Archive of Our Own

II liked the routine. He had let Vessel know that much back when it all had started: 

‘I’ll follow you. But if you want things to work out the way they’re intended to work, you’ll let me handle this part.’ And Vessel had not been opposed to that. If anything, the arrangement worked in his favour. Everything was perfectly put together. The rituals, the meals, the downtime. Rest tended to be the only aspect they were lenient on, but it was no real detriment. Another of Sleep’s gifts; their mortal restraints weren’t bound so tightly. They could last without sleep or food for much longer than the average person could.

Rehearsals took place in the mornings, while everyone was fresh.

When they performed, the roles were reversed; everyone was silent, while Vessel’s voice rang clear. Only their instruments could be heard, so Vessel knew who was ruining the flow.

“Piss off,” II bellowed behind them when he noticed everyone else had stopped. "I swear, if you tell me to change my part again, I'll commit a crime.”

“Look, mate.” III held his palms up in a pacifying manner, more at II than Vessel. “I think a break’s all we need. Unwind a bit, alright? Everyone’s been cheesed off with all this stuff happening.”

II sighed, standing up and picking up his can of Red Bull. "Tell me about it. I’ll need a whole afternoon to catch up on those emails.”

IV pushed the guitar behind his back and walked up to where they had gathered at the centre of the impromptu studio they had made of the house’s attic. It had to be said; the thing was a dive, but it wasn’t used for much besides rehearsals anyway. II had a person from town that would let them use their actual studio when it was available. But Vessel was confident it’d be less than a year until they’re truly well-established in the industry and they’d be able to purchase their own house, with their studio. 

III shoved II’s shoulder when the shorter man stopped by his side. It was meant to be a playful greeting, but II hadn’t seen it coming. The can dropped from his lax hand and hit the floor. Stimulant compounds spread over the carpet like blood in the water, and II let out a growl like a battle cry before he launched himself at III, grabbing the front of his shirt and tugging the much taller man along.

“You get this shit cleaned right now!” II was shouting.

III bristled back. “You clean it. You dropped it.”

While comedic, this was not the appropriate time for such scenes. Vessel clapped his hands together to get the two to stop and look at him. He pointed at them both, then pointed at the floor.

Beside him, IV barked with laughter. 

Smirking, Vessel pinched the hood of his shirt and urged him forward. You help too.

IV’s expression melted into a look of dejection, and he went with the others.

Vessel watched as they pushed against each other, their laughter the only sound in the room.

Something like longing tugged at his heart. They still saw humanity in each other. He could only wonder if it was any left in him. 

“Wow, you are a god!”

The sudden shout made his heart lurch. Turning quickly, he's faced with a woman with black hair that fell past her shoulders and forest green eyes. The black walls of the studio receded into warm tones with each step she took toward them.

“That was great! I can tell this will do numbers. Oh, all those record labels will be fighting over who gets to put the next big artist out there.”

This is a dream, Vessel thought, oddly calm, as he put himself between her world and his own, where II, III and IV were. Not her. Not anymore.

She stopped in front of him, looking over his shoulder. The smile slipped off her face.

“Do you love them? You loved me too. Once,” she said, so bitterly it made him shudder. “No one missed me. No one mourned me. It’s hard to die unmourned. Did you really feel no guilt?”

Flashes of crimson tainted tiles, an eye reflecting back the dull light, lifeless. Strands of black hair spread around her like the arms of God.

Vessel winced, pressing a hand to his head.

“‘Course you don't. You did this. You betrayed me. You sold me. You got the fame you wanted in exchange, yet you still want more? You think you deserve more?”

Her words stirred something within. He didn’t notice he had raised his hand until the girl’s eyes flickered to it, and she laughed. 

“My Vessel," she moved her lips but Vessel heard Sleep. "When I think I had carved out all the rot inside you, I always return to find more. Are you not happy with you were given? Those who seek out more than they deserve end up losing what they already have."

Vessel's blood ran colder. He took a step back, shaking his head. Please, don’t take them away from me!

She cooed, the echo of a million different voices joining the sound. Vessel hunched further on himself, suffocated. “I would never. They are my vessels. My will, my soul,” his girlfriend’s eyes shimmered, knowingly, “my body. I reside in all of you. Everything you dreamed of, I made it real. I gave you all these wonderful things. So, why. Why does my First still dream of this person!?”

She is dead! I killed her myself. She meant nothing to me.

Her face dropped into a look of disappointment, and Vessel realised he'd lost again. They had done this before, many times, and whatever Vessel did was never enough.

“The vessel lies. To me. To the God of dreams. To himself… Does he truly want to be a vessel?”

He wanted to. He wanted to be good. He didn't know what else he could do.

Her expression softened, but her eyes remained cruel. "I'll just have to show you. Over, and over..."

A wave of vertigo threw him off his axis.

"Until you finally accept your purpose."

He fell back on the mattress, gasping. It was pitch black in the bedroom, save for the golden glow of the candles at the foot of Sleep’s altar.

Still easing his body back from the nightmare, Vessel tipped his head to the side to stare directly into them. The flames flickered, casting momentary shadows over the drawings on the wall. The fruits he’d left on the platter were untouched. The offerings were usually gone by morning, but it seemed like Sleep had refused this one.

Or, He had taken something else.

The sudden pain shooting up his front like multiple pricking needles was enough confirmation of that.

This was not the first time, but it had never been as bad as this. Vessel could barely feel his legs. He didn’t trust himself to get out of bed as he was, but he couldn’t stay idle either. He pushed himself up by his elbows. Remains of the dream lingered fresh in his mind; Sleep had taken many forms over the time they’ve known each other intimately, a second moon hanging by the light pouring from the first, the exoskeleton of a giant squid, a deer the size of a house with a coat of crimson-red and horns like naked tree branches, a giant mass of writhing fleshy tentacles, all pale reflections for Vessel’s mind to record without collapsing. But Sleep had never taken a human form. Least of all her form.

It felt like a punishment.

It was somehow worse than the pain he currently felt. His vision blurred as his body fell back onto the mattress, pulling a whimper out of him. After that, everything came pouring out like a flood, a rapid, stuttered sequence of them.

He was aching. Inside. In the place between his thighs.

He slipped his hands inside his pyjama pants, feeling over the tuft of hair, down the shape of a curved mound of soft flesh that gave under his touch.

In the place where his dick used to be was a seam his fingertips sinked into.

He pulled his hand as if it was burned. Which might have been the case, hot as he was down there. 

Oh… God.

His palm fell over his eyes as his cries rose along with his chest. He must have cried for hours because when he came back to his senses, he felt utterly exhausted.

The room had dimmed into a gentle darkness, the candles having burnt out almost completely. Something knocked on his door, making him cringe and burrow further into the covers.

“Vess? Vess, are you with us?” A voice joined the ruckus.

At his silence, the knocking stopped, and the sounds of conversation emerged.

“Is he… regularly…”

“...complicated. It wasn’t…”

“What happened?”

“I don’t… Two never…”

As he became more aware of his surroundings, Vessel was able to recognize the voices belonged to III and IV.

II must have sent them up. He should answer, let them know everything was fine. Getting up was the hardest part, but Vessel somehow made it. With a beckoning motion of his hand, the robe hanging by the closet flew into his palm and he quickly put it on. The mask was over the writing desk. He put that on too. He tied the strap of his robe tightly around his waist, double checked if the material wasn’t too thin to see what was underneath, then pulled the hood over his head. Looking more presentable, he finally opened the door and was faced with IV’s wide eyes.

Vessel regarded him for a moment before looking down the empty hall.

“Three went to get Two," IV said at Vessel’s silent prompting. “We were… worried. You didn’t show up for breakfast.”

Vessel let out a silent scoff.

That was it? So what if he hadn’t shown up for breakfast, II needed to get off his case.

“Did Sleep talk to you?” IV’s voice was small, not unlike a child sharing something sacred.

Vessel nodded his head.

IV sucked in a breath, “What did He say?”

Instead of replying, Vessel reached for IV’s face, caressing the side of his mask lovingly. IV leaned into the touch, seemingly unconsciously.

Vessel withdrew, leaving the boy in a daze while he made his way past.

Running.

He was running from them.

He could not find it in himself to tell them.

He was afraid.

It’s irrational. He knew. They would never judge him. They would never hurt him.

But he still felt fear.

A lot of old things were coming back to him against his will.

That girl in his dream. He recalled memories of her sitting beside him by the piano, of her laughing, of her crying, of her naked, of her skin, red painted.

These could not be his memories. His memories were clear. He remembered his past, his mother, his step-father. There wasn't a girl with black hair and green eyes in that past. There wasn't. He had never loved anyone before Sleep. Before II, III and IV. Before the worshippers.

He didn't want to consider the possibility that they could be. He knew some parts were missing, either because of Sleep or old traumas. Sleep had filled those gaps like water rearranges itself in a container. Sleep did that as a mercy.

But the scars on his body remained. Those were his only reminder of a life that had not been worth living, compared to the one he had now. This was what he wanted, Sleep's end of their promise. In exchange for this wonderful new life, he would become His vessel.

He knew his pupose. He knew what he was made for.

So he didn't understand why. Why had Sleep done this to him?

Please… Answer me.

Everything Vessel gave at the altar, Sleep ignored. Still, he kept offering. From food to his own blood, until he became desperate to the point of considering that Sleep wanted him to... use his new modification. An offering of the flesh.

Vessel felt strange touching himself in that sensitive spot, nausea building up in his stomach. Vessel should be feeling pleasure. Instead, he felt like he might throw up.

He pulled his hand from between his legs, ashamed of himself for even considering this. He slipped into his bath and scrubbed his skin raw to get rid of the ripe smell and went on with the rest of his day as scheduled. He attended rehearsals and meals to avoid suspicion, and when he was alone again, he repeated the ritual.

Afternoon was everyone’s free time. Though they never strayed too far from each other’s orbit.

Vessel sat on the couch by the lit fireplace, feet tucked underneath him, as he reread and rewrote entire chunks of a possible new song. II was in the kitchen. III and IV were sat on the carpet, playing a game of cards.

It was only the start of autumn, yet the temperature had dropped significantly and rain came down pouring without sign of stopping, forcing them all to stay in the manor.

II had added another layer to each of their beds (Vessel had taken most of them off because of his problem), while IV had kindly offered to fix the heating, although unsuccessfully. When he vouched to have a new one installed, it got a positive vote from III and two negative votes from Vessel and II.

‘We’re running short this month after that hiccup with the keyboard,”’ II explained.

I don’t want anyone here, Vessel bristled.

“It’s an old house…” II continued, making Vessel hum. We’ll have to find a new place soon.

He tapped the tip of his pen on the half-written page, finding himself at a roadblock, when the dark peal of III’s chuckle made him look across the room where the bassist was playfully shoving at IV’s shoulder.

“C’mon, tell me.” There was a distinct drag to the bassist’s words. Vessel noticed the beer cans around the two of them. “You cheated that!”

“You're just bad at the game,” IV spoke inwards, shy, as he picked back the cards.

“Tsk. We don’t keep secrets from each other.”

“I’m not—”

“Whatever!" III threw his hands in the air. “Let’s play something else!”

“Sure. What do you want to play?”

“Go fish.”

“Sure…” Somehow III didn’t hear how IV was holding himself from laughing.

The cards were laid out on the ground, and Vessel’s attention went back to his lyrics.

II reemerged back from the kitchen some time after, trash bag in hand. He rounded Vessel’s chair, picking up the empty boxes of take away laid about, then made his way along the carpet to do the same to III's and IV's beers. III’s hand curled protectively around the one by his foot when II made to reach for it.

II turned to IV. “Oven’s heating up. Anything specific you want? I’m making roasted potatoes and rabbit."

“Potatoes are good, Sir.”

“Sir,” III mocked in a shrill voice, then drank the last of his drink.

II swung the bag at the bassist before he turned and walked out of the room.

“Yeah, go take yourself out!” III called after the short man’s back.

“Do you have a queen?” IV asked.

“Nope. Go fish.”

IV picked up a card from the pile scattered between them. He regarded it for a moment, then let out a hum, placing it alongside the others on his hand. “Your turn.”

III tensed.

"Three? It's your turn," IV repeated.

III blinked, then shook himself.

“Either I'm losing my mind or..." He started, stared at IV.

IV stared back. "Hm?"

III scoffed like a dog. His hand went up to his nose, rubbing under the bridge through the material of the mask.

“Did’ya bring a woman here?”

"Huh?" IV looked taken aback. “No?”

“Fucking smells like one.”

The cushion protested as Vessel shifted in his seat. Both men glanced his way. Vessel reigned himself still even if everything in his being was telling him to run.

IV sniffed the air tentatively.

”I don’t smell anything…”

“‘Course you don’t. Only I can. I have to deal with all this shite 'cause I’m Sleep’s runt of the litter.”

“You don’t know that yet. He could give me something worse like, uh, mind reading.”

“How's that worse?”

“I’d hate it,” IV mumbled. “Having everyone’s thoughts occupying my head.”

"But you wouldn't be around anyone but us." III punctuated as he reached for a card. "We don't keep secrets from each other."

Vessel got up from the couch to find somewhere quiet.

The cold lingered outside, though Vessel wouldn’t be able to tell. He already ran hotter than the average human, but this recent change had taken that to a new height.

Vessel rarely left the house, so when he started making that a regular habit, the others got predictably curious. Among other things...

“Where were you?!” II demanded after waiting for Vessel on the path to the old manor, his words sharp as teeth.

Vessel stepped around II, intent on ignoring him, but a strong hard clamped around his arm, forcing him to a stop. There was no point in fighting against II’s strength. Vessel struggled regardless.

“Hey,” II’s voice lowered into something gentler as he slowly pulled Vessel towards him.

When those arms wrapped around him, he quited his struggling and collapsed against the shorter man.

"Hey... It's okay. I’m not really upset, just worried.”

He hated that patronising tone. It made him feel weak and lesser. He was supposed to be I.

But he was caught prey, held between the jaws of a predator and made to wait for the moment it would finally consume him. II had always been better than him.

His right hand man. II had been with him since the beginning, sent by Sleep to save him from the Hell his step-father had made since mother's passing. II had kept him hidden, helped him with the recovery process, drawing circles over the back of his hand with his thumb as he ate slowly. Even when he got tired and angry at Vessel's shit and left him alone with his terrible thoughts, he had always returned. Unlike mother. II kept his promise to never leave him.

“What do you need?” There was something in the way II asked that damning question that made Vessel weak on the knees. Those strong arms encased him in a protective hug. II helped ground him, “Tell me."

He wanted to... He had to, but...

"They all need you. I need you."

Shit. Fuck. II’s voice, the hard tone which he spoke, even when he was trying to be gentle.

Vessel pressed his thighs together and held onto II tighter.

II exhaled deeply, mistaking Vessel's clinginess as him trying to distract II from what was troubling him.

Vessel was dragged back to his room and helped out of his wet clothes. All the while, Vessel stood very still, watching II work, wishing, with every part of his wretched self, that the drummer would just push him harder, make him tell him everything, make him wish he had never kept anything from them.

His breathing grew labored, terrified by his own thoughts.

That was... No. No, he didn't want that. That was not what he wanted. No, no, no.

II took off his mask and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Rest, okay?"

II drew away and Vessel chased after the press of those lips. A small voice told him to go after II as he turned but ultimately he stayed put, watching the drummer as he closed the foor behind him, leaving him alone in his room. Alone and wanting. Like he's been for the past couple of nights.

His frustration rose to new highs. He decided he didn't care anymore. He shoved his hand down between his thighs to grind over the sensitive flesh, laying back on the mattress, thighs parting. Fucking himself frantically on his own fingers, thinking about II, thinking about II's strong hands, his cock. Was it porportionate to the rest of him or did it compensate in what II lacked in height? It didn't matter. Vessel was hungry for it.

He shuddered just by recalling the occasion II squeezed a boulder into smithereens. II would push him down and Vessel would have no way of fighting it. He would be just a hole for II's pent up stress. God knows Vessel alone was the cause for most of it. II would say as much, and he'd call him a fucking waste of air in need of a good raping. That's what everyone saw. That's why it had happened to him, once with the man his mother brought back home, twice with the woman Vessel professed his love to, and now again, with his beloved II.

His back arched off the bed and he held himself up by the tips of his feet, letting instinct guide him into a quick release.

It felt good.

But only for a moment.

He was curling on himself the next, wondering what the hell was wrong with him.

II and the others were only a few doors away, yet he had never felt so lonely.

He came down for breakfast donning one of his older robes, a black one with a golden pattern of archaic runes along its puffy sleeves and hem.

III and IV were already sitting at the table when II arrived with Vessel at his side. III rose from the table in greeting, pulling IV along. Vessel ignored both of them and took his designated seat at the end of the table, waiting for the other acolytes to gather around and finish their meals. Sleep had made his body so it didn’t require food. When he ate, it was a mere courtesy, though II liked to argue his body still needed the energy. Perhaps that was the case for the others, but Vessel's body was sustained only by Sleep. God had built His First so efficiantly he would not die.

Vessel's mind drifted while the others talked.

At one point, III had turned to Vessel, and judging by the face he was making, Vessel was meant to laugh at whatever he said. So he did.

It must have sounded really unconvincing because III was following him up the stairs right after.

“Vess.” 

The call scared him further into his bedroom, but whether by impulse or complete disrespect, III’s hand was quick to reach out and catch him by the wrist. 

Vessel stiffened, as did III.

Their difference in height wasn’t much. On the occasions they spoke, III would hunch on himself. Vessel was not used to being the one having to look up.

“Can I come in?” III rubbed his thumb across the deeper scars on the inside of his wrist.

Vessel sucked in a breath. The trinkets laid on the table beside them trembled and scooted further towards the walls from the uncontrolled waves of Vessel’s magik. III didn’t seem to notice. His eyes had fixed on Vessel’s lips like an arrow ready to shoot.

“Oh, Vess. I know it’s you.”

Vessel’s blood froze cold. In his shocked state, III pushed him further into the room, door closing behind him. He didn’t dare look away from those blue eyes. There was an emotion there he couldn’t describe. Was too afraid to. He didn’t notice III’s hand moving until he felt its touch over his crotch.

“Fuck—” Stuck between a laugh and sound of disbelief, III was talking, head tilting to the side with each word, “How much longer were you going to keep this from us, Vess?”

The dread sinking in his stomach was not an unique feeling. It was familiar though, and that in itself was oddly conforting.

He could barely process the way III slid his hand inside the hem of his trousers to tug them down to his thighs, exposing his secret like a confirmation to whatever III had picked up in the air.

His newly acquired cunt swelled and oozed, the heat sharpened rather than dampened by the humiliation.

“Is this another one of Sleep’s changes? Is it for us?” III’s hands slid up Vessel’s sides, apprasing. “I found first so you’ll let me fuck you here first, right, Vess?”

Those large hands settled along the curves of his waistline, calloused fingertips slotting in the small dips on the small of his back.

Vessel was shaking his head. His mouth moved around the words. Don’t. I don’t know why this happened.

III must have mistook his giberish for encouragement. The bassist’s long fingers caressed the wet between his legs. Vessel tried to protest again, but his mouth didn't fucking work, and now his body was betraying him too. When III pressed a finger inside his opening, the nerves at the end of his spine flared randomly, and he moaned with the shock of it.

It’s Sleep, Vessel thought, feeling the tell-tale sting behind his lids.

His back hit the mattress and then III was pulling him towards him by the backs of his knees, pressing his pelvis flush to the man’s prominent dent. Vessel reached out but III brushed his hand off. He was on a mission to unfast his pants as quickly as he could. His cock sprung out, long and hard, and hit Vessel’s cunt with a smack that filled Vessel’s ears.

Eyes rolling to the ceiling, he missed the moment III took himself in his palm to spread the slick he had scooped out of Vessel with a few pumps. There was no pain. Only an unfamiliar discomfort.

"That’s it." III exhaled, arching his back. Sheer relief written on every part of him.

III gave him plenty of time to adjust, but it was still not enough. A gasp was pulled from deep in his chest when the backs of his knees were grabbed. There was an odd desperation in III's eyes as he was pulled into the first thrust.

III picked up a quick pace, sheathing his cock as far as it could go into Vessel’s hole. He paused for a short moment to lift Vessel’s hips slightly from the mattress, finding a new angle. Somehow he plunged even deeper and Vessel was an animal under him.

"Yes," III was panting heavily. He was looking at how fast and how much of his cock disappeared inside Vessel. "Fucking take it."

The blues of his eyes had been engulfed by darkness, leaving behind the lust, the greed, all the black-blooded things that she had acquainted him with. The pressure in his belly released at once, and he could no longer keep the tears from falling. His whole body shook with the force of his heaving cries. 

He’s flipped on his stomach at some point in his wallowing of guilt and disgust. He’s caught by the waist and made to lift his hips against the rushing pelvis. The slide was easier, but not any less intensive. Vessel’s cunt was looser, more relaxed, but also more sensitive. Before it was a lot, now it was too much. He could only grind his teeth and claw the sheets as his body memorised the shape of the cock invading his flesh. I will never be the same— God— Please—  

"Vess..." Hot breath on the back of his neck. The hands on his waist let go to rub along the expanse of his back until they settled over his shoulders, "That felt good? Bet it feels fucking amazing coming from having your pussy fucked."

Vessel bit down on the sheets. Hot tear trails marred the skin of his face. His nose burned. It was getting harder to breathe. Yet, he endured. It was all he could do.

“It’s like fucking a corpse.”

It was easy to think of her. Her laugh and her weight.

No, think of III. His eagerness and optimism.

The first time they toured, they were all a wreck of nerves aside from III who, through his enthusiasm, had given them the confidence they needed. He was good, he loved the crowd, and he had genuine fun at what he did. A sharp contrast to the man Vessel had met on that bridge, years ago. He knew he had saved III’s life on that day, so it was reasonable to assume the looks III would throw in his direction the first weeks he was with him and II came from a place of admiration. But somewhere, he had discovered the truth.

It was always there for the eye to see — how the bassist's gaze would often stray to Vessel’s behind, how his touch would linger beyond what was comfortable.

Vessel had never admitted it, but he enjoyed that kind of attention. He had even revelled in it, going along III’s little plays. It was fun. The sensual touches and the stolen kisses. The blaze in III’s eyes.

Vessel loved knowing III wanted him.

Vessel loved III.

Vessel loved that it was III...

“Get off of him!”

The scream brought Vessel back to the room. Disoriented, he opened his eyes to his surroundings. He saw III flopping towards the ground. Hands clasped tight around the collar of his shirt. The hands belonged to II, who was now straddling the taller man, boring his whole weight on his chest before swinging his arms back. The sound returned to him slowly, and each descent of II’s fist was punctuated by a muffled thud and a scream:

“What were you doing! What were you doing!”

III attempted to shield himself with his arms. “Stop— Stop! I didn’t do anything he didn’t want!”

A sense of urgency settled in Vessel’s heart at his mate’s screams. He tried to reach out.

“Vessel can’t even handle being touched!” II spat as he delivered two more punches to the same spot, eliciting the same noise, underlined by yelps of pain.

“I know you can smell it too! I saw you sniffing his laundry!” Despite the blood soaking through the material of his mask, III tried to laugh, “It’s like he’s in heat, innit?”

Vessel’s hand stopped in the air. Looking farther ahead, he saw his own horrified expression on IV, who had been standing by the doorway, shock frozen.

“We know you want him,” III said, after a beat where no one dared to breathe. “You’ve wanted him for longer than I have. Poor sod… He’s also led you on.”

Vessel hunched on himself.

This was all his fault. Him and his selfishness. Perhaps this had been Sleep’s intention: to give the other Vessels what they desired — The First. Perhaps this was his purpose all along, to be used and loved in the way it hurt.

But it was still love, right?

II rose slowly, making his way to the bed. Knees falling on the mattress, he scooted over. Vessel turned on his side, facing II completely, but the drummer's gaze wasn’t even on him. Those blue eyes appraised his naked body without shame.

II was no different than III. Or IV, for that matter.

Vessel felt a hand grab him the hip. II pinned him to the mattress, throwing one of his legs around Vessel to grinding down against his ass. The well-defined outline of his erection fit perfectly between Vessel’s cheeks.

Vessel's body gave away. You're all the same.

At least II was gentle when he pressed into him. His body gave in easily, after III’s work.

“I’m sorry,” he heard II say. “I really fucking tried… I always loved you. I’ve always wanted to do this with you.”

It’s hard not to compare now that he’s taken both; II’s cock was not as long as III’s, but it was good-sized nonetheless, and thicker. Vessel already found himself enjoying this a lot more. The stretch was a little uncomfortable, but more pleasurable than anything else. II pushed against him another inch. The drag of his cock, searing.

II liberated one hand to reach around Vessel’s waist. His thumb found the small hood at the crown of Vessel’s cunt, pulling it back to expose the sensitive little nub. The pads of his pointer and middle fingers press and rub over it mercilessly. Vessel didn’t even had the energy to moan. His forehead pressed to the mattress. Anything to ground him while he’s once again reduced into dazed incoherence.

“Arsehole,” III gargled as the bed dipped under his weight. “Don’t think you’ll have him all to yourself! Help me get him up.”

Too focused on the sensations in his lower region, Vessel gasped in surprise when elbows were caught and he was pulled backwards, forcing his head off the mattress. III offered him a pink-tinted smile, mask lifted up to his nose.

That was the last thing Vessel’s mind registed until something very warm slid up his ribs and then enveloped one of his nipples, pulling and sucking. A mouth. III was using his mouth on him like a babe fed off their mother. How utterly revolting. But when he opened his mouth, only a whorish moan came out, spurring the others on further.

The only sounds in the room were the other men’s grunts and the wet noises of III’s mouth and II’s balls slapping against Vessel’s cunt. Vessel could feel III’s cum leak out each time II shoved inside completely, gathering viscous wetness at where they connected.

“Messy,” II complained.

III detached himself from Vessel’s chest with a wet pop. “Should’ve cleaned him first.”

“You’ll do that once I’m done.”

“Hot.” He turned to Vessel. “Can I use your mouth while we wait, love?”

Vessel’s mouth fell open when he saw the cock hovering over his face. III pressed his head to the flat of his tongue before he was sliding inside. His throat constricted around the intrusion on reflex.

Above him, III groaned from his idleness and used his hold on the sides of Vessel’s head to push him back then pull back towards each small roll of his hips. He was being careful, or trying to. The tip of the III's cock would sometimes hit the back of Vessel’s throat, causing him to gag softly. 

“So good at taking dick… Taking us both at once... We’re not the first ones, are we?”

If III meant that at II, he was ignored. Vessel could feel the drummer's focused intent in how he held him, one hand moving from his hip to his abdomen, pressing deeply, and how quickly he manoeuvred when he pulled out, changing angles until he was able to feel himself through Vessel. 

It didn’t take long for Vessel to start moaning loudly, slamming himself back into II roughly as he took III into his throat with every movement forward. One of his hands was wrapped what of III’s erection he couldn’t fit inside, the other was clinging to his thigh to support his weight. His cunt ached for more despite being stuffed. He cried out loudly around III’s cock in his throat, and he rolled his hips desperately against II to get him to move his hand from his stomach a bit downwards.

“Fuck, did that hurt him?”

IV.

Vessel stared into the direction of that voice and cried out at the sight of the younger man jerking himself off. Three, he thought, despairing. I can’t take three.

III ran the pad of his thumb underneath the hem of Vessel’s mask, catching wetness.

“Nah, Two's just giving it to him good. If you can find it, a girl's g-spot is just as good for getting her off as her clit. You knew that, love?”

Vessel gurgled around the cock in his mouth, feeling a new sting behind his eyelids. I’m not a girl… 

III pushed his cock further into Vessel’s throat, further so that it distended and Vessel’s eyes went wide under the mask. His hands reached for III’s thighs but a particularly well-timed thrust from II made his grip slip. II and III fucked him in tantrum from each end. Beneath the obscene wet noises of Vessel choking on III’s cock and II’s cock plunging into his cunt, they could all hear Vessel’s muffled moans, mmh, mmh, mmh.

“Oh, he’s mad.” III chuckled.

“Such a slut, Vessel,” II cooed, and maybe it was the way he said it or that II said it that caused a flood of cloying heat in Vessel’s lower region. “Fuck— He’s squirting! He’s getting it all over me!”

III made a noise that was more animal than man, and his dick pumped his release down Vessel’s raw throat. Vessel gagged as his body acted on instinct. It immediately knew to breathe through his nose. The musk of III’s arousal took over his senses and, for a time that felt like eternity, his whole body was light. He didn’t feel it when II released inside of him, only when the Second pulled out and all the come began to leak down his thighs. Vessel blinked up blearily between his damp-lashes, dazed, his ragged breaths rattling against his ribcage. III caressed Vessel’s cheek with the back of his finger as he slowly detached himself from Vessel’s mouth.

Vessel pushed back, removing III’s hand off his face. 

His face! Vessel’s hands sprung up to feel skin. His eyes caught his mask by III’s side. His hood had also been pulled back, and his hair had come free. Golden waves falling over his eyes.

“Whoa…” IV whispered beside him, making Vessel turn sharply. “Your eyes...”

“Kid,” II cut him off, “since you’re up, go grab some water.”

IV did as told.

“Are you mental?” II was hissing at III.

“What? Sleep’s not anal about the rules.”

“He hasn’t even been initiated!”

“He will soon. Sleep likes him.”

“And what do you know about Sleep’s wants?”

III’s eyes fell on Vessel. Vessel attempted to hide further on himself, but III pulled his hands from his face, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, right on the middle of his upper set of eyes. It was the only time that night III handled him gently. 

III pushed him against II, who needn’t be told to hold Vessel’s legs apart for III to have full access to his cunt. Like he had promised, III pushed his face between Vessel’s thighs, shaking it violently just to make Vessel go crazy from the friction of the fabric on the sensitive flesh, before he was tugging the material up just enough to reveal his mouth.

Vessel was moaning even before that tongue began to lap him up. II kissed the crown of his head and whispered sweetness onto him.

IV returned with a bottle of water, and III abruptly stopped, pulling away and leaving Vessel reeling from the denial of release, toes curling tightly.

“Ever fucked someone, kid?”

“I, uh, had a girlfriend. But we never went that far.”

III exchanged a glance with II, who chuckled. “First time for everything,” III said, then scooted back to pat the spot on the bed next to him. “Come here.”

IV did as told without second thought. II took the bottle from his hands and brought the rim to Vessel’s lips. When Vessel pressed his lips firmly shut and turned his head to the side, II let out an exasperated groan and set the bottle on the bedside table near Vessel’s jewellery.

“Is this really ok?” IV was whispering, unsure.

“Yeah, we already got him loose enough. Next time, you can be the one to prepare him." The dark peal of III’s laugh went straight to Vessel's cunt. “You won’t have to do much.”

“Ok. Ok... So what do I..?”

“Excited, are you?” IV slouched on himself, self-conscious. III’s laughter quieted down to a chuckle as he leaned over the shorter man to give him a soft peak over where his lips would be. “Just stay like this. Our glorious leader will go for a ride.”

With some help from III, IV repositioned himself against the headboard, sitting up slightly. III then beckoned Vessel over. Vessel stuck himself in place, the instinct to run locked in battle with the desire to come closer. II held him from behind, making that decision for him. Vessel followed the whim of those strong hands as II helped him get into position to straddle IV. II guided him to sit down, and III held IV’s dick against his cunt, slowly pushing it in as Vessel lowered himself.

Vessel and IV both let out a hiss.

Vessel gripped IV’s shoulders as he lowered himself, biting his lip at the intrusion. He had just been fucked throughfully, so it didn’t hurt, but it was still a strange and slightly scary feeling. II rubbed his chest with one hand, reaching down to slowly rub over his clit with the other. He held him down in a sitting position once he had sat down completely.

“Here, just wait a second until you get used to it,” II advised, continuing to stroke him lightly. He peeked around Vessel’s broad shoulders to check on IV. “You alright?”

“Yep—” IV’s voice was a squeak. His hands had flung up to Vessel’s hips, right over the imprints II had left on him. The pain was only brief, a sharp pang that rose and then got drowned out by the pleasure II was offering him.

Vessel unwinded from it. III leaned over to cup his cheek and kiss him on the tips. “Lift up those hips,” he softly commanded and Vessel must truly be out of his mind because he didn’t take commands from anyone but Sleep. He was God’s Chosen. He was...

He was a fucking mess, rolling his hips into IV, spurred on by II’s hand toying with his clit.

“Haa— Vessel. Vessel—" IV was somehow doing worse, wildly bucking his hips up into him. 

Vessel groaned and touched his abdomen, where, under layers of flesh and bone, the guitarist's cock pulsed, desperate for release. 

“That’s it, Ivy. Good boy.” II spoke over Vessel’s shoulder. His palm came down on Vessel’s behind, emitting a loud crack. Vessel choked on the moan he let out when II’s fingers pried his asscheeks apart.

“You still have that lube on you?”

III perked up. “Hm? Oh, yeah, got it in my pocket— Hey, hold on! I’m fucking his ass next! It’s the order: Pussy, mouth, ass! You take his mouth!”

“I’m fine with either so sure, I’ll indulge your virginity kink.”

II came around Vessel, cupping his cheek to get his attention. His eyes held all the warmth in the world as he told him, “I fucking love it when you cry.”

Vessel felt a pang of desperation when II stood up, but the drummer never took his eyes off him. 

IV’s nails dug painfully into Vessel’s hips as II’s cock slid into Vessel’s mouth. Vessel whined around it and rolled his hips to urge IV to fuck him hard like he had been doing. It didn’t occur to him that his pussy was no longer treating the intrusion as an unwelcomed one, just as his throat was open and welcoming, ready to be used; he was completely broken in.

“You’re so beautiful…” IV was babbling. “You feel so good… Do you feel good too? Do you like it?”

Cold fluid was poured between his ass cheeks, and then a calloused, thick finger pushed inside, coating his entrance with lube. Vessel groaned around the cock in his mouth. A breathy chuckle sounded from behind him.

“I can feel you inside him.”

“God,” II hissed, grabbing Vessel’s face to ram his cock fully down his throat. “Hurry it up.”

III rolled his finger inside before he was pushing in a second. The pleasure made Vessel lax, which made the slide much easier. III’s long fingers prodded around the untried flesh, feeling over each of IV’s thrusts, as if looking for something. They found it at the same time IV did. Vessel jerked as his g-spot was mercilessly punched by both ends, but II held his head down against the thick curls at the base of his cock. The tangy, intoxicating aroma filled Vessel’s nostrils, making his eyes roll back.

IV began to pant. “F-fuck— Three, stop d-doing—”

Warm ropes paint his insides once again and Vessel thought he came again just from the feeling of being stuffed full.

But III didn’t give any of them the decency to ride their orgasms off before he was pushing his cock into Vessel’s ass. Vessel sobbed from the overstimulation. II's warm hands were combing through his hair, stroking his cheeks, feeling up the bulge in his throat where II’s cock stretched it, and every word that fell from his lips set Vessel's skin on fire.

“Good boy… So perfect… Wish I’d done this sooner. I should’ve fucked you bloody on that night I snuck you out of that hospital.”

III leaned over his back to stuff his head into the curve of Vessel’s neck, inhaling deeply. “God, Two— He smells so fucking good. Think Sleep will keep him like this?”

“He better.”

“Threee," IV whimpered. “Don’t move yet…”

Either III wasn’t paying attention, or he just chose to ignore IV’s plea because he acted against it, resuming with the pace from before. Fast and brutal. The force of his thrusts dragging Vessel back and forth on IV’s cock. Desperate hands came up to grab Vessel’s forearms, and Vessel choked. The sudden, sharp pang of his skin being pierced by nails was undermined by overwhelming pleasure. Between the brutality which II and III fucked his mouth and ass, he could feel IV’s cock twitch back to life inside his cunt, and he spasmed around it, as if anticipating what’s to come.

It didn’t take long until the three of them all found their pace.

Slowly, Vessel began to lose the ability to feel along with any coherent thought. His body was pliant and easily manhandled into whatever position the others wanted. When he returned to his room, it was in between fugue states and for brief periods of time, and he’s never empty.

No more… Please... I can’t take anymore...

He wasn't even conscious for the moment when it finally ended. He felt a hand tuck his hair behind his ears, and something cold being pressed against his lips. He parted them without a fight but when he recognised it was water he drank the whole bottle in large desperate chugs. Some stray drops dripped down his chin, which got wiped out by a second hand.

The weight of his mask settled comfortably back on his face, and he slipped out of consciousness again.

Morning brought back the sun.

Vessel woke to the pleasant feeling of the warm beams of light. The sheet laid on top of him only offered him the dignity of being covered. The weightlessness receded and the joy of being asleep died in his chest like a doomed phoenix chick. Dead before it had the chance to fly.

It was hard not to think about the previous night when his body ached with every move he made. Biting the bullet, he lifted the sheet to inspect the state of his body.

Still the same.

The mask threatened to slip as he lifted his head further and his hands immediately flew up to catch it. The feeling of it brought him some comfort. That too, died quickly.

They had all seen it now. They had seen his face.

Vessel stretched his palms along the masks’ eye holes, covering his sight. He weighed his options. Laying in this small heaven for the rest of eternity and just pretending everything didn’t happen would only make everything worse. His life was filled with incidents like these. He needed to change. He needed to stop running and face this on. For them. For the God of dreams. For himself.

He snapped the clasps back in place before he pushed himself off the bed, carrying the sheet along. It dragged behind him like a bride’s wedding dress as he took his walk of shame. He followed the sounds of conversation and stepped into the kitchen unannounced, hushering everyone inside into silence.

He glared at each of them.

“Morning, Vess. How are you feeling?”

His glare descended on II. The sudden hostility shocked the shorter man, but he held himself strong against it. That was why Sleep had blessed His second with a body and mind strong; so he could reign in His first whenever he slipped out of control.

“Alright,” II began, pacifying. “Let’s talk. Please, sit down.”

Vessel didn’t move from his spot close to the exit.

“How long has it been since your body has changed?”

Vessel clenched his jaws.

“Three." The bassist jumped on his seat when II called. “When did the house start smelling of pheromones?”

“A little more than a week ago...”

Panic. Vessel kicked his heels over it, covered it with a flat line of his lips.

“And when did your dreams start?”

“I don’t think those dreams have anything to do with this, mate.” III laughed and rubbed the back of his head.

“When?”

IV hunched on himself where he sat across III, doing his best impression of a house decoration. 

III was looking between II and Vessel like a mouse trapped.

“Around the same time...” III finally admitted. His face pinched, wrinkling the fabric of the mask. “I didn’t think too much about it at first. My dreams have always been too vague to even remember but they have never affected me physically.” He rubbed his palms across his face, groaning into them. “And that smell on top of it— Shit, I was going mad. And when I found out it was coming from Vessel? I lost it. I don't know. I tried to fight it, just fucking ignore it, but then he started looking all sad and, shit, f-fuck” his voice broke with emotion, “I didn’t even think what I was doing was wrong! I— I’m sorry... I’m sorry. I would never hurt Vessel. I would never...”

Vessel sniffled quietly. Watching III cry so openly wounded him deeply.

“I know…” II rubbed a hand up and down III’s arm. “I never meant for it to happen either.” Despite II’s firm tone, his eyes were wet. “I don’t dream… You all know that. I also don’t have a crazy sense of smell...” He looked up at Vessel. "What I did yesterday... I assume complete responsability."

Vessel was already shaking his head.

No, no, no, it was Sleep. Sleep had controlled them all like puppets.

He couldn't have fabricated everything, the terrible voice of doubt.

II and him, for instance, had known each other before there was a Vessel I and a Vessel II. They were two men lost. An institutionalised murder convict and a nurse whose only gratification in life came from caring for others. Sleep had made them find each other knowing they were what exactly what the other needed. Vessel needed someone to care for him since he couldn't do it for himself, while II needed the excuse for freedom.

The silence stretched on with IV watching the three of them. Everyone was too caught up in their own turmoil to notice him.

“I had my first dream last night,” he said, grabbing everyone’s attention to himself. 

“After… You know.” He cleared his throat, his gaze flickering to anywhere but them. “It was a nice dream. I was by a river, I don’t know where, but it was familiar. I was walking barefoot on the sand, picking up these totems.” He looked up. “There were four of them.”

III straightened in his seat.

Vessel’s chest swelled, but he didn’t have it in him to celebrate IV’s initiation just yet. God, what terrible timing. He had to gather the necessary materials, study the right prayers. IV would also need his own separate room for rest after. Vessel was not mentally prepared for such a ritual, but he could not risk the wrath of Sleep.

Perhaps the night before had been IV’s ritual too. The process was definitely quicker than the alternative, but so much harder on all of them.

It's in times like this when he had to remember II's words; he was the leader, if he faltered, then who else would they rely on?

He walked into the room and the others took a step away like they were dealing with a wild animal. He offered IV a reassuring smile despite the nausea. Go on.

IV's eyes widened before he was pointing them to his feet. "T-There was also an altar... The totems fit onto it, but as I placed the last one, the first one… broke. Into two parts.” 

The awkward silence returned, though none of them were aware of the metaphorical dark clouds forming within Vessel, bringing the promise of a terrible storm. Another member would join them.

Vessel touched his stomach.

This was his purpose.