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Nothing came quite as easy to him as, “Yes, master.”
Actually, nothing came quite so easy to him as bratting, but that was just who Tucker was—that was, essentially, his whole personality. Tucker would be a brat regardless of the circumstances, no matter where he was or who was present.
At least, that was how he had been before the band decided to part ways. These were people he had known since he was still a teenager, so nobody expected him to be anything but…well, himself. Of course, some people took it upon themselves to reign in his behaviour, but it was still an expectation that Tucker would behave like a brat. And then the band decided to call it quits, and suddenly Tucker was surrounding himself with different people—people who didn’t know him as well, who didn’t know what he needed.
Because, if Tucker was bratting, there was a reason. He needed someone to reign him in, and suddenly, he was without them—without Tim.
At least, without Tim on tour. They did get to see each other at times. Sometimes.
Not enough.
Tucker missed his bandmates, but he joined new bands – both as an official member and a touring musician – and made new bandmates. None of them were quite the same, but he learned how to be more than just Tucker from Thursday—he learned how to be Tucker the professional musician, and, well, that was an accomplishment all on its own. But it didn’t stop him from missing the thing – the people – that made him feel like him.
And, when he was on tour and starting to feel a little antsy, he especially missed not having Tim there to tie him up, to spank him, to make him kneel—to remind Tucker of who he was, where he belonged, who he belonged to.
Some of them tried. He trusted Justin well enough. He even asked Eric once or twice. But the fact remained that none of them were Tim.
None of them were his master.
The few times he did get to see Tim throughout the year were…different. After having spent over a decade of their life in one another’s business constantly – from the van to the bus to the hotel rooms – it was like navigating new territory to come home from a tour without Tim and find the words to tell the bassist what he needed. They never had to use words before—Tucker would tell anyone who asked how intuitive a bassist Tim was, how he always knew exactly what to do, and that extended to Tucker outside of just his kit. Now…
Words were hard, and while Tim would always have that undeniable intuition, Tucker had grown during the breakup.
No one was happier than Tucker when the band reunited. There was an agreement between them – they would reunite temporarily to play some shows for a few years, and then part ways again – but they were nonetheless reunited. They were together again.
And, suddenly, Tucker could curl up with Tim on the bus again. As if nothing had changed.
But it had.
No longer did Tucker know how to communicate with Tim exactly what he needed, especially when he didn’t quite know himself what he needed. He could be cuddling against the bassist and begging, “please, master,” without knowing what he was even asking—and when Tim attempted to clarify, Tucker would be at a loss. Tim wanted him to use his words, which was something Tucker never had to do before. It was…difficult.
Which is why, when Tim would finally give Tucker a command, nothing came quite as easy to him as sliding to his knees and saying, “Yes, master,” as the other man stroked a hand through his hair, smiling down at his obedient slave.
Tucker felt good – Tucker felt proud – to have that smile directed at him. He felt like things were slotting back into place for the two of them.
“Do you want my cock, baby?”
Tucker knew not to look too eager as he nodded, but he was—he did.
And, look, a spanking would do very well to calm Tucker when he was feeling antsy, but slut that he was, Tim’s cock was a good alternative—aside from the fact that he simply liked cock, it would give him something to focus on, something to distract his brain.
So, he opened his mouth and accepted the treat as it was presented to him, lavishing in the sounds he could pull from the other man. Tim was often very composed, in control – Geoff might say “solid” or “reasonable” – so he didn’t give much away in any sexual situation, especially when he was attempting to maintain his role as master. However, Tucker was good at what he did, so even the most composed dom would be reduced to moans, at the very least, when the drummer got his mouth on them. And when Tim ripped Tucker’s head off his cock and coated his face…
Well, Tucker could resist saying, “Thank you, master,” as he licked his lips to savour the taste of Tim on his tongue.
“Do you want to come, too?” the bassist asked next.
The question baffled Tucker, because he was…the slave—whether or not he gets to come should not be up to him, but up to his master to decide. Of course he wanted to, but the feeling of being given the choice left him a little unsettled.
Something must have shown on his face as Tim’s brows furrowed above him. “It’s a simple question, Tucker. If you don’t want that, you can tell me.”
But could he? Tucker genuinely did not know what he was allowed to think, say, do in this situation—he had always been told what to do, never had to rely on his own intuition, which, compared to Tim’s, sucked. He needed his master to guide him, to instruct him, to take the process of thinking away from him and let him be mindless—had they really been out of the routine so long that Tim had forgotten that?
Maybe he would drift into mindlessness if he came, though.
“Please,” he finally said, nodding, but still not quite feeling confident about his answer. It felt weird to feel so…off.
Even more surprising that the way he felt – that wasn’t too surprising at all, considering he had been experiencing that unease for some time – was the way Tim helped Tucker back to his feet and reversed their positions, dropping down to his own knees before the drummer. It wasn’t the first time Tim had given him a blowjob, and it would surely not be the last, but there was something about looking down at him, seeing the man on his knees, that made Tucker’s breath hitch—and not just because Tim’s mouth was on him.
He sometimes wondered what it would be like for their positions to be reversed in more than just the physical sense—how he might feel if he was the one in charge, if Tucker was the one calling the shots. He wondered if that might make him feel more…steady. Confident.
Tim sucked like he did everything else—intuitively, as though he could taste Tucker’s innermost desires from the leaking head beneath his tongue.
Perhaps he could.
And, when Tucker shuddered, coming in a rush within the bassist’s mouth, Tim swallowed every last drop, never looking away from the drummer’s eyes. It was…everything he could have asked for, everything Tucker needed in that moment.
“Do you feel better, baby?” the bassist asked from where he knelt, barely a hair out of place on his head—how could Tim look so composed after having just sucked his cock? Tucker nodded as the other man – his master – returned to his feet, placing his hands on Tucker’s shoulders as he leaned in to give him a kiss on the forehead. It was so tender…that was another thing that changed after the breakup.
Not that Tim had never been tender with him before, but Tucker could tell he wasn’t the only one who missed the other’s company.
“My good slave,” the bassist muttered, voice filled with something akin to…
Something. He wasn’t sure what.
Someday, perhaps someone would knock him on the head and wonder how he couldn’t see it then, how he couldn’t pick up on it for the near twenty years that they had known each other—perhaps even more by then. Someday, perhaps Tucker would finally understand what it was that drew him to the other man, that made him want to obey him, to hand over every piece of himself, and to trust Tim to take care of him. Someday, perhaps he would understand why Tim wanted to take care of him in the first place.
For now, though, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to feel confident, assured, like he had control over his life…or someone else. Someday, he might even have the opportunity to find out.
Someday.