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The simplest gift, warmed by the fire
Vessel of kindness, peace fulfilled
Will my love, fill it with silver
Will my love, fill it with gold
Will my love just fill it with wonderful
— The Wonder Song, Indigo Girls
⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆₊❆*･:*࿔.ೃ❆⋆°*❅•꙳⋆
The lock clicks and Vessel opens the door, a candy cane dangling from his fingers, lips stained with a tinge of red and spread into a content smile.
“Merry Christmas!” he exclaims, leaning across the threshold to capture Ivy in a kiss that tastes like peppermint. Three shifts behind him, adjusting the tray of food in his arms and peering at Vessel’s outfit scrutinizingly. It’s strange to find him in a long-sleeved jumper, and even more strange that it appears to be Christmas-themed.
“What are you wearing?” Three asks, accepting the kiss that Vessel places on his cheek, craning his neck to read the knit lettering on the sweater.
Smiling almost mischievously as he bites into the candy cane, Ves steps back to let them both inside, and Three can finally make out the words. I’m Santa, it reads, in a comically large font.
Confusion furrows Three’s brow. “What’s the sweater about? Didya just get really into the holiday spirit this year, or what?”
Ves laughs, bright and sparkling, and tugs at the knit fabric. “You should see Two’s.”
Ivy mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like I love you, but you’re so fucking weird, setting down the bag of presents he’d brought. “Speaking of, where is he?”
“Cooking,” Ves points towards the kitchen with the now incredibly sharp candy cane.
“He ban you from the kitchen yet?” Three asks, shifting the dish in his arms slightly uncomfortably, and then murmuring a soft thank you as Ivy relieves him from carrying it and vanishes down the hall to bring it into the kitchen.
“Yes,” Vessel scowls playfully.
Laughing, Three snakes an arm around Ves’s waist, finally pulling him into a real kiss, hips bumping together as his scowl melts immediately into a smile. It’s the kind of kiss that could go on if they let it, and usually they might, but this time Three pulls away with the tap of a finger to Vessel’s nose. “I should probably go help him out then, hm?”
Ves smiles, presses a kiss to Three’s cheek like it’s a promise, and lets him go. Rounding the corner into the kitchen, where spiced aromas float lazily through the air, Three finds Two bending down to pull a tray of rolls from the oven.
“I hear you have an interesting sweater on?” he asks, curious, leaning against the counter. Ivy barely contains a laugh, and when Two turns to look at Three, his face is contorted into an expression not unlike his stage mask. Forehead pinched in a scowl, he gestures to the sweater, where matching letters spell out I’m so good Santa came twice.
Three can’t do anything but laugh, especially as Vessel sneaks into the kitchen behind him, looking infinitely pleased with himself.
“This was the present I woke up to,” Two grumbles, though no one misses the warm spark in his eyes as he takes in the scene: all three of his boys in his kitchen, Vessel lingering at Ivy’s elbow, Three still wearing his red velvet coat from the journey. Two can’t help it, his expression softens, and he points the spatula in his hand at Vessel. “I’m lifting your kitchen ban, just ‘cause they’re here.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Vessel huffs out a laugh, clasping his hands together. “Am I allowed to help, then?”
“No,” Two and Three say at once, well aware of exactly how useful Ves is in the kitchen.
Ivy unbuttons his jacket, slipping out of the sleeves and draping it over his arm. “You can help me put the presents under the tree.”
Crunching on his candy cane, Vessel gives him a thumbs up, and the two depart. The sound of their voices, the thunk of Ivy’s boots as they’re left near the front door, and the faint sound of Christmas music in the sitting room seem to make the whole house feel pleasantly warm. Three takes a moment to pause where he’s leaning, watching Two as he turns back to the rolls now sitting on the stove, carefully depositing them on a cooling rack.
It hasn’t been long since they’ve seen each other, and it’s not like anyone has been lonely—Ves and Two have shared a home since the early days, and just last summer, Three and Ivy finally moved into a house of their own. Back when they were living in separate flats, they’d often find themselves lingering in each other’s spaces, until Vessel suggested they either look for a house together or move in with him and Two. Though they don’t live far—just four stops down the Northern line—Three hasn’t seen Two since they parted ways at the station the morning after their last show, the memory of a hurried, exhausted kiss still fresh in his mind.
His cheeks feel warm, pleasantly so, as he reminds himself of all the things he loves about Two, all the ways he’s missed him in the past three weeks. When Two stirs a small pot on the stove and licks the spoon, turning to ask Three if he wants a taste, he’s momentarily thrown off-kilter by the look in the taller man’s eyes.
He pauses for a moment, holding the emotion in Three’s gaze close to his chest, and beckons him near. When Three approaches, it’s less than innocent—exactly the type of shit that got Vessel banned from the kitchen earlier, because Two takes his cooking seriously, thank you very much— but he doesn’t have it in him to protest now. Two licks a bit of lingering sauce from his thumb as Three’s hand curls around his hip.
“Missed me?” Two asks, his voice soft.
“Fuck, yeah,” Three admits, dropping a kiss to the top of Two’s head, diffusing the tension in the air, just a little bit.
Two looks up at him, watches Three bite his lip and has to tell himself not to get carried away, because dinner is nowhere near done. “Are you staying tonight?”
“I dunno, am I?” Three says, grinning cheekily, thumb pressing into Two’s hipbone. “If you’ll have me.”
Scoffing, Two turns to stir the sauce on the stove. “Of course I’ll have you, you twat. In what world would I tell you to go home?”
Three laughs softly, lingering behind Two for a moment, relishing the warmth of his body, the way his arms flex as he works. “I’m curious about all this business about Santa, anyway.”
“What, the coming twice?” Two deadpans, dipping a fresh spoon into the pot to offer Three a taste. “Is this good?”
He licks the spoon, tastes the buttery, honeyed sauce, and hums in agreement, on both accounts.
“About that—Ves let me take a video, the other night,” Two mentions offhandedly, nonchalant, as if he’s talking about the weather.
Three swears under his breath and lets go of Two, steps back, and turns to the counter where Ivy has set down the roast. “Okay, nevermind, we can’t talk about this until dinner’s properly cooked. I’ll go mad. We’ll be eating charcoal.”
Laughing, Two steps back and nudges open the oven. “Fair.”
Three takes off his coat, abandoning it over one of the dining chairs, revealing a skin-tight shirt underneath that threatens to shake Two’s focus. He keeps it together, somehow, and they manage to work efficiently, transferring items in and out of the oven, warming up the food Three’s cooked in advance before finally getting the pie in to bake.
As Three arranges the now-cooled rolls on a tray, they can faintly hear Ves and Ivy singing along to a Christmas carol in the living room, liquid-smooth falsetto and the raspy, low voice they know so well. Three pauses, smiles, and soaks in the moment.
It’s only when the song ends that Two speaks, his voice impossibly warm. “Fuck, I love them both.”
“Tell me about it,” Three grins, glancing at him. “You know how fuckin’ lucky we are?”
Two shakes his head in near-bewilderment, nudging up against Three’s side. “I don’t get it. Probably never will.”
Sadness flickers in Three’s chest at the underlying insecurity in Two’s voice, a habit he’s never been able to let go of. There’s no one more confident on stage than Two, no one more assured of their talents, but every so often, he lets it slip that he’s unsure whether he deserves everything he has. And Three can’t think of anyone who deserves it more.
He sets down the plate, turning to lean backwards against the counter. “Two.”
“Hm,” he replies.
“You deserve this, you know? All of it—especially this part.”
Two’s gaze snaps to him, surprised and vulnerable. He blinks quietly, worrying his teeth along his lower lip. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that,” he admits.
“That’s alright,” Three responds, shaking his head a little. “You don’t have to say a thing. I’m just reminding you.”
He’s still for a moment, thoughtful, before he leans into Three. “Thank you,” Two whispers, as Three’s arms curl around him, pressing him close to his chest, where Two can hear the pattern of his heartbeat.
“Merry Christmas, darling,” Three murmurs, placing a kiss on the top of his head. He sways gently, cradling Two as if he’s something delicate—not fragile, but precious, deserving of care; held in a way that lets him feel the rough edges where he overlaps with the world. Two feels his heartbeat steady, feels himself align again, softly guided home by the rhythm of Three’s hand on his back.
“Am I allowed to come in?” Vessel pipes up from the doorway, before he strides into the kitchen without an answer.
From where he’s still folded in Three’s arms, Two aims his middle finger in Ves’s direction. “No, you’re not.”
“Uh huh,” Vessel rolls his eyes, his sarcastic demeanor shifting as he takes in the scene, the way Two has made himself small, tucked into Three’s chest. “Everything alright?”
“Just peachy, love,” Three answers. “Promise.”
Vessel approaches, reaching out to soothe the small misalignment that he perceives, but does not understand. His fingers dance along Three’s arm, smoothing love into his touch in the way that only he can, finding a path that bleeds into Two’s skin and back again. He seems to know that Two is feeling slightly off—in that unspoken, mysterious way that they communicate with each other, and when Ves speaks again, his voice is gentle. “I was thinking about making hot chocolate. You know, if I’m allowed to touch the kitchen appliances.”
“I’ll allow it,” Two mumbles. “If you put cream, and flake, and Bailey’s in mine.”
“Deal,” Ves nods, kissing Two’s cheek and turning his gaze to Three. “You?”
“Easy on the Bailey’s,” Three requests, glancing toward the doorway as Ivy enters the kitchen.
Vessel nods, flicking on the kettle as he inclines his head towards Ivy. “They said yes. Do you want cream in yours?”
“No, that’s alright,” Ivy shakes his head, his discerning gaze washing over Two and Three, noticing the way that Two pulls away from him, shrugging off the vulnerable moment. “I was coming to see if you wanted me to set the table?”
“That would be perfect, Ivy,” Two smiles a little, marveling at the way he feels steeped in this kind of love, warm and sweet, like the tea Vessel favors. By now, there’s no part of his existence that hasn’t been touched by the three men in his kitchen; no part of his being that they haven’t been intricately woven into.
There’s a flurry of movement in the kitchen as all four men get to work: food placed on the table, wine and sparkling water poured, cream dolloped on top of two out of four hot chocolates. By the time Vessel presents each of them with a warm drink, the only thing they’re waiting on is for the roast to cool down enough to eat.
Except dinner isn’t complete. “Fuck,” Three swears in irritation, running a hand through his hair and ruffling it up. “I didn’t make gravy.”
“Shit, I knew we’d forgotten something,” Ivy sighs. “That’s alright, we can run out and get some.”
“Are you sure? We can go without it,” Two asks, eyebrows furrowed.
“Yeah, it’s fine, love,” Ivy touches a hand to the small of Three’s back, soothing his frustration at having forgotten. “We won’t be long, we’ll just go to the shop down the street.”
Behind them, Vessel rifles through a cupboard for two travel cups, into which he pours Three and Ivy’s hot chocolate. Handing over the cups, followed by a kiss on the cheek for each of them, he smiles. “Be quick, or I’ll miss you.”
“We’ll be so quick—don’t start without us,” Three remarks, sliding on his coat and following Ivy out of the room.
As the front door opens and shuts again, Vessel takes a sip of his hot chocolate and peers at Two over the edge of the mug. “Want to come sit with me?”
“Sure, love,” Two replies, setting his drink on the counter and running a hand through his hair. The small bout of melancholy has loosened its grip on him, and when Vessel takes his hand and leads him into the living room, Two doesn’t feel lost in his own emotions anymore. He watches as all the playful resistance seems to slip away from Vessel, like dissolving gold, leaving behind glittering traces of something far more focused.
Ves sits down on the couch, but he doesn’t let go of Two’s hand, only regards him with intense blue eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m—” Two starts, thinking over his words. “I’m alright. I was just having a moment, but Three had me. I’m alright.”
Vessel twirls Two’s wrist in his grasp, pulling him downwards. “Good. Sit down.”
“Bossy,” Two replies, but he follows where Vessel leads him, settling down on his lap. Knees on either side of Ves’s hips, Two shifts slightly, resting a hand on the arm of the couch.
“Pot, kettle,” Vessel grins, one hand settling on Two’s waist as he leans in, noses along Two’s jaw. The smaller man shivers, even though the air in the room is pleasantly warm.
“You know we don’t have a lot of time for this, Ves, baby,” Two manages to protest, but his heart isn’t in it. Every fiber of his being calls out for Vessel’s touch, yearns for it, like their souls were once divine, cleaved apart and sent to Earth simply to find each other.
“I don’t care,” Vessel breathes, his teeth grazing the delicate skin of Two’s neck, tracing the runes etched there—tattoos he’d designed for Two years ago. Ves remembers the day they were inked into Two’s skin, a permanent, indelible mark, an unending testament to their love. It had felt like the ultimate commitment, a declaration beyond words—proof of his love for the entire world to see.
As Ves presses his teeth into the dark lines of his own making, Two’s grip on the couch tightens, his hips rolling against Vessel’s. It’s criminal how he can still get me worked up this fast, Two thinks, gasping for a breath as Vessel’s strong hands rest on his hips. As he leans back slightly so that he can look at Two, hair falling into his face, his eyes are dark with desire.
“So,” Vessel starts, his voice low but the ghost of a smile present on his face, like he’s well aware that he’s about to say something ridiculous. “What do you want for Christmas? Since you’re on my lap, and all.”
“Fuck you,” Two snips, trying to act like he isn’t on the verge of begging for more, for Vessel to sink his teeth into the soft skin above his collarbone and leave a mark.
Shrugging slightly, Vessel grins. “Or we can just watch a Christmas movie until the boys get back.”
Two shakes his head, already far too worked up to be toyed with, amazed at how his words are managing to escape him. But that’s the sort of effect Vessel has on people: stunning and unexpected.
“Check in, love,” Ves whispers, studying Two’s expression. “How are you feeling? What do you want?”
“I’m good,” Two manages. “I want—more. Please, Ves.”
Leaving one hand on Two’s hip, coaxing his body closer, Vessel slides his fingers into his hair and pulls him in for a bruising kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. Two melts, taking everything that Vessel gives, clutching a handful of his sweater in a closed fist. He feels high on the sensation of Vessel’s body against his—the gentle press of his thumb in the divot of his neck as he pulls Two closer; the way Ves’s just as turned on as he is, judging by the way he lets go of Two’s hip to adjust himself in his pants, but ends up gasping at the feeling of his own touch instead.
Two swallows the sound ravenously, his desire sharpening his focus, settling back into his body. He slides a hand up Vessel’s shirt, feeling the taut muscle there, before he dips his fingertips into Ves’s waistband and is suddenly stopped by a strong hand around his wrist.
“No, Two,” Vessel exhales, like he almost regrets saying it. “We haven’t talked about what you want just yet.”
Furrowing his eyebrows, Two shoots him a halfhearted glare, the effect somewhat dampened by the way his lips are pink from being bitten. “What if that’s what I want?”
Ves shakes his head, smirking slightly. “Doesn’t count.”
“I swear to god—”
“Here’s what I think you want, Two,” Vessel says, like he’s certain of it, like he can read Two’s mind like an open book. “I think you want to show me how good you are—show me how you get yourself ready, and then I’ll fuck you, right here, just like this.” He sets a hand on Two’s thigh, emphasizing the position they’re in, somewhat atypical, at least when it’s just the two of them.
“Ves,” Two manages, licking his lips. “Oh, fuck, yes.”
Leaning in to kiss him again, this time much more gently, Vessel unbuttons Two’s trousers and slides his zipper down. Two can hardly stop himself from bucking his hips up against Ves’s hand, searching for his touch, and Vessel hums as he kisses him. With some negotiating, Two’s half-undesses, and Vessel spits into his palm before wrapping his lithe fingers around Two’s cock.
“Oh,” Two gasps, resting his forehead on Vessel’s shoulder for a moment, holding on to his sweater as if his life depends on it. Vessel strokes him slowly, almost just teasing, watching the way Two’s chest heaves at the sensation.
“You should grab the lube,” he remarks, as if he’s not making Two feel like his every cell is lighting on fire, sparks skittering across his skin. Two fumbles for the drawer in the end table, where— thank fuck— there’s a bottle of lube. His hands shake as Vessel’s touch becomes a little less delicate, hand twisting exactly where he knows Two likes it, thumb ghosting over the head of his cock.
“Good,” Vessel continues. “Good. Get yourself ready for me, love.”
Slicking up his fingers, Two trembles with surprising force as he reaches around himself and steadily presses a finger into his body. Vessel slows his hand, gently stroking his thigh instead, grounding Two with a touch that’s nothing but loving.
“I—” Two begins, and he can’t finish, because no matter how many times they do this, it always feels like the first time. Vessel has been his for nearly a decade, and they’ve fucked in all sorts of ways—at home, in tour buses, dingy venue bathrooms, hotel rooms, and once though they’re both loath to admit it, a soundbooth—but Two will never get used to it, will never take it for granted. He manages to formulate a silent prayer to the universe for the way they must have been made for each other; the way Vessel loves him like breathing, touches him like it’s a sacrament; knows Two body and soul.
Ves hums in encouragement, pressing a wet kiss below Two’s ear, and murmurs, “Another, darling?”
Two nods in answer, pushing a second finger beside the first, breathing through the sensation of being stretched open. It’s not bad, but it’ll get worse before it gets better, he knows. Vessel meets his eyes as he presses the heel of his hand against the bulge in his pants, seeking some fraction of touch, his own desire a distraction from what he wants right now: to be steady for Two, to talk him through it. The sound that escapes his lips makes Two groan in response, shutting his eyes, because it’s simply unfair that a breathy gasp from his lover is enough to get him too close for comfort. Two breathes deeply, focuses on the feeling of being stretched open, and adds a third finger.
“Yes, Two,” Vessel praises. “So good, love. Just like that.”
His free hand roams over the crease of Two’s thigh, thumb kneading the soft skin there as he leans in to kiss him once more. It’s gentler, this time, less ferocious, almost polite. Ves lets him focus, stokes the burning desire low in Two’s stomach, and doesn’t distract him from working himself open efficiently. It’s not long before the tension in Two’s face melts away, slight discomfort vanishing, gasps of pleasure spilling from his lips. Vessel kisses him, open-mouthed, chasing each noise like it’s the most important thing in the world.
“Ready,” he manages, pulling away from Vessel just slightly to look down, taking in the way he already looks fucking wrecked, lube coating his inner thighs, precum leaking steadily from his dick. Vessel’s trousers are going to be fucked, he thinks, but knowing him, he’ll be thrilled to get into something more comfortable.
“Alright,” Vessel replies, finally sounding equally desperate, resting one hand on the small of Two’s back as he manages to pull his zipper down with the other, working his pants down his thighs. He takes an indulgent moment to wrap a hand around himself and Two, and the entire universe feels white hot.
Two moans, loud and unashamed, Vessel’s touch so good that it’s almost overwhelming. It only lasts for a moment before Ves is adjusting the way Two’s sitting on his lap, both hands gripping his thighs as he pulls him closer, and Two can do nothing but watch. Once Vessel has him where he wants him, he lines himself up, the head of his cock pressing against Two’s entrance, pausing as he studies Two’s face.
Finding nothing but pleasure there, Two’s blue eyes dark and heavy-lidded with desire, Vessel pulls him down with a hand on his hip, the other hand expertly guiding his cock deeper into Two’s body. The sensation is nearly overwhelming, and Vessel whines as he moves slowly at first, allowing them both to get used to the feeling. Soon, Two braces a hand on Vessel’s shoulder, rocking back in time with the shallow thrusts that he can manage in this position, meeting Ves in the middle.
Two lets Vessel set the pace, following him wherever he goes, kissing him open-mouthed and needy as the tension low in his stomach builds. Neither notices the sound of the front door, or the fact that their lovers have returned, until Ivy is leaning against the doorway, his expression pleased.
“Look at you,” he hums, smiling. “Three, darling, look at our boys.”
Hair ruffled from the wind, and distracted by removing his coat while still holding a shopping bag, Three follows Ivy into the room seconds before realizing what has him so interested.
“Oh,” Three exhales, breath catching in his chest at the sight. “Well, this is unexpected.”
“Is it?” Ivy asks, settling down on the couch at Two’s side, taking the hand that Two reaches toward him, a nonverbal request for touch. Three perches on the arm of the couch, observing detachedly—but with interest, nonetheless—how Two’s legs flex as he moves; how Vessel’s eyes are bright with contentment.
“No,” Vessel manages to say, almost laughing until the sound turns into a moan, the movement of Two’s body pulling pleasure from the air like magic.
Ivy reaches out to stroke Vessel’s hair, watching the way his brows furrow, a tell that he’s getting close. “Two, baby,” he muses, his voice steady. “Would you like me to touch you, so Ves can hold your hips?”
“Yes,” Two replies breathily. “Yes, please.”
They rearrange slightly, Three passing the lube to Ivy, who quickly gets a slick hand around Two’s cock. With two free hands, Vessel is able to lift Two up and pull him back down, emphasizing every thrust of his hips with delicious force that makes Two want to sob out loud. His breath catches in his chest as he comes, fist tangled in Ves’s sweater, the tension in his body snapping in an instant as everything becomes warm and liquid-smooth, like sliding into a calm summer sea. Ivy strokes him through it, his touch gentle, and Two closes his eyes and just feels.
When he opens his eyes again, he finds Three tilting Vessel’s head up to kiss him, thumb under his chin, moving him exactly where he wants him to go. Ves’s pupils are blown wide, the rhythm of his thrusts faltering, and Two rolls his hips in return. The answering moan he receives is nearly pleading, and Two watches Three suck on Vessel’s lower lip. Ivy murmurs something gentle, encouraging, but Two is lost in the ocean, and he can hardly do anything but watch as Ves snaps his hips sharply and lets go.
“Ves,” he whines, and Three pulls back to allow Vessel to draw Two close, hands that had been firmly seated on his hips now sliding up to his back. He tucks his face into Two’s shoulder, gasping through his release, lips spilling over with praise and reverent gratitude.
Two holds him, one hand on the back of Vessel’s neck, sinking deep into the embrace, uncaring that overstimulation is seeping into the edges of his being. His eyes are closed, but he blindly fumbles for Three, catching hold of his fingers and clutching them tightly. Two can faintly feel the way Ivy’s stroking Vessel’s hair, light touches, soothing the buzz of electric pleasure that’s almost too much .
Eyes still closed, Two mumbles, his voice wrecked, “Fuck, I love you guys.” He’ll never understand how this works so well—how Three had been able to slot into their dynamic from the beginning, how Ivy had been the perfect addition. How they all seem to operate on the same wavelength, aware of each others’ desires, complementing each other in every scenario.
“We love you, Two,” Ivy hums. “Now let’s get you both cleaned up, yeah?”
Two cracks an eye open, pulling away from Ves slightly, and glances down at the mess between them. “Oh no,” he says flatly. “The sweaters are ruined. This is tragic.”
Vessel laughs, hands coming back down to Two’s hips as he helps him up. Ivy steadies him from the other side as Two’s legs tremble. Ves follows, less unsteady, and wraps an arm around Two’s waist. “I’ve got him, Ivy.”
“Alright,” Ivy smiles, pressing a firm kiss to each of their cheeks, delighting in the way Two blushes. “Go get clean and comfortable, and we’ll have dinner on the table when you get back, loves.”
Ves murmurs an acknowledgement, making his way down the hall with Two at his side. Three stands, watching them go, and turns to Ivy with a smile on his face. “That was a surprise.”
“Was it?” Ivy laughs, because it is, and it isn’t. He kisses Three, pure and blissful, and feels the way love washes over them both like a spring downpour. When he pulls away, Three’s smiling, eyes warm and only a little mischievous.
“Hm?” Ivy asks, nudging him with an elbow.
“Oh, nothing,” Three grins, mischief now alight in his eyes as he tilts his chin up towards the ceiling. Ivy looks, and he finds a sprig of mistletoe there, hung directly under the ceiling light and glittering with fake snow. “Just that.”
“I don’t think it counts if I was kissing you anyway,” Ivy retorts, but he can’t help but kiss Three once more, this time close-mouthed and sweet. Pleased, Three cups his cheek in one hand, and lingers for a moment until Ivy pulls away. “We do have to get dinner on the table, you know.”
“I know,” Three sighs jokingly, slipping his hand into Ivy’s back pocket. “Not my fault that you’re distracting.”
Ivy rolls his eyes, but the faint blush coloring his cheeks reveals how effortlessly he melts under Three’s attention every time. Finally departing from underneath the mistletoe, the two men head into the kitchen, and Three snags the shopping bag from where he’d set it down. They can hear Two and Vessel laugh in the other room, bright and joyful, as Three opens the can of gravy and begins to heat it on the stove.
By the time Vessel emerges, now clad in light pants and a loose cardigan fastened by one button low on his bare chest—an outfit that seems much more Vessel than the trousers and sweater he’d been wearing before—Ivy is pouring wine into four glasses.
“Red, Vee?” he asks, turning to face him with the bottle in hand, not hiding the way his gaze lingers on the toned expanse of Vessel’s chest, now visible under the cardigan.
“Sure,” Vessel replies, adjusting his sleeves over his wrists. “Two’ll be right out—he’s just popped into the shower.”
“Have you been in the gym recently,” Three asks, nearly deadpan as he pretends not to watch the way Ivy’s staring. Vessel rolls his eyes, accepting a glass of wine from Ivy and holding it daintily.
“Only every morning,” Vessel wrinkles his nose, amused. “Actually, Two’s been coming with me.”
“Because you drag me with you, ” Two gripes from the doorway, hair curling slightly from the shower, wearing fresh pants and a simple black jumper. “Don’t ever let him convince you into going to the gym with him. He’s a maniac,” he points at Ivy and Three, a warning.
Vessel laughs, and Ivy leans back against the counter and smiles. “Would you like a glass, darling?”
“Yeah, alright,” Two replies, eyes sparkling at the term of endearment, approaching to see what sort of wine it is.
“It’s good,” Vessel offers, swirling the dark liquid around his glass, and Two takes the wine glass that Ivy offers him.
“Dinner’s all ready,” Ivy explains, nodding to Three, who’s standing at the stove and stirring the warmed gravy. Plates are filled, dishes scattered across the table, and food is shared between forks and fingers, smiles and too-sharp teeth. It’s the first time they’ve eaten together since tour, and the value of this moment—this pause—is not lost on anyone. It feels like a gift of its own: the chance to move slowly, to breathe deeply, before the inevitability that is real life cascades down upon them once again.
After they’ve eaten, Three sits on the floor by the couch, between Ves’s legs, and lets Two and Ivy pass out the presents. Ves has another glass of wine in hand, red on his lips, and when Ivy hands him a silver-wrapped gift, he can’t help but lean over and kiss away the stain, licking it eagerly from Ves’s skin, and Two has to clear his throat to convince them to separate.
“Do you even want to open presents?” Two asks, amused, as he perches on the coffee table, surrounded by his own gifts. Three laughs, but his head is tilted back against Vessel’s knee, pupils wide from watching the way Ivy’s strong hand rests on Ves’s cheek; how they begin to melt into each other so easily, so immediately.
“Yes,” Ivy pouts just a little, for dramatic effect, and settles down on the other end of the couch. Ves reaches out and rubs Ivy’s knee fondly, sipping his wine.
“Open those first,” he gestures to two identical, soft-looking packages in front of Ivy and Three. As they tear into the gifts—Ivy delicately unfolding the paper, Three ripping it down the middle—they discover sweaters that match Ves and Two’s set. Three unfolds his to reveal the block lettering: I’m Santa. He laughs out loud, nose wrinkling in amusement.
Ivy blushes, eyes sparkling as Three’s laugh hangs in the air like snow, and sets his own sweater— I’m so good, Santa came twice— in his lap. “How’d you decide which sweater went to who?”
Straightening up, Ves huffs, “It was an obvious decision!”
“ I think it’s accurate,” Three declares, grinning.
“Of course you do,” Ivy laughs, shaking his head in amusement, but he pulls the sweater over his head, ruffling his hair up in the process.
“I haven’t forgotten when we were in Prague, and you two were in the shower for so long that the venue staff had to—” Vessel starts.
“ Don’t even,” Ivy threatens, holding his hands up in mock defense. “I don’t want to talk about that. I’ve never been more embarrassed.”
“Yeah, so wear the damn sweater,” Two laughs, and when Ivy protests, “I am!” he joins him on the floor, resting his head on Ivy’s shoulder. More gifts are exchanged—a necklace for Ves, an engraved drum key for Two—and as the sky darkens outside, packages of loving, thoughtful presents are sorted, organized, and prepared for tomorrow’s journey home. Ivy makes tea, and the four men pile onto the couch to watch a Christmas special on television.
At some point, Two dozes off, tucked under Three’s arm, the long day of cooking and wrapping presents finally catching up to him. When the movie ends, Ves fumbles for the remote, shutting the television off and glancing at his lovers on the couch.
“Is he out?” he asks, and Two stretches his legs out and hums in response.
“Nah,” Three says fondly, combing his fingers through Two’s hair, watching him blink open sleepy blue eyes. “Just resting.”
Two reaches up and scrubs at his eyes with a closed fist, yawning. “I just got tired.”
“Good, ‘cause we’ve got plans,” Ivy hums, resting his hand underneath Two’s chin, tilting his head up just slightly, as if he’s moments away from pulling him in for a kiss. “But if you’re wanting to go to bed, that’s alright.”
Two shakes his head, sitting up straight, and the sight of his sleep-creased hair makes all three men melt slightly, swept up in his current; the rush of gravity that follows Two, like the pull of the ocean tide. Ivy reaches out to smooth his hair down, and Two answers the gesture with a kiss to the inside of his wrist that makes Ivy swallow hard.
Vessel is the first to leave the couch, watching with dark eyes, focused on each little detail: the slight tremor in Ivy’s hand as Two’s lips leave his skin, the curved shape of Two’s spine as he leans closer, the way Three’s hand is splayed low on Two’s hip. “Shall we?” Ves asks, his voice raspy, suggesting a departure from the twinkling Christmas lights of the living room.
“Sure, love,” Three responds, getting to his feet, and holding a hand out to help Two up. Ivy follows, hand on Two’s waist, following as Ves flicks the hallway light on, washing the bedroom with a dim golden glow. The bedside lamps are on—still set on a timer from when they’d been away for a month. Vessel pauses, lingering near the loveseat at the edge of the room as Three guides Two to the bed, kissing him softly at first.
Ivy manages to tear his gaze away from the bed, pulling off his sweater, and Vessel drinks in the small glimpse of Ivy’s stomach before he tugs his shirt down: the scrolling floral tattoos that adorn his skin, black ink and rich, deep colors. Ves licks his lips, and Ivy catches the movement, smiling.
He leans up to kiss Vessel, and Ves holds him by the collar of his shirt for a long moment, letting out some of the pent up energy that’s been living under his skin, lingering all evening. It’s almost too much, and he gently pushes Ivy away, settling down on the loveseat. Ivy gives him an understanding look, blows a kiss his direction, and joins Three at the side of the bed, hand ghosting along the back of his belt.
Ves tucks one foot under himself, elbow resting on the arm of the loveseat as he lets the mostly-empty wine glass dangle over the edge. He watches with wide doe eyes as Ivy nudges between Three and Two, leaning up to capture his lover’s lips in a passionate kiss, as Two looks on, kneeling on the bed. Vessel watches from where he sits, catalogs each lovely line of his form; the strong hand that rests on one thigh, the shape of his elbow as he reaches for Ivy, splaying a hand across his chest.
Ivy’s response of “hi, baby,” is barely audible, and as he turns to dote on Two, Three catches Ves’s eye over his shoulder.
“You alright, love?” He asks.
Vessel nods, his mind feeling too full for words, the pleasant buzz of Two’s touch on his skin still lingering from earlier; the wine smoothing over the way his body prickles at the sensation of the cardigan draped over his shoulders. He watches as Ivy withdraws from the bed, gaze sliding over Three’s as if they’re communicating wordlessly, and turns to rejoin him on the loveseat.
“You’re not…?” Vessel asks, chin tilted up to face him, blue eyes a little too wide.
“I need a minute,” Ivy says in response, like it’s an admission of his own, like he isn’t doing this for Vessel. Like he doesn’t sit inches away to keep from adding to the static buzz collecting across Ves’s skin, invisible threads weaving over his chest, nearly choking, if he let it.
“Yeah,” Ves admits, blinking as he realizes he’s had a little too much wine, and the glass in his hand isn’t interesting anymore. He sets it down, and moves slowly as he settles his head on Ivy’s shoulder, their bodies still apart, but warmth blooming from where they overlap nonetheless. Vessel’s breath comes slowly as he watches the scene unfolding on the bed: Three’s pants half-unzipped, Two’s hands wandering over the soft expanse of his torso, reverence hanging in the air as they undress. It feels like worship. Vessel supposes it might be.
Ivy turns his head to the side, pressing a kiss to Ves’s temple like it’s a secret. “Darling,” he starts, voice low, directed towards the bed. “I think Vessel might like to watch, tonight.”
Three lets out a breathy, unexpected noise, hand clutching the now-bare curve of Two’s waist, glancing toward the loveseat with dark eyes. “Yeah, Ves?” he asks, even though he knows the answer, can read it plainly in the way Vessel’s chest trembles with the force of a breath; the way he shifts where he’s seated.
Two smiles, and it’s like sunshine in a dark room, golden and bright, just for the four of them. He holds Vessel’s gaze as he trails practiced fingertips down Three’s hips, hooking into his belt loops and pulling downwards. Ves holds a hand to his own chest, as if he might be able to feel warmth erupting there, love and desire changing the chemical makeup of his body. It feels almost too heavy, too much, like he could drown in it, breathing in molten gold until his body withers.
Ivy shoulders the weight for him, his calloused hand covering Vessel’s, breaching the distance he’d left between them. “I’ve got you, love,” he hums, fingers curling into Ves’s, their hands now a tangle over his heart. The sensation awakens something in Vessel, a slumbering need for touch now rearing its head past the static, and he tilts his body towards Ivy and almost whimpers, “please?”
On the bed, Two swears as Three holds him by the hips, turning him over. His hands slide down Two’s back, holding him by the hips and pulling him close. He takes his time, the way he frequently is unable to: in moments stolen in venue bathrooms or tour bus bunks, where convenience and speed is always of the utmost importance. Now, there is no concern, no time table, no poor unwitting crew waiting for them. Three bends down and inscribes wet kisses up Two’s spine, until their bodies are pressed flush together, until his lips are on the back of Two’s neck.
“Please,” Vessel says again, louder, directed towards everyone in the room, drinking in the sight of his lovers’ bodies entwined on the bed.
“Have you got him, Ivy?” Two asks breathlessly, unable to see from where Three has him pressed into the bed.
“Yes, love,” Ivy responds, his other hand coming to the back of Vessel’s neck, steadying him. Ves’s chin tilts up, inadvertent, his eyes like hungry supernovas as his gaze meets Ivy’s. “May I touch, Vee?” Ivy asks, thumb rubbing the side of Vessel’s neck.
He nods, swallowing hard as Ivy disentangles their hands, trailing a warm touch down Vessel’s bare chest until he reaches the singular clasp keeping his cardigan closed. He frees the button from its confines with practiced fingers, his palm sliding across Vessel’s stomach, a sensation so light that Vessel can’t help but arch into it. Ivy pauses there, fingers almost resting atop Ves’s belt, and looks back towards the bed.
Two’s leaning up, Three’s hand under his chin, bent nearly backwards as they kiss. He fumbles blindly for Three’s thigh, pulling him closer, short nails dragging against pale skin as he wordlessly pleads for more. Three answers in turn, licking into Two’s mouth before he eases him back down to the bed, rubbing idly over his shoulders as his hands meander to Two’s hips. He moves slowly, intentionally, and even though Two doesn’t need to be prepped again, he slips two fingers into him.
Vessel whines low in his throat as he watches, hips straining upwards, searching for more pressure from Ivy’s hand. Ivy holds back, tilting Vessel’s chin towards him, waiting for Ves to lean forward and accept a kiss—and when he does, things stop being so slow, so gentle. Ivy gives him what he wants: delicious pressure, just the right amount of touch, his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he watches the way Two’s body responds to Three; bends underneath him, small in comparison. It’s one thing to be the one that makes Two look small—Ves knows how it looks when he submits to Two, all six feet of his frame kneeling at Two’s feet—but it’s another to observe the way Three’s hands all but obscure Two’s hips from view.
Three glances over, watching the way Vessel’s legs are spread wide, head tilted back, fully at Ivy’s mercy. Ivy meets his eyes, an unspoken communication passing between them.
“Ves,” Ivy begins. “Look at them.”
Ivy doesn’t have to ask twice, because Vessel can hardly tear his eyes away from the sight that is Two on his forearms and knees, Three behind him. “I-I am,” he says, unsteadily.
“Don’t they look fucking good,” Ivy praises, his voice silky. “What do you want to see them do, Vee? Do you want Three to fuck him just like that?”
Vessel licks his lips, the weight of the choice pleasantly heavy upon his shoulders, grounding him. “No,” he answers. “No, Three, I want him on his back. So he can see you.”
Two can’t help the low whine that escapes him at the idea that Vessel wants to watch this; wants them positioned where he can savor the way his lovers gaze at each other. Three releases his grip on Two’s hips, and he turns over onto his back, settling his legs on either side of Three’s thighs.
“A pillow,” Ves says. “Under his hips.”
“Sure, love,” Three replies, reaching across the bed for a pillow and handing it to Two, who sets it under himself, cushioning his hips and making the angle much more comfortable. Three smooths a hand up Two’s thigh, teasing, and brings two fingers back to his entrance.
“Good job, Vee,” Ivy praises, and Vessel blinks long and slow as a shiver of pleasure ricochets up his spine. Ivy slides his hand along Vessel’s thigh, thumb gently kneading the delicate skin there. Two whines quietly as Three adds a third finger, the stretch becoming tangible, the sensation flooding his body. Even after all this time, he’s not used to it; will never be fully prepared for the way it feels to completely relinquish control, to allow himself to be claimed so intimately.
Three rests his free hand on the back of Two’s thigh, raising his knee closer to his chest as he leans down to kiss him. He bites Two’s lip gently, earning a gasp that he tries to swallow, and Three pulls away. “Don’t be quiet, baby, don’t you want Ves and Ivy to hear how good you’re feeling?”
Two can’t help the noise that escapes him then; Three’s words rumbling through him like a soundwave. It earns a wicked smile from Three, who leans down to kiss Two’s chest, leaving delicate red marks in his wake.
On the loveseat, Ivy exhales slowly, and Ves tilts his head back to look at him, lips slightly parted. Ivy hasn’t been touched yet; has only been teasing Ves, and Vessel can see it in his eyes—the way he’s starving for it, at the very edge of self-restraint.
“What, love?” Ivy asks, his voice low, and Vessel doesn’t miss the slight tremble in his words, how he’s holding back just for Ves’s sake.
“I want to touch you,” Vessel replies, earning a whimper from Two on the bed. He looks over to observe the way Two and Three are both watching this play out on the loveseat. “Let me?”
Ivy swallows hard, adjusting himself in his pants, and Vessel watches each movement with piercing interest. That honed focus is back, replacing the shimmering electric buzz of overstimulation, and Vessel rests a hand lightly on Ivy’s thigh.
“Yes,” Ivy breathes. “Yes, Vee, how do you want me?”
“Stand up,” Vessel instructs as he gets up, all six feet of himself momentarily towering over Ivy on the loveseat. “I want to be closer.”
Ivy nods, his hand briefly resting on Vessel’s hip as he stands, crossing the distance to the bed. Three reaches for him, and Ivy kisses him for just a moment, tasting Two on his lips and moaning softly at the thought. Vessel joins the three men, still dancing around the outside of touch, wary. Two knows this, and doesn’t reach for him, though he does whimper Vessel’s name.
In response, Ves reaches out, running his fingers through Two’s hair before he steps back again, hovering slightly. Ivy returns his attention to Vessel, a hand lingering on Three’s bare thigh.
“What’s next, Ves?” Three asks, breathless.
“I want you to fuck him,” Vessel says definitively. “Just like that, so he can really feel it.”
Two gasps as Three withdraws his fingers, hands coming to Two’s hips as he begins to line himself up. He leans down to kiss Two again at the same time as Vessel slots his thigh between Ivy’s legs, pressing close. He can feel the way Ivy’s cock kicks against his leg as he watches Three push into Two slowly, giving him a moment to adjust, even though he likely doesn’t need it this time.
Vessel runs a hand down Ivy’s side, an exploratory touch, still easing himself in. He feels the warmth of Ivy’s skin, the faintly scarred lines of his tattoos, and lets his hand wander to Ivy’s belt and below. Ivy watches with bated breath as Ves kneels down, resting his cheek against Ivy’s thigh and looking up at him, his blue eyes wide, pupils dark as night.
“Yes,” Ivy breathes, quiet permission, reaching down to undo his belt. Ves mouths over the clothed outline of Ivy’s cock through his jeans, pulling a low moan from him with shocking ease.
“God, Ves,” Three groans, fucking into Two more slowly, allowing him to lean up and watch as Ivy pulls his pants down. He grips his cock at the base, breathing a little unsteadily as Vessel presses a wet kiss to the inside of his thigh. He runs his teeth along the soft skin there, before tilting his head to lick along the length of Ivy’s cock. It earns a quiet curse from Ivy, and Vessel continues, sucking lightly on the head before finally taking Ivy fully into his mouth.
Ivy rests a hand on Vessel’s shoulder, gripping the thick knit material of the cardigan in his fist, holding onto Ves almost desperately as his eyes flicker closed. Two has to look away, pressure building far too rapidly in his stomach as Three wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him close. Vessel watches, breathes through his nose as he swallows around Ivy, before withdrawing to sit back on his heels and wrap his fingers around Ivy’s cock.
“Three,” he says, voice wrecked already, and yet somehow far steadier than before. “Don’t let him cum yet.”
It’s hard to tell who reacts first, because Vessel’s demand rips a devastated noise from Two’s throat just as Ivy moans aloud. Three, too breathless with desire to vocalize, slows his pace, easing Two back down to the bed. He rests his forehead against Two’s, panting desperately, his body curled over his smaller lover.
“Yes,” Vessel half-praises, turning his focus back to Ivy, intent on catching up to the others, who are already awash with pleasure. There’s no rush on his part—Ves knows he can get off with two of any of their fingers and the right kind of praise, so he settles for touching himself lightly over the fabric of his pants as he takes Ivy back into his mouth, relaxing his throat until his nose brushes against Ivy’s stomach.
Ivy steadies himself with one hand tangled in the shoulder of Vessel’s cardigan, one hand on Three’s back. He watches as Two leans up to kiss Three, teased, dampness prickling at his eyelashes as he stands on the precipice of pleasure that has not yet been granted to him. Three’s hand on Two’s cheek is steadying, loving, and after a moment he begins to fuck him again; slow and teasing.
Swearing under his breath, Ivy’s hand splays wide on Three’s back in a desperate attempt to steady himself. “Vee,” he says, like a prayer, looking down through thick blond eyelashes to watch the way Vessel’s mouth moves over his cock, spit-slick and wanting. “You want me to fuck you? ‘Cause I—” he gasps at the way Vessel tongues over the head of his cock. “Fucking christ, Vessel. Let me fuck you, please.”
Ves presses a kiss to Ivy’s dick as he withdraws, the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile, and relishes in the way that Ivy’s grip on his shoulder wavers. He straightens up, and allows Ivy to undo the tie of his pants, slipping them down so he can step out of them.
“How do you want it, baby?” Ivy asks softly, glancing over at Two and Three. Vessel considers, and rests his thighs against the side of the bed, bending over and pressing his chest flat to the mattress.
Ivy helps Vessel slip out of his cardigan, and as he presses a burning kiss to the small of Vessel’s back—Two’s whimpering at the way Three is fucking him, still shallow and slow—Ves is aching with desire. Everything is suddenly too much, and not enough, and he squirms under Ivy.
“Please,” Vessel whines, and Ivy trails a finger across his hole, teasing. Ves’s whines turn to near-sobs, the promise of pleasure becoming overwhelming, and he reaches blindly for Two’s hand. Fumbling, Two tries to twist to face him, but can’t quite reach.
“Three,” he gasps, hand on Three’s hip, fingers curled like question marks. “Let me sit up,”
“Sure, baby,” Three soothes, pulling out before Two sits up on his knees, reaching for Ves. He follows Two from behind, one hand on his waist. Vessel is sitting up on the bed, nearly mirroring Two’s position now, and he surges forward to kiss Two—hot and open-mouthed, like he needs it more than anything. Two kisses back, but pulls away for just a moment to gasp Three’s name, to beg him to keep fucking him.
It doesn’t take much convincing for Three to fit himself under Two’s kneeling form, hips flush to Two’s ass, rocking into him at a steady pace. Ivy meets Three’s eyes as he sits down on the bed and preps Vessel—quick and efficient—his gaze like velvet, and Three is suddenly, devastatingly close. He sets both hands on Two’s hips, slowing his movement once again, and Two sobs into Vessel’s mouth, cheeks once again damp with tears.
Two’s cradling Vessel’s cheek with one hand, pulling him close, but he rests the other hand on Three’s thigh for leverage, fingers clenching, wordlessly begging him for more.
“I know, love,” Three gasps, hips stuttering as he fruitlessly attempts to limit his movement. “I know, just hold on—just hold on for Ves and Ivy.”
Soon, Vessel is moaning brokenly, and when Three finds himself able to glance away from the curve of Two’s waist—the way his hips are moving in his lap, devastating—he sees Ivy fucking Ves. He’s moving fast and hard, fingers wrapped around Vessel’s neck for leverage, just the way they both like it; the way that quiets the electric buzz that skitters across Ves’s skin, makes him feel like his body is still his own.
Two cries out when he finally tumbles off the precipice, uninhibited, trembling with the force of it as he comes. Vessel kisses him through it, biting his lip, hungry and wicked and pulling little whimpers from Two that make Three’s ears ring. All it takes is a few more moments: watching Ivy’s hips snap against Vessel’s, feeling the way Two clenches around him, and Three is coming—face buried in Two’s shoulder, clutching him as close as possible as he rides it out.
Though he still keeps a steadying hold on Vessel, Two leans back, his other hand tangling through Three’s hair as he pulls him in for a kiss. He murmurs, “Thank you,” and stays right where he is, seated in Three’s lap, unwilling to separate just yet—unwilling for the moment to end.
Vessel relinquishes Two’s touch and allows him to simply lean back against Three’s chest, still breathing heavily, watching the way Ves leans down over the bed, arms and chest flat to the sheets, hips still in Ivy’s unwavering grip. The angle of his spine makes Two’s mouth go dry, and he’s momentarily resentful about their earlier tryst on the couch; at the fact that he likely can’t get hard again, at least not quickly enough to come to the sight of Vessel’s body contorted like that. Three swears softly, and Two can feel it when his cock gives a half-hearted kick of interest.
It makes him gasp, and Three laughs a soft apology, finally easing Two’s hips off of his own. The separation makes Two feel momentarily cold, like a star orbiting alone in space, but when Ivy gasps his name, Two knows he’s forever entwined in this constellation that is his three lovers.
He leans in and presses his mouth to Ivy’s, savoring the kiss. Vaguely, he can tell that Three is talking to Vessel, coaxing him closer to the edge, praise dripping from his lips like sugared syrup. Ves is close, they can all hear it in the way his voice is breaking on every moan, and all it takes is Ivy reaching down to stroke him once before he’s spilling over his fingers, cum splattering the sheets. Ivy fucks him through it, and when Vessel is well and truly spent, he pulls out and desperately chases his own release, fingers moving tight over his own cock, Ves’s cum easing the slide.
Two is still kissing him when Ivy comes across Vessel’s back, his lip between Two’s teeth, and he can feel the shiver that ricochets through Ivy’s body. Ves moans at the sensation—the sound muffled by the duvet; warmth splattering his skin in the cold room—and Three runs a soothing hand down his side.
Ivy is gasping for breath when Two pulls away, hand rubbing circles on Vessel’s hip, a silent thank-you. He observes the scene with heavy-lidded eyes: Two at his side, Three cradling Vessel’s head in his lap, Ves still bent over sinfully.
“Darling,” he says breathlessly, nudging Vessel’s hips, coaxing him into laying much more comfortably on his side. Ves moves limply, all energy spent, but tilts his head up to accept the kiss that Ivy leans down to bestow upon him, brushing his hair out of his eyes.
Three yawns, and Vessel catches it, his nose wrinkling as he yawns tiredly.
“I think we should shower,” Two says, his voice raspy. “And then bed. I’m exhausted.”
“Agreed,” Ivy responds, stretching out one of his legs, wincing at the tightness in his muscles.
Ves stays quiet until they all pile out of the shower—a feature that had been half the reason Two insisted on this house: a spacious walk-in large enough for four men, even with two of them towering over six feet. Wrapped in a towel draped over his shoulders, Ves glances at the mirror. He watches Ivy combing his hair with a towel slung around his waist, Two scrubbing wearily at his eyes, and Three drying his hair. “Merry Christmas,” Ves smiles sleepily.
“Merry Christmas, love,” Three replies, watching Vessel stare fondly into the mirror. He leans over their shorter lovers to press a kiss to Ves’s cheek, earning a sleepy laugh. “I’m knackered. Let’s go to bed.”
As they all return to the bedroom, Three raids Vessel’s drawers for a pair of sweatpants, and Ivy fishes an oversized shirt out of the overnight bag he’d brought. The four men tumble into bed; Ves tucked into Three’s chest, Ivy and Two on either side.
Before turning off the lights, Two pauses for a moment, casts a soft, lingering glance over the bed at his lovers curled up together, the sight filling him with warmth that blooms in his chest, curling over his whole body. Two flips the lightswitch, and the room is bathed in darkness. Slowly, he slips into the space beside Vessel, breathing in his familiar scent, basking in the comforting presence of the men that lay beside him. As he nestles into the sheets, he feels the pull of sleep taking hold, his body and mind gently surrendering, drifting down into the shallow depths of slumber.
⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆₊❆*･:*࿔.ೃ❆⋆°*❅•꙳⋆
Later, Two steps into the kitchen, lit by a single bulb above the stove, and finds Ivy standing at the sink, humming quietly to himself as he washes the dinner dishes. He rubs his eyes and pauses for a moment, taking in the domesticity of it all; Ivy’s too-big shirt and the way it falls to mid-thigh, his ruffled hair, his hands moving steadily as he loads dishes into the dishwasher.
“You don’t have to do that,” Two says, finally stepping into the kitchen.
Ivy looks momentarily surprised, Two’s presence unexpected. “It’s alright,” he responds quietly. “I couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t want you to have to do it in the morning.”
“That’s sweet,” Two says quietly, approaching him at the sink, and pressing a kiss to Ivy’s cheek.
“Why are you up?” Ivy asks.
Two leans into him, the warmth of his skin palpable against Ivy’s bare arms. “I’ve been waking up ‘round this time. Ves hasn’t been sleeping well, so…” he trails off, but the implication is unmistakable: this has become part of a routine.
“Still?” Ivy frowns. “Is he asleep now?”
Two nods in response. “Out like a light. Three’s practically smothering him.”
Ivy rinses soap bubbles from the surface of a plate, watches them pop under the water, trailing into the sink drain. “If you need us to stay over more often, we’ll be here in a heartbeat.” He knows Ves sleeps better when they’re all piled together in the bed; when he’s tucked safely between lovers, where none of the weight of the world can reach him. On tour, when Vessel’s sleepless nights stretch on, the four of them often abandon the tour bus in favor of a hotel room, where Vessel can be doted on much more easily.
“I know he doesn’t want to ask,” Two worries his teeth over his bottom lip. “Doesn’t want to feel like a burden.”
“It’s hardly a burden,” Ivy hums, running the sponge along the rim of a wine glass. “Really, what part of staying here with you two would be difficult?”
Two sighs softly, head resting on Ivy’s shoulder, exhaustion making itself known in the way his bones feel far too heavy for his body. It’s pleasant, well-earned, but his eyelids are heavy nonetheless. “You know he doesn’t see it that way.”
“I know,” Ivy replies. “I’ll mention it to him, if you think he’d allow it.”
“Sure,” Two nods, tiredly, peeling himself from Ivy’s side and stepping over to the kettle. Ivy hears the click, the rush of water set to boil, and Two’s quiet yawn. “Do you want a cup?”
“Chamomile, if you’ve got it,” Ivy requests, earning a hum of agreement from Two. The kitchen is dark, the heavy silence only broken by water falling into the sink, and by the time Ivy closes the dishwasher and dries his hands off, Two is presenting him with a cup of tea. They stand there in the low light, bodies close together, steeping in quiet companionship as they drink the warm chamomile tea—with a bit of honey stirred in, just how Vessel always takes it.
When the tea is gone, and the kitchen light turned off, Ivy follows Two back to the bedroom, hand resting on his waist as he follows him through the dark hallway, At the foot of the bed, Two turns to look at him, and though Ivy can’t see anything but the glint of his eyes in the darkness, he can read Two’s expression. Two’s hand comes to rest on Ivy’s cheek, on the light dusting of stubble that he finds there, and Ivy pulls him into a gentle kiss.
It’s a love letter, unwritten, unspoken, inscribed in the way Two melts into his touch and the way Ivy cradles him like something priceless. When Two pulls back, he stays close, resting his forehead against Ivy’s and lingering there for a long, quiet moment.
“I love you,” Ivy whispers, as if it’s a secret.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Two says softly, and Ivy knows he means it—knows that Two reserves these words for only a precious few, the two men sleeping behind them included. Ivy presses a final kiss to Two’s cheek before letting him go, rounding to his usual side of the bed. Three stirs slightly as Ivy slips beneath the blankets, the warmth of the space already familiar. He hears Two ease himself back into bed with deliberate care, moving slowly to avoid waking Vessel.
Sleep wraps the four men in its velvet grasp, and the night descends, divine and quiet.
⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆₊❆*･:*࿔.ೃ❆⋆°*❅•꙳⋆
Cold winter sunlight pierces through the window, the curtains open to allow the silvery light to dance through falling snow and pool across the bed like liquid, where Three and Vessel remain tangled together in the center of the mattress. Two’s side of the bed is cold, blankets tossed back, and Ivy’s shirt is discarded at the foot of the bed.
Three shifts behind Vessel, warm, content and wanting, and turns so that their bodies are slotted together in a long line, a heavenly parallel. Ves moves slightly, drawing closer to waking, and inadvertently presses his hips backwards against Three. He lets out a sound that’s half-whimper, half-gasp, snaking a hand around Vessel’s hips to pull him close again, nosing along Ves’s jaw and leaving white-hot kisses in his wake. There’s burning with want, the quiet, gentle kind, and when Ves opens his eyes and registers the sensation of Three behind him, he sighs with pleasure.
“Morning, love,” Three rasps, pressing a kiss below Vessel’s ear as he rocks his hips almost inadvertently. Ves whines, clutching Three’s hand that’s now spread firmly across his stomach, providing leverage as Three grinds against him—now far more purposeful.
“Three,” he pleads, still hazy with sleep. “Oh, god.”
“Mm,” Three responds, nipping at Vessel’s jawline. “Did you sleep alright?”
“Yeah,” Ves gasps out, his stomach tense under Three’s touch. Three’s hand ventures lower, catching on the Vessel’s boxers, long fingers cupping the bulge that he finds there. Ves is already achingly hard, and Three can’t help but feel pleased; that all it takes is this.
“You could fuck me,” Ves manages to say, reaching up to rub the sleep out of his eyes, his focus sharpening. “Probably wouldn’t even need prep, not after last night.”
Three moans softly at the thought, at the memory: the way Vessel had bent over the bed, Ivy fucking him hard and fast. “Ves,” he starts, voice breathy. “You want it?”
“Yeah, please,” Vessel responds—now fully awake, impatient and brimming with desire, unentangling himself from Three’s grasp so that he can push down his own boxers. He reaches back and catches a hold of Three’s hip, using him for leverage as he grinds against him. It’s not enough—just the shape of Three through sweatpants—but Vessel is starving for it, and Three is oh-so-willing to give. His grasp on Ves’s waist is gentle, and he languishes in this moment: slow and sweet, like floating on a calm summer sea. It feels peaceful.
Three only lets go of Vessel to remove his sweatpants, and even then, there is no rush of movement, no hurry to depart. He moves his hand from Vessel’s hip, following the toned lines of his stomach upwards, where he grabs hold of Ves’s chest and uses it for leverage. Vessel moans, high-pitched and whimpery, his hand flying up to rest on top of Three’s.
“ Yes, baby,” Three praises, rutting his hips against Ves, relishing in the drag of skin against skin as his cock slides against Vessel’s bare ass, slick and teasing. Ves tilts his head back, panting at the sensation, desperate for a kiss. Three eagerly leans in, but the angle is awkward, and he can’t quite reach. He slides his hand out from under Vessel’s, bringing it up to wrap long fingers around Ves’s throat, squeezing ever so gently and pushing his head back far enough to kiss him properly.
Ves scrambles for purchase on the bed, fingers tangling in the sheets as he moans into Three’s mouth, so desperate, starving for more, for whatever Three will give him. Undoubtedly, if Two and Ivy are home, they can hear it: the way Vessel is wordlessly begging, melting under Three’s touch.
Three pulls back from the kiss, but keeps his hand around Vessel’s throat, shifting slightly to line himself up. He slides his cock over Vessel’s hole, teasing for what feels like an eternity before he slowly pushes inside. Ves opens up easily for him, still stretched from the night before, slick and warm, like his body has been set alight by desire. Noises of pleasure spill from his mouth, uninhibited, and Three slightly tightens his grasp on Vessel’s throat.
The limited oxygen makes every sensation heightened, makes Ves feel like he’s full to the brim with pleasure. It’s a rare treat, not one that can be enjoyed while he needs to be careful with his voice, but Three is always the one Vessel seeks out when he wants it this badly: the almost-danger, the starvation at the hands of his capable lover. As Three begins to fuck him, slow and steadily, Ves feels like he’s floating in a summer sea, cradled by warmth, infinite pleasure stretching out towards every horizon.
At some point, Three releases his grip on Vessel’s neck, finding his hand once more and entwining their fingers together. “So good, baby,” he murmurs, and Ves cries out in response, praise bringing him ever closer to a tidal wave, crashing over the shore.
Ves isn’t sure how long he lives in this beautiful limbo, every touch just right, perfectly aligned. At some point, Three curls slick, elegant fingers around Vessel’s dick and he falls through the surface of the sea, back into his body, gasping at the waves of pleasure that ricochet through him.
“Three,” he moans, back arching slightly, chasing Three’s touch.
“I know, Ves,” Three says breathlessly, kissing right behind Vessel’s ear. “I know, baby. Are you gonna come? Can you come for me?”
“Y-Yeah,” Vessel nearly sobs, crying out as Three’s grasp on his cock tightens, stroking him quickly as Ves’s entire body stills; tenses, and his cum spills over Three’s fingertips.
Three is hardly far behind, Vessel’s orgasm pulling him over the edge, a chain reaction set in motion. He reaches for Ves’s neck, pulls him back for a kiss, and Vessel sucks on his bottom lip like he’s starving for Three; like he’ll die without him, without this. Three sighs into Vessel’s mouth and almost trembles at the force of the orgasm that snaps through him, hips flush against Vessel’s ass, fingers tightening around his throat.
Vessel whines, equal pleasure and overstimulation, and Three immediately loosens his grip on his neck. He can’t reach to kiss him, then, so he settles for the next best thing, and presses his lips to Vessel’s shoulder as he pulls out.
Ves sits up, disregarding the mess—he’ll shower, and he and Two will wash the sheets later—and looks down at Three with fond eyes, the delicate wrinkles at the corners a relatively new addition to his face, and one that makes Three’s heart feel heavy with affection; at the thought of joy leaving a permanent mark on Vessel’s visage. “Merry…Boxing Day?”
“You’re fuckin’ cheesy,” Three gripes, but he smiles lazily, watching as Vessel slides out from under the blankets and stands up.
Ves laughs softly, ducking into the ensuite to clean up, returning a minute later to find Three sitting up in bed. He rifles through a drawer for a pair of sweatpants—their own tour merch, runes trailing up the legs—and shrugs them on, approaching the bed and resting his on Three’s cheek. He examines his face, lovingly cataloguing every little detail that makes him Three; the arch of his brows, the curve of his lips, the sharp angle of his nose.
“I love you,” Ves says, insistent and firm. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me, darlin’,” Three says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I love you; I’ve been missing you.”
Vessel wraps his arms around Three, holding him close to his chest, Three’s cheek pressed over his heart. He cradles Three there, fingers coming up to stroke through his short blond hair. “I miss you, too. I don’t want to go this long without seeing you again.”
“It’s only been two weeks since we were on tour,” Three laughs softly, but he understands: they’d been together for a month prior, and it had been hard to adjust to only hearing Ves’s voice over the phone, rather than from the bunk across from his.
“I know,” Vessel sighs, his cheeks flushing as he pulls away to look at Three. “But I want to see you more. You and Ivy. I’m not waiting until we’re in the studio next month.”
Three shakes his head, watching Vessel blush with a tender fondness, one that feels so raw and vulnerable. “You won’t have to. I promise.”
“Okay,” Ves smiles, leaning in and kissing him once; impossibly gentle. He straightens up, and stretches, joints cracking. “Have you seen the others this morning?”
“Two said he was going to make breakfast about an hour ago,” Three says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Oh,” Ves hums, “are you coming, then?”
Three nods, slipping out from under the blankets and pulling on his clothes. He hooks a finger into Ivy’s shirt, abandoned near the foot of the bed, and shrugs it on before padding into the bathroom. When he returns to the bedroom, Vessel has disappeared, and the door is cracked open, sunlight spilling in from the hall. Yawning, Three wanders into the kitchen, where he finds Two and Ivy sitting at the table: Two’s holding a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper, and Ivy is typing away on a laptop, no doubt working even though it’s still early, even though they have taken this time off.
“Morning,” Two says, eyes sparkling.
“Hi,” Three smiles lazily, approaching the coffee machine and sliding a mug underneath it.
Ivy pauses his typing. “Sounds like you two had fun this morning.”
Three laughs a little, cheeks flushing pink. “Yeah. Sorry you missed out.”
“Must’ve been good, too, because he went straight for the piano,” Two says, sipping his coffee. “Didn’t even stop for breakfast.”
Now that Two mentions it, Three can hear it: the faint sound of a melody floating through the air, sneaking through the soundproofing in Ves and Two’s home studio. The color on his cheeks deepens at the thought. It’s nothing new—he’s seen Ves roll over in bed and scramble to write something down in a notebook, but this knowledge is undeniably satisfying: that he’d fucked him well enough to send him running to the piano to compose.
“Are you hungry?” Two adds, inclining his head towards the stove, where a plate of scones sit alongside a pan of eggs and sausages. “It might need to be heated up.”
“You’re an angel,” Three replies, scooping breakfast onto his plate and sliding it into the microwave. He rounds the end of the table to kiss Two, thankful and sweet, before peering over Ivy’s shoulder.
“I know,” Ivy whines preemptively, expecting the words that are lingering on Three’s tongue: that they’re not supposed to be working; that for once, they can just relax without the band’s obligations casting a heavy shadow over their lives. “I know. I just wanted to check some emails.”
Three raises an eyebrow, and Ivy begrudgingly shuts the laptop. Two sets down his coffee cup, humming thoughtfully. “We can sort some of that out later. I know Ves has paperwork to sign before the end of the week, so we can sit down for an hour or so tonight and make sure we’re all up to speed. Sound alright?”
“That’s fair,” Ivy agrees, and Three kisses his cheek before returning to the microwave to ferry his breakfast over to the table, sitting down between Ivy and Two and snagging a jar of lemon curd for his scones.
Two folds his newspaper, the rustling sound giving way to an almost tangible stillness that fills the kitchen. Vessel’s voice drifts softly through the air, rising above the gentle notes of the piano that echo from the other room. The moment feels impossibly peaceful, a world apart from the chaos of their life on tour. Outside, snowflakes continue to fall, their delicate descent quiet and beautiful.
Three closes his eyes and lets the tranquility envelop him. He inhales deeply, savoring the scent of breakfast that Two has lovingly prepared. The warmth of Ivy’s hand resting gently on his thigh grounds him further, and for this long moment, everything feels still, perfect. He can hear Ves weaving joy and pleasure into his melody, each note a gentle caress, smoothing over the rough edges of the world, blanketing the house like snow.
For once, there’s no rush, no pressing need to move forward. There’s only this—this quiet, comforting pause in time, a brief respite from the whirlwind of their lives. In this small, perfect moment, they are home.