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Tyler could almost taste the dirt coating the wall that Josh had him pinned to. His cheek pressed into the cool, dirty, off-white cement wall of the small gas station bathroom they’ve crowded themselves into. Josh had gone and asked for the key before returning with it and sneaking the both of them in under the dim, blinking light overhead.
He should be disgusted. He should put his hand between his cheek and the wall as a barrier against the filth, but, if he’s filthy on the inside, what does it matter if it gets on his skin?
Josh’s hands gripped his waist so tightly that it hurt, calloused fingers digging into the thin skin scattered with white, fading lines that felt as though they could reopen under the other’s touch. He shivered as his nails scraped the skin. He was not being gentle, not that either of them wanted anything differently— pressing and pushing and pulling frantically at each other.
“You’re so loud,” Josh panted wetly against the nape of his neck, bringing one of his hands up to grab him there, holding him still, “whole place is gonna’ hear you.”
Tyler’s ears hadn’t registered the noises coming out of his own mouth, the whimpers of a wounded animal begging for release from its trap. Except, he never wanted to leave the cage Josh’s arms created around him, never wanting to leave this safe space created in a sketchy bathroom in the middle of nowhere at 2am. He could barely hear anything over the wet, heavy panting against his ear, the loud slap of Josh’s hips meeting his ass, the echo that it created against the dirty tiles.
He didn’t care, the thought of anyone hearing them only making him push his ass back against Josh harder (even though he knew there wasn’t anyone out at this hour anyways.)
“S’rry.” He slurred past numb lips, the voice reflecting back at him foreign to his own ears. He wasn’t really all that sorry, but level headed Tyler would be mortified at the sight of himself. Tyler from last year would be on his knees praying for forgiveness at the sight of him this way— pants pooled around his ankles, sweat dripping down his temple steadily, on his tippy toes so the angle of his bandmates cock hit just right. Josh had a certain effect on him, one that he just couldn’t push away any longer.
“Gonna’ have to shut you up, huh?” Josh’s voice didn’t sound like his own, either, he sounded frantic, panicked, like he was running a marathon or running from a bear. He brought his fingers to Tyler’s wet mouth, shoving their way inside before the other could protest. He ran the calloused pads over Tyler’s crooked bottom teeth, feeling the sharp canines digging into his skin before they gave way and welcomed the intrusion. He pet along his tongue, pushing all the way to the back, only letting up when Tyler gagged, settling on hooking them in his cheek and pulling his head back.
“There y’go, just needed somethin’ to muzzle you.” Josh’s eyes scanned the side of Tyler’s face, taking note of the way his fingers bulged at his blushing cheek, the way his long eyelashes clumped with tears, the way his nostrils flared as he tried to steady his breath. He looked so fucking wrecked, felt it, too. Tyler looked back into Josh’s wild eyes and felt a twinge in his stomach, almost that of fear from the blackness that swam in the others irises. He looked like he wanted to tear Tyler apart, rip his limbs to shreds and chew on his bones, consume him entirely because just fucking into him wasn’t enough. The thought made Tyler feel high.
Josh didn’t get like this often, no, only when Tyler had pushed his buttons too many times to handle in one day. Only when it had been a long day, a long show, something went wrong and he missed a few beats during a song, only to be stuck in a van with the singer for hours as he poked and prodded at his side until they ended up here, Josh giving the brat what he wanted but couldn’t use his words to ask for.
People had their breaking points— even Josh, the most caring, kind, and gentle soul he’d ever met— had things that would get under his skin that he had to take control of. And sometimes that’s all Tyler wanted, to be controlled. Sometimes everything in his life felt so beyond his control (their success, if people were going to like their music, if people would show up to their shows) that he wanted to be controlled, just for awhile. To be held up, positioned, given to without thought. He wanted to shut his whirring brain off, the self destructive bastard that it was, to just go radio silent for a while. Josh gave that to him in these very rare moments, even if he wasn’t aware.
Josh unhooked his fingers from his mouth after a while, delivering a gentle smack to his cheek before grabbing both of his hips again. Tyler keened at the sting on his cheek and wished the other would hit him harder, but he knew Josh still had self control. He knew if Josh knew how badly Tyler wanted him to actually hurt him, leave marks in his wake, that Josh would put an end to it immediately. He didn’t need to know that Tyler got off on the pain, that when he promised Josh the quick preparation was enough and he didn’t feel the teeth clenching stretch when he entered him.
“Gonna’ cum soon,” Josh rasped into the wet column of shoulder that peeked out of Tyler’s stretched out shirt. He had felt close for a while, yet refused to reach a hand down to his weeping cock to take him over the edge. Another form of self sabotage, but that was not here nor there. When Josh finally did it for him, his hips bucked so hard that Josh nearly slipped out. The strong hand at his hip gripped even tighter, vice tight that would definitely leave a smattering of bruises, the other hand jerking his cock at a pace that he wouldn’t be able to last with.
“Fuh-fuck, Josh,” snot dripped down his upper lip, he was falling apart, “can’t, I can’t—”
“You can, c’mon Ty,” the hand on his hip snaked up to his neck, holding there, “want you to come for me.”
In the few times they had found themselves in this position before, Tyler had come to find that he could always come with a strong hand around his throat. Not choking, but a firm grip that said you’re mine and you’re stuck here until you do as I say. Josh seemed to catch on, too, as his fingers tightened around his cock and his windpipe, feeling his adam’s apple bob against his palm.
“C’mon,” Josh was losing his pace, he would finish any second now, “gonna’ cum in you, gonna’ fucking—“
Tyler sobbed at the feeling of Josh’s hot release inside of him, not able to hold back any longer himself. His body collapsed back against the strong chest, toes curling in his beaten up shoes as his release punched him in the gut. Whether his eyes slipped shut or his vision went out, he wasn’t sure. All he was sure of was the steady pulse of his climax, the shallow thrusts that Josh still humped into him, and the feeling of losing all control. In that moment, he was Josh’s to mold, bend, break, and take from. However, Josh held him up, pulled out of him gently, sat him on the toilet seat as he wet some paper towels to clean them up with.
He touched Tyler so delicately that it gave him a head rush from how soft those hands were being with him now. His soft eyes returned, tired and satisfied, no longer sharp and dangerous. He cleaned Tyler like a lover would, all gentle touches and soft sorry’s when he went over somewhere still sensitive. After the evidence of their disappearance was cleaned and thrown into the already overfilled trash can, clothes were pulled back into place, buttons done up and zippers zipped.
They exited the single stall bathroom at the same time, the hour late enough to stifle any anxiety of being caught together, and made their way back to the van they called home. Josh drove through the night while Tyler slept across the backseat, not another word exchanged through the air that the ac worked to cool. They moved across the world enclosed in their own bubble— and even while miles away, they could pretend it felt like home.