Stress

For once, the bus was quiet. It didn’t happen often, outside of sleeping, and even then there were often incoherent mumbles and muted grunts as sleeping bodies shifted. Even if the bus were devoid of occupants, there was always the low drone of the tires. And while the sound was normally soothing, it was still noise.

They’d reached their next destination early, and with nothing scheduled until the next afternoon, they had some time off. After a stop at the nearest store and a satisfying late lunch at a local restaurant, the band members had struck out, searching for various forms of entertainment.

Thus, Johnny found himself alone on the bus, enjoying the peace and quiet that was nearly impossible to find when on tour. Lounging on a couch with his new magazine had sounded better than checking out the local bars with Brian and Jimmy or window shopping with Matt and Zack. Seriously, Zack and shopping got scary fast and he didn’t feel like offering opinions on sixty different pairs of sunglasses that all fucking looked the same anyway. And God help them all if Zack started looking at pants.

He snorted to himself. Matt would probably just fuck him in a changing room to shut him up after about the twentieth time he asked if something made his ass look big.

He shifted around just a little, trying not to squirm and turned a page while his eyes wandered the layout lazily, reading an article here and there. If he knew his band members at all, and he did because he was the small one who was able to get away with watching shit that no one else saw, Matt and Zack would be gone until dark. Brian would find a bar he liked and settle in and Jimmy would eventually wander back to the bus to flop down somewhere and go through the things he’d bought at the store earlier.

Johnny jumped when the bus door opened, eyes snapping up and, as if summoned by his thoughts, a damp, messy head of black hair appeared up the stairs, heralding the arrival of a grumbling, and equally damp, Jimmy.

“Motherfucker.”

The bassist lifted an eyebrow, the other soon rising to join it, watching the drummer as he walked closer, dropping his bag on the couch across from Johnny. His blue eyes were irritated and Johnny immediately noticed the taller man rolling his shoulders, as if trying to work out a kink.

“Of all the fuckin’ days to rain. And it couldn’t fucking wait until I got back to the bus. No. It had to start while I was walking so I could get wet. Fucking bastard weather. Watch. It’ll stop in five minutes and when everyone else comes back, they’ll be perfectly dry. Watch!” He was pointing accusingly at the windows, sneering once just before tugging his wet sweatshirt off, followed by the t-shirt underneath that was damp as well, muttering the entire time.

Johnny didn’t miss the wince as Jimmy wrenched an arm out of the material, apparently a bit too forcefully and the concern was enough to help him to keep from laughing at the spectacle in front of him. The Rev, bad ass drummer of Avenged Sevenfold, damp and shirtless, accusing the clouds of stalking him.

Shaking his head a little, he grinned, tossing his magazine aside as he sat up, scooting to perch on the edge of the couch. He patted a little section of couch between his legs, smiling up at the still ranting drummer.

“Come here and sit. I’ll rub your shoulders for you.”

Jimmy glanced up, cocking his head to the side faintly. Who was he to refuse free shoulder rubs? He tossed his wet shirts aside, then shook his head, dislodging a couple of rain droplets. With a deep sigh, he flopped to the floor at Johnny’s feet, somehow managing to make he motion look graceful instead of lazy and settled back against the couch, his head leaning to rest against the bassist’s thigh.

Johnny smiled, shifting until he was pressed as close to Jimmy as possible while still sitting on the couch, thighs resting against the drummer’s sides. He reached out to smooth his hands over the bare, pale shoulders presented to him, immediately frowning. He kept his touch light, fingertips exploring. He could feel the knotted muscles, the normally supple flesh firm and tense. And he could see Jimmy shifting in discomfort when he pressed a little too hard.

“Fuck. How have you been sleeping at all if you’re this tense?” He pressed his thumbs into the tight muscles, rubbing gentle circles, beginning the arduous process of loosening the knots.

Jimmy made a low noise in the back of his throat, something caught between pleasure and pain as he tried to relax under Johnny’s talented hands. Even just that little bit of rubbing hurt, but he knew that it would get better. Slowly. He lifted his head reluctantly to even out his shoulders, mumbling in response to Johnny’s question.

“Haven’t really.”

He cursed under his breath, shooting a glare at the back of Jimmy’s head. It wasn’t malicious however; just worried. “What? Why haven’t you said anything?”

The drummer shrugged his shoulders and Johnny could feel the way his muscles bunched, clenching in a way that must have been painful. How had Jimmy been playing like this?

“You know. No big deal.” He was mumbling still, eyes downcast, watching as he picked absently at a string on his jeans. “You guys have your own shit to worry about-“

“Jimmy.” Johnny leaned forward, curling his arms around to hug the taller man from behind. He pressed his face against the long neck, nuzzling faintly. Jimmy was tall enough that, even sitting on the floor, Johnny barely had to dip his head. He squeezed a little, lips brushing Jimmy’s skin when he spoke. “We care about you. All of us. We want to know when something’s wrong. If you’re tense or stressed or can’t sleep… We’d help. However we could.”

It made him smile. Those soft, sincere words, spoken right against his neck. He lifted a hand, resting it on the side of Johnny’s head, pulling him just a little closer. It made him smile for the first time in what felt like weeks. A real smile. And it warmed something inside of him that he hadn’t realized had gone cold. He relaxed back against the smaller man, feeling the muscles in his shoulders relaxing faintly even without Johnny’s talented fingers.

“Just... tour stuff. Gets to me, I guess. And by the time I realized it wasn’t fading away like it usually does, I didn’t feel like saying anything.”

Johnny pressed a kiss just under Jimmy’s ear before pulling back a bit, arms releasing the drummer. His hands resettled in their former places, rubbing again, adding a little pressure when he felt the tightness give. “Say something next time, alright? No matter how busy or preoccupied we seem… we always have time for you, Jimmy.”

Jimmy could hear the smile in Johnny’s voice, even if he couldn’t see it and the warmth within him grew into a comfortable heat, all glowing and peaceful. He let his eyes close, letting the stresses and irritations that always came with being on the road for extended periods fade away. Instead, he focused on the feel of Johnny’s hands as they moved, patiently kneading at his shoulders, coaxing the muscles to relax further, the siren call of sleep edging closer with each pass of warm, strong fingers.

He hadn’t realized that he’d given in to sleep and dozed off until he felt a weight in his lap and slowly blinked his eyes open, focusing on the smaller man straddling his thighs. He settled an arm around Johnny’s hips, a hand on his lower back, the other lifting to rub over his face. “Mm, hi.”

The bassist offered Jimmy a pout, the humor he was suppressing sparkling in his eyes, their color a happy caramel.

“Are you falling asleep on me?”

“No. Yes.” Jimmy chuckled, stretching a little and slumping again afterwards. Apparently Johnny had kept working, even as he’d fallen asleep. He couldn’t feel the knots in his shoulders anymore, only blissful relaxation. “S’your fault.”

Johnny slipped forwards a little more to press himself tightly up against the drummer, shifting slowly to settle his hips firmly against the taller man’s, letting the hard ridge in his pants rest along side the answering hardness in Jimmy’s. “Guess I’ll just have to try harder to keep your attention then.”

Huh. When had that happened? Jimmy looked down at their fused hips blankly. He didn’t remember falling asleep hard. Johnny shifted again and suddenly the fact that he was hard actually registered, as did the friction rubbing against his cock through his jeans. He groaned, rolling his head back with a little sigh, feeling Johnny’s lips instantly attach themselves to his throat.

He arched up a little, gliding his hands over Johnny’s hips and up under the bottom of his shirt, tracing over the warm skin, slowly climbing upwards, taking the material along for the ride. He stripped the shirt off completely when Johnny raised his arms, leaning in to brush soft kisses over pale shoulders, the skin soft and smooth under his lips.

As soon as his shirt was gone, Johnny’s hands were moving, tracing over the images inked on Jimmy’s chest, following the bold letters down the center. He explored the flat stomach, fingers dipping lower. He made a frustrated sound when they hit the drummer’s jeans and quickly started tugging at the button.

Jimmy just chuckled, letting him struggle with the ornery material. “Someone’s impatient…” He let his lips twist into a lazy smirk. “Will you suck me off, Johnny?”

Johnny scoffed, finally getting the button loose, pulling the zipper down immediately. “I’ve got much bigger plans for your dick.”

Apparently he was getting no say in the matter. Though it didn’t really make any difference. Like hell he was going to say no. Especially when Johnny was in this kind of mood. He lifted his hips a little, letting the smaller man tug the tight denim down. Johnny obviously wasn’t messing around. He worked them down to mid thigh before deciding they’d gone far enough and abandoned them. Jimmy was treated to the sight of Johnny standing and wriggling out of his dark jeans, kicking them to the side, immediately lowering himself back into the drummer’s lap.

Jimmy resettled his hands on Johnny’s hips, pulling the bassist closer, only hesitating when the smaller man shifted to press the tip of his cock to that tight entrance.

“Johnny, wait. You haven’t been- Fuck!”

With one long, slow, insistent push, Jimmy found himself buried to the root inside of Johnny, his thoughts fragmenting, scattering. Tight, hot, wet… He groaned deeply, fingers tightening to grip the bassist’s hips brutally, trying to keep him still. He wasn’t sure if it was the tight heat around him, or just knowing that Johnny had been sitting on the couch waiting, ass slicked and stretched, but he was wound tight and cocked to explode any second.

Johnny watched the taller man, a little satisfied smirk twisting his lips as blue eyes rolled back. It had been a little uncomfortable, sitting on the couch waiting, feeling that slickness, but fuck, was the sight of Jimmy worth it. He waited, giving the drummer a chance to slow his ragged breathing, waiting until the fingers on him loosened minutely and then he was moving. He wanted it hard and fast and dirty and he wasn’t going to last long with the picture Jimmy was creating for him.

He lifted himself, strong thighs flexing, sliding up until Jimmy almost slipped free before falling, letting gravity do the work, groaning as that long, hard cock pushed back into him, stretching him to aching, sliding deep; slow and hot and delicious.

Johnny was moving on him, making such sweet little noises and he couldn’t even keep his fucking eyes open to watch. It was almost too much, and suddenly Jimmy was really fucking glad he wasn’t drunk. He was having a hard enough time keeping everything straight, feeling everything, not drowning under the sensations and he was sober. He tugged the smaller man closer, making a little whining noise in the back of his throat.

The bassist moved a little faster, settling into a lazy rhythm that wouldn’t last long. He couldn’t hold back much longer, didn’t want to. Jimmy was beautiful like this, consumed; his back arched faintly, pale, inked skin tight over lean muscle. He could see every little shift, the way his arms tensed when he tugged, abs rippled when he shivered. Dark hair was plastered to the drummer’s sweaty forehead. It was at once cute and incredibly sexy. He leaned in slowly to rest his forehead against Jimmy’s, speaking softly.

“Open your eyes.”

The words may have been quiet, but it was a command he couldn’t deny. With an effort, he blinked his eyes open, blue meeting melted chocolate and locking there. Time seemed to freeze between them, nothing else existing, nothing else mattering outside of the bus; just the two of them, locked together, joined, surrounded by heat and need. Jimmy licked his lips, letting out a shaky sigh and watched as Johnny’s eyes darkened from chocolate to the forest at night. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, demanding. Just one word.

“Harder.”

And Jimmy was shuddering. He let his eyes flutter closed for a second, breath hitching and then they were open again, midnight blue, deep and intense. In that moment, he completely gave up on trying to keep some sort of control, simply giving his body over to instinct. He slid his hands up a little, gripping low on Johnny’s sides rather than his hips, offering the bassist a little better balance as he thrust his hips up, angle shifting slightly and Johnny had his head thrown back, screaming.

He didn’t know how he did it, found that spot on the first strike, but he didn’t care, just as long as he never stopped. Gone was the slow, easy pace, replaced by quick and hard, Jimmy hitting that spot every single time.

“Fuck! Yeah! Right there! Fuck, you motherfucker, fuck me!”

Jimmy chuckled darkly, pulling Johnny down with each upwards thrust he made, sliding deeper, the two of them meeting harder. The sound of skin slapping joined the pants and cries, heating the bus with a crescendo of lust and want. He watched Johnny as he bent back, hands settled on Jimmy’s legs for support, stretched out for him, arced beautifully and riding him with zeal.

It lasted forever and not nearly long enough. Johnny could feel it coming, could feel the slow burn, the heat coiling and tightening low in his belly, threatening to burst and incinerate him from the inside out. He wanted it, worked towards it, begged and pleaded silently… Well, maybe not so silently, but Jimmy probably couldn’t understand the garbled words. And then it’s there, right there, hovering on the very edge ohsoclose-

Jimmy could feel it, feel the way Johnny’s body tensed, felt his pace falter, the muscles around his cock fluttering with the anticipation of it. He tightened his fingers on Johnny’s skin, jerking him upwards in one smooth motion. Their faces ended up inches apart, gazes locked and, again, time seemed to stop between them.

It lasted a heartbeat, maybe two and then the blue was gone and Johnny could feel sharp teeth biting down against his neck. The shudder that wracked his form left him trembling. The words were barely above a whisper, rather than a scream, but somehow they were hotter for the low tone, edged with desperation.

“Yeah, fucker, bite me…”

Kinky little fucker. Jimmy smirked against the bassist’s neck, thrusting hard up against him. Apparently that was all it took. He could feel Johnny stiffen against him, hips jerking faintly, moving in time with the sudden, intoxicating pulse of tight muscle around him. He couldn’t hope to last through it and gave in easily, spilling deep into the smaller man as Johnny rode out his orgasm, mouth open in a silent scream, eyes wide and sightless, staring through the ceiling.

Jimmy muffled his cries against Johnny’s neck, rocking against him lazily, relishing the tired, satisfied feeling that was slowly settling over him, bringing with it the warm, tingly comfort of awesome sex.

The first thing Johnny registered after his body had unlocked itself from its arch was a warm tongue soothing over the slight, stinging pain on his neck. He sighed deeply, letting his head fall forward, forehead resting against Jimmy’s collarbone. He felt worn out, tired and deeply sated.

“Mm, fuck.”

“Yeah, I’ll second that.” Jimmy chuckled lowly, nuzzling into the bassist’s shoulder.

“Me too.”

“Me three!”
Jimmy lifted his head a little to peek over Johnny’s shoulder, lifting a brow. Matt was leaning against the wall at the entrance to the lounge, watching the two with a smirk, a strong arm wrapped around Brian. Brian had both arms wrapped around Zack’s waist, his chin resting on the rhythm guitarist’s shoulder, leering at them. Zack was snuggled back into Brian and against Matt’s side, head on the vocalist’s shoulder. All three looked flushed and satisfied, rather amused with the sight presented to them.

Johnny peeked back apprehensively, cheeks flushing. “You bastards. How long have you been standing there?”

Brian chuckled. “Long enough to see you get Jimmy to snap. Fucking hot.”

Matt echoed Brian’s chuckle with one of his own. “Yeah, definitely. Got us all off too. Thanks.”
Johnny huffed indignantly, burying his head against Jimmy once more, muttering while the drummer laughed. “Hey, this ain’t no free show, you motherfuckers. I’m charging you admission.”

All three laughed, Brian breaking away to wander over and flop on the couch next to Jimmy’s head, running his fingers through the drummer’s damp hair, earning a soft hum of pleasure. “Next time don’t fuck in the middle of the lounge then.”

Johnny peeked up at Brian, glaring half heartedly. “Jimmy was stressed out. I was relaxing him.”

Zack mumbled against Matt’s side. “Damn. Remind me to come to you when I’m stressed.”

Jimmy laughed with the other four as Johnny flipped him off.

Notes