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Eddie Munson has heard some pretty crazy shit in his lifetime.

Hell, he’s said and done some pretty crazy shit in his lifetime.

But never, ever has he ever heard anything as crazy as this.

“Repeat that,” Eddie mutters as he drags a hand down his face, slapping his cheek for good measure.  “For the love of Christ, please repeat that.”

The man cloaked in mystery (and an honest-to-fucking-god cloak) chuckles as the men of Corroded Coffin tighten their ring around him.

“You heard me right,” the figure says lowly, “I’ll grant you a night of whimsy and debauchery.  Of freaky, fiendish fun.  One night,” he reiterates, spindly finger pointing to the sky, “just one to step into the shoes of another.  To experience life as they do.”  Beady eyes glow gold in the moonlight.  “To fuck as they fuck.”

Eddie flicks his gaze at Jeff, the buzz of the alcohol from their post-show celebration courses through his veins.  “You’re really gonna let us Freaky Friday this shit and have us live in someone else’s body for a night?”

Gareth snorts.  “Can I have my body and just take Jeff’s dick?  I’d be great with that.”

Jeff’s jaw drops with indignation as Eddie snorts. He takes a daring step towards the magician.  Wizard.  Body snatcher/switcher that somehow lured the four drunken members of the band to a deserted back alley behind their venue.  

Very successfully and a little too easily, but damn.

To be promised a night in someone else’s body?

“If anyone gets to call dibs on Jeff’s dick, it’s me,” Eddie fights the slur in his words as he lays the charm on thick.  “Lead singer in the band and all that,” he slings a casual arm around the stranger, boundaries be damned.  

It’s like the cloak covers nothing but air.  There are no shoulders to be found beneath the folds of fabric, but yet, the figure is as solid as ever.

A dry snap of fingers.

“It’s done.”

Eddie blinks, bleary and thick as he takes in his surroundings.

Familiar surroundings, thank fuck.

Splayed in a tangled mess of leather and limbs, Eddie shoves his body north on the cushy sectional couch, cracking his neck as the tour bus den swims into focus.

Jeff, on his right, still out cold.

Gareth, on his left, sandy ringlets shaking as he jostles the cobwebs out of his brain.

And Grant, facedown on the sheepskin rug.

Eddie’s gaze snaps to his drummer as he belts out a pained moan.  “What in the fuck happened?”

Swallowing nothing but the arid taste of stale beer and cigarette smoke, Eddie attempts to answer that question with nothing but fuzzy memories of too many beers, too many shots, and a flash of a back alley –

“Oh, no fucking way.”  Eddie leaps to his feet, ignoring the way the colors on the walls blend and bleed together as he fumbles with his belt.  He’s breathless as his fingers stutter their every move.  “Shit, shit – no fucking way this is –  it happened – shit!”

Gareth’s a little slow on the uptake, eyebrows raised beneath his fringe as he watches Eddie rip the zipper down his fly.  “Wh’are you doing?”

“Don’t you remember?” Eddie pants as those skintight jeans give him hell as he shoves them down to mid-thigh.  “We – we made a deal with some guy out back, and –”

A long, drawn-out moan from his right.  “Please tell me that did not happen.”

Eddie’s heart rabbits in his chest.  “Only one way to find out, Jeffrey,” he yanks the band of his boxers down to reveal –

A cock that is definitely not his.

Espresso brown eyes widen in shock.  “Oh, fuck yeah.”  A curtain of curls threatens to obscure his vision as he appraises the new appendage between his legs.  One that was definitely not his mere hours ago.  

Eddie would know.  He’s become quite intimate with his dick over the years, and rightfully so.  It’s a rather formidable beast, whenever he’s able to wield it well – but this?

It’s an entirely different animal altogether.

No, no – more majestic than an animal. It’s a goddamn longsword.

“Jeff,” Eddie stands slack-jawed as he turns to his friend, who eyes his half-nakedness with horror, “Jeffy.  Jeffrey.  Jeffotholomew – what is this cock?!”  Eddie’s uninhibited as he tosses his stare from his rhythm guitarist to the absolute monstrosity that hangs heavy between slender thighs.  “What in the actual fuck, man?  I – how do you even steer this thing?”  

Jeff looks ashen the longer he stares at Eddie’s crotch.  “That’s – that’s my dick.”

Eddie’s practically vibrating with glee.  “I know it is – I –” he turns to his drummer, the thick mushroomed tip smacking his upper thigh with the movement, “sucks to be you, Emerson!  That asshole in the alley gave Jeff’s dick to me!”

Gareth gnaws on the silver hoop in his lower lip before it juts out in a pout.  “Not fucking fair,” he grouses, but then straightens.  “Wait.  If you got Jeff’s, then who’s dick do I have?”

Eddie gestures at his drummer in a wild arc of tattooed upper limbs.  “Find out, man!”  As Gareth wiggles out of his own pair of painted-on denim, Eddie’s attention turns back to Jeff.  

“Jeff.  Seriously.  What the fuck, man, I – I don’t think I can wrap my fingers around it.”

The rhythm guitarist blinks out of his haze.  “Oh give me a break.  It’s not that big.”

A grunt from the floor, and Grant turns his head.  Without bothering to open his eyes, he rasps, “Let me see.”

“Oooh, okay,” Eddie drops to his knees and shuffles over into Grant’s line of sight.  Far enough away from his face – he’s not a heathen, thanks – he’s not gonna shove a cock in another man’s face unless they specifically ask for it.  And as far as he knows, Grant’s never asked for it.

He just wants to see it.  

Eddie can do that.  

“See?”  Eddie wraps his fingers around the base of his – Jeff’s?  Yeah, Jeff’s – cock, angling his torso so Grant can appreciate the sheer size and girth of it.  “And this is what it is flaccid.”

“Ed, don’t say flaccid,” Gareth quips as the unmistakable rustle and slide of denim rasps down his stocky legs.  “It’s weird.”

Grant chuckles, lifting his curly-topped head to get a closer look.  “Right.  Cause this isn’t weird.”

“It’s not,” Eddie grins wolfishly back at his best friend, who sinks down on the couch in mortification.  “It’s science or something.  We’re obligated as men to study this phenomenon in great detail.”

“Huh,” Grant shuffles to his knees, face a lot closer to Eddie’s fist than expected.  “Jeff, my man, you have a root.  You absolute asshole.”

While Jeff buries his face in his hands, muttering something to the effect of My modesty, an idea ignites the very light in Eddie’s features.

“Gareth, whose cock do you have?”

He turns just in time to see Gareth shove his signature black boxer-briefs below a hairy set of balls, and Eddie grins.

He’d know those balls anywhere.

“Yours, by the looks of it.”

“It sure is, Emerson,” Eddie confirms as he swipes his gaze from base to uncut tip.  “Treat him nicely, wouldja?”

Grant, now having peeled himself from the floor, peers over Eddie’s shoulder.  “I had no idea you weren’t cut, Ed.”

It’s weird watching your best friend handle your cock like it’s his own, inspecting it in all its glory.  Gareth’s hand wraps around the shaft (the shaft Eddie spent years thinking was pretty damn big, but now that he has this anomaly attached to his person, he’s really not so sure), lazily stroking once to watch as the thickset tip peeks through the foreskin.

It’s as if Eddie can feel it – the firmness in the grip, the glide of skin over skin – but he can’t.  

And that’s fuckin’ wild.

Gareth giggles as if he's high. Which who knows, maybe he is.  “That’s so cool.”

And it is – watching Gareth chub up his cock is a literal out of body experience.  Suddenly, Eddie wants in.  “I wanna see what this monster’ll do,” he mutters, shuffling to his spot between Jeff and Gareth as Grant takes the chaise.  “It’s still soft and I’m pretty sure I can bitchslap Gare from here.”

Gareth giggles again, a series of uncontrollable snorts shake his broad shoulders.  “That’s getting me hard.  You, I mean – getting you hard.  Ed, this – what the fuck,” he wheezes as Eddie’s cock stiffens in record time, “are you a masochist or something?”

Definitely. “Probably,” Eddie shrugs, shivering as he tugs on his unfamiliar length. 

Grant's disbelieving laughter melts with Gareth’s as the drummer says in wonder, “Damn, dude.  Your dick’s not bad at all.  Good for you.”

Eddie purses his lips, remembering clearly what Gareth apparently doesn’t.  “Duh.  You’ve seen it before.”

“Yeah, but,” another snorting giggle, “it was dark.”

Jeff groans.  “Do I even wanna know?”

Grant barks a laugh.  “With the way Ed’s gettin’ your cock all bricked up, probably not.”

“Eddie,” Jeff whines, “please don’t jack off my dick, man.”

Grant’s cackle is cut shorter than his bandmates, and his lids flare wide.  “Oh.”  A mad dash to disrobe, and Grant finds his own – new – cock at half-mast.  Impressively thick if not as long as Eddie’s.  Er, Gareth's. Eddie's cock that is presently owned by Gareth. “Damn.  Whoever switched with me is apparently really into some whining.”

“By process of elimination,” Gareth raises his hand, unabashed, “that’d be me.  Responds best to begging, whining, and Pornhub’s threesome tab.”

Eddie’s own cock twitches.  On him – the one he’s currently handling, not on Gareth.  “Oh.  Apparently that does it for our sweet little Jeffy, too.”

Jeff slumps in his seat, refusing to be baited.

Good for him.

Gareth watches Grant’s ministrations with heavy lids, probably equally as aroused as he is baffled that he can see himself harden without actually feeling it.  “I think the sight of my own cock is turning me on.” 

“Nice.  Let’s see what you’ve got, Gare.”  Thumbing through his phone, Grant twists lazily at the crown before squeezing at the base, encouraging every inch with each pass.

“It’s not near as long as Jeffrey’s, but it’s got some girth to it.”

Eddie knows, and tosses a wink at his drummer.  “Yeah it does.”

Grant finds what he’s looking for.  The all-too familiar drum riff snaps through his phone’s speakers before the unmistakable sounds of sex permeate through the tiny den.  

Gareth’s cock is fully hard in seconds.

“Dude,” Grant’s tone is drenched in surprise, and maybe a little bit of awe.  “What is this curve?  Why is it curving?”

Gareth shrugs as he lets out a shuddering sigh.  “I dunno.  It’s always done that.”

“Does it hurt?”

The blue-eyed menace flicks his gaze to Eddie before he snickers.  “Not at all.  Definitely an advantage, though.”  Grant cocks his head, confused.  “Placement, dear Grant.”  He thrusts off the couch for emphasis, Eddie’s cock glides along Gareth’s calloused palm.  “All about placement.”

Eddie clarifies.  “It’s a fuckin’ g-spot magnet.”

Grant belts an ohhh as Jeff grumbles from beside Eddie, “You guys realize you’re being totally ridiculous right now.”

Eddie’s not having that.  “You're the one that’s being ridiculous, Jeffaroni and Cheese.  You’re the only one that doesn’t have his pants down.”

“I’m not succumbing to peer pressure –”

“This isn’t peer pressure!” Eddie practically shrieks, angling his body towards his friend who jolts away from his own dick as if he’s been burned.  “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity!”  

“No shit,” Grant agrees, if not a little breathless.  “Drop your pants already.  I’ve got nothin’ to hide.”

Jeff shifts, palming the zipper of his jeans as Grant’s cock strains against the thick denim.  “Yeah, I know.  I can fuckin’ feel it, man.”

“Saw that sea serpent in the Maldives last year,” Gareth caws with a sidelong glance at Grant.  “Thought it was an eel.”

Grant guffaws.  “No, you did not.”

Eddie’s affronted enough to stall his languid ministrations on Jeff’s cock.  His cock.  Jeff’s – whatever.  “You went skinny dipping without me?”

“Yep.”

“That’s not important right now!”  Jeff wails, to which Grant grunts, flopping his head back against the couch.  “What’s important is that we – we somehow find a way to get this all switched back!”

“Dude, chill.  This is a temporary thing.  That weird wizard guy said it would only be for a night.”  Gareth tries to sound as nonplussed as he can with a raging erection, cherry-red tip angry and leaking as he squeezes at the base.  “I say we have some fun with this before it’s taken away.”

Eddie knows all about what kind of fun Gareth’s into – when the mood is right.  “What’re you thinkin’, Emerson?”

He huffs a breathy laugh.  “I think it’s hilarious that Grant can hardly control himself anytime someone bitches or whines.”

“Fuck you and fuck this dick, man.  It’s on you that I feel like I’m two seconds away from coming.”

“Nah man,” the ice in Gareth’s eyes gleam with mischief, “I’ve had years to master my kinks.  I can last.  It’s you that won’t last a minute.”

Grant scoffs.  “It’s still your dick.”

“Without me, yeah.  Guarantee I could make you come in like, ten seconds just sitting here, spouting off a few well-placed words.”

Grant frowns.  “No, you could not –”

“Please,” Gareth whines in a pitchy falsetto, “please, Daddy – need you inside me, please –”

A bolt of desire shoots through Eddie’s groin, and though the whole Daddy thing hasn’t ever been his undoing, it’s very clearly Jeff’s.  Both he and Grant let loose a groan, and Eddie’s hand acts of its own accord as he squeezes delicious pressure at the crown of his cock.

“F-fuck,” Grant rasps, unable to hold back on chasing his own pleasure. “Fuck you, man…”

Gareth grins, a knowing, lopsided thing that just screams superiority. He purses his full lips in a fake pout.  “Wanna come for you, wanna be so, so good for you.”  That grin widens as Eddie fails to stifle a moan, gritting his teeth as white-hot lust pools low in his belly.  “Take me, Daddy.  Fuck me, pl –”

Gareth eats his own words as Eddie reaches across his drummer’s chest and pinches, rolling his left nipple between well-practiced fingers.  “Be careful, Emerson,” Eddie grits as Gareth gasps, and just as Eddie predicted, Gareth fists his cock that leaks a steady stream of pre.  Eddie clamps down on the bar that spears Gareth’s nipple and tugs.  “I like it rough.”

“Shit,” Gareth wheezes as his body trembles, overcome with what Eddie knows is a sinful wave of dark and heady euphoria.  The lewd sounds of slick skin saturate the air.  “Fuck, Ed, you’re really into some pain, huh?”

Eddie can’t help how his eyes roll back, Gareth’s bitchy little tone holds just enough snark to be on the good side of bratty.  For Jeff, at least.

But the answer is absolutely, unequivocally, yes – Eddie is definitely into that shit.  He could end Gareth in an instant.  A bite on the arm.  A slap across his cheek.  A fistful of those ringlet curls that are just begging –

Ohshitfuck – begging –

The impressive girth in Eddie’s hand kicks up, balls drawing tight to his body as he teeters on the edge of release.  He presses a tight ring of pressure at Jeff’s massive base, watching as the length of his cock juts and pulses.  He’s so close; he has to even the score.  He can’t be the one to blow first, and so he spouts off a litany of filth that would otherwise get him going, had he his own dick in the throes of this passion.

“Jeff, Jesus Christ,” Eddie shudders as he makes another pass over velvet and steel that’s not his, “fuckin’ cock’s so big, you’d leave me stretched open for days, man.”

“God damn it, Ed,” Gareth mutters, strained.

Jeff manages a hitching half-laugh.  “Sorry, not into that.”

Eddie’s lips tip up in a grin.  This, he knows.  Jeff’s never ever been the judgemental type, understanding that two of the four members of Corroded Coffin enjoy the company of all instead of just women.  But Jeff likes what he likes. 

And it’s never been other men.

Eddie, on the other hand, does.  

And so does Gareth.

He knows he’s got them both – Gareth and Grant – as soon as he whines, petulant and airy, “But I’d want it to hurt.”

Eddie releases Gareth’s nipple just as he feels Jeff’s cock deflate – just enough to pull him back from release – to wind his fingers tightly through Gareth’s hair, making sure his rings catch and tug as he fists those silky strands.  

And tug he does.

Gareth’s back arches off the couch, lost to the sensations Eddie loves, the sharpness and the burn of that pleasurable sting.  Gareth’s fist is flying, twisting just the way Eddie knows he likes it at the crown of his cock before it swells ahead of completion.  In his periphery, Grant fares no better, grunting low and pained as he and Gareth succumb to their pleasure.

Eddie’s satisfaction is short-lived.  

It’s just a beat, a breath of time as the clear losers of the game (he has no idea how they got started playing) spill ropes of spend on their stomachs that Eddie’s cheeks are being smushed together by a big, broad hand.

Jeff yanks Eddie’s face to his, and whiskey-brown eyes widen as Jeff whispers, “Be a good little slut and come for me.”

Eddie moans.  Outright moans as an infinite amount of heat rushes to the tip of his cock, barreling him over and seizing his muscles in blinding pleasure.  He comes with a shout, or with a very drawn out fuuuck – he’s not entirely sure which.

He blacks out.

He’s sure he’s never come so goddamn hard in his life.

When the trembling stops and the aftershocks from his orgasm subsides, Eddie’s first wheeze of laughter tumbles over his lips.

“Jeff,” Eddie guffaws as he half-heartedly pulls his boxers over his flagging cock.  “What in the actual fuck was that?”

Gareth’s right there with him, a stream of lighthearted cackles as he slumps against Eddie’s shoulder.  “It’s always the quiet ones, I swear.”

“No shit!”  Eddie belts an elongated ohhh as his lanky arm lopes around his drummer.  He drops his tone a seductive octave, snorting again as Jeff blushes.  “You’re into some freaky shit, aren’t you?”

Jeff smirks and shrugs off the attention, as he always does.  It’s only a split second longer before Eddie straightens, the rather large wet patch in Jeff’s lightwash jeans was not there ten minutes ago.  “What in the fuck – did you come untouched?”

“Ah,” Jeff runs a bewildered hand through his close-clipped hair.  “Apparently.”

Three sets of wide eyes swing to Grant.

Who just shrugs, the grin Grant bears isn’t nearly as bashful as it should be.  

“What?  I like to watch.”

next - N1: Last Kiss

Graphics by @strangergraphics

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