follow me on @starmanskywalker if you're into star wars and +18!

“It’s the fourth time this week you bring Graham here, c’mon.” Damon tries not to sound annoyed, but it was really hard not to notice the bitter tone in his voice.

“Why are you so annoyed by his visits lately? What’s gotten into you? He’s your best friend!” You answer, completely confused by his tone.

“Nothing,” he grumbles, grabbing his chinese takeout and leaving you alone in your shared apartment’s kitchen, brows furrowed. You’re dumbfounded.

What the hell is wrong with him? You follow your grumpy roommate to the living room. You position yourself in front of the TV, obstructing his vision with your arms crossed.

“Give me a decent answer, Albarn. This has gone on long enough.”

If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under by now. “I already see him all day, everyday. That’s it. I wanna forget a bit about my job when I come home.”

“You can’t stop talking about Blur whenever you’re here. You only act like that when Graham’s around nowadays. Have you argued again?”

“We haven’t. He’s still my best friend. Now may I please keep on watching TV?” It wasn’t really a question.

“Damon, I need to know what’s happening.”

“I already told you. Nothing is happening. You do what’s better for you.”

Oh. With that simple sentence, you got it.

It can’t be. It can’t be.

The gears in your head visibly turn as he rolls his eyes. “Are you... jealous of Graham?” The hypothesis is so absurd you can’t even believe it’s coming out of your mouth. You expect a burst of laughter, or even a reprimand for saying something as silly as that. But instead, you receive blushing cheeks from the proudest person you know and his eyes averting yours, ashamed.

Oh man.

-

You know these unlikely friendships that endure the test of time? An ex-boyfriend of an aunt that becomes part of the family, two people that are complete opposites and still become best friends?

You first met the blond-haired brat when he tried to get into the studio you used to work at. It was already too late for new bookings, you said. We are overflowing with them, you said. Our first concert is tomorrow and our studio’s flooded, he said. You have to do it for us, he said.

He tried to steal the keys from you. He tried to bribe you with money. Drugs. But you wouldn’t budge.

Truth was - if you wanted to, really, really wanted to, you could find a slot for them. But Damon was insufferable. You were determined to win this battle of wits. If he was insistent, you would be a wall of impenetrable steel. It became personal.

In short, after almost an hour of intense negotiations, Graham, his brown-haired shy friend, was the one who ended up convincing you. You were sad you ended up giving Damon an indirect victory, but Graham, sadly, was too adorable and too diplomatic for you not to. Dave and Alex had their fair share of credits too, but Graham was crucial to your decision making.

A few years have passed. Through a series of coincidences and some incredible events in your life, you ended up becoming the manager of one of the bands that visited the studio where you used to work at - and that had as one of its contemporaries the band formed by the same stubborn boys, whose group was now called Blur and had considerable success as well. The reunion was inevitable: countless festivals and TV shows usually booked both bands, so as some of the hottest names from the Britpop scene you would eventually see each other again.

And you did.

Both Blur and the band you managed got a slot on the soundtrack of one of Britain’s hottest movies of the year. Naturally, both bands were in the wild release afterparty. While you already expected to see them again, you didn’t expect Damon Albarn remembering who you were when a mutual friend presents you to him. “No way!” he exclaims, genuinely surprised. “You’re (B/N)’s manager?”

“Do you remember me?”

“Of course. It makes sense, though. Dictatorial profiles do make excellent band managers.” He notes with a snarky smile while he lights up a cigarette. You huff, rolling your eyes at his remark, a slight annoyed smile escaping from your lips. He didn’t change a bit, except for his slightly more mature features.

“If I was truly dictatorial, Damon, you wouldn’t rehearse that day. If it wasn’t for your friends though...”

“So you know each other already?” Your friend asks both of you.

“One night, years ago, back when Blur was Seymour and I still worked on Hodges’s studio, Damon annoyed me until I ended up opening a slot for him and his friends to rehearse there for three hours. Actually, the only reason I yielded was because his nicer friend was way better at negotiating. His guitarist." You answer, pretending he wasn’t even there until you ask him: “Did the show at least go well? Did that bloody rehearsal make a difference?”

“Yes, it did make a difference, thank you very much. If you’re as tough as you were that day in every aspect of your business making, (B/N) will either become the new Beatles or a very temporary fad.” He notes, never losing his naughtiness.

“Bold of you to put yourself in the position to determine anything, given you’ve lost your spot to us twice this month on the charts. Dictatorial profiles do make excellent band managers.” You bite back, downing yet another glass of expensive champagne. It seems like you were made to play this constant game of cat and mouse. “But I’m glad things are working well for you, Mr. Albarn. It’s nice to see you again, you haven’t changed a bit.”

“You haven’t changed either, Y/N.” He answers, disconcerted and amused by your wit. It was about time someone put him in his place - but you knew this wasn’t over yet.

-

You’re tipsy enough when he approaches you, now by himself, while you’re stargazing in one of the immense balconies of the venue, a whisky on his hand and his pupils wide. The moonlight suits him.

“So, how did you get the job?” His voice is even lower now. You’ve found it amusing back then and you still do - how can someone look so angelic and have such a demonic personality and voice?

“Lots of things happened at the same time and they eventually noticed I was the most appropriate person to do it. I learned a lot from my mum and dad, who worked in the industry. Gave (B/N) a few valuable pieces of advice, and half of the band were already close friends of mine too. I’m really good at what I do and they’re really good at what they do. Everything clicked.”

“I see. Now - you’re not asking me about what happened to us after that fateful day?”

“My God.” You scratch your eyes, impatiently. “I read a lot about your story already. And I don’t even mean it in a bitter way, really. You know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“You see me as an enemy? You’re breaking my heart.” He jocosely places his hand on his heart, faking an expression of pain.

“Business talk, brat.” You playfully elbow him. “I can assure you Chris Morrison sees (B/N) the same way and knows all there is to know about us. It’s our job.”

“I understand, ma’am.”

“But yeah. Blur’s really good. There are certainly bands with more balls than you guys, but,” you mock. “Modern Life Is Rubbish was really something. So was Parklife. Couldn't stop playing them.”

“Thank you. Compliment taken.”

“You’re not telling me the band I work for is great?” You imitate his tone, he gives you a stare. You finally look him in the eye. “See how bratty you sound?”

“You’re quite something, aren’t you?”

-

Nothing really romantic came out of your one-night stand that night. He knew how to push your buttons in more ways than one, but both of you weren’t exactly interested in a relationship. You kept in touch because of your mutual connections and interests, and against all odds, you became close friends. You respected each other’s relationships, lend a shoulder to cry on and/or a bed to sleep on when necessary. When he decided to move from his old apartment, you were already looking for a place too, so you both thought why not?

You both had very similar lifestyles - people often deduced you were a couple by how you lived. You were so used to denying it categorically to jealous partners and other friends, you both started to profoundly believe you weren’t meant to be together in that way.

Not even when you felt your stomach drop at the usual sight of him bringing another woman or man home, not even when you felt sort of relieved when he told you his fling with his latest lady was just a fling and meant nothing to him. Not even when he started noticing you were starting to become closer to Graham and felt something bitter grow inside him whenever he saw you with his best friend.

It was complicated. But it worked really well, so it was okay.

Until it wasn’t.

-

“Fuck.” Is the only thing that comes out of your mouth after his silent confirmation. The energy in the room is tense as he tries to leave the room but you won’t let him. “How is this fling with him any different from the ones I’ve had before?”

He’s so reluctant to answer, looking anywhere but your eyes, but it comes out anyway. “Because I think this one will last.”

“Oh.” You’re equally shocked and glad to hear that. “And how did you come to this conclusion?”

“It doesn’t matter. You do whatever you want to do - fuck in front of me if you want to. Sorry to bother you. Now please let me leave.”

He sounds truly hurt. But what the hell he expects from you? From Graham?

What do you owe to each other?

“I can’t believe I even brought that up,” he continues. “We don’t owe each other anything but rent.” He says, as if reading your mind. You let him go, but not before asking: “Will you keep looking at him weird whenever he comes here?”

“I looked at him weird?” He asks back.

“You did. I don’t want to be the one to blame if your friendship ends.”

He chuckles, an empty, soft laughter; eyes still downcast and his tone mellow. “I love him too much to let him go. Bring him tomorrow if you want. Whenever you want. I don’t care - I just want both of you to be happy.”

Now wait--

before you could probe him further for answers, he closes the door.

Tomorrow’s party is going to be a blast.

-

Because I think this one will last.

I want both of you to be happy.

I love him too much to let him go.

You barely slept that night, replaying that conversation thousands of times in your head. Out of a sudden, you weren’t sure of anything anymore. Perhaps he was jealous of Graham, but maybe of you as well this time.

You were never really sure of the dynamics of their friendship. You have a slight suspicion they’ve shagged in the past, but that’s something you never had the courage to ask either of them. And you were pretty open with each other about everything, the three of you. Guess you’ve finally found a topic you were not too comfortable to discuss.

Graham’s not clueless about the situation and even though you assured him everything would be okay if he came to the party you were hosting at your (and Damon’s) apartment the next day, you’ve been noticing he’s working hard on creating excuses not to go. Luckily enough, he’s an awful liar in the same way you’re incredibly persuasive when you want to, so things couldn’t go any other way than yours on that fateful night. You and Graham down some shots on the way to your place to ease your nerves.

Damon’s already being the life of the party when you finally manage to bring Graham to your apartment. The moment his eyes cross yours, and he sees Graham’s arm around your back, you feel like you turned on a switch on his brain. He immediately redirects your attention to you.

“If it ain't the couple of the century!” His smile was wide and inviting, somehow? The inner machinations of Damon Albarn’s mind are an enigma. “I’m so happy you came, Gra.”

You and Graham share a look. He’s up to something, but you don’t openly acknowledge it. Instead, you choose to dance to the beat of his drums. “Took me a while to convince him, but we made it. Having fun already?”

“A party isn’t a party without you, but I’m making do with what I have. Why don’t you make yourselves comfortable?” He asks, handing one pill of ecstasy to each of you. “This one’s special.”

Graham squints his eyes, a slight smile crossing his lips while he closely inspecting the pill. “Special?”

“Yeah. Take it, then tell me if you feel anything different than usual.”

As every other sensible person would do, you do as you’re told. So does Graham. Instantly, a pleasant, sweet flavor fills your mouth. You might have held out hope that it was the usual thing were it not for the spreading tingling across your tongue and lips.

You blow a kiss in Damon’s direction and start striding through the crowded, rowdy party, Graham’s hand not leaving yours as the tingling trickled its way down your throat and the intense colorful lights reflected all over your sparkly dress.

For every step you took, something new set in. The subtle nebulousness of your thoughts, an increase in body temperature, the most bizarre desire to stroke the skin of your cheek for a while. You move towards the kitchen, feeling your mouth quickly dry up. You desperately needed some water.

A few greetings and chatters later, reaching the fridge, you down two bottles of water like you’ve spent a weekend in the desert - it’s primal, the way the water drops run down your throat. Graham looks like he’s lost in a haze for a bit.

You snap your fingers in front of him, offering him another bottle. “You okay, love?”

“Y-yeah. I’m okay.” He says, struggling a bit. “Have you noticed?”

“Noticed what?”

“How many people are fucking - or near it - around here.” he notes with a vague gesture, voice just slightly slurred. The anxiety, the euphoria, the arousal. It was all coming to a head. You pressed your lips together as you stifled a whine. It was quite clear exactly what the intended effects of this drug were.

“God, is this supposed to make people horny, then? Damon is so predictable sometimes.” You sigh, a bit frustrated by your conclusion. “Everyone took it. It’s gonna be hell to clean.” You notice Graham’s trying his best not to pant. Sweat prickled on your temple and cooled on the back of your neck. “Will we be able to hold it together for a bit? I want to enjoy the party a little more, I spent so much on it.”

“Sure. I’m grabbing some more to drink.”

“Me too. The coldest thing we have.”

You grab some more alcohol, and before you could raise your glass in a toast, he draped his arms around your frame, pulling you closer to him. You loved him so, so much. He was even prettier up close - no drug could enhance the already gigantic attraction and adoration you harbored for him.

You invite Graham to hit the improvised dance floor with you. You already knew the answer, knowing he wasn’t a dancer, but it never hurt to try.

“Okay. I’ll dance with you tonight.” A very pleasant surprise. His voice is raspy - his eyes hungry. He realized how deep you were breathing. How lazily your eyelids hovered. His weren’t so different.

“No wandering hands,” you whisper before he could move his hand further down your waist. “Just dancing.”

“Just dancing.” He lifts his hand in a pinky promise, and you kiss, your tongues still sweet with spice.

Of course it ends up getting a little longer and hotter than expected given how effective this goddamn pill was. Your body was desperate for contact, and you wanted to oblige to its wishes and Graham’s mouth was so addictive, but you also wanted the night to last longer. Alcohol usually left you sleepier, so you knew that once you’ve shagged, you were done for. Even with the ecstasy.

Coxon loudly whines when you break the kiss. You giggle. “C’mon. It’ll be worth the wait. These things last in our system.”

“I’m trusting you.”

He follows you to the dance floor, movements careful while you danced your heat away. Graham takes turns looking at you and at Damon, whose eyes lay upon you and Coxon from the other side of the room with a heaviness he'd seen before.

Both in jealousy and in desire.

It’s the pill talking, without a doubt - but Damon looks heavenly, even if his intentions aren't as pure. He looks like he's an otherworldly being in the middle of mere mortals - just like you do. Graham's more than happy to just call Damon a friend nowadays though, so he tries to push these thoughts to the back of his mind.

-

An hour or so later, you’re exhausted from the dancing, singing and the additional drinking sponsored by the friends who wanted you to try this drink, then that one, then the other one. The reason you didn’t last longer was because that pill was taking its sweet toll on your body too - it craved contact. No water, no sweating, no anything would stop that burning inside of you if the main purpose it was crafted for wasn’t fulfilled: fucking. Graham also desperately needed relief.

“Hey, Y/N!” Damon beckoned you. “Someone’s on the phone wanting to talk to you.”

“No way.” You answer, hoping your panting could only be associated with how tired you were. “Tell them to call me later.”

“It’s serious fucking business, apparently.”

“Are there people in my room? Who answered it?”

“No, I heard it ring from outside. I answered it.”

Your vision was spinning from how drunk and generally fucked up you were. Everyone was, including your messenger. You pull yourself together just enough, and you’re surprised at how fluid and imposing your walk to your bedroom is, given your current state, but work is work. Graham and Damon follow you for some reason.

“Yes? Y/N here.” You answer the phone, lying in your bed hoping your vision would still. Damon sits on a chair across the room, Graham lies by your side.

No fucking way this son of a bitch on the other side of the line wanted to discuss a contract with you at this specific hour. But it was indeed unavoidable. “Not at all. Don’t worry, you’re not bothering me. Go on,” you say, trying to hide the frustration in your voice.

The recording company businessman on the line, Samuel, went on and on about an specific clause on a recently offered marketing contract that could fuck your band over. You try your best to focus 100% on what he was saying. You thought Graham was already sleeping, but then his hands start lightly caressing your leg. He did that every time you were dealing with serious business near him. He was so attracted to that no-bullshit, commanding side of yours. “I do understand how that could be damaging to us.” You answer. Damon’s watching the scene absentmindedly. A thought consisting of what is he even doing here? briefly crossed your mind, but you let it go. The situation is already complex as it is.

“No. I never considered instructing them to sign it without your consent first.” You roll your eyes at Damon while talking to the man on the phone, conveying your annoyance at being bothered at such an unfortunate hour. Damon cockishly smiles at the scene. “I would never be that reckless, you know I’m not that kind of manager”, you say.

You could notice Graham’s hands becoming more adventurous by the minute as the conversation goes on, dextrous fingers reaching further and further up your thigh as they unpretentiously come and go. You adjust your position on the bed a little more and you give him the green light to go all the way with a desperate look and a little nod. Damon’s eyes overanalyze every lingering glance and every movement you two make: you’re about to put on a show for him while he had a very privileged vision of your bodies. “I haven’t told them anything different than you already did. Anyone who told you a different story is lying.” You assured Samuel on the phone as Graham turns his body towards you, his impatient hand lifting the flimsy, shiny pink dress you wore in order to reach that also impatient part of you.

Damon’s dumbfounded at how your face somewhat betrays you when Graham touches (and teases) you without taking your underwear off, but your voice is unwavering. Not even the substances, not even Graham’s skillful ministrations and silent, small kisses on your neck could take the professionalism out of you. Albarn wonders if you’ve ever done this kind of thing before. (No way you haven’t.)

His heart threatens to burst out of his chest at any given moment.

“I can assure you that. I’ve talked to five of our lawyers, we’re going to sort this all out. And we’re gonna get that money in the end.” After getting you properly wet, Graham swiftly slips two fingers past the edge of your panties without taking them off and you suppress a gasp against your hand, that is tightly shutting your lips so the man you were talking with wouldn’t listen. This is a sight Damon Albarn won’t ever forget. “Yes. Th-they offered the deal last Thursday, the files are in Sabina’s office if you want to take a look.” You motion at Graham to be less enthusiastic so you can keep your composure. “Oh no, my dog just startled me.”

Both Graham and Damon muffle a laugh as Graham now moves at a slower pace, two fingers working wonders inside of you while his thumb circles your clit in precise movements. “Sure. I’ll make sure to keep you updated. It’s not like I’m not already doing that, innit, Sam?” You put your arm in front of your eyes, hoping to cut off at least one font of stimulation - the visual - so you wouldn’t fall apart. Given how intensely your belly was already moving and how vigorously you were grinding against your boyfriend’s (that title is debatable) hand, you wouldn’t last long. You’re talking to a stakeholder while being gloriously masturbated by Graham Coxon and watched by a very concentrated Damon Albarn, who can’t take his eyes off the two of you, mustering all of his strength not to touch himself at the sight even though he’s visibly quite hard.

When you feel the pressure gradually tightening in your abdomen and how a mindblowing orgasm is building within you, you make sure to open your eyes again just so you can directly stare at Damon when the time comes. “Ok. I’ll be sure to check it for you,” you tell Samuel. As your legs start to tremble and sweat starts beading in the back of your knees, you say your goodbyes and turn off the phone, letting yourself be vocal at last, right at the moment you reach the ultimate peak.

While you come down off your high and your breathing stabilizes, you turn to Graham, sharing a lascivious kiss with him. Damon stays supernaturally still. “Someone’s feeling left out,” you whisper, lips barely touching Graham’s after you break the kiss. You both direct your eyes at Albarn.

“What do you want from us?” Is what you ask him. You were almost trembling by how aroused you still were. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. You were so turned on there’s no way you could sleep now, even with the alcohol and the pill wreaking havoc on your system.

You knew that was their case as well.

“Whatever you’re willing to give me. If it’s just looking, that’s fine.” Is Damon’s answer.

“We can give you so much more than that.” Graham says, as you nod. “Come here.” You call him.

He kicks off his shoes and takes off his shirt on his way to the bed. He lies by your side, you’re now in the middle of them. For a few seconds, you just look at each other, chests heaving.

Damon’s eyes are so blue. The whole thing seems unreal; a fever dream. What will become of the three of you after that is a mystery.

(One you don't dwell on too much - his lips take over yours too quickly and too intensely for you to have the time.)

Your heart’s pounding on your chest and you could only focus on how soft Damon felt against your mouth, how addictively he invaded all of your senses. Meanwhile, Graham’s hands kept slowly wandering through your hips, your breasts, your thighs.

You break the kiss, gasping for air, a dazzled smile blooming on your face, then turn your head to Graham’s side, now kissing him - it still wasn’t clear if you dreamt this moment to life. There was rawness in the way Coxon’s fingers curled around the base of your neck. You sneaked a guilty peek at him every time you came back for air, just to make sure this wasn’t a product of your imagination.

You prop yourself up just enough to take off your dress with their help, then return to the debauchery. It’s incredible how the many differences between their personalities are visible even in the way they kiss.

While you keep kissing Graham, Damon’s mouth lower to your neck – where he of course leaves a love bite, letting a muffled moan escape from you.

Two of the most desired men in Europe were on your bed. What a powerful thought.

You alternate through the duo’s lips for a while before you turn your entire body to the brown-haired man to kiss him more as Albarn kept spreading open-mouthed kisses through your feverish skin, the blond’s hands now tracing your still sensitive and throbbing core as you part your legs to give him space to do it. “You definitely got her ready.” Damon notes to Coxon, his tone especially malicious. It was almost embarrassing how needy you were right now. You notice Damon searching for protection, and you assure him: “I’m on the pill, just--please.”

“Ok then, love.” Damon takes off his pants and underwear in a rush, hands trembling, just stabilizing when his eyes cross Graham’s, when the guitarist parts for air, eyes a bit lost in the greatest of senses. As Damon aligns himself with your pussy he makes sure to find an angle for his body where he can reach Graham’s lips easily as well, and you lower yourself so you also make his path easier and also so you can have better access to Graham’s still clothed cock. He is aching for your attention. While you undress Coxon, Damon enters you with a sounding “oh” that is muffled by Coxon’s lips crashing onto his. It’s too much. He won’t pretend he hasn’t been missing any of this. Your body on his. Graham’s lips on his.

Damon wonders for a brief moment if this pill is also capable of hyper-realistic and sensual hallucinations. It’s incredible he had the chance to have you both again – at the same time, for Christ’s sake.

As you move your hips experimentally to orient yourself to this familiar - yet almost forgotten - territory, your mouth was practically watering in anticipation at the sight of Graham’s reddened, precum-pearled cock, and you licked your lips eagerly as his fingers brushed through your hair. You take it in your mouth, shivering at the thought you’re being part of such an intense cycle of pleasure as you hear the little sounds you’re taking out of them mixed with the sounds of their lips moving against each other’s. As your tongue darts out, lapping at the almost transparent fluid briefly before your mouth was filled with the taste of Graham, you shift around just a little so you can accommodate Damon’s length inside you better as well, and as he fills you with his cock, inch by inch, the vibrations of your groans on Graham’s dick is also too much for the guitarist to handle. “Fuck,” you hear Damon mewl in a broken, quiet, confessional sigh. “I missed you so much. Both of you.” You’re so wet that there's almost no drag, just the sweet pressure of Albarn’s impressively thick cock.

“We’ve missed you too.” Is what you two reply, sincerely, while Damon thrusts long, gliding thrusts into you that make you want to beg for him to go faster, harder. It must show in how you move against him, because his face registers with understanding. He adjusts his hips up towards that spot (oh my god, that spot), and starts to pound into you harder than before.

You rest your hands against Graham's thigh, giving it a slight squeeze as an invitation for the man to start moving. He holds your head in place and starts to slowly move his hips, and you force your jaw to relax to accept more of his length down your throat. You felt confident that he would stop if you indicated that he was going too far, so you let your eyes flutter shut as you focused on pleasuring him as Damon buried himself in you in increasingly erratic though intense thrusts, Damon’s mouth hardly leaving Graham’s. One of Albarn’s hands guided your hips, the other, pulled Graham’s neck to him so he could kiss the other man more intensely.

Your tongue curled against the veiny, velvety underside of Graham’s shaft, and each time Coxon pulled back, you sucked around the tip of his cock until he thrust the full length back in. Or at least, as much of the full length as you could manage. After a few more minutes, you opened your teary eyes as your nose brushed against Graham’s bony abdomen, your throat working desperately to handle the intrusion. The next time Graham pulled out, he did so completely with a guttural moan to allow you to catch your breath.

Saliva streamed down your chin as you panted, your mouth still full of the bitter, musky taste that Graham’s cock and precum had left behind. You intercalate your oral ministrations with a handjob as Damon’s movements falter and you feel him spilling inside you. His orgasm shakes through his body, building low in his groin and rolling through him in tingles that rush in waves with your synced movements. You squeeze up your inner walls around Damon’s cock, the action also causing you to feel a few new bursts of pleasure ricochet through you, though not enough to sate you completely for a second time. You also notice Graham’s close too, given how keen his noises are and how shaky he is, you’re not at all surprised when your tongue is filled with hot, thick spurts of cum. He was already on fire, greedy, aching. He almost sees stars, he comes so hard, and you work him through it. It’s everything he’s needed and more.

After long minutes of kissing where Damon is able to be reminded of Graham’s taste through your mouth and Graham tastes himself through your lips as well, Damon slips out of you and you stretch your body, too spent to move for a while. Graham offers to clean you up, which you accept, but you still feel dirty. Damon lights up a cigarette while he helps Coxon with the aftermath cleanup. You ask Damon for a cig too, planning to smoke it while you very slowly and lazily prepare to take a shower.

“Do you think the bloke on the phone noticed anything earlier?” Graham asks, a cheeky smile on his face.

You playfully (and lightly) kick him. “I hope not. Or else I’ll be jobless soon.”

“It would be the funniest news to give to your band. I’d volunteer to do it. Can you imagine?” Damon giggles.

“Don’t even joke about it. Things work differently for women.” You observe, your tone more serious now as you get up. “If I’m blacklisted from everything you’ll have to support me forever. And I’m expensive.”

And just like that you stand before each other, exhaustion rolling off the three of you in waves as you start to piece together the events of the night.

“So… who’s gonna go first?” Damon asks.

“We could all go at the same time.” You suggest, half-arsedly “joking”, leaving them to their debate. You walk to the bathroom with a towel on your hands. Leaving the door open, you turn on the spray of water, dialing it until it’s a comfortable heat.

A few minutes later, you see they agreed with your suggestion. Damon arrives first, then Gra.

You relish in the little groans they make as the water connects with their tense muscles. You finally start to relax under the water, reaching up and over to collect it in your hair and start scrubbing out the sweat. You’re on the left corner, Damon’s on the right, Graham’s on the middle, sandwiched between you two, back turned to the other man.

Damon runs his fingers over Graham’s shoulders. Now perhaps is your turn to be the audience for a while. You confess to yourself you’re a little thrilled to have your little theory confirmed. “How are you feeling?” Damon asks Graham quietly, a little breathless as he starts to knead the muscles of Graham’s back with intent. It’s the closest he’ll get to asking Graham to fuck him before they’re actually fucking, his way of denying it’s what he wants before he gets it.

“Good. Never felt better.” He answers Damon while looking at you, your lips approaching and brushing very lightly over Graham’s.

Damon hums in response, reaching lower and palming Graham’s ass. “Wanna make you dirty again,” he rumbles, and something about the way he says that is a direct line of lightning to Graham’s cock. You palm Gra in your hands, now flaccid, but already giving signs it’ll jolt up again.

Graham shouldn’t be surprised, he knew how this was going to pan out but there’s still an element of shock, a little part of him that’s surprised every time Damon shows interest and-- shit--he doesn’t want to think about that too hard when your hands and Albarn’s are lathering up every part of his body with body wash? Shampoo? You could use bar soap at this point and Graham wouldn’t care as long as you two kept groping him.

Damon nuzzles the back of Graham’s neck and licks it, nipping softly. Graham’s already melting when his cock glides in your hand in soft strokes once again, and the way Coxon hisses at the touch before he takes your mouth in his drives you crazy – none of you knew how much you needed this until right this moment, when the three of you are standing in your shower with rivulets of pink and soap suds sliding down the drain, the velvet slide of skin on skin aided by the water and soap between you. “Fuck,” the brunette hisses out, back arching at the sensation of your hand jerking his overstimulated cock slowly, carefully, while Damon now grinds against him, kisses from two different mouths being spread all over his fair skin. Whenever he moved forward, he felt your presence, whenever he moved backwards, he felt Albarn pressing his length against him. It was almost poetic if he thought about it. Metaphorical.

But past and present no longer existed. It all began to blur. He never wanted this to end.

Neither did you and Damon. With a silent yet efficient agreement, in a contract signed with an exchange of looks, you both decide to edge him for as long as possible.

Whenever Coxon was too close, you or Damon decided you needed a beauty product in a distant cabinet and just had to leave him hanging for a few seconds. Literally.

Eventually, what was fun became unbearable.

The moment you noticed the sticky wetness between your legs became too much to handle, Graham’s whimpers became desperate - poor thing was so impossibly horny he could barely form coherent thoughts anymore - Damon was also losing control and you three were already too clean, it was when you realized it was time to go back to bed, this time, all of you butt naked.

After you dry yourselves, you’re the first to lie on the bed, parting your legs. Graham follows, joining you between them. As much as it’s really tempting to have him inside you now as he kisses you fervently, you and Damon have something else in store for him and he knows that. “Baby,” you sigh, breaking the kiss reluctantly. His breath eases warm against your lips and the stirring heat in your stomach settles into something tender, full. It’s a rush of a feeling, tumbling into itself and almost overwhelming, and you tip your head down against his to escape it, pressing your foreheads together. “It would be so nice if you ate me out now.”

“While Damon fucks me, right,” he deduces with a slightly daring smile, voice raspy, breathy with need. He plants a small kiss on your lips before you answer with another question:

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes, God, yes.”

“Ok then. He’s coming, love. Be patient. You’re such a good boy.” You tease. He was so close to his breaking point already, you knew that would only push him further. He wouldn’t last long.

Damon arrives with a bottle of lube in his hand and gets himself ready while Graham trails his way down to your core with more kisses. As his grip tightens on your thighs and he tilts himself available to Damon, he goes down on you like a man starved, all impatient need and very little finesse, though not (maybe never) in a way that is unpleasant. He doesn’t think you mind with the way you buck against his face like you’re trying to fuck it. He happily lets you, opening his mouth wide and letting you rut against the flat of his tongue. He dips two fingers into your slick, eager hole; you falter, whining against the back of your hand, and he starts lapping at you anew, tongue circling around your clit and then down between your labia.

Maybe needless to say, the scene inspires Damon tremendously.

Unsure if Coxon indulged in such practices recently, Albarn slowly begins by working two lubricated fingers inside the guitarist and feels him react, his body tensing up slightly before relaxing and taking the fingers in submissively. Same as it ever was. Graham’s body reacted so beautifully to him.

Damon thrusts for a while before he feels content and works a third one in. This time Graham gasps and curses his name which makes the singer run his tongue over his bottom lip in excitement. “God, you’re not even taking me in yet and you’re already calling my name,” The blond giggled, palming a cheek into his hand. Graham didn’t respond, busy enough on his current task, grunting slightly as he felt Albarn snake his hand from his ass to his dick, and suddenly Damon was pumping both his dick and hole in tempo. What a beautiful sight, and how beautifully Graham’s arousal reverberated in his performance on you. You grab his hair tighter in encouragement. “You gotta...g-give him what he needs. He’s been so, so good,” you moan, voice broken by the intense heat building up inside you.

Damon’s eyes are lidded as he pants heavily; chest rising and falling slowly as he inhaled with his mouth slacked open, eyes honing in on the brown haired man. “The things you’re doing to me right now, you’ve convinced me,” Albarn whispered, barely audible. He grabbed his length, pumping himself slowly again before guiding himself into Graham’s hole, sinking a few inches in before stopping to allow Coxon to remember what it was like.

“Keep going,” Graham grunts, taking his mouth off you for the briefest amount of time just to have this specific need sated. Albarn smiles before sinking the rest of his length in and cursing, letting out a ragged breath then slowly thrusting into him.

Graham almost cries at how intense this experience is. Pleasuring you, seeing you falling apart because of him, and feeling this full, having Damon inside him again after such a long time…

This must be heaven.

The blond rocked himself slowly a few more times before he began picking up the pace and fucking Coxon roughly, hands tight on his bony waist. “So fucking tight around me,” Albarn groaned, eyes closed in slits as he felt the head board slam against the wall. Not Damon, not Graham nor you cared about the noise - if people heard it, good for them. You arched your back beautifully, spurring Graham to latch his mouth down and suck hard. Just the way that he knew would drive you up the wall so quickly. His eyes were bright, nearly drunk on lust renewed by the sight of you so undone.

With another open-mouthed kiss on your cunt, Graham increases the pace of his hand to send you over the edge. He followed each tremble of your body, sucking and laving until it became too sensitive. The moment his mouth leaves your pussy coincides with an especially accurate thrust he receives, making a lewd moan, very similar to yours in intensity, escape his mouth. The heavenly and heavy aftershakes of your orgasm are spent watching the lovely sight of the two men you love fucking each other and eventually falling apart almost simultaneously.

It should be turned into a painting, the sight of your bodies melded together in your bed in the aftermath. Damon had to leave for a while in order to put an end to the chaos the apartment inevitably fell into, but he came back as soon as he was able to and the party finished. Their arms felt like home. You fell asleep quickly after all was said and done, and so did they.

-

A few hours later, you wake up to the sound of a very quiet moan.

“Gra? You awake?”

“Yes.” he swallows thickly.

“Why?”

“The pill. It’s... still working. You were right about how long it lasts. I… I can’t sleep.” He pants. Curiously, he doesn’t sound bothered. He sounds hyped up.