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May 11, 2026 - Orlando
“Goddamn, his fucking tailored pants always get me,” Frank said under his breath, leaning into Mikey so he could hear. His eyes raked over Tucker’s toned form approvingly, the drummer standing with one hip cocked as he waited in line for an overpriced lemonade. Mikey followed Frank’s gaze, feeling a faint tug behind his belly button as he trailed his eyes over Tucker’s ass.
Mikey sighed. “It is kind of fucked up how good they look on him.” He leaned down to Frank’s ear. “Although I think it helps that he actually wears them properly instead of only pulling them halfway up his ass.”
Frank elbowed Mikey in the ribs, scoffing. “Shut up. He has way more of an ass to hold them up with.” The guitarist hiked his own jeans up a bit, self-conscious.
“He sure does,” Mikey trailed off, sounding almost wistful.
Frank cocked an eyebrow, tearing his eyes from Tucker to peer up at Mikey. He chewed his gum harder, grinning when he recognized the look on his bandmate’s face. “You’re into him,” he stated.
Mikey’s cheeks reddened, and he spluttered. “H-he’s nice to look at! I’m not, like, trying to steal him from you or something, I just—”
“I’m happy to share,” Frank interrupted, still grinning, the piece of gum poking out from between his teeth. “Got any plans after this?”
Flustered, Mikey glanced at Tucker’s back again before looking down at Frank. The guitarist looked mischievous but earnest, searching his face for an answer.
“Is he okay with sharing?” Mikey wondered aloud.
Frank snorted as if Mikey had asked a stupid question. “Oh god, absolutely. We fool around with guests pretty regularly.”
Mikey stifled a laugh at the use of the word guests, but he supposed that was accurate. Guest stars on episodes of the sitcom that was Frank and Tucker’s relationship. “If you do it so much, how come this is the first time I’m hearing of it?”
“Didn’t know you were interested,” Frank shrugged. “I would’ve asked sooner if I’d known.”
Mikey’s face burned behind his sunglasses. He hoped Frank couldn’t see his blush through his own polarized lenses. “I’m, uh, wide open this evening,” he mumbled, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his shorts.
Frank’s expression was eager, almost predatory, as he surveyed Mikey’s body language. “You’re cute when you’re flustered. You used to be so suave, Mikes, what happened?” He lifted an arm, intending to trail his fingers down Mikey’s sternum, before he remembered they were in public and dropped it back to his side.
“Out of practice, I guess,” Mikey breathed.
Tucker appeared at their side, both hands clutching an enormous plastic barrel with DK emblazoned across the side in red letters. He took a sip from a giant bendy straw, eyebrows halfway up his forehead as he drank the lemonade. “Fuck, that’s good,” he praised after swallowing, holding the drink out for Frank to share. “What’cha talking about?”
Mikey was too nervous to respond, looking at Frank. The guitarist smiled devilishly—well, as devilishly as he could with his lips wrapped around a theme park straw. “Mikey here wants to hang with us tonight,” he intoned, straw still in his mouth.
Through whatever weird soulmate mental communication channels they had open between them, Tucker understood instantly. “Oh, is that right?” He pulled the drink away from Frank, offering it to Mikey with an eager glimmer in his grey-green eyes.
It sort of felt to Mikey like he’d stumbled into a lion’s den–two powerful, hungry beasts circling him like he was about to become their dinner. He took a deep breath, leaning down to take a sip of the lemonade without taking it from Tucker, keeping eye contact with the drummer as he did. “Sure, sounds like fun.”
*****
Hours later, Frank and Tucker crashed through the door of their hotel room, arms full of Universal-branded bags overflowing with merch. Mikey had gone to his room to drop off his stuff and freshen up, promising to come over in 10 minutes.
“So what prompted this?” Tucker asked, setting his bags down on the floor.
Frank watched him bend over, admiring the view. “What else? Those fucking pants. I’ve told you a dozen times how obscene your ass looks in those tailored trousers.”
Tucker stood back up, looking over his shoulder at Frank without turning his body. The guitarist’s eyes were glued to his butt, and Tucker’s skin felt warm and tingly. He had a thing for being objectified. “Have you? Must not have heard. Maybe you should keep saying it,” he teased.
Frank was on him in a second, spinning Tucker around so he could wrap his arms around his waist and grab two firm handfuls of the drummer’s ass. Tucker keened, pressing into Frank’s body and kissing him fervently.
“You gonna be okay messing around with Mikey?” Tucker asked against Frank’s lips.
“‘Course,” Frank assured, squeezing the firm muscle beneath his palms. “Are you nervous about it?”
“No, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t feeling weird or pressured.”
Frank kissed along Tucker’s jaw hungrily. “Not at all. I’m excited. Been wanting to get my hands on him for ages.”
Tucker growled into Frank’s ear approvingly. “Mm, me too. Hope he’s as good as his reputation implies,” he mused.
A giggle escaped Frank’s lips. “I’m sure he will be.”
Sooner than expected, a trio of soft knocks sounded on the door. Frank released Tucker, swatting him on the ass. “Go on, casanova.”
Tucker smiled and strode to the door, checking the peephole before swinging it open. Mikey stood in the hallway, backpack slung over one shoulder. He’d changed out of his park clothes, swapping them for a well-loved pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. “Hi,” he said softly.
“Hey, c’mon in,” Tucker beckoned, locking the door behind Mikey.
The bassist set his bag down in the entryway, standing still and fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Tucker took Mikey’s hands into his own, halting his fidgeting. “Nervous?”
Mikey’s face flushed. “A little,” he admitted.
“Anything I can do to help?” Tucker’s voice was low, almost inaudible to the guitarist standing several feet behind him.
“Kiss me.”
Tucker’s eyes darkened with arousal, the corners of his lips curling upward in a smile. He yanked on Mikey’s wrists, pulling the taller man into him. Their lips met, the kiss immediately intense. Frank’s satisfied sigh was audible; Tucker could imagine the look on his face as he watched them. He moaned into Mikey’s mouth, releasing his hands to grope at his waist. Mikey took the opportunity to slide his tongue along Tucker’s teeth, searching for an entrance that was immediately and enthusiastically given. The bassist groaned, hands flying up to Tucker’s hair and nesting into it.
Tucker loved being with a taller partner. There was something about having to crane his neck up, not quite having to go on his tiptoes, but almost, that made him feel small. Tucker loved feeling small, too.
Mikey pressed forward, walking their entwined bodies further into the hotel room, towards Frank. The back of Tucker’s knees hit the edge of the bed, and he was about to go down on it, but Mikey growled, not letting him. “No, need your ass where I can grab it.”
Tucker bit down on Mikey’s lower lip, nibbling on it before releasing him. “Go on, then. Grab it,” he challenged, voice already husky from how turned on he was.
Two huge hands glided down Tucker’s back, fingernails dragging in a way that made goosebumps surface all over his body. They came to rest at the top of Tucker’s hips, the drummer acutely aware of how much bigger Mikey’s hands were than Frank’s. His heart thudded in his chest, anticipation roiling in his gut. A soft whimper escaped his lips involuntarily as the bassist’s thumbs rubbed his hipbones through his shirt.
Frank snickered to Tucker’s right. “He’s teasing you, Tuck.” He sounded giddy.
When Tucker’s eyes opened, Mikey’s face was inches from his, peering down at him with a confidence that hadn’t been there 60 seconds ago. “Didn’t take you for a sub,” he grinned.
“He goes both ways,” Frank answered for him. Tucker’s face burned. Mikey seeing right through him this quickly was a little embarrassing.
“Yeah, I go both ways,” Tucker repeated, tracing his tongue over his lips to wet them. “I like it both ways, too.”
Mikey hummed, considering this information. He supposed it was kind of obvious; Tucker had switch written all over him. He pressed a palm into the small of Tucker’s back, pinky slipping beneath his waistband, the other hand still gripping his waist. It was so possessive, and it made Tucker’s head spin.
“So you’ll like it if I want to fuck that perfect little ass of yours?”
Tucker’s knees attempted to give out, but Mikey’s hold was firm, keeping the drummer upright. His entire body felt like it was made of pudding.
“Jesus, Mikes, are you trying to kill him?” Frank giggled. Mikey observed Tucker’s face, eager and fucked-out already, before flicking his eyes to Frank’s. The guitarist nodded, answering Mikey’s silent question. He’s good; keep going.
Frank approached them, sliding one hand in Mikey’s back pocket and the other into Tucker’s hair, scratching his scalp gently. The drummer’s eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned into the touch. “Been a while since you got fucked, huh?”
Tucker loved it when Frank talked down to him. He felt so stupid and small, and he knew Frank’s tone was giving him permission him to stay in that space. Tucker nodded, affection for his partner blooming in his chest.
“D’you want Mikey to fuck you?” The condescension was sticky-sweet, clinging to Tucker’s skin like a compression sleeve.
“So much,” Tucker admitted, as if it wasn’t evident enough. “Please.”
Mikey finally slid his hands around to cup Tucker’s ass, the rounded, toned muscle fitting perfectly in his grip. It felt every bit as good in his hands as he’d imagined. “Mm, you’ve taught him manners, Frankie. Here I was expecting him to be a brat.”
Tucker felt dangerously close to melting through the floor. Frank’s hand in his hair, Mikey’s on his butt, being talked about like he wasn’t there, or too dumb to understand them…Tucker didn’t realize how much he needed this.
“Oh, he is a brat. He’s just showing off for you,” Frank insisted, tugging on Tucker’s hair lightly.
“Is that right, Tucker? Are you gonna be good for me?”
“Yes, sir.” The title rolled off Tucker’s tongue with no hesitation.
Frank giggled. “See? Showing off.” He pinched Mikey’s ass with the fingers that were in his pocket, gazing up at his bandmate. “Hey, can I have a turn? Daddy needs a little sugar.” Frank winked, for good measure.
Mikey rolled his eyes dramatically, leaning down to kiss the guitarist. He left one hand on Tucker, the other one coming up to rest his fingers beneath Frank’s chin, keeping him tilted upwards. Their kiss was calmer than Mikey and Tucker’s had been, more tentative. There was much history hanging in the balance between them, more to lose if this went south.
The bandmates knew that it wouldn’t, though.
Just as the kiss deepened, Frank pulled away with a grin. “Okay if I watch?”
Tucker whimpered. Frank recognized the sound as arousal, not protest. He tugged on Tucker’s roots again, quieting him.
“The whole time?” Mikey questioned.
“For starters,” Frank replied. “Probably jump in at some point. You guys just look so good together. Wanna memorize it for my mental spank bank.” He winked for the second time in as many minutes.
Mikey grinned. “You’re such a fucking dork.” He leaned down to kiss Frank again, long and deep. The guitarist sighed against his lips. “Should I use a condom?”
Tucker’s eyes widened, shooting a panicked look at Frank. Mikey saw this and continued speaking. “I’m clean, for the record. I get tested every time we go on the road, just in case.”
Tucker’s expression softened upon hearing this, making Frank snort. “That’s good, ‘cause we don’t even travel with condoms since we don’t need them. The three of us get tested after every new partner, so we’re both clean, too.” He gave Tucker a soft kiss on the cheek. “Tuck prefers taking it raw, anyway.” The drummer’s face burned. Perhaps Frank knew him too well.
Mikey figured the third person Frank referred to was Anthony. He kicked himself for not asking if the singer would be okay with this. “Sorry, I should’ve asked sooner, is Anthony—”
“We have a standing agreement,” Frank interjected. “We all can play with new partners as long as we tell each other beforehand. He’s very excited to hear the details later.”
Tucker whined again, starting to feel impatient. He knew they needed to be responsible and talk this through before sex, but Tucker wanted to be fucked already. Frank smoothed his hair down, petting him. Mikey gave his ass another squeeze, making Tucker grind his cock against the bassist’s thigh. He wanted more, now.
“Behave, Tucker,” Frank said sternly, making Tucker look him in the eyes. “If you start acting out, I’ll call it.” He turned to Mikey. “Oh, one more thing: we use the traffic light system. That okay?”
Mikey nodded. “Perfect. That’s what I use, too.”
Frank smiled. “Great. Okay, you kids have fun. I’ll be in the cuck chair.” He turned, striding over to the armchair in the corner of the room and throwing himself down on it.
The bassist turned to Tucker, eyes hungry. “Strip for me.”
Eager to be given a command, Tucker reached for the hem of his shirt and yanked it up over his head in one smooth motion. Mikey took a step back to give him room, admiring his toned yet still soft chest. His eyes traced over the rose on Tucker’s sternum, the bird in the hollow of his throat. “Gorgeous,” he praised.
Tucker’s chest flushed pink, his fingers fumbling with his belt buckle.
“Slow down, Tuck,” Frank directed. “He’s not going anywhere.”
Both Mikey and Tucker inhaled sharply. Frank giving them pointers from the cuck chair was hot. Tucker’s eyes wandered to the corner, finding Frank with his knees spread, casually palming himself through his jeans. The guitarist admired them with a smirk, knowing exactly how he was affecting his partner.
Tucker took a deep breath, finally able to unbuckle his belt. He turned his attention back to Mikey, who hadn’t taken his eyes off him. His chest flushed deeper as he slowly pulled his belt through the loops, the bassist’s eyes making him feel exposed and vulnerable in Tucker’s favorite way.
“Better. Good boy,” Frank commented.
The praise hit Tucker in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him. He gasped, then moaned, his trousers suddenly far too restrictive around his body.
Mikey smiled wickedly. “Mm, somebody likes to be praised,” he teased. Tucker nodded vigorously, humming a confirmation in his throat.
He sighed as he undid the button on his fly. The relief was almost immediate. Tucker dragged the zipper down, fighting the urge to buck his hips as it ghosted over his cock, revealing his heather grey boxer briefs underneath. Mikey growled approvingly, low and deep in his throat.
The shorter man pushed the trousers over the curve of his ass, letting go and allowing them to fall to the floor once the rounded muscle was out of the way. Tucker stepped out of the pool of fabric, kicking it across the floor. He knew if he looked down, he’d see the obscene outline of his cock beneath the grey cotton, a dark spot at the tip where he was already leaking profusely.
Mikey growled again, this time palming himself through his jeans as he did. “Jesus, shit, Rule,” he groaned.
“Yeah,” Frank breathed from behind the bassist. “He sure is a beauty, isn’t he?”
“Fucking stunning,” Mikey agreed, lips parted in awe. Tucker preened, tensing his muscles a bit just to show off. He hooked his thumbs under his waistband, looking up at Mikey for approval.
“No, let me,” Mikey commanded, stepping forward to close the gap between them. Tucker gasped in shock as the taller man gripped his dick through the fabric, aggressively pressing his thumb into the slit.
“Fuck, holyshit, Mikey—” Tucker whined, eyes closed, feeling breathless. In one swift movement, he felt his underwear get yanked down, his hard cock smacking up into his belly obscenely. Tucker barely had time to process this before he heard knees hitting the floor, and his dick was engulfed in Mikey’s hot, wet mouth. “Mikey!”
Impressively, the bassist took Tucker’s cock down to the hilt in one smooth suck. The smaller man’s eyes shot open, hands flying to nestle in Mikey’s hair as he received one of the sloppiest blowjobs of his life.
“Holy fuck,” Frank moaned approvingly. He had his pants unzipped now, his dick hard and leaking beneath his tattooed fingers. He locked eyes with Tucker and grinned, the drummer doing his best to return a smile around his breathless whimpering.
Mikey was fucking drooling on Tucker’s cock; he could feel spit sliding down his balls and inner thigh. He walked a hand up Tucker’s belly, resting his palm in the middle of his sternum, directly over the rose tattoo. Mikey’s finger pads dug into the muscle of Tucker’s chest while his other hand cupped his balls, gently tugging and worrying the soft skin between his fingers. Tucker was fully lost in the paradise that was Mikey’s mouth, thrilled that all the rumors he’d heard over the years were true. It took everything in him not to thrust into the bassist’s throat, but Mikey had asked him to be good, and Tucker was stubborn enough to prove Frank wrong. He wasn’t a brat, and he could follow orders.
Tucker’s moans increased in frequency and pitch as he chased the white-hot pleasure in front of him, so close he could taste it.
“Mikey, chill. He’s gonna come if you keep that up.”
The taller man immediately pulled off Tucker’s dick, a pornographic suction sounding through the air as he did so. Tucker wanted to fucking kill Frank. He whined, looking down from the ceiling at the bassist.
Mikey looked wrecked. His eyelashes stuck to his cheeks, soaked with tears. His hair stuck up in every direction, and his lips were blood-red and glistening with spit. He grinned up at Tucker, breathing hard. “Sorry, got a little carried away,” Mikey panted. His voice was scratchy from the abuse of his throat. “Just been thinking about doing that all day.”
“You’re…really fucking good at that,” Tucker managed to say between heaving breaths.
“I know,” Mikey said simply, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Turn around and bend over.”
Tucker obeyed rapidly, giving his friend’s obscene face one last look before turning his back to him. He was about to bend forward when Frank interrupted.
“Tucker, be a good host and fetch Mikey the lube.” The drummer listened, hurrying over to Frank’s suitcase.
“Good boy. Thank you,” Mikey praised as Tucker dropped the bottle into his outstretched hand. “Actually, my knees hurt. Get on the bed.”
Tucker climbed onto the mattress, crawling to the middle and parking himself on his hands and knees. A soft rustling and the click of a belt buckle signaled to Tucker that Mikey was taking his clothes off. Every fiber of his being wanted to turn and watch, but he fought it, determined to be good. He felt the bed dip behind him as Mikey got on, the pop of the lube cap making his cock twitch with anticipation. His wait wasn’t prolonged, as a thin finger began to press on his entrance. Tucker shivered, pushing back into it.
Mikey delivered a sharp smack to his ass, causing the smaller man to yelp. “Behave,” he growled.
“Sorry, sir.”
“Better be,” Mikey mused. “How does he like it?” This time, the bassist addressed Frank.
Tucker could hear the smile in Frank’s voice. “Rough.”
With no fanfare, Mikey pushed his middle finger into Tucker’s hole. The furl was tight, but once his first knuckle passed through, the drummer’s body was practically pulling Mikey inside of him. He bottomed out quickly, the webbing between his fingers meeting Tucker’s entrance and making squelching noises as Mikey added a second almost immediately. He knew it was probably too soon, but Frank had said Tucker liked it rough. Mikey intended to indulge that preference.
Above him, Tucker was gasping, white-knuckling the pillows by his head as he tried desperately to relax his hole. The stretch burned, but Mikey’s fingers were more slender than Frank’s, so Tucker had taken worse. He hadn’t bottomed in months, though, so the sensation was unfamiliar and intense. His head swam, allowing himself to get lost in the feeling as Mikey quickly added a third finger.
“Such a good little pain slut,” Mikey murmured, rubbing his free hand over Tucker’s back. All he could do was hum in agreement, happy to impress the man fingering him.
Frank chuckled from the corner. “I still think he’s showing off for you. He doesn’t usually—fuck,” Frank’s breath hitched as he pressed a knuckle into his leaking slit. “…doesn’t usually submit this easily.”
Mikey smirked, curling his fingers down to where he knew Tucker’s prostate would be, earning a strangled cry of pleasure from the smaller man. “What can I say? I’m good with my hands.”
“And your mouth—Jesus!” Tucker cut in, moaning sharply as his prostate was massaged again.
“Oh, we haven’t even gotten to the main event yet, sweetheart.” The tone of Mikey’s voice made Tucker’s stomach do a somersault. God, he was so fucking hard it almost hurt. He whimpered pitifully, hearing Mikey chuckle darkly behind him. Without warning, the bassist extracted his fingers, grabbing Tucker’s waist and flipping him onto his back.
“Holy fuck,” Tucker and Frank moaned in unison.
Mikey was slicking himself up, and Tucker saw for the first time that he was big. The head of his cock was flushed dark with blood, capping off a length that made Tucker feel inferior. Mikey’s dick wasn’t quite as thick as the drummer’s, but it was still a respectable width that was proportional to his impressive size. All the pieces clicked together in Tucker’s mind, the answer to how this once painfully nerdy-looking kid managed to fall into bed with someone new almost every night in the early years.
Tucker knew instantly that he was about to get fucked six ways from Sunday.
Mikey picked up Tucker’s legs, pulling the drummer closer to him. Tucker helped him situate a pillow under his butt, happy to get the position just right.
“Ready?” Mikey asked, wanting a verbal confirmation.
Tucker nodded, gazing up at Mikey with reverence. “Ready.”
“Wait!”
They both turned to see Frank leap to his feet. He shucked his clothes and climbed onto the bed. “I don’t wanna miss this.”
Tucker smiled up at his partner. “Hi.”
“Hi, cutie,” Frank murmured. He bent down to kiss Tucker, then crawled over to Mikey. Frank pressed his stomach to Mikey’s back, wrapping his arms around him and nosing up to his ear. “This okay?”
Mikey nodded, turning to kiss the guitarist on the cheek. “So okay.”
Frank grinned. “Okay, now I’m ready.”
Tightening his grip underneath Tucker’s knees, Mikey lined himself up and pushed in. Their mouths dropped open in matching o shapes as Mikey’s cock sank into Tucker’s tight, eager hole. The bassist could hear Frank breathing heavily in his ear, his tattooed hands exploring his toned chest, one absentmindedly teasing Mikey’s nipple.
Tucker felt a little bit like he was being split in half, speared open on one of the longest cocks he’d ever taken. The girth was manageable, but Mikey’s head was currently pushing through parts of him that rarely got stimulated, leaving Tucker gasping for air. He scrabbled at his thighs, searching for something to hold onto, and Frank was there, offering his inked knuckles for the drummer to squeeze.
“You’re doing so good, Tuck,” Frank assured him, placing a wet kiss on Mikey’s neck. “You too, Mikes.”
Mikey groaned, finally bottoming out inside Tucker. “Fucking shit, you’re so tight,” he gritted out.
“So…big,” Tucker panted. Tears stung his eyes. It was so much, but so good.
Frank used the hand that wasn’t clutching his partner’s to rub Mikey’s hip, thumb pressing into the dimple at the small of his back. “He’s okay,” he whispered to the bassist, worried Tucker’s tears would scare him.
Mikey let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, nodding. “Tell me when you’re ready for me to move,” he addressed Tucker.
Blood rushed in Tucker’s ears. He’d forgotten Mikey wasn’t even moving yet. He blinked, sending tears cascading from the corners of his eyelids and into his hairline. “I’m ready. Please.”
Mikey moaned, pitching himself forward and catching himself with his elbows on either side of Tucker’s head. As he pulled his hips away from the drummer, he felt Frank’s stiff cock between his cheeks, making his own twitch inside Tucker’s hole. Frank gripped Mikey’s hips, grinding against him as he pulled out.
Tucker sucked in a deep, anticipatory breath that was swiftly punched out of him when Mikey slammed his hips forward. The smaller man gasped and sobbed, blunt nails scrambling for purchase on Mikey’s smooth back.
“Know why I didn’t fuck you doggy?” Mikey began, his hot breath ghosting over Tucker’s face. “I know you’re a fucking dog,” —Frank moaned at this comment— “but I wanted to see your face with my cock inside you. Knew you’d look so fucking pretty.”
Tucker moaned loudly, trying to buck his hips up into Mikey’s. His cock was trapped between their bodies, and the friction was good, but not enough. Another sob ripped through him as Mikey thrust in again.
“Look so fucking pretty when you cry, Tucker,” Mikey sounded almost reverent, lowering himself to kiss the tear tracks on the drummer’s temples.
Frank dragged his fingernails down Mikey’s spine, making the bassist shiver as beads of sweat began to form on his skin. “Shit, Mikes, you’re mouthy. That’s usually Tuck’s thing,” he chuckled. “Actually, he’s never this quiet.”
“Mm, guess he’s showing off for me, like you said,” Mikey murmured, dipping his head to lick a stripe up Tucker’s jugular. “Being such a good boy.”
Tucker whimpered his assent, nodding enthusiastically. “Good boy,” he echoed softly.
“Aw, you’re fucking him stupid,” Frank snickered.
“Wouldn’t be as good of a fuck if he was smart,” Mikey grunted, snapping his hips faster, determined to turn Tucker’s brain to jelly.
Their comments alone would be enough to make Tucker forget his own name. The degradation, coupled with Mikey’s cock splitting him open, was almost too much, and Tucker could feel himself teetering on the edge of subspace. He didn’t want to lose himself completely, though, wanted to be present for this, so he pulled himself back, focusing on the sensations around him.
The slap of skin on skin. Frank and Mikey’s labored breathing. The smell of sweat and lube and deodorant. The way Mikey’s cock went deeper inside of him than Frank’s or Anthony’s. Mikey’s lips on his. Their tongues sliding against each other as Mikey’s explored behind Tucker’s teeth. Frank’s noises of approval.
Mikey adjusted his angle slightly, now hitting the smaller man’s prostate with every thrust. “Tucker…you’ve been so good for me,” Mikey whispered into his ear. “Can you come? Wanna watch your pretty face.”
That was all Tucker needed—to be given permission. He came with a hoarse cry, spurting ropes of cum between his and Mikey’s chests. His legs twitched, his entire body shaking as Mikey fucked him through his orgasm. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he repeated, breathless.
Tucker didn’t realize how tightly he was holding on to Mikey until he began to come down from his high, making himself release the almost-painful tension in his arms. The bassist stilled his hips, cradled Tucker’s head in his hands, and pressed a deep, tender kiss to his lips. Tucker sighed into the kiss, squeezing Mikey’s butt affectionately. He was vaguely aware of Frank rubbing his thighs gently, soothing the overworked muscles.
“Hey, you did so good,” Mikey murmured, his lips still on Tucker’s. “So perfect for me. I’m gonna pull out, okay?”
Tucker nodded, lightly nipping at Mikey’s bottom lip. He was starting to feel a little overstimulated. He whimpered as Mikey pulled out, feeling empty and gaping. The taller man pushed back up to his knees, his back once again flush with Frank’s. The guitarist instantly latched onto him, taking his warm, slick cock into his hand.
“Fuck, you’re big,” Frank said, awestruck. He rested his chin on Mikey’s shoulder so he could look down and admire the huge dick in his hand. “Shit, can you fuck me next time?”
Mikey moaned wantonly, eyes fluttering shut. When he opened them again, Tucker’s gaze was fixed on his cock, watching Frank work his hand up and down the length. He smiled, knowing exactly what those hands were capable of and enjoying watching Mikey fall apart beneath them. An idea popped into Tucker’s head, and he propped himself up on his elbows, shortening the distance between them.
Tucker ran two of his fingers through the cum glistening atop his chest tattoos, then pressed them to Mikey’s lips. The bassist moaned, taking Tucker’s fingers into his mouth and sucking. Frank did something crazy with his fingers at the same time the taste of Tucker’s cum exploded on his tongue, and Mikey was gone. He bit down on the fingers in his mouth as he came, adding more milky fluid to the mess on Tucker’s chest.
“Fuck, yes. That’s it, Mikes.” Frank praised, nearly reaching his own orgasm from watching his partner be painted with another man’s semen. He stroked Mikey through it, milking every last drop from his slit. When he was done, Frank swiped the pad of his index finger over Mikey’s tip, collecting the last dregs of cum that he then pushed into the taller man’s mouth. Mikey obediently cleaned his own mess from Frank’s finger, and the guitarist rewarded him with a kiss on the shoulder.
Frank removed his finger from Mikey’s mouth, the bassist speaking as soon as he was able, sounding desperate. “Let me suck you off.”
“Jesus,” Frank groaned, the mere idea making him lightheaded. “Okay, but I’m close.”
“Good,” Mikey grinned.
Frank threw himself down on the bed next to Tucker, pulling him in for a kiss. The drummer’s chest was wet and sticky, but Frank didn’t mind, letting him press in close. Mikey got between the guitarist’s spread legs and spat on his cock. He immediately took Frank into his mouth, pressing his tongue along the vein on the bottom as he sank down, nose to Frank’s pubic hair. The tattooed man’s cock didn’t go as far into Mikey’s throat as Tucker’s did, so he had no trouble at all bobbing his head up and down, making obscene noises as he sucked.
“Mikey!” Frank came with a cry, pumping hot, salty ropes down Mikey’s throat. He eagerly drank it up, sucking until there was nothing left and Frank began to go soft between his lips. He pulled off, pressing a kiss to Frank’s lower belly.
“Hang on, gonna get a washcloth.”
Frank and Tucker held each other close, basking in the afterglow together. Tucker kissed the tip of Frank’s nose before nuzzling it with his own. “Love you so much,” he murmured.
“I love you too, Tuck.”
Mikey returned, climbing onto the bed with a wet washcloth in each hand. He worked on Tucker’s chest first, making the drummer giggle when he rubbed a particularly ticklish spot near his armpit. Once Tucker was clean, Mikey used the clean washcloth to wipe up any mess on Frank, before wiping the lube off of his own groin. The washcloths got tossed onto the floor to be dealt with in the morning.
“Are you staying?” Tucker asked, putting his hand on Mikey’s.
Mikey’s face flushed. “Is that okay?”
“Of course it’s okay,” Frank cut in, pulling Mikey into the middle of their cuddle puddle. “Please, stay with us.”
“Yeah, you can’t fuck us that good and just leave,” Tucker added, burying his face in the crook of Mikey’s neck.
Mikey smiled softly, wrapping an arm around Tucker. “Thanks for letting me join. That was really fucking good.”
Frank cozied up to Mikey’s other side, tossing an arm over his belly. “Mm, you’re welcome any time, Mikes. Can’t wait until I’m the one you’re fucking.”
“Good luck prying him away from me,” Tucker joked, kissing Mikey’s neck.
“Boys, boys, there’s enough of me to go around,” Mikey giggled. He turned towards Tucker, burying his face in the drummer’s sandy hair. He smelled like sweat and mangoes. “Hey, I just wanted to make it clear that I was just saying shit earlier. I didn’t actually mean all that stuff about you being stupid, or anything.”
Tucker snuggled closer, tossing his leg over Mikey’s, tangling them together. “Oh, I know,” he assured. “Trust me, that was tame compared to some of the shit Frankie and I have said to each other.” The guitarist chuckled. “I loved it. So fucking hot,” Tucker said.
Mikey hugged him tight. “Okay, good. I figured, but just wanted to make sure.”
“Thank you for checking in.” Tucker lifted his head, pulling back to look Mikey in the eyes. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together.”
Frank murmured his agreement from Mikey’s other side. The bassist smiled at Tucker.
“Yeah, I think so too.”