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“Josh,” Tyler says, and this time he’s serious. Trust.
“Tyler,” Josh echoes, matching his tone. They’ve been at this for hours.
It’s always after the small shows. Something about them just gets them riled up. Sure, Tyler was cool for the first few rounds.
Then Josh got fucking greedy.
“I can’t,” and Tyler’s voice is whinier now because there’s two fingers dipping inside his cunt again and he just can’t take it anymore. He’s already cum what, twice now? He doesn’t know. The way Josh makes him feel is something he has yet to put proper words to.
Josh just has this thing where he likes to lay Tyler down and make him cum as many times as possible. Sometimes it’s great. Most of the time Tyler wants to kill him by the end of it because he walks funny the next day.
Just minutes ago Josh was fucking into him, his mind going blank, hands scrabbling for something to grab onto. Josh has insane stamina. Maybe it comes with being a drummer. Maybe he’s just a dickhead. And unfortunately, Tyler’s able to cum a lot. His cool-down time is practically nothing. To some it’s a blessing, but right now it’s his unfortunate cross to bear.
Josh is lapping at him right now, tongue flat against his dick. He’s the best damn head-giver Tyler has ever had the displeasure of fucking, and God does it make him flustered. Sucking at him and filling the dressing room with absolutely HORRIBLE noises.
“Stoppp,” he cries, toes curling, “you’re so fuckin’ gross.”
Josh’s fingers curl up into him gently, not moving them just yet, but rather anchoring him down so that he can close his mouth around Tyler’s dick fully.
“You asshole,” Tyler pants. His knees bow together, trapping Josh between his legs as he cums embarrassingly fast. It wrecks his body after so many times, muscles spasming and thighs clamping around Josh’s head as he twitches.
He grips that head of messy dark hair and pulls on it, not caring if it hurts because fuck this guy for making him cum so many times.
Then Josh’s fingers start to move.
“I can’t,” Tyler snaps again. He’s breathless, legs trying to close.
“You can,” Josh coos, and Tyler swears behind that soft puppy persona he’s a fucking masochist.
Thighs trembling, Tyler breathes shakily, trying to push himself away, but those fucking fingers hammer into his cunt, crooking right up into that beautiful sweet spot that’s been absolutely abused for the past few hours.
The pleasure from his last orgasm just rolls over into this, continuing intense wave after wave through his body until it climbs up to the climax again.
“Oh my God.” Tyler squeaks out. Is he cumming? Or is he just that turned on right now?
“Yeah?” Josh kisses his thigh. Nuzzles into his waist and keeps his lips pressed onto the scar etched over his lower abdomen. “You’re doin’ so good right now. My Tyler. My pretty Tyler.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Tyler laughs, hysterically. “Fuck you, Josh. Josh, I can’t-hah-fffuck!” Tyler cries out, hips bucking up as he cums again, legs damn near cramping from how folded into himself he is. He’s being so incredibly loud that it’s only after this orgasm that he realizes the walls aren’t as soundproof as once suspected. His cunt gushes, dripping onto the already soaked leather couch. Tyler bows his legs together, shaking.
“You’re evil,” he says under his breath, voice hoarse. He pants, going limp. Josh grins up at him.
“No more,” he begs, damn near crying. “Please. Please. I fucking can’t, baby.” He covers himself with a hand, gently rubbing over his dick. He feels so used it’s not even funny. And the worst part? Josh hasn’t even cum once, let alone five times. He’s still hard as fuck, getting off on Tyler’s squirming and begging.
He scoots up, presses a kiss to Tyler’s sweaty forehead. “Just a little more?” He asks, pouting.
Tyler feels Josh’s cock slip back into him and he groans. “Fuck you.” He tries to steady his breathing, because at least when he’s being fucked it’s not as intense.
“Think it’s the other way around,” Josh says, laughing breathlessly. “But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”
Tyler throws an arm over his heated face, eyes rolling back when he feels that stupid pit in his stomach spread throughout his body. Fuck this guy for being so fucking good.
“I’m gonna die,” he says dramatically, yelping when a greedy thumb starts rubbing at him. “You’re gonna kill me. Dead. ‘Tyler Joseph found dead in hotel room.’ That’s me. Because of you.”
“My condolences,” Josh replies. He fucks into him hard, the sound of their skin hitting all but subtle to whoever could be outside the room. One hand on Tyler’s dick and the other on his waist, filling him with touchtouchtouch. Keeping him grounded.
Tyler arches his back, whining high in the back of his throat. “Please,” he bitches, legs wrapping around Josh’s waist instinctively. He feels like a fucking whore, so sloppy and open that he can’t even clench. It’s like he doesn’t even have control anymore, cunt leaking cum and slick onto Josh’s thighs every time his hips buck into him.
“I-hah-hate you,” Tyler grunts, arms above his head. He grabs onto the headboard of the bed, trying to get some kind of purchase. He needs to ground himself before he passes the fuck out or something even stupider, like saying I love you.
He spits nothing but listless profanity, berating Josh to no end until he’s sobbing, cunt weakly clenching around Josh’s cock because he’s cumming again but it doesn’t even feel like an orgasm. It’s a dull ache deep inside of him that leaves him gasping for air and red in the face, limp and boneless.
“Oh, baby,” Josh coos, cupping his face. “M’sorry. I just like making you feel good.”
“Man, fuck you,” Tyler grits out. He smacks Josh away, hands covering his own face. “Fuck you for real. I’m using the strap on you tomorrow.” His voice is raw, catching in his throat when he speaks.
Josh smiles. “I’m okay with that.” He pauses for a second. “If you can even walk straight.”
“Stupid,” Tyler mutters, face turning red.
Josh fucks into Tyler like it’s nothing. He’s so wet and open he feels like a whore. A flush of shame runs down his body. He’s never had anyone get him like this before. Josh is…special. He likes it rough and nasty but goes about it in a way that makes Tyler cry from how sappy he is. He’ll go hours without cumming if it means he gets to push Tyler to the edge as many times as possible.
Josh bends down to catch Tyler’s bitten lips in a kiss when he cums, and he eats his moans like it’s his last supper.
He pulls out slow, letting Tyler’s fucked open cunt clench around nothing. He’s absolutely ruined, thighs rubbed raw from the constant friction. A shaky hand reaches down, rubbing himself softly. His dick is still swollen, puffy and used and abused by Josh’s mouth and fingers. Fuck, it still feels good, though.
“You’re so gross,” Tyler says, grimacing when he feels the slick leak out of himself. “Clean this up. And change the sheets.”
Josh does. Josh does clean it up, and Tyler doesn’t even complain when he dully cums again because he’s so full of love. Maybe he bitches and moans, but Josh knows full well it’s bullshit. They’d do anything for each other.
Tyler sleeps for half a day afterwards, and Josh makes sure there’s a bottle of ibuprofen and a cold RedBull on the nightstand for when he wakes up.
They both try to ignore the fans on Twitter the next night when they can’t seem to figure out why Tyler was half-limping at the show.