Hot bubbling water cascaded around each one of the males, each fairly drunk to their own measure.
The youngest of the group tried desperately to stare straight ahead, the large flat screen playing a documentary on the civil war that somehow Murderface had convinced them to watch. His focus was constantly being broken, a pale hand running it's long fingers against the inside of his thigh, always getting close enough for tension but never close enough.
The Swede by his side was grinning to himself deviously, watching Toki squirm beside him, at some points trying to shoo his hand away and other times trying to lead it to his member, but always failing as Skwisgaard hand was much more resistant and a scene could not be made in front of the other men.
They all stayed in silence, the only noise being an echo that was being pronounced by the documentary. It was then broken by the oldest of them, Pickles the Drummer. He slowly rose from the hot tub, grabbing a towel with razor sharp speed to conceal his bare lower half (clothes were banned in the Jacuzzi).
"Well, not that this ain't fun, but if I see one more hairy ass man get shot in the leg I'm gonna scream like-a goat." He slurred, a long island ice tea still gripped in his hand as his legs dripped against the tile, making his way to his own quarters.
"Pickles is right. This shit isn't brutal; they never even die from the shots, just stupid jackoff doctors. And no headshots. Fuck that." The burly lead added, also emerging from the steaming bowl of water the remaining four (now three) relaxed in. His skill with hiding his body quickly with the towel was much less perfected than the previous red-head, everyone being revealed to the heavy member of Nathan Explosion.
"Gah, puts it away Nathans!" the blonde quickly gasped, shielding his eye with his free hand. The lead only grunted, not caring much that the three saw it in such stupid circumstances.
"Yeah. Fuck off." He said, trudging away, the same way Pickles went, which led to his own quarters as well.
Murderface began to get angry, stabbing the floor beside him with a knife he always seemed to have handy.
"Fuckin' aschholes, don't know schit 'bout history." He mumbled, eyes still intent on the screen, which now showed a (apparently) very distinguished professor talking on Abraham Lincoln.
"Pfft, fucks da government." Skwisgaard huffed at the tv, having always disapproved of it all, being the strict anarchist he is.
His hand that had been on his lovers thigh removed itself, causing Toki to look at his fellow guitarist in questioning, watching as he was quickly winked at.
"I agrees wit da guys, dis sucks balls. Comes on Tokis, I shows you new guitars arranges-ment for new album." The Swede said to Murderface, wrapping himself up in a fluffy black towel, handing Toki one.
They both walked away from the fuming bass player, him yelling something on the Civil War being "more important than their dildo guitar bullschit".
As soon as they entered the long, empty, hallway Skwisgaard pushed the younger man to the nearest wall, his tongue slipping into Toki's mouth as their mouths met.
The rhythm guitarist laughed into his lover's breath, kissing back hard and passionate, rubbing his groin up against the other Nord, his hard-on already prominent from the constant teasing in the hot tub.
He quietly moaned the name of his partner, the long hallway prone to echoes. As he did a door was creaking open, Pickles striding out of his room, still only in a towel.
Skwisgaard was much faster at reacting than the panicked Norwegian, throwing them both into closet only a few steps away that was used to house a large supply of cleaning supplies (all of the men being complete slobs).
"Wowee…" Toki whispered, though the blonde quickly smothered his mouth with a pale hand.
Footsteps were heard by the slurred mumbling of the drummer,
"Doodily doo…ding dong…doodily doodily doo…" he hummed, but suddenly stopped. More footsteps were heard, this time heavier, and a slamming noise.
The more sensitive Toki jumped at the noise, though Skwisgaard just raised an inquisitive eyebrow. What were those dildos doing?
Muffled noises were heard outside the door and to both the Scandinavians surprise light flooded into the small room as both Nathan and Pickles pulled in, lip locked and moaning quietly.
"What in the fucking names of Odin?" Skwisgaard cried, all the men packed into the room panicked and confused.
Nathan looked the most embarrassed, but Pickles was turning red against his usually Irish-American skin.
"Oh. Uh. Hey guys." He tried, looking at both Toki and Skwisgaard. Then both his eyebrows raised, realising he and his partner were not the only ones being outted at that moment.
"God fucking dammit." Nathan sighed, everything colliding into a very awkward situation.