clung—hands fisted in IV’s hair, pulling each time IV rolled their hips together and their cocks slid slick against one another with obscene, filthy sound.
They’d lost track of time hours ago. Lost track of orgasms. IV couldn’t tell you how many times Vessel had come on his fingers, on his tongue, grinding down against his cock like a man possessed. He just knew he wanted more.
So did Vessel.
“Please,” he whimpered now, breath hitching as IV circled his hips just right, dragging the hard, throbbing swell of his cock across Vessel’s pussy, slotting against his own smaller, twitching clit and making them both groan. “Please, IV, just—want you. Want your cock. Need it.”
IV chuckled, low and warm, the sound buzzing in his throat as he leaned in to kiss along the side of Vessel’s neck.
“Greedy thing,” he murmured against his skin. “You already made such a mess. Fucked yourself silly on my fingers. Came just from humping like a bitch in heat.”
Vessel whined, turning his face into the pillow, embarrassed and aching.
“And now you want more?”
A desperate nod. “Y-yeah. Please—please, I can take it, I want it.”
IV leaned back on his knees, eyes dragging down the length of Vessel’s body—glowing, sweat-slick, chest rising and falling fast. His thighs glistened. His hole pulsed with need.
IV’s own cock ached where it throbbed between his legs, hypersensitive from earlier friction but far from spent. He gave it a slow stroke, dragging slick from the tip down to the base, lining it up with Vessel’s entrance.
“Look at you,” he said softly, watching Vessel watch him . “You’re shaking. You need to be filled that bad?”
Vessel moaned, high and wrecked, reaching down to clutch at IV’s forearm.
“Need you. Please. IV, please— ”
“Shh,” IV soothed, nudging forward, letting the head of his cock slip past those soaked folds and catch, just at the edge. “I’ve got you.”
Then he pushed in.
Slow. Careful. Deliberate.
Vessel cried out, arching off the bed as the stretch hit him all at once—gentle but deep, sliding home in one slow, fluid thrust until IV was buried as far as he could go. He didn’t move. Just held there, hips flush to Vessel’s, one hand steadying his waist while the other cradled the side of his face.
Vessel was breathing fast now, eyes glassy, mouth open.
“Okay?” IV asked, thumb brushing against his cheek.
“Full,” Vessel whispered. “Feels so full, so good—”
IV smiled. “That’s ‘cause your pussy was made for my cock. Sucks me in like it’s been waiting for me all night.”
Vessel whimpered.
IV pulled out halfway, then pushed back in—deeper this time. Vessel’s hands scrabbled for something to hold onto, finally settling on IV’s biceps as he rocked up into each slow thrust.
The pace was unhurried. Sensual. Worshipful.
Because IV wasn’t trying to fuck Vessel hard .
He was trying to fuck him open .
“I love how you take me,” IV murmured, eyes locked to the place where they were joined, watching the soft give of Vessel’s cunt around his cock. “So soft. So wet. You’re dripping down my thighs, Ves.”
Vessel couldn’t answer. He just moaned, body trembling, clenching down like he didn’t want IV to leave.
And IV didn’t.
Not ever.
They found a rhythm like that—IV grinding down slow, pushing deep with every stroke, hips rolling to press just right against Vessel’s clit each time he bottomed out. Vessel met every motion with a broken gasp, back arching, eyes fluttering.
“You’re perfect like this,” IV murmured between kisses. “Letting me have you. Letting me feel how sweet you are inside.”
Vessel bit his lip, shaking, nails digging into IV’s back.
“Gonna cum again—”
“Already?” IV teased, but his voice was affectionate, proud. “God, you are my little nympho, huh?”
He shifted just slightly, adjusting the angle of his thrusts until they hit that spot —and Vessel screamed.
“You gonna cum for me again, Vess?” he coaxed, dragging his thumb between their bodies to stroke over his swollen clit. “Gonna soak me just from getting your little pussy stuffed?”
“Yesyesyes—IV— IV —!”
Vessel’s whole body locked, then shuddered, climax ripping through him like a wave, his cunt spasming around IV’s cock, drenching them both as he sobbed out his release.
IV fucked him through it, watching his body twitch, eyes full of awe and heat and something dangerously close to love.
The door slammed open.
IV’s head snapped up.
Vessel gasped, still riding the final echoes of his orgasm, sweat-slicked and flushed to the roots of his hair.
Standing in the doorway, phone in hand and mouth open mid-sentence, was III.
“Hey, I was gonna—oh.”
He stopped.
His eyes went very wide.
His pupils dilated.
IV didn’t stop moving.
And Vessel—beautiful, brilliant, debauched Vessel—moaned as he came down and blinked up at III with glassy eyes, still panting, still full.
III stared for a beat.
Then smiled.
Then raised his phone and snapped a photo .
“Holy shit, ” he said, walking in and shutting the door behind him. “I was gonna show you a meme, but this is way better.”
IV rolled his eyes, but didn’t stop rocking his hips—just slower now, gentle as Vessel trembled beneath him. “You’re gonna get yourself smothered one day barging in like that.”
“Worth it.”
He crossed the room, tossing his phone onto the desk and crouching down, eyes roaming hungrily over their tangled bodies.
“You two look insane together,” he said, reaching out to run a hand along IV’s thigh. “Got room for one more?”
IV looked down. Vessel was watching III with parted lips and a dazed smile, eyes full of invitation.
IV reached down and stroked his cheek, wiping a tear track from the corner of his eye.
“What do you say, Vess?” he asked, voice soft. “Should we let him join?”
Vessel leaned into his palm, nodding, eyes heavy.
IV smiled. “Use your words, love.”
Vessel blinked slowly. “Y-yeah,” he whispered. “Want III. Want him to feel good too.”
Before III could speak, IV turned to him with a lazy, satisfied smile—his voice dropping an octave.
“You heard him. Clothes off. On the bed. Now.”
III’s mouth opened. Closed.
He scrambled.
Boots kicked off, jeans half-tripped over, shirt discarded on the floor with his phone. He all but threw himself onto the mattress beside them, breath coming fast, pupils blown.
IV watched him settle, then leaned in close, eyes flashing.
“Good boy,” he purred, pleased at how fast he obeyed. “Let’s see how well you follow instructions now.”
III was already panting.
Flat on his back, knees bent, cock flushed and twitching where it stood against his stomach. His chest rose and fell with sharp, eager breaths, eyes locked on the sight in front of him—Vessel still slick and fucked open from IV’s cock, and IV himself flushed with heat, skin kissed with sweat, gaze trained on him like he was prey worth savoring.
IV stalked forward slowly, crawling up onto the bed with feline control. Vessel followed, a little wobbly, eyes still dazed from the last orgasm, but moving with intent.
When III’s hands twitched—instinctively reaching for Vessel’s waist—IV smacked them lightly aside.
“No touching,” he said, tone firm but fond. “Not until I say so.”
III groaned, but nodded.
IV’s attention shifted to Vessel next, cupping the back of his neck and guiding him carefully over III’s hips. He hovered there, thighs trembling slightly with effort as he lined himself up with III’s cock.
“You ready, Vess?” IV asked, thumb brushing his jaw.
Vessel nodded. “Mhm.”
IV reached down, wrapped his hand around III’s length, and held it upright.
“Take him.”
Vessel lowered himself slowly. The stretch was immediate, the angle different—sharper, deeper—and he gasped, keening as the head of III’s cock pushed into him, spreading him open all over again. His thighs shook. His hands clutched at III’s chest for balance.
“Oh fuck ,” III moaned, hips twitching as he was engulfed inch by inch. “Oh my god, he’s—he’s still so tight—”
“Because he’s a greedy little thing,” IV said smoothly, watching every movement, his hand still steadying III’s cock as Vessel took it inch by inch. “He loves being stretched out. Loves having cock in him. Don’t you, Vess?”
Vessel nodded frantically, whimpering. “Feels s-so good—”
He bottomed out with a strangled sob, sitting fully in III’s lap, their bodies flush. III’s hands clenched in the sheets, white-knuckled.
“Don’t move,” IV warned him, even as III’s hips jerked slightly. “This is for him. Not you.”
Then IV swung a leg over III’s chest and settled himself backwards over his face, facing Vessel. He leaned in, bringing his lips close to his lover’s ear.
“You get to use his cock,” IV whispered to Vessel. “And I’m going to use his mouth.”
He felt III’s arms wrap around his thighs instantly, gripping him tight as he lowered down to meet his tongue. The first swipe of it over his hole made IV exhale sharply, head tipping back, hands bracing on III’s chest as he ground down to chase the sensation.
“Ohh, good boy ,” IV praised. “That’s it. Show us what that mouth can do.”
III groaned into him, muffled and desperate, licking deep, tongue fucking and sucking and moaning shamelessly between IV’s thighs. Every vibration shot through IV’s core and down his spine, making his thighs tense where they bracketed III’s head.
And in front of him, Vessel had started to move.
Slow circles at first, grinding in place, rolling his hips to feel every inch of III inside him. He whimpered with each rock, clenching down just to feel the stretch again, already wrecked and still greedy for more.
IV reached forward and cupped his face, guiding him into a kiss.
It was languid. Deep. Tongues dragging, mouths open, gasps shared.
“You look so pretty like this,” IV whispered against his lips. “Taking cock like you were made for it. You feel good, baby?”
Vessel moaned, unable to respond with words. He nodded, rocking a little faster, chasing the friction, the stretch, the weight of it all.
IV didn’t let up.
“You’re doing so well. Bouncing on him like a good boy. Can’t wait to watch you make a mess.”
He glanced down at III, who was now devouring him, his tongue relentless, his grip possessive.
“And you, ” IV said, voice a low hum. “You’re being such a good toy. So obedient. So fucking eager to serve.”
III’s groan was nearly feral. His hips jerked once, involuntary, and Vessel gasped as the cock inside him shifted just right, brushing his spot. He shook, thighs tightening, body folding forward against IV’s chest.
IV caught him with one arm, keeping him upright, cradling him while he shook.
“Close again already?” IV murmured. “You gonna cum from that, Vess? Just from riding and watching and being filled like the slut you are?”
Vessel’s whine was answer enough.
IV didn’t stop.
“Cum for me. Cum while he’s inside you. Show him how good you feel when you’re owned.”
Vessel shattered.
He came with a high, helpless cry, shaking in IV’s arms, clenching so hard around III that the man beneath them let out a strangled, needy noise from behind IV’s thighs.
His cum dripped down onto III’s hips, slicking their skin even further.
But IV wasn’t done yet.
III was still working him over from beneath, seemingly emboldened by the way Vessel had just come undone. He licked deeper, harder—tongue fucking IV with frantic rhythm, dragging it over every nerve ending like he knew exactly where IV needed it most.
IV gasped, his grip on Vessel tightening. “Oh—fuck, just like that—don’t you dare stop—”
III didn’t. He doubled down, moaning into IV’s hole, one hand sliding up to spread him wider, the other gripping tight around his thigh to pin him in place as he worked his tongue in deep and fast.
IV groaned low and loud, body shaking, chasing the peak. His thighs trembled, his cock twitching against III’s tongue. He ground down hard against III’s face, panting, gasping, his voice unraveling.
“Fucking—yes, yes —that’s it, you’re mine , my perfect boy — III —”
He came with a guttural cry, spine arching as the orgasm hit him like a wave crashing through his core. His hips bucked against III’s mouth, slick gushing against his tongue as he came hard, thighs trembling, hand tangled tight in Vessel’s hair just to keep himself grounded.
III held him through it—moaning into his release, tongue still moving, drinking down every drop with reverence.
IV collapsed forward slightly, bracing himself on one hand, eyes fluttering as the world came back into focus.
He reached up, cupped Vessel’s cheek, kissed him soft and slow and deep.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered. “Perfect, baby. So good for us.”
When they both finally stilled—bodies trembling but sated—IV slid off of III’s face, slow and smooth, licking his lips and exhaling like he’d just been handed a gift.
“Alright,” he said, shifting to kneel again, satisfaction painted across his face. “Now let’s see if you’ve earned your release.”
III looked wrecked.
Hair mussed from being tugged. Cheeks flushed a deep crimson. His face slick with IV’s release, lips still parted like he hadn’t remembered how to breathe yet. His cock twitched against his stomach, swollen and flushed, slick from where Vessel had soaked him and still untouched.
His hips jerked up from the bed involuntarily.
IV cocked his head, smiling like a cat that had just cornered something delicious.
“Up,” he said. “Edge of the bed.”
III didn’t hesitate. He scrambled upright, chest heaving, and sat with his legs spread, arms braced behind him for balance.
IV slid off the mattress with a grace that made it look effortless, pulling Vessel along with him by the hand. They both sank to their knees in front of III—IV kneeling on his left, Vessel on the right, matching glints of hunger in their eyes.
III swallowed hard, barely able to speak.
“Holy shit.”
IV smirked. “Good boy.”
Vessel was the first to move. He leaned forward, licking a slow stripe up the underside of III’s cock, eyes fluttering shut as he tasted the salt and slick still clinging to him. He hummed softly, then kissed the tip, lips soft and reverent.
IV followed, lips parting as he took the head into his mouth—just the head, letting his tongue swirl lazily around it as his hand moved to stroke the base.
III let out a broken moan and clutched at the edge of the bed.
“Fuck—fuck, please—”
Vessel licked along the shaft, mirroring IV’s movements, then leaned in to kiss IV over the head of III’s cock, their mouths meeting with wet, open heat as they passed the taste of him between them.
“Please,” III gasped, eyes wide, body trembling. “I’ve been so good—please let me cum—”
“Not yet,” IV murmured, leaning in to run his tongue along the curve of his balls, lapping and kissing while Vessel took more of his cock into his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he sucked gently.
“You’re going to earn it,” IV said, voice low. “You’re going to sit there and take everything we give you until you’re dripping and desperate.”
He switched places with Vessel fluidly—Vessel moving to take over stroking the shaft while IV swallowed him down inch by inch, deep and smooth. III nearly shouted.
IV pulled off with a slick pop, looking up at him with dark eyes.
“You close?”
III whimpered. “Yes—fuck, yes—”
IV turned to Vessel, who was already watching him.
“You ready, pretty boy?” IV asked, brushing a thumb over Vessel’s cheek. “Let’s give him something he won’t forget.”
Vessel nodded, then leaned in to take the head in his mouth while IV licked up the shaft, kissing the base and dragging his tongue along the vein running underneath.
They worked in tandem—switching places, sharing kisses, licking and teasing. Their hands moved together, stroking him slow and firm, twisting just right. Sometimes they licked at him together, tongues meeting over his cock, mouths passing him back and forth. Sometimes they paused just to kiss, lips sticky with spit and want.
III was unraveling.
His legs were shaking. His hands clutched the edge of the mattress so tight his knuckles turned white. Every breath was a gasping, broken prayer.
“Please—IV—Vess—I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna cum—”
IV pulled off, looking up at him with heat burning in his eyes.
“Cum on Vessel’s face.”
III’s eyes locked with his. His pupils blew wide, his breath caught, and he nodded—once, hard.
Vessel pulled back, stroking him fast and tight while IV braced his thighs open. IV didn’t look away—not once. He watched III fall apart, eyes locked, a quiet power in the way he held him there with nothing but his gaze.
And then III came.
His whole body jolted as he let go with a sharp cry, thick ropes spilling across Vessel’s face—lips, cheeks, the curve of his jaw. Vessel gasped softly at the heat, eyes fluttering, but didn’t move to wipe it away.
IV still hadn’t broken eye contact.
He slid a hand up III’s thigh, possessive and slow, grounding him, and leaned forward with calculated grace.
“Good boy,” IV murmured—low and reverent— right before he licked a broad stripe across Vessel’s cheek, eyes still on III .
He took his time, tongue dragging deliberately through the mess, collecting every drop. And then he kissed Vessel, deep and slow, lips parting to share it. Vessel moaned into the kiss, letting IV lick into his mouth, messy and filthy and perfect.
When they broke apart, IV turned his head back toward III—still watching him, eyes low and knowing.
When they pulled apart, all three were breathing hard. The room smelled like sex and sweat and something sweeter—something like devotion .
III finally blinked back into focus, raising a shaky arm.
“Okay,” he rasped. “Holy fuck.”
IV stood slowly, stretching his arms above his head, then reached down to offer both hands to the others.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s clean up. Then we’re sleeping in my bed. This one’s a war zone.”
Vessel took his hand immediately. III followed a beat later, still dazed.
IV helped them both up, guiding them down the hall. No one spoke. There was no need.
The walls already knew how to say I love you .