Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s dark backstage.
Darker than Vessel thinks it ought to be.

The small flashlights the crew uses to be able to see burn weaving trails along the floor as they rush around with their final preparations. The stark contrast of light on black makes Vessel dizzy. But he can’t stop watching the chaotic lights dance and bob along to the various strides. Like moonlight on a stormy sea. Suddenly, there are so many of them, too many blinding white lights to make sense. Crashing and cresting like the waves. Vessel senses himself walking, except it’s more like being pushed along. His limbs are heavy as if he’s wading through inky tar. Movement not of his own volition.

...Don’t resist...

The lights compel Vessel’s path.
Now smoldering like a funeral pyre.
Embers fraying up, up and away to drift into the darkness.
Vessel follows their meandering.

...It’s time...

The burning ash swarms into pairs.
Side by side.
Two by two.
They settle into the pitch black, filling it with a glow of anticipation that bleeds through Vessel’s core. It clings to him like static. Engulfs him like smoke. As he takes a deep, shuddering breath, Vessel feels the energy course through him. Heady and addicting. Choking on it.

...It’s only the beginning...

Noise erupts all around Vessel, its distorted and muffled as if underwater.
Looking out, where once were embers floating along together, are now eyes.
Watching.
Waiting.
Hundreds of them stare up at Vessel expectantly.
And he feels weighted down and submerged by it.

...Worship...

The stage is flooded in blue.
The vastness of the sea an appropriate hue for Vessel, who now floats in the abyss.
But when did he get on stage?
How long has he been here?
The crowd is cheering.
Roaring applause like thunder.
It pulls him from the deep depths of his inner world,
Clears his saturated mind,
Wringing some of the haze out like a dirty rag, which only spills his guts all over the floor at his feet.

...My vessel...

The heavy beat of the drums lulls Vessel further out of this disoriented state.

II.

Vessel turns to look over his shoulder behind him. To where II is.
Always at his back.
Always watching over him.
Their eyes meet.
Despite Vessel’s being completely hidden behind his mask,
He knows those eyes, bright like the sun-kissed ocean, find his.
They hold their gaze for an eternity.
Life times together pass by in a blink of an eye.
They find each other every time.

...My vessel...

And then the bass fills in around II’s drums.

III.

The rhythm impels Vessel just as the light had.
But now it’s to dance.
Gentle swaying turns to earnest hand gestures into wild arms and thrusting.
Then he’s prancing to and from as the heavy guitar tears in next.
A new dance partner taking the lead.
And rooting everything together.

IV.

Vessel feels III and IV next to him,
Feeds off of their own excitement and energy.
They all play off of one another so perfectly.
The music is hypnotizing him and keeping him floundering.
He can’t quite contain all of the inputs filtering through him,
And Vessel’s only outlet is to just keep moving.
Frantic from one side of the small stage to the other.
The microphone cord slithering around behind him, entrapping them all like a noose.

Collateral damage.
Yet willing cannon fodder.

...My vessel...

What song is this?
How far into the set are they?
It doesn’t matter.
Vessel is on autopilot and completely lost to the music.
It pours out of his soul as his voice carries over all of the rest.
His mouth forms the lyrics as seamlessly as a breath.
Every word that leaves Vessel’s throat sounds raw.
Angry and hurt.

...More...

Sorrowful and broken.

...More...

Resigned and vulnerable.

...More, more, more...

Bitterness and resentment and love and tenderness and fear and desires all explode from out of Vessel.
And the crowd goes wild with each crack.
The sound cuts heavy like the howling wind.
Just as demanding as Sleep.
Vessel feels himself getting blown away by the powerful gust.
Knows Sleep is seeking to regain control. It wants to soak in the praise for Itself.
Not just feed off of Vessel.
And Vessel isn’t strong enough to fight It.
He wants to.
Hates to give up being present in this moment yet again as the control ebbs and flows. But he’s still proving himself to Sleep. He hasn’t even earned his new mask yet.

...My vessel...

He stumbles around as Sleep chips away the last of Vessel’s resolve. He looks drunk, swaying as Sleep can’t quite find Its footing in Its fledgling. His vision blurs,
The stage lights streak and starburst.
Vessel can hardly see out of his mask normally, but like this, it’s all a fever dream.
Nothing seems real.
The crowd, the music, the adrenaline all fade.
Until every minute detail gets consumed by Sleep.
While Vessel slips once more into the twilight of semi-consciousness.

It’s a restless, panicked feeling. Grasping at any little spec of reality that comes blearily into focus.
A moment here.
A breath there.
It’s exhausting.
It's draining.
Exhilarating.
Sleep’s favor trembles with every exaltation from the crowd.
Its’ pleasure pulsating as Vessel mindlessly bares his soul to anyone who will listen.
Even as he relents to the darkness again.

...You’ve done well, my songbird...

By the end of the set, Vessel is clutching onto IV,
Hardly able to stand as the emotions and buzz of the crowd rush through him like a waterfall.
It’s magnificent.
But Vessel barely registers the magnitude of it in this mind-fucked state.
It all siphons through him into Sleep.
Its vessel is simply a conduit catching residual sparks in the wake of such devotional currents.

IV holds him through the turmoil.
Half drags him backstage and out of the spotlight.
Away from the praise.
Away from the gawking.
Away from the tears.
Away from one love and into another.

The real fame and fortune that Sleep has promised have yet to come. But they have only started. Only just begun touring in tiny venues to crowds of maybe hundreds, simply curious, drawn in by the masks as much as the music. But with each ritual, it grows.
Sleep demands more.
And greatness is simmering.
Boiling Vessel from the inside.
Eventually, his pot will be empty.

...Patience. Your following will come and in turn, my flock....

Once again, Vessel has given everything he can on stage, to his god and Its worshippers. Has given himself over body and mind to be a mouthpiece.
Sleep’s tool to be used as It sees fit. For Its’ desires.
And Sleep isn’t done with him just because the show is over.

Now the hunger begins.

...I’m already starving...

Vessel slips in and out of consciousness.
He’s jostled from one set of hands to another.
Sleep’s hold over him is tenuous now.
His awareness is flicking through so that Sleep can feast on his own emotions.
Hushed voices. Commanding.
Concerned.
Angry.
Resigned
Is that II?
The cloak is pulled from Vessel’s arms like a child’s favorite doll being undressed and dragged along.
Arranged and rearranged to their liking.
Posed.
Kneeling.

...Beautiful...

Fuck, he hopes it’s II.
Not another random roadie.
Not that it matters. Not that Vessel can stop anything in this state.
When his mask is pulled away, he whines his discontent at being so exposed.
His peripheries extended, but the horizon is still dark and hazy.
Vessel feels truly naked.
Laid more bare than the tugging of his pants down to his thighs to be then yanked from his ankles.
More intimate than the black socks being peeled away like a scab giving way to new flesh.

...Surrender...

Vessel hears a soft whisper in the back of his mind. It needles its way into the base of his skull, dredging through the muck of Sleep.
Determined.
A comforting balm over his frayed mind.
Yes.
It’s II.
It’s II.
It’s II.

...My vessel...

II knows his duty is to bring Vessel back from the brink of losing his grip on reality.
And appease Sleep in the process.

Vessel is voracious with lust after a successful ritual.
Or at least Sleep is. But at this point, that’s just semantics
And II feeds right into it.
A sacrifice just as much as Vessel is.
Allowing himself to be used for Sleep’s whims.

Vessel reaches out blindly for him, senses that II is close by even though everything is still nebulous.
Pleads, unknown if it’s in his mind or with his words.
Voice so hoarse inside and out.
II hears it all the same.

Small but strong hands cradle Vessel’s jaw. Holding him steady. Keeping his head aloft.
Illusion of pride through the degeneracy yet to come.
II doesn’t let the others see him like this. For now, anyway.
Vessel can already feel Sleep’s greed tugging for more. Soon, II won’t be able to quell their hunger alone.
But tonight, II is enough.

Vessel cries out so longingly.
That touch, those hands - he knows intrinsically like the beating of his own heart.
Which is currently racing.
The need wracks his bones as Sleep slurps it up, thick like marrow.
His mouth opens unprompted,
The fingers slotting around his mandible like a perfectly fitting glove.
Tense muscles turn lax and desperate for it.
It’s like Vessel needs to plug the gaping hole of his mouth lest his soul spill out from it once again.

“I know.”
...He knows...

The moment Vessel feels insistent flesh pressed against his lips, he starts kissing and licking.
Skin so soft, yet rigid. His tongue laving and slobbering blindly at every inch of warmth invading his muted senses.
It’s pathetic.
Debasing.
True worship.
And II loves every second of it. Adores Vessel pinning for him in such a delirious state.
Even if he should be appalled. He lies to himself.

...He worships me...

The careful hands at his jaw slide around to cradle the back of his head.
So gentle as II pulls Vessel closer.
Yet forces himself deeper.
A quiet suffocation that Vessel welcomes and Sleep craves.
An almighty shiver runs down Vessel’s back as Sleep feasts on the musk in his mouth.
Savors such carnal vulnerability on both ends.
Dangerous teeth pillowed by lips and tongue.
A respite for air just as the throat closes tighter with each passing second.
The push and pull,
A silent communication except for gasping breath,
Clenching fists,
Teasing tongue.
The give and give and give and give…
And take.
Ah!
Suddenly, Vessel is flooded with the warmth and salt of a sun-kissed sea.
Mouth tacky.
But Vessel swallows through it.
Taking II further, feeling his ecstasy flow deeper as it slides down his throat.
Consuming it, him, whole.
It reverberates through Vessel’s molecules just as the roar of the crowd did.
And it is just as addictive.

How much more?
“How much more?” II echoes.

Only an eternity, Vessel thinks and weeps.
Hot tears score through whatever is left of his face paint. His final, useless, mask.
They aren’t done.
Sleep isn’t done with them.
Despite II’s climax, he’s still hard and dick so far down Vessel’s throat it must be lost.
Both exhausted but unsatisfied.
Unfulfilled.

Fisting the nape of Vessel’s neck, II drags him off more so than pulling himself out as the other is latched on like a leech.
Sucking him dry.

“II…II, I need more, II, please…” Vessel’s voice is a withered thing as Sleep coaxes more desire from him.
The arousal is still so strong that he thinks he’s drowning in it.
Thinks it will never be satiated.

...More...

“I know.”
...He knows...

Vessel feels himself lulled around, once again. Pushed to and from like nothing more than a puppet.

Face down.
Hips propped up for the taking,
Held and prostrated as a sacrifice on this altar of pillows.
A little lamb to the slaughter, ready to bleed red all over the sheets for a shot at glory.
Anointed with oil.
Those fingers inspecting his flesh for purity.
Needling inside.
Probing.
Readying.
Until he’s found worthy for the taking.

“Please, II…”

Bright pain leads to so much pressure, which gives way to the euphoria of a cosmic coming together.
The magnitude of their union is indescribable.
Penetrating.
All part of Sleep’s mind games, Its’ power.
It doesn’t matter. Right now, it’s their reality.
And II and Vessel jump headfirst off the precipice beyond understanding together.
And wade at the shores of oblivion.

...My vessels...

They write and then rewrite the script.
Collide into each other like stars merging into a final, brilliant destruction.
Undulating truly as one for even just a few precious moments.
Before the black hole that is Sleep drags the remnants all away.
Dismantling the pleasure from the brine for It’s own amusement.
Then spits it back out whole on the other side.

A little death.
Then whimpering rebirth.
And then death again.
Over and over, the cycle repeats.

...Give everything to me...

Hips dance in time to the rhythm that II creates with his body alone.
Heartbeat,
Thrust,
Heartbeat,
Thrust.
The very beat that Vessel will follow forever,
No matter the cost.
The perfect guide for Sleep’s muse.
Trudging along until they fall apart,
II diligently picking up the pieces to start again.
Until Sleep is satisfied.

Each new encounter pulls Vessel a bit more back to himself.
Sleep’s stranglehold is easing as even a god has Its’ limits of self-indulgence.
Until he can just start to claw back to reality.
Slowly, the concept of his lover turns corporeal.
Instead of the weightlessness of Sleep’s dreamscape,
Vessel feels II’s body pressed against his back.
His chest heaving with each heavy fuck after going at it so long.
So goddamn long.
Exhaustion screams through every fiber of II’s being.
His silent suffering wrecking of I love you's.

...My glorious vessels...

Slick sweat prevents their skin from rubbing raw as II continues to pound into Vessel.
His cock aches and balls throb and II has entirely lost count of the number of times he’s cum inside of Vessel.
Far too many to be real or believable.
The mess between them is telling, though. Sleep’s desires have been relentless tonight.
But finally, II feels Vessel’s limp body start to twitch and react beneath the claws of his fingertips.
A real response that’s not just in their minds.
The fog is starting to lift.

Vessel tries to turn his head, needing the see II,
Needs to see his beautiful face so badly,
But he cries out as the teeth latched onto his neck protest any movement.
Pinned to the bed by the scruff like a mongrel.
The little beast on top is always stronger despite Vessel’s size.

...Such willpower...

Overstimulated is an understatement.
But II keeps fucking Vessel until consciousness seeps back in.
Blinding like the first rays of dawn after an endless night.
Until every thrust brings out those sweet cries,
Every brush of contact is wonderful agony.
One final release, granting II deliverance from his constant state of arousal.
Such softness is a coveted thing in this moment for each.
The stud, no longer of need.
Favor received.

...Your new mask has been well earned...

Every ounce of pleasure, love, loyalty, devotion,
Used up.
Garnered and displayed
Until Sleep’s rein falls dormant.
And Vessel is wrung dry.
A true sleep finds him swiftly.

Once again, II is left to pick up the pieces.

It seems forever since Vessel has been this relaxed.
Languid and peacefully slow to rouse. He feels so much warmth all around him,
Engulfing.
Thinks it must be II, His strong arms. Until it gets everywhere
In every crevice
And sloshes against him.

As Vessel begins to wake, he realizes he’s in a bath.
Tentatively, the surroundings become familiar.
And the low light casts soothing shadows of home.
Billowing steam rises from the water, giving off a dreamy effect that Vessel doesn’t quite trust yet.
But it opens his sinuses, still puffy from crying on and off the stage.
He slinks down deeper, feeling the water wash over his shoulders and neck and wetting his hairline,
Subduing the ache that builds rapidly with awareness.

Muffled voices catch Vessel’s attention.
They grow louder and more recognizable.
Sounding heated now just on the other side of the partially opened bathroom door.

[[[ “II, let us help next time, you look like a fuckin’ wreck. Worse off than Vess. It’s getting too hard for you to do this alone.”

“No. And thank you.”

“II, darlin’...”

“I can handle it, III. I don’t want either of you involved.”

“Involved!”

“Just keep Ivy away and occupied for the night, okay. He’s already seen too much. We’ll talk about this later.” ]]]

With III’s curse of ‘stubborn lil’ shit’ ringing in his ears, II slips into the bathroom and quickly shuts the door behind him, leaning back against it with a heavy sigh as if he thinks III will barge in after and this will stop him in any way. But he doesn’t. And an even deeper sigh leaves II lips. Resigned and maybe a bit disappointed.

Bright blue eyes stare at II from over the rim of the porcelain bathtub. Relief floods his gut when II sees Vessel is fully coming back to his senses. Regaining his control. And so quickly. II stepped out for only a moment to intercept III before he could demand his way back into the bathroom. But those piercing eyes quickly cloud with worry after one glance at him. II must really be in shit shape this time.

Before Vessel can comment, II explains, “III was just helping me get you into the bath.” He’s walking closer and Vessel now sees the glass of ice water II nabbed from III, the condensation already dripping profusely in the sauna that has become their bathroom.

“...II,” Is all Vessel gets out before a sharp pain bursts at the corner of his mouth, making him hiss as a trickle of blood runs down his chin to mingle with the bathwater.

II is at his side in an instant, kneeling next to the tub. “Shh, you split your lip again. You are always too eager,” II gently chastises as he wipes the blood away with his thumb before fishing out an ice cube to press against the corner of Vessel’s mouth. Vessel tongues at it, more to get a taste of II’s fingertips than welcoming the numbing cold that quells the dull pain. It is benign compared to his need for II’s grounding presence right now as he continues to untangle from Sleep's hold. Or as much as he’s able to these days. Vessel is just happy to feel anything at all beyond the ache of his loins and a rushing head.

Dragging the ice cube from Vessel’s lips, II slides it down his jaw and to his neck, where he only now feels the throbbing left from II’s teeth. Vessel gasps as the cold presses into the vicious mark. A deeper claim than either of them can ever remember II leaving before. Guilt bubbles up inside of II as he watches the ice melt away so quickly in the hot water to only leave such angry purple and red in its wake. II runs his finger over the jagged indents, thankful no skin was broken. Instead of shying away, Vessel presses his neck further into the touch, silently letting II know it’s okay.

He doesn’t mind.
In fact, he likes it.

II makes Vessel drink all of the water, which burns extra cold running through his system while his body is blissfully submerged in the hot bath. It's a shock that helps pull Vessel even further back into reality and the present. Mind clearing, though his body weakens in the aftermath. But Vessel knows it’s nothing compared to the toll II has taken tonight.

“We can’t keep doing this, my love.”

“I know,” II puts the glass now half full of ice down next to his bare knees on the tile floor.

Vessel sinks further beneath the water again, so just his face is surfaced, hair fanning out around him like seaweed. “Sleep wants more. You can’t give any more of yourself. I am already too much of a burden.”

“You are not a burden,” II replies instantly. Adamantly.

...My vessel is a heavy burden...

“We can’t do this alone anymore,” Vessel continues.

“I said I know!” II yells and then slumps down half on top of Vessel in the bath. Water splashes everywhere and soaks the front of him. But II doesn’t care, the last of his own energy is comply shot. “...I know, love.”

He thinks he’s failed.

...Far from it...

Vessel slings a wet arm over II’s back, it’s all the solace he can manage right now in his weary body. “They are willing.”

“They don’t know what they are getting into,” II says, half gurgling where his face is pressed against Vessel’s throat, bobbing in the unsettled water.

Vessel reiterates, “III and IV are willing. You aren’t as good at hiding things as you think you are.”

II doesn’t refute this, instead, he awkwardly climbs fully into the tub with Vessel, in just his underwear. The scented and steaming water does wonders for his own aching body. They spoon together, hardly fitting in the small space, dumping water to the bathroom floor with each tiny movement. But they make due, needing and only thriving when they are this close. Symbiotic. And II kisses more silent apologies into the teeth marks embossed on Vessel’s neck.

The water turns cold before either speaks again.
II covered in goosebumps.
Vessel shivering.
They relish the truth of reality that this brings them.

“Sleep says I have earned my new mask. Our following continues to grow. We are so close to achieving our dreams, my love. It’s just a little more,” Vessel announces to the bathroom ceiling.

“Will it ever be enough?” II counters.

...No...

“Soon, yes. I promise, II.”

“Okay.”