Part 1
That was how it started, how it came to a boiling point: Paul dropped a little trinket of Bob's on the floor, a porcelain figurine someone at the record label had given him as an early holiday gift. One of those bizarre little items that did no good as anything but a paperweight. The floor was wood panels and the porcelain smashed into bits upon contact. Bob became furious for no good reason. He yelled at Paul for being "incredibly stupid" and Paul was stunned; Bob hadn't even liked the damned thing. He yelled back in defense and they both spat brutal words they didn't mean before the whole mess escalated out of control and Bob shoved Paul, hard, against the hotel room wall. Paul's head hit the plaster with a sharp thud and it took him a moment to regain his focus. When he opened his eyes against the pain, Bob was standing right before him, his tousled blond curls shrouding his eyes.
"Paul," he whispered. He looked like he might burst into tears if Paul didn't answer him, if he'd really hurt him. "Are you.. all right?"
"I.. I think so." Paul moved to check the back of his head for a bump or maybe worse, noticing that Bob's hand was moving there as well, close to cradling his own. In a flash of inexplicable rage, Paul heaved forward with his hands against Bob's chest, knocking him flat on his back on the queen sized bed. Bob looked at him with wide eyes, in shock.
"Don't fuckin' TOUCH ME!" Paul shouted.
Bob didn't reply. They locked eyes for a few languorous, blazing hot seconds before Paul whisked himself upright and out of the hotel room altogether. He slammed the door behind him, leaning against it with his weight once he realized what they had done, what this was. The last few weeks on the road, all the time spent with Bob, had been building up to this. Something had to be done.
Paul knew that at this hour of the night, Nick would be asleep, most likely in bed with Alex. They'd had a long day of year-end promotion and he and Bob had only stayed up because they'd gotten caught up in late night chatter as usual. Until, that is, Paul broke that stupid piece of shite on the floor. Then the conversation had ended right quickly.
Nick's door was open, just a wee bit ajar. The two lads had probably neglected to close it all the way in the midst of their post-show passion. Paul smirked to himself as he wondered what the rest of the hallway had heard coming out of this room. Poor unwitting bastards. He moved inside, unable to see clearly in the darkness that blanketed the room, and ended up nearly tripping on one of Alex's pointy shoes. Alex did have his own hotel room here, as he did wherever they went, but lately they'd been left untouched and abandoned for Nick's room and the fetching promises that lived behind its door, beneath Nick's sheets.
Paul felt a sudden urge to turn back. He was nearly shaking, he was so nervous. But he really had to talk to Nick if anything was going to get resolved. Nick was full of good advice for situations like this-- an added bonus being that Nick had been in a situation like this. When veritable Greek god Alex Kapranos had socked one pretty boy Nick McCarthy in the face, it made headlines everywhere. It could have torn the entire band apart, left the whole dazzling year they'd had together completely tattered, in shreds. But Nick made sure that did not happen. He hadn't tried to play the victim or ignore the issue. He had confronted Alex in private, had a chat with him about it, and made the case that it was a culmination of their incessant flirtation, touching, dead obvious lust for each other-- or at least, the first bit. Paul assumed the last part. It had to be true, considering that the two lads hadn't kept their hands off each other since then.
And there they were, living proof, their tangled limbs illuminated only slightly by the slice of moonlight pouring in from the curtained window. Paul felt a heavy weight in his heart. He thought of Bob, angel that he was, and was overcome by a desperate need to have this. Yes, he could admit it. He wanted this, too.
Paul sat in the cushioned wicker chair positioned next to the bed and reached out, venturing a guess at which shoulder was the one he wanted to nudge. Not that Alex wasn't good at giving advice, but Alex had been the fist-happy one in their case. Nick was the right person to talk to this time. Paul nudged a pale shoulder and bit his lip, waiting. He was glad for the response he got.
"Hmm.. wha? Who's that, then? Paul?" Nick sat up and squinted at Paul's toothy grin in the dark.
"Aye. Look, I need tae talk with you." He whispered, so as not to wake Alex.
"It's pretty late.. can't we talk later?"
"Nae. It's urgent, Nick."
Alex grunted and smushed his face into his pillow, still dead to the world. Nick, on the other hand, was now wide awake, thanks to the mop-haired drummer. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and sighed.
"Right, then. What's this about?"
"It's me an' Bob," Paul softly said. He almost smiled when he saw Nick's brow perk in sudden interest, but found he couldn't manage it. "We had a fight."
"About what?"
"I dinnae even know.. I broke somethin'. It was stupid. It jist-- he pushed me. An' I hit my head.."
Nick's eyes widened. "Bob pushed you? Our Bob?"
Paul nodded. "Yeh, pretty hard, too. An' I pushed back, and then we were jist.. we were lookin' at each other and I--" He stopped and closed his eyes. His heart pounded now, just thinking about it. He whispered, like a confession. "It's so much bigger, Nick."
Nick nodded, smoothing his palm down the length of Alex's forearm. His eyes were full of understanding, just like Paul knew they would be. His eyes traveled along with Nick's hand and he felt those pangs of longing again.
"How did you do it?" Paul asked.
"Do it?"
"How did you.. get to this point, with Alex. What did you say?"
"Ah, Paul." Nick's grin was quick and wide, sparkling even in the dark. "It wasn't what I said, it was what I did."
Paul rolled his eyes at Nick's innuendo and grumbled. "Great. Tha's very helpful, Nick. Git."
"You want a demonstration?" Nick nearly purred and Paul's gaze shot up, unbelieving but with the barest hint of curiosity.
"Ah, Nick, I dinnae think.."
"Oh, come now, Paul. You need to get your inspiration somewhere, don't you?" Nick said this as he rose up from beneath the sheets and straddled Alex's thin, lanky body, nestling just beneath the angles of his hips. Alex, still asleep, murmured something unintelligible, probably in a dream. Paul could see now that the two were completely nude, and he shrank back in his chair, wondering if he should dart out of the room. The slight tent in his trousers, however, did not shrink a bit. In fact, it did the complete opposite. Paul stared and stayed put.
"Christ, Nick. In front of me? And they call me 'dirty.'"
"I guess they're wrong. But let's not get off topic, Paul. See, after Alex hit me, I was feeling very vulnerable. Hurt, confused. Exposed, like. So I turned the tables on the bastard and.. hm." Nick paused and gazed down at Alex's sleep-creased face, almost lovingly. Paul leaned forward in anticipation for Nick's next words: "I exposed him."
Nick reached up towards the headboard and took hold of a tie hanging there, presumably Alex's tie, all skinny and pink. He leaned back on his haunches and positioned the silky fabric upon Alex's nape, trailing it over his pulse point, then slowly and carefully down the center of Alex's breast. Alex, in turn, shivered. So did Paul.
"Obviously, there was no talking to Alex by that point." Nick's voice droned as he watched the pink fabric stream down his lover's chest, almost blending in with the alabaster skin in the dim light. Paul could tell Nick was holding in a shiver himself. "I had tried logic, reasoning, suggested a band therapist." Nick smirked. He ran the tie up along Alex's side, tickling the taut muscles that quivered in response. "When he hit me, I knew it was.. how did you put it? Right-- bigger."
With that word, Nick ground his hips smoothly into Alex's, and just like that, Alex was awake, a moan escaping, parting his chapped lips. Paul placed a hand over his crotch. He didn't know why Nick was doing this, but for bloody christ's sake, he did not want it to stop.
"It's just a matter of confrontation," Nick went on. "I said, 'Alex, we need to have a chat. You want me. I want you. Why fight? The answer is simple.'" The tie now skimmed over the grooves of Alex's hips, which bucked in response. Paul had a perfect view now of their mutual erections, hard and glistening. Nick arched up so they slid together, and Alex's voice was suddenly sharp, without a hint of sleepiness.
"God, Nick.. please..!" Alex moaned. Nick clamped his palm over the singer's mouth, stifling that wanton voice. His own words came out sounding brittle and stern.
"Alex. Shh. Can't you see I'm trying to have a conversation with Paul? I mean, really, how rude."
Alex blinked at that revelation and his eyes darted over to the chair where Paul sat, practically curled in a ball with his mutual desire. Paul thought Alex might be angry, but he seemed to be very pleased with having an audience-- if his muffled moan and fluttering lashes were any indication. Nick nodded with satisfaction, licking at his own lips like a pretty slut.
Paul did his best to get some friction against his pants as Nick spoke. "Do I have to gag you with this tie? Because I had other plans in mind."
Alex could not respond with Nick's hand still planted firmly over his mouth. Though Paul did catch sight of him licking at Nick's palm with that plush tongue, the one that drove girls and boys all over the planet completely mad with lust. It seemed to do the same for Nick. "Jesus," he murmured, before moving his hand-- and tie-- further below.
"Nick," Paul sputtered, "I--"
"Pay attention, Paul. Not done yet. Don't you want to know what I did next?" He looked over at Paul, who only could swallow and nod his assent. Nick smiled and leaned back a bit, giving Paul a better view of Alex's cock, which stiffened even more at the sudden exposure to cool air. Nick positioned his own erection against the curve of Alex's hip, never allowing his palm to leave its firm hold over Alex's mouth. He took the pink strip of silk and gave feather-light touches to Alex's outstretched inner thighs, causing the singer to whimper, causing the drummer to bite the inside of his cheek. Then Nick gave Alex's length a teasing, damning caress. Alex's hips nearly jumped off the mattress.
Nick swallowed hard as he watched his lover come apart at the seams before him, all by his own hand, overcome with need. He rubbed himself against Alex's hip and groaned lightly at the pressure. "I gave him.. my reasoning.. my well.. thought-out examples. And I.. made him an offer he couldn't refuse." Without any real warning, Nick had the silk tie wound around Alex's throbbing, leaking cock, and he jerked the fabric hard along the length, causing Alex to cry out. Paul gasped and clutched the arm of the chair, nearly splitting his nails against it when Nick spoke again, low and sultry. "I made him see it my way," he hissed.
Then, the talking was forgotten. Nick held Alex down as he pumped him steadily with the tie, the trapped noises coming from Alex getting more punctuated as it went on, higher and needier as the noose around his cock was pulled tighter. Nick watched him with fierce determination in his eyes, rubbing his erection furiously against his lover's glowing white skin, until Alex's chest began to heave in a way that meant the battle was nearly won. Nick gave his lover a final squeeze and jerk before lightly teasing below, at Alex's entrance, with an extended naughty fingertip. Alex stiffened, his release swift and debilitating, taking Nick along with him, who could not resist the sight of his lover in the throes of such passion.
That was it. The two men lay panting against each other for a while before Nick removed his hand. Alex kissed his fingertips and they looked at each other for a moment before sharing a sensuous kiss. Paul looked away then, finally. He was hard and aching and nearly miserable with the proof that Nick and Alex were about more than just sex. They were a special pair. Who was to say the same would happen with him and Bob? And to make things worse, now he was all aroused and trembly, and it was all Nick's fault. Fucking wanker.
Paul moved to stand and stopped when he heard someone clear his throat from the bed. He turned and saw it was Alex, smiling lazily up at him, fringe tickling his long eyelashes. Nick was already asleep again, curled into Alex's side.
"Bob really likes you, Paul," Alex whispered.
"Aye? You think so?"
"Of course. Who wouldn't? Kinky fucker, you are."
Paul grinned a bit shyly and waved a hand behind him, tossing off the last whisper of, "Give a bloke some warning next time!" He exited the room, suddenly feeling very eager to get back to the room he'd left earlier. It seemed like too long a time had passed already.
Bob wrinkled his nose. After his awful spat with Paul, he had been content to just strip down and go to bed, perhaps sleep the next few days away completely. So why was he waking up now? It was still nighttime, as no sunlight was tickling his eyelids. But he was being tickled elsewhere. That much was clear. He tried to ignore it, thought he was just perhaps still dreaming, when the caress ended at a point that could not-- would not-- be ignored.
He opened his eyes. His arms were tied to the headboard above him, a tie sashed about his wrists. His own tie. He looked straight ahead and nearly sputtered at who he saw, perched atop his hips.
"...Paul?!"
Paul grinned, waving his own black tie in small circles against the air, wearing only a sports jacket. He shrugged it off his shoulders and leaned in close to Bob, who shivered at the contact of skin on skin.
"Good morning, Robert," he said, suddenly serious. "I think we need to have a chat."
Part 2
Bob was stunned, absolutely stunned. How did he and Paul get from fighting like mad beasts to sexing each other up like a couple of sluts? Paul was leaning over him, acting like he'd swallowed the canary, like nothing bad had ever occurred. And yet, Bob could remember the piercing sound of Paul's voice as he yelled for Bob not to touch him, cursed and demanded it. Apparently Paul had changed his mind, because he was doing lots of touching now. He ran his fingertips up Bob's milky white thighs, beneath the soft green cotton of the boxer shorts, and Bob bit his lip, looking away.
This wasn't right. He couldn't bear it.
"Paul, please. Stop. Okay? Just... just stop."
"Stop? Why would I do a thing like that? I want tae touch you, Bob..."
"Paul, no. Untie me, okay?"
"But you don't--"
"I SAID STOP!"
Bob roared at Paul, nearly seething, and the drummer sat back in shock once more. Bob was just pulling all sorts of surprises today, wasn't he? Lots of yelling and shoving that the rest of the lads had never counted on seeing. Paul wanted to smack himself, suddenly. Perhaps he was all wrong about this? Or Bob didn't feel the same way he did. God. How could he be such a dolt?
Paul lowered his gaze guiltily. "Bob," he whispered.
"Untie me, please. Paul."
Bob would not look at him. But his voice was lower now, the ferocity puffed out of him for the moment. Still angry though, sterile sounding. Paul nodded and crawled up along the mattress, quickly undoing the amateur's knot he'd made with Bob's tie. When Bob's hands were free, he brought them together, to rub at his wrists. He then sat up on the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over, his back to Paul. The two said nothing for a long while.
"Bob, I'm sorry," Paul said. It rushed out of him, in a voice like that of a brow-beaten child's.
"You should be," Bob replied. His voice, for once, was bigger than Paul's, bigger than Paul had ever heard it. "What were you even thinking?"
Paul opened his mouth, but no words came forth. Bob's words left him shattered, just like the ugly figurine he'd dropped earlier that day. He felt just as ugly now, if not moreso. Bob didn't want him. Alex had been wrong, Nick too. Too bad they weren't the ones sitting here feeling like absolute shite in the face of Bob's dismissal.
Bob flickered a glance back over his shoulder and continued talking, his voice lower now but still harsh. "Did you really think tying me up was the solution? That I wanted you to.. I don't know.. suck and fuck your way into my heart? Christ, Paul. Who do you take me for? Alex Kapranos?"
Paul would have laughed at that if he had the heart. Instead, he sighed and felt his insides deflate in dejection. "Not like that, Bob. I never meant to make you feel..."
"Cheap?"
Paul nodded. Bob huffed and turned completely, worming his way back onto the mattress. He ran deft fingers through Paul's dark mop of hair, pushing it out of his eyes.
"Let me guess," he said. "You had a chat with Nick and Alex."
"Erm.. Nick, really. Alex was just.. there."
"Well, Paul. You're not Nick McCarthy and I'm not Alex Kapranos. Thank god, Alex is much too skinny. And Nick isn't sexy at all."
Paul looked up, unable to mask a sharp gust of high-pitched laughter. "Y'think I'm...?"
"Deadly so. And you didn't need to tie me up to make me realize my feelings for you. I know how I feel. What else can I expect, after a year of 'living in each other's pockets?'" Bob smiled softly and Paul's own lips mirrored it. Cute of Bob to quote back the poor excuse they'd given the press for Nick and Alex's fight. But they couldn't very well say something closer to the truth, like: "Sorry loves, they'll be right after a good shag."
Paul nodded, his wounded feelings repairing themselves as he ran his hand along the smooth, soft curves of Bob's face. Beautiful Bob, angelic creature. It was true, Bob deserved so much more than what Paul had assumed would be good enough. It would never be good enough.
"Bob," Paul whispered. Bob blinked at him, listening. "I'm sorry I broke yer dumb piece of shite doll."
Bob giggled and shook his head. "You didn't deserve what I did."
"Knocked some sense intae me."
"Well. I'm glad."
Bob reached out to cup the back of Paul's skull, massaging with his fingertips, perhaps looking for the bump he'd caused. Finding nothing of great worry, he held Paul like that and leaned in to finally claim that desirous kiss he'd been waiting for, that they'd been postponing for screaming and shoving instead. This was much better, much. The kiss was chaste at first, flutters of his full lips against Paul's, but then his tongue snuck out with plans of its own. It flickered into Paul's mouth, running along the slick surface of those adorable wonky teeth. Bob couldn't help a soft moan; he'd been wanting to do that for ages, just waiting for the right moment.
When Bob finally pulled back a bit, still holding onto Paul by his slight shoulders, the drummer's eyes were closed as if the kiss had not yet ended, his mouth full, wet and bright pink. Stained with Bob.
Paul did open his eyes at last, and grinned almost maniacally at poor Bob, who was flat on the bed before he even knew what hit him. The slim brunette crawled over him, not bothering to hide a leer, still flashing that smile. "You really think I'm sexier than Nick?"
"Of course!" Bob exclaimed. "Much sexier. For one thing, you don't have that big arse that takes up the whole right end of the stage when we-- mm. God, Paul. Paul." Cut off by the assault Paul's mouth inflicted upon his neck, the nips of his teeth along Bob's jawline where the beginnings of a new reddish-blond beard began, the snake-like movement of his tongue as it traced the shell of Bob's ear, then licked just below, without warning. It was like an injection of want that travelled straight down to Bob's crotch, which jumped up in anticipation of things to come, heat grazing against heat. He held onto Paul's hips as the lad licked at his collarbone.
"Enough about tha' fucker. Tell me what you like about me, Bob." Paul lazily trailed a fingertip down Bob's chest, circling in detours around his pinkened nipples, turning them hard and needy for more of his touch. He was grinning like a right cunt. Bob loved it.
"Well, god, you're-- I mean, your smile, and that look about you, that you always have.."
Bob gasped, finding it hard to speak coherently when Paul was teasing him the way he was, kissing every exposed inch of skin on his abdomen, driving him mad with lust. Paul licked his way down the darkened trail of hair that extended from Bob's navel, pausing when he hit the elastic of Bob's boxers. Bob groaned with unabashed need. Surely his boxers were tented beyond belief now. Paul was doing this to him. It was blissfully unreal.
"What look?" Paul whispered.
"You-- that dark.. sultry look, you have. Bloody mesmerizing, the way you look at the cameras and such... and those tracksuits, oh god."
Paul snickered, lowering Bob's boxer shorts and kissing the newly revealed flesh as it presented itself readily to his lips. "Y'like them, aye?"
"Yes. You fill them out.." Gasp. Gasp. Groan. "..Brilliantly."
Bob's sounds were the result of cotton grazing languidly over his achingly hard cock which appeared now before Paul, in desperate need of attention and care. "Not so bad yerself, Mr. Hardy," Paul muttered, before laying the flat of his tongue at the very base of Bob's throbbing length, languidly moving upward to the head, which was swallowed up by Paul's very thirsty lips. Bob let out a strangled cry, trying without much success not to buck up against Paul. Though the very idea of fucking Paul's mouth like that.. god, it was another spark of arousal coursing through him. Maybe not this first time. Maybe the next. Jesus, there had better be more than one "next time," he thought.
"Paul! You're too fuckin' good at this, if you don't stop, I'll--"
Paul licked lazily at Bob's cock like it was a bloody popsicle, lightly scratching his fingernails along his inner thighs. He paused, then, looking up with a wink. "You'll what? Shove me? Sorry mate, been there.. cannae say I really liked it much. I want tae see the main attraction now."
"Christ, Paul.. please, please--"
"Please?"
"Fuck me. Please. I need you, right now."
Paul blinked, momentarily dizzied with lust by the sound of angel-faced Bob begging to be fucked into the mattress. It took him a moment to remember the lube he'd squared away in the inside pocket of his sports jacket. Travel-sized; he'd nicked it on his way out of Nick and Alex's room. Only fair, they'd had enough sex for the night. It was Paul and Bob's turn now. It had been their turn for a long while.
Bob watched with desire-hooded eyes as Paul kicked off his own knickers and got to business. He squirted some of the cool lube into his palms, rubbing them together a moment before attending to his own mind-boggling erection with one hand, the fingertips of the other taking an interest in Bob's tight entrance.
"Fuck," Bob breathed, squirming down into Paul's teasing touch. Paul felt himself grow harder-- if it was possible-- watching Bob's face become enraptured as fingers slid into his inner heat, one by one. "Now," Bob gasped. "Now, do it now, Paul."
Paul was more than ready to oblige. Bob's legs easily lifted and raised, and Paul wasted no time in replacing his hand with his desperate length, nudging at the ring of muscle for starters before sliding inside, steady and slow. Bob's jaw fell open a bit at the searing sensation of Paul's impressive length. He looked.. stunned. Flabbergasted. Paul himself had not even dreamed it would feel this amazing.
Once Paul was all the way inside, the two men began a rhythm, Bob faltering only when Paul hit a particularly sweet spot, an equally sweet groan of pleasure piercing the air. Bob's hand soon found his own needy cock, pumping without cease before Paul's hand joined it, and they stroked the young blonde to the very brink of release. Bob was chanting, "Paul, god, Paul, yes.." Senseless things combined with his name, over and over again. The words climbing to a higher pitch when Paul's thrusts went after those sweet spots repeatedly, until Bob was coming apart. The drummer himself could say nothing, was too caught up in the sweet slide of his cock inside Bob, who felt beautiful and warm, like a proper home.
Bob cried out suddenly, overcome by the multiple sensations Paul provided, his entire body tensing like a snapped rubber band as he found release. His muscles tightened, ensnaring Paul like a vice, and there was no trying to fight it-- seconds later, Paul was gone off the edge as well, emptying into Bob, losing himself completely.
Paul slumped against his new lover, not daring to pull out, to leave the moist, delicious depths of Bob just yet. Their bodies molded, slick and hot. They were both silent for a bit until Paul grunted, burying his face in Bob's shoulder.
"Aye, Bob... I cannae believe it. That were jist..."
"Amazin'?" Bob offered.
Paul nodded, lifting his head only when Bob's hand encouraged it, tickling below his chin. They kissed once more, an elegant mesh of tongue and teeth, tasting each other again, unable to now live without the reminder of it.
"Mm, Paul," Bob murmured against the other lad's lips. "Maybe next time I can tie you up." Paul couldn't help a wicked smile. So that was the real reason for Bob's conniption. Silly bloke. Paul adored him.
He nodded. "Aye. Maybe I'll wear me tracksuit."
"You'd better."
That was how it started, how it came to a boiling point: Paul dropped a little trinket of Bob's on the floor, a porcelain figurine someone at the record label had given him as an early holiday gift. One of those bizarre little items that did no good as anything but a paperweight. The floor was wood panels and the porcelain smashed into bits upon contact. Bob became furious for no good reason. He yelled at Paul for being "incredibly stupid" and Paul was stunned; Bob hadn't even liked the damned thing. He yelled back in defense and they both spat brutal words they didn't mean before the whole mess escalated out of control and Bob shoved Paul, hard, against the hotel room wall. Paul's head hit the plaster with a sharp thud and it took him a moment to regain his focus. When he opened his eyes against the pain, Bob was standing right before him, his tousled blond curls shrouding his eyes.
"Paul," he whispered. He looked like he might burst into tears if Paul didn't answer him, if he'd really hurt him. "Are you.. all right?"
"I.. I think so." Paul moved to check the back of his head for a bump or maybe worse, noticing that Bob's hand was moving there as well, close to cradling his own. In a flash of inexplicable rage, Paul heaved forward with his hands against Bob's chest, knocking him flat on his back on the queen sized bed. Bob looked at him with wide eyes, in shock.
"Don't fuckin' TOUCH ME!" Paul shouted.
Bob didn't reply. They locked eyes for a few languorous, blazing hot seconds before Paul whisked himself upright and out of the hotel room altogether. He slammed the door behind him, leaning against it with his weight once he realized what they had done, what this was. The last few weeks on the road, all the time spent with Bob, had been building up to this. Something had to be done.
Paul knew that at this hour of the night, Nick would be asleep, most likely in bed with Alex. They'd had a long day of year-end promotion and he and Bob had only stayed up because they'd gotten caught up in late night chatter as usual. Until, that is, Paul broke that stupid piece of shite on the floor. Then the conversation had ended right quickly.
Nick's door was open, just a wee bit ajar. The two lads had probably neglected to close it all the way in the midst of their post-show passion. Paul smirked to himself as he wondered what the rest of the hallway had heard coming out of this room. Poor unwitting bastards. He moved inside, unable to see clearly in the darkness that blanketed the room, and ended up nearly tripping on one of Alex's pointy shoes. Alex did have his own hotel room here, as he did wherever they went, but lately they'd been left untouched and abandoned for Nick's room and the fetching promises that lived behind its door, beneath Nick's sheets.
Paul felt a sudden urge to turn back. He was nearly shaking, he was so nervous. But he really had to talk to Nick if anything was going to get resolved. Nick was full of good advice for situations like this-- an added bonus being that Nick had been in a situation like this. When veritable Greek god Alex Kapranos had socked one pretty boy Nick McCarthy in the face, it made headlines everywhere. It could have torn the entire band apart, left the whole dazzling year they'd had together completely tattered, in shreds. But Nick made sure that did not happen. He hadn't tried to play the victim or ignore the issue. He had confronted Alex in private, had a chat with him about it, and made the case that it was a culmination of their incessant flirtation, touching, dead obvious lust for each other-- or at least, the first bit. Paul assumed the last part. It had to be true, considering that the two lads hadn't kept their hands off each other since then.
And there they were, living proof, their tangled limbs illuminated only slightly by the slice of moonlight pouring in from the curtained window. Paul felt a heavy weight in his heart. He thought of Bob, angel that he was, and was overcome by a desperate need to have this. Yes, he could admit it. He wanted this, too.
Paul sat in the cushioned wicker chair positioned next to the bed and reached out, venturing a guess at which shoulder was the one he wanted to nudge. Not that Alex wasn't good at giving advice, but Alex had been the fist-happy one in their case. Nick was the right person to talk to this time. Paul nudged a pale shoulder and bit his lip, waiting. He was glad for the response he got.
"Hmm.. wha? Who's that, then? Paul?" Nick sat up and squinted at Paul's toothy grin in the dark.
"Aye. Look, I need tae talk with you." He whispered, so as not to wake Alex.
"It's pretty late.. can't we talk later?"
"Nae. It's urgent, Nick."
Alex grunted and smushed his face into his pillow, still dead to the world. Nick, on the other hand, was now wide awake, thanks to the mop-haired drummer. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and sighed.
"Right, then. What's this about?"
"It's me an' Bob," Paul softly said. He almost smiled when he saw Nick's brow perk in sudden interest, but found he couldn't manage it. "We had a fight."
"About what?"
"I dinnae even know.. I broke somethin'. It was stupid. It jist-- he pushed me. An' I hit my head.."
Nick's eyes widened. "Bob pushed you? Our Bob?"
Paul nodded. "Yeh, pretty hard, too. An' I pushed back, and then we were jist.. we were lookin' at each other and I--" He stopped and closed his eyes. His heart pounded now, just thinking about it. He whispered, like a confession. "It's so much bigger, Nick."
Nick nodded, smoothing his palm down the length of Alex's forearm. His eyes were full of understanding, just like Paul knew they would be. His eyes traveled along with Nick's hand and he felt those pangs of longing again.
"How did you do it?" Paul asked.
"Do it?"
"How did you.. get to this point, with Alex. What did you say?"
"Ah, Paul." Nick's grin was quick and wide, sparkling even in the dark. "It wasn't what I said, it was what I did."
Paul rolled his eyes at Nick's innuendo and grumbled. "Great. Tha's very helpful, Nick. Git."
"You want a demonstration?" Nick nearly purred and Paul's gaze shot up, unbelieving but with the barest hint of curiosity.
"Ah, Nick, I dinnae think.."
"Oh, come now, Paul. You need to get your inspiration somewhere, don't you?" Nick said this as he rose up from beneath the sheets and straddled Alex's thin, lanky body, nestling just beneath the angles of his hips. Alex, still asleep, murmured something unintelligible, probably in a dream. Paul could see now that the two were completely nude, and he shrank back in his chair, wondering if he should dart out of the room. The slight tent in his trousers, however, did not shrink a bit. In fact, it did the complete opposite. Paul stared and stayed put.
"Christ, Nick. In front of me? And they call me 'dirty.'"
"I guess they're wrong. But let's not get off topic, Paul. See, after Alex hit me, I was feeling very vulnerable. Hurt, confused. Exposed, like. So I turned the tables on the bastard and.. hm." Nick paused and gazed down at Alex's sleep-creased face, almost lovingly. Paul leaned forward in anticipation for Nick's next words: "I exposed him."
Nick reached up towards the headboard and took hold of a tie hanging there, presumably Alex's tie, all skinny and pink. He leaned back on his haunches and positioned the silky fabric upon Alex's nape, trailing it over his pulse point, then slowly and carefully down the center of Alex's breast. Alex, in turn, shivered. So did Paul.
"Obviously, there was no talking to Alex by that point." Nick's voice droned as he watched the pink fabric stream down his lover's chest, almost blending in with the alabaster skin in the dim light. Paul could tell Nick was holding in a shiver himself. "I had tried logic, reasoning, suggested a band therapist." Nick smirked. He ran the tie up along Alex's side, tickling the taut muscles that quivered in response. "When he hit me, I knew it was.. how did you put it? Right-- bigger."
With that word, Nick ground his hips smoothly into Alex's, and just like that, Alex was awake, a moan escaping, parting his chapped lips. Paul placed a hand over his crotch. He didn't know why Nick was doing this, but for bloody christ's sake, he did not want it to stop.
"It's just a matter of confrontation," Nick went on. "I said, 'Alex, we need to have a chat. You want me. I want you. Why fight? The answer is simple.'" The tie now skimmed over the grooves of Alex's hips, which bucked in response. Paul had a perfect view now of their mutual erections, hard and glistening. Nick arched up so they slid together, and Alex's voice was suddenly sharp, without a hint of sleepiness.
"God, Nick.. please..!" Alex moaned. Nick clamped his palm over the singer's mouth, stifling that wanton voice. His own words came out sounding brittle and stern.
"Alex. Shh. Can't you see I'm trying to have a conversation with Paul? I mean, really, how rude."
Alex blinked at that revelation and his eyes darted over to the chair where Paul sat, practically curled in a ball with his mutual desire. Paul thought Alex might be angry, but he seemed to be very pleased with having an audience-- if his muffled moan and fluttering lashes were any indication. Nick nodded with satisfaction, licking at his own lips like a pretty slut.
Paul did his best to get some friction against his pants as Nick spoke. "Do I have to gag you with this tie? Because I had other plans in mind."
Alex could not respond with Nick's hand still planted firmly over his mouth. Though Paul did catch sight of him licking at Nick's palm with that plush tongue, the one that drove girls and boys all over the planet completely mad with lust. It seemed to do the same for Nick. "Jesus," he murmured, before moving his hand-- and tie-- further below.
"Nick," Paul sputtered, "I--"
"Pay attention, Paul. Not done yet. Don't you want to know what I did next?" He looked over at Paul, who only could swallow and nod his assent. Nick smiled and leaned back a bit, giving Paul a better view of Alex's cock, which stiffened even more at the sudden exposure to cool air. Nick positioned his own erection against the curve of Alex's hip, never allowing his palm to leave its firm hold over Alex's mouth. He took the pink strip of silk and gave feather-light touches to Alex's outstretched inner thighs, causing the singer to whimper, causing the drummer to bite the inside of his cheek. Then Nick gave Alex's length a teasing, damning caress. Alex's hips nearly jumped off the mattress.
Nick swallowed hard as he watched his lover come apart at the seams before him, all by his own hand, overcome with need. He rubbed himself against Alex's hip and groaned lightly at the pressure. "I gave him.. my reasoning.. my well.. thought-out examples. And I.. made him an offer he couldn't refuse." Without any real warning, Nick had the silk tie wound around Alex's throbbing, leaking cock, and he jerked the fabric hard along the length, causing Alex to cry out. Paul gasped and clutched the arm of the chair, nearly splitting his nails against it when Nick spoke again, low and sultry. "I made him see it my way," he hissed.
Then, the talking was forgotten. Nick held Alex down as he pumped him steadily with the tie, the trapped noises coming from Alex getting more punctuated as it went on, higher and needier as the noose around his cock was pulled tighter. Nick watched him with fierce determination in his eyes, rubbing his erection furiously against his lover's glowing white skin, until Alex's chest began to heave in a way that meant the battle was nearly won. Nick gave his lover a final squeeze and jerk before lightly teasing below, at Alex's entrance, with an extended naughty fingertip. Alex stiffened, his release swift and debilitating, taking Nick along with him, who could not resist the sight of his lover in the throes of such passion.
That was it. The two men lay panting against each other for a while before Nick removed his hand. Alex kissed his fingertips and they looked at each other for a moment before sharing a sensuous kiss. Paul looked away then, finally. He was hard and aching and nearly miserable with the proof that Nick and Alex were about more than just sex. They were a special pair. Who was to say the same would happen with him and Bob? And to make things worse, now he was all aroused and trembly, and it was all Nick's fault. Fucking wanker.
Paul moved to stand and stopped when he heard someone clear his throat from the bed. He turned and saw it was Alex, smiling lazily up at him, fringe tickling his long eyelashes. Nick was already asleep again, curled into Alex's side.
"Bob really likes you, Paul," Alex whispered.
"Aye? You think so?"
"Of course. Who wouldn't? Kinky fucker, you are."
Paul grinned a bit shyly and waved a hand behind him, tossing off the last whisper of, "Give a bloke some warning next time!" He exited the room, suddenly feeling very eager to get back to the room he'd left earlier. It seemed like too long a time had passed already.
Bob wrinkled his nose. After his awful spat with Paul, he had been content to just strip down and go to bed, perhaps sleep the next few days away completely. So why was he waking up now? It was still nighttime, as no sunlight was tickling his eyelids. But he was being tickled elsewhere. That much was clear. He tried to ignore it, thought he was just perhaps still dreaming, when the caress ended at a point that could not-- would not-- be ignored.
He opened his eyes. His arms were tied to the headboard above him, a tie sashed about his wrists. His own tie. He looked straight ahead and nearly sputtered at who he saw, perched atop his hips.
"...Paul?!"
Paul grinned, waving his own black tie in small circles against the air, wearing only a sports jacket. He shrugged it off his shoulders and leaned in close to Bob, who shivered at the contact of skin on skin.
"Good morning, Robert," he said, suddenly serious. "I think we need to have a chat."
Part 2
Bob was stunned, absolutely stunned. How did he and Paul get from fighting like mad beasts to sexing each other up like a couple of sluts? Paul was leaning over him, acting like he'd swallowed the canary, like nothing bad had ever occurred. And yet, Bob could remember the piercing sound of Paul's voice as he yelled for Bob not to touch him, cursed and demanded it. Apparently Paul had changed his mind, because he was doing lots of touching now. He ran his fingertips up Bob's milky white thighs, beneath the soft green cotton of the boxer shorts, and Bob bit his lip, looking away.
This wasn't right. He couldn't bear it.
"Paul, please. Stop. Okay? Just... just stop."
"Stop? Why would I do a thing like that? I want tae touch you, Bob..."
"Paul, no. Untie me, okay?"
"But you don't--"
"I SAID STOP!"
Bob roared at Paul, nearly seething, and the drummer sat back in shock once more. Bob was just pulling all sorts of surprises today, wasn't he? Lots of yelling and shoving that the rest of the lads had never counted on seeing. Paul wanted to smack himself, suddenly. Perhaps he was all wrong about this? Or Bob didn't feel the same way he did. God. How could he be such a dolt?
Paul lowered his gaze guiltily. "Bob," he whispered.
"Untie me, please. Paul."
Bob would not look at him. But his voice was lower now, the ferocity puffed out of him for the moment. Still angry though, sterile sounding. Paul nodded and crawled up along the mattress, quickly undoing the amateur's knot he'd made with Bob's tie. When Bob's hands were free, he brought them together, to rub at his wrists. He then sat up on the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over, his back to Paul. The two said nothing for a long while.
"Bob, I'm sorry," Paul said. It rushed out of him, in a voice like that of a brow-beaten child's.
"You should be," Bob replied. His voice, for once, was bigger than Paul's, bigger than Paul had ever heard it. "What were you even thinking?"
Paul opened his mouth, but no words came forth. Bob's words left him shattered, just like the ugly figurine he'd dropped earlier that day. He felt just as ugly now, if not moreso. Bob didn't want him. Alex had been wrong, Nick too. Too bad they weren't the ones sitting here feeling like absolute shite in the face of Bob's dismissal.
Bob flickered a glance back over his shoulder and continued talking, his voice lower now but still harsh. "Did you really think tying me up was the solution? That I wanted you to.. I don't know.. suck and fuck your way into my heart? Christ, Paul. Who do you take me for? Alex Kapranos?"
Paul would have laughed at that if he had the heart. Instead, he sighed and felt his insides deflate in dejection. "Not like that, Bob. I never meant to make you feel..."
"Cheap?"
Paul nodded. Bob huffed and turned completely, worming his way back onto the mattress. He ran deft fingers through Paul's dark mop of hair, pushing it out of his eyes.
"Let me guess," he said. "You had a chat with Nick and Alex."
"Erm.. Nick, really. Alex was just.. there."
"Well, Paul. You're not Nick McCarthy and I'm not Alex Kapranos. Thank god, Alex is much too skinny. And Nick isn't sexy at all."
Paul looked up, unable to mask a sharp gust of high-pitched laughter. "Y'think I'm...?"
"Deadly so. And you didn't need to tie me up to make me realize my feelings for you. I know how I feel. What else can I expect, after a year of 'living in each other's pockets?'" Bob smiled softly and Paul's own lips mirrored it. Cute of Bob to quote back the poor excuse they'd given the press for Nick and Alex's fight. But they couldn't very well say something closer to the truth, like: "Sorry loves, they'll be right after a good shag."
Paul nodded, his wounded feelings repairing themselves as he ran his hand along the smooth, soft curves of Bob's face. Beautiful Bob, angelic creature. It was true, Bob deserved so much more than what Paul had assumed would be good enough. It would never be good enough.
"Bob," Paul whispered. Bob blinked at him, listening. "I'm sorry I broke yer dumb piece of shite doll."
Bob giggled and shook his head. "You didn't deserve what I did."
"Knocked some sense intae me."
"Well. I'm glad."
Bob reached out to cup the back of Paul's skull, massaging with his fingertips, perhaps looking for the bump he'd caused. Finding nothing of great worry, he held Paul like that and leaned in to finally claim that desirous kiss he'd been waiting for, that they'd been postponing for screaming and shoving instead. This was much better, much. The kiss was chaste at first, flutters of his full lips against Paul's, but then his tongue snuck out with plans of its own. It flickered into Paul's mouth, running along the slick surface of those adorable wonky teeth. Bob couldn't help a soft moan; he'd been wanting to do that for ages, just waiting for the right moment.
When Bob finally pulled back a bit, still holding onto Paul by his slight shoulders, the drummer's eyes were closed as if the kiss had not yet ended, his mouth full, wet and bright pink. Stained with Bob.
Paul did open his eyes at last, and grinned almost maniacally at poor Bob, who was flat on the bed before he even knew what hit him. The slim brunette crawled over him, not bothering to hide a leer, still flashing that smile. "You really think I'm sexier than Nick?"
"Of course!" Bob exclaimed. "Much sexier. For one thing, you don't have that big arse that takes up the whole right end of the stage when we-- mm. God, Paul. Paul." Cut off by the assault Paul's mouth inflicted upon his neck, the nips of his teeth along Bob's jawline where the beginnings of a new reddish-blond beard began, the snake-like movement of his tongue as it traced the shell of Bob's ear, then licked just below, without warning. It was like an injection of want that travelled straight down to Bob's crotch, which jumped up in anticipation of things to come, heat grazing against heat. He held onto Paul's hips as the lad licked at his collarbone.
"Enough about tha' fucker. Tell me what you like about me, Bob." Paul lazily trailed a fingertip down Bob's chest, circling in detours around his pinkened nipples, turning them hard and needy for more of his touch. He was grinning like a right cunt. Bob loved it.
"Well, god, you're-- I mean, your smile, and that look about you, that you always have.."
Bob gasped, finding it hard to speak coherently when Paul was teasing him the way he was, kissing every exposed inch of skin on his abdomen, driving him mad with lust. Paul licked his way down the darkened trail of hair that extended from Bob's navel, pausing when he hit the elastic of Bob's boxers. Bob groaned with unabashed need. Surely his boxers were tented beyond belief now. Paul was doing this to him. It was blissfully unreal.
"What look?" Paul whispered.
"You-- that dark.. sultry look, you have. Bloody mesmerizing, the way you look at the cameras and such... and those tracksuits, oh god."
Paul snickered, lowering Bob's boxer shorts and kissing the newly revealed flesh as it presented itself readily to his lips. "Y'like them, aye?"
"Yes. You fill them out.." Gasp. Gasp. Groan. "..Brilliantly."
Bob's sounds were the result of cotton grazing languidly over his achingly hard cock which appeared now before Paul, in desperate need of attention and care. "Not so bad yerself, Mr. Hardy," Paul muttered, before laying the flat of his tongue at the very base of Bob's throbbing length, languidly moving upward to the head, which was swallowed up by Paul's very thirsty lips. Bob let out a strangled cry, trying without much success not to buck up against Paul. Though the very idea of fucking Paul's mouth like that.. god, it was another spark of arousal coursing through him. Maybe not this first time. Maybe the next. Jesus, there had better be more than one "next time," he thought.
"Paul! You're too fuckin' good at this, if you don't stop, I'll--"
Paul licked lazily at Bob's cock like it was a bloody popsicle, lightly scratching his fingernails along his inner thighs. He paused, then, looking up with a wink. "You'll what? Shove me? Sorry mate, been there.. cannae say I really liked it much. I want tae see the main attraction now."
"Christ, Paul.. please, please--"
"Please?"
"Fuck me. Please. I need you, right now."
Paul blinked, momentarily dizzied with lust by the sound of angel-faced Bob begging to be fucked into the mattress. It took him a moment to remember the lube he'd squared away in the inside pocket of his sports jacket. Travel-sized; he'd nicked it on his way out of Nick and Alex's room. Only fair, they'd had enough sex for the night. It was Paul and Bob's turn now. It had been their turn for a long while.
Bob watched with desire-hooded eyes as Paul kicked off his own knickers and got to business. He squirted some of the cool lube into his palms, rubbing them together a moment before attending to his own mind-boggling erection with one hand, the fingertips of the other taking an interest in Bob's tight entrance.
"Fuck," Bob breathed, squirming down into Paul's teasing touch. Paul felt himself grow harder-- if it was possible-- watching Bob's face become enraptured as fingers slid into his inner heat, one by one. "Now," Bob gasped. "Now, do it now, Paul."
Paul was more than ready to oblige. Bob's legs easily lifted and raised, and Paul wasted no time in replacing his hand with his desperate length, nudging at the ring of muscle for starters before sliding inside, steady and slow. Bob's jaw fell open a bit at the searing sensation of Paul's impressive length. He looked.. stunned. Flabbergasted. Paul himself had not even dreamed it would feel this amazing.
Once Paul was all the way inside, the two men began a rhythm, Bob faltering only when Paul hit a particularly sweet spot, an equally sweet groan of pleasure piercing the air. Bob's hand soon found his own needy cock, pumping without cease before Paul's hand joined it, and they stroked the young blonde to the very brink of release. Bob was chanting, "Paul, god, Paul, yes.." Senseless things combined with his name, over and over again. The words climbing to a higher pitch when Paul's thrusts went after those sweet spots repeatedly, until Bob was coming apart. The drummer himself could say nothing, was too caught up in the sweet slide of his cock inside Bob, who felt beautiful and warm, like a proper home.
Bob cried out suddenly, overcome by the multiple sensations Paul provided, his entire body tensing like a snapped rubber band as he found release. His muscles tightened, ensnaring Paul like a vice, and there was no trying to fight it-- seconds later, Paul was gone off the edge as well, emptying into Bob, losing himself completely.
Paul slumped against his new lover, not daring to pull out, to leave the moist, delicious depths of Bob just yet. Their bodies molded, slick and hot. They were both silent for a bit until Paul grunted, burying his face in Bob's shoulder.
"Aye, Bob... I cannae believe it. That were jist..."
"Amazin'?" Bob offered.
Paul nodded, lifting his head only when Bob's hand encouraged it, tickling below his chin. They kissed once more, an elegant mesh of tongue and teeth, tasting each other again, unable to now live without the reminder of it.
"Mm, Paul," Bob murmured against the other lad's lips. "Maybe next time I can tie you up." Paul couldn't help a wicked smile. So that was the real reason for Bob's conniption. Silly bloke. Paul adored him.
He nodded. "Aye. Maybe I'll wear me tracksuit."
"You'd better."
