Work Text:
they both knew exactly what tyler was doing when he proposed josh wear a necromancer mask at the beginning of every show on the breach tour.
tyler has a thing for masks.
josh found that out long before they ever introduced the balaclavas to their repertoire. it was the first halloween after they met when josh dressed as ghostface, and tyler begged for him to fuck him in it.
it’s really not that subtle. anyone with eyes and a brain could pick up on it.
between the ski masks, the various ones he’s made josh wear on stage, his skull mask, the clancy mask… it’s honestly a problem.
tyler likes wearing masks. the euphoric rush of taking on an entirely new identity. becoming someone he’s not.
even more, tyler likes when josh wears masks.
he likes the adrenaline that comes with anonymity. the blank stare back at him when he’s down on his knees or folded in half. pretending he’s in some fucked up plot of a horror movie and getting railed by the monster, while also knowing he’s completely safe because, underneath it all, it’s still josh.
so when tyler brought up the idea, josh knew it wasn’t a suggestion. he really just wanted to see josh wear something akin to an executioner mask.
paired with glowing red eyes, it’s entirely something tyler’s freakish brain would come up with. josh wasn’t surprised in the slightest. he’s always happy to indulge.
the only problem is they never have any time for tyler to really enjoy josh in the mask.
he doesn’t put it on until right before he heads on stage, and he and tyler enter on opposite sides, so tyler doesn’t get to see it until he’s already out there. at that point, he’s too caught up in the rush of beginning the show—making his cues, hitting the right notes, giving it his all to engage the crowd from the very start.
by the time his adrenaline settles, three songs pass and off comes josh’s mask.
it’s extremely frustrating.
about two weeks in, tyler can’t take it anymore.
no matter how much he’s begged josh to put it back on after the show, or just once wear it for thirty minutes on a day off, josh refuses. he likes seeing tyler all worked up—moaning and whining on stage like an animal in heat, trying everything in his power to get josh to cave. it’s cute.
but tyler’s had enough.
it’s their ninth stop on tour—an amphitheater in bangor, maine.
tyler’s been sneaking as many glances as possible, his heart stuttering each time he looks to josh, only to find a pair of glowing red eyes staring back at him.
he’s hard before they even finish overcompensate. can barely pull himself together enough to put on a show for the camera when he sets it up for the contract. he’s too busy parading himself around in front of josh.
his mind is in an entirely different place—somewhere that involves josh’s fist in his hair and cock down his throat.
tyler goes through the motions, half-dissociating throughout the song. it’s towards the end when he gets the idea.
in one swift motion, his fingers close around the metal zipper of his jacket, yanking it down. as the jacket opens, tyler situates himself in front of josh’s drumset, showing off the ribbed undershirt clinging tightly to his abdomen.
with his back to the crowd, it’s easy to forget about the thousands of people watching.
josh effortlessly drums through the final post-chorus, and tyler stands still, patiently waiting, watching, fixated on the way he moves. when josh relaxes, leaning back on the drum throne as the song moves into the outro, he finally gives tyler his full attention.
his face is entirely obscured behind the black cloth, red eyes peering through tyler’s skull, chest heaving rapidly. the fabric of the mask protrudes over the bump of josh’s nose, the only real indicator there’s something human hiding beneath it. tyler’s cock twitches at the sight, pulse pounding in his ears, tempted to jump josh’s bones right here, right now.
tyler’s instincts kick in—the words spill out with little effort as he sings the outro. thank god, otherwise he’d be left frozen like a moron, having a fifteen second staring contest with the damn necromancer while his cock screams for attention.
josh knows exactly what’s going through tyler’s head, and makes sure to play into it.
his head lolls to the side, shoulders tilting, acting as if he’s some creature sizing tyler up. heat creeps up his neck, knees growing weak at the continual rise and fall of josh’s chest beneath the layers of his torchbearer vest and hoodie.
when he leans in for the cymbal swell, those red eyes unwavering, tyler nearly chokes. his skin thrums with electricity, palms sweating, but he remains still, holding josh’s stare as he leans in further, further, until suddenly—the lights drop. the song ends.
all that remains is those red beady eyes boring straight through tyler, sending a jolt directly to the tip of his dick.
under the cover of darkness, he takes the opportunity to quickly adjust himself. he bites back a moan as his fingers meet his cock, desperately trying to hide his erection from the audience. there’s already enough damning evidence of his excitement every show floating around on twitter.
it takes every ounce of his strength to turn away from josh and position himself for the start of the next song, but that doesn’t mean he’s not still thinking about that damn mask.
the image of it lingers well into the show, and every time it slips from tyler’s mind, it manages to sneak its way back in like an intrusive thought.
the rest of the show is a blur—a lot of tyler moaning, whining, acting out like the fucking feral freak he is. he can’t help it. he needs to win josh over.
by the time they walk off stage, he’s a total fucking wreck.
his bones buzz in his skin, amped up from the thrill of a great performance, but more so eager to get his hands on josh. the spandex of his boxer briefs is soaked from his cock leaking all night long. he’s lucky it didn’t soak through to the front of his pants. twitter would have a fucking field day.
he barely registers the crew and venue staff spewing great job and nice show at him, pays no mind to the claps on his back and high-fives sent his way.
all he cares about is finding josh.
after a few wrong turns (this venue is really weird), he finally halts outside of josh’s dressing room.
his hand trembles as he grips the doorknob, opening it a few inches to peek inside. “josh?”
he’s in front of a mirror picking confetti off his shoulders. his eyes meet tyler’s in the reflection, a smug grin following. “hey. help me get this off my back?”
tyler doesn’t think twice. he enters fully, habitually locking the door before joining josh in front of the mirror. he carefully peels off confetti one piece at a time, shamelessly admiring the expanse of josh’s back.
they’re both quiet, waiting for the other to speak first.
like usual, josh breaks first.
“you did great tonight.”
tyler’s cheeks flush, still reacting to josh’s compliments the same way he did fourteen years ago.
“thank you,” he says, voice entirely too soft for all the pent up frustration josh has caused. “you did too.”
“thanks. it’s not easy when i’ve got you moaning in my in-ear all night,” josh teases, shooting him a glance in the mirror.
tyler rolls his lower lip between his teeth, refusing to meet his gaze. he picks off the last piece of confetti, watching it fall to the ground. “it’s your fault.”
“the mask was your idea.”
“yeah, but if you’d just…” tyler trails off, swallowing hard as he meets josh’s eyes in the mirror. he doesn’t want to say it again. he’s already begged josh enough at this point. it’s pathetic that he’s even still trying.
josh turns to face him, sighing like he’s annoyed, but the faint curve of his lips suggests otherwise. “you’re not gonna stop, are you?”
tyler shakes his head.
“you need it that bad?”
his voice is barely above a whisper, “please.”
josh doesn’t respond, instead letting his eyes roaming over tyler’s body, trying to figure out what to do with him.
they’re both musty, sweat still clinging to their skin. tyler’s hands and throat are still coated in paint, though josh is no stranger to waking up with black fingerprints littered around his skin.
“tell me what you want,” he says finally.
a low whine escapes the back of tyler’s throat. josh knows he hates when he makes him describe exactly what it is he wants josh to do to him.
“the mask. i want you to put on the mask.”
“obviously.” josh hooks his index finger beneath tyler’s chin, tilting his head up slightly. “then what?”
“fuck my face.”
josh hums, dragging his thumb along tyler’s lower lip. “i can do that. you want me to stay quiet?”
tyler nods, parting his lips further to swirl his tongue around the tip of josh’s thumb.
he typically asks josh not to speak when they do something like this. it makes it a lot easier to sink into the illusion of the person behind the mask being faceless. nameless. barely a person, and more like a threat.
“okay,” josh says. “and what about you?”
tyler’s attention suddenly returns to the ache between his legs, an involuntary whine slipping out. the wet patch at the front of his spandex is cold against his tip, and his cock throbs where it strains against the fabric.
he forgot to even think about himself. all he was worried about was feeling the necromancer’s cock bruise the back of his throat.
tyler shakes his head. “you first. i can wait.”
“alright.”
josh releases his hold on his chin to retrieve the mask, but tyler cuts in again, “wait.”
he joins josh’s side, fumbling through the rack of clothes until he finds the right outfit—the gray hoodie, black vest, black pants, and even the black bandana that spells torchbearer in ukranian.
“really?” josh raises his eyebrows, examining tyler’s outstretched hands. “you want me to put that back on?”
“please?”
josh huffs, snatching the outfit from his fists. “i’m only doing this so you leave me alone.”
“i know.”
“you’re really fucked up.”
the tips of tyler’s ears flare. “i know.”
“that’s not a compliment.”
they’re both trying hard not to grin.
“i knooow,” tyler whines it this time, growing impatient. “will you just hurry up already? they’re gonna kick us out soon.”
“okay, okay.”
josh gathers everything—including the mask—in his arms. tyler’s heart races with the anticipation of finally, finally getting josh as the necromancer all to himself. he’s afraid he’s about to wake up and realize that not only was he dreaming, but that it ended before they even got to the best part.
“i want you sitting there when i come out,” josh says, pointing at an armchair placed outside the bathroom door. “and these,” he gestures at tyler’s clothes, “better be off.”
a blush slowly creeps up tyler’s neck. he nods quickly, not daring to argue when he’s so close to getting what he wants. “can i, uh, shut the lights off too?”
josh chuckles, only making tyler’s skin burn hotter.
“whatever you want, yeah. anything else?”
“can i touch myself?”
“no.” josh’s firm tone contrasts the tilt of his mouth. “you said you can wait, remember?”
tyler’s jaw clenches, annoyed with himself. he regrets saying that—especially now, when his dick throbs so hard he can hear every pulse in his ears.
josh doesn’t wait for a response. he slips into the bathroom, leaving tyler alone.
with a shaky breath, tyler grabs the hem of his shirt, fingers trembling slightly as he peels the fabric over his head. he undoes his belt as he crosses the room, letting it hang loosely over his hips.
he flicks the lights off, darkness flooding the room, and suddenly it hits him what’s about to happen.
his hairs stand on end, a chill running through him. he can’t see anything. can’t hear anything. for all he knows, josh could have already snuck out of the bathroom.
fumbling his way through the dark room, tyler sheds his skin-tight tanktop. he has no idea where it lands on his way to the chair, sinking into the soft leather while he fumbles with the button of his pants.
the chair is cool where it meets his back, a stark contrast from the fire coursing through him. he slides his belt off, kicks off his boots, and shimmies out of his pants. red compression socks and wet underwear join them in a pile on the floor, leaving tyler completely exposed.
he shifts in the armchair, cold leather biting at the undersides of his thighs, fighting every urge to start stroking his cock. it’s cruel for josh to tell him no, even if tyler did say he could wait. josh knows him well enough to know that’s not true.
tyler peers into the darkness, waiting, slowly making out shapes around the room as his eyes begin to adjust.
suddenly, there’s the soft creak of a door opening. red light floods the room. tyler’s pulse spikes.
he sits up straighter, clutching the arms of the chair as his eyes slowly lift to josh.
josh towers over him, hidden entirely behind the black fabric zipped over his face. his head tilts slowly, two red circles glowing in place of his eyes.
every distinguishable feature—his hair, his face, his tattoos—they’re all covered.
as far as tyler’s concerned, it’s entirely possible someone (something?) snuck back here and ambushed josh in the bathroom, then put on his clothes and came back out like nothing happened.
his cock leaks at the thought.
“josh?” he asks softly, like he’s going to get a response.
the man—presumably josh—slowly shakes his head no. tyler’s stomach turns over, fear and desire tangling together in a wave of exhilaration.
not josh. the necromancer.
he wags his fingers, motioning for tyler to stand. scrambling to his feet, tyler steps out of the way, watching the necromancer’s controlled movements—rigid, almost unhuman—as he takes his seat.
tyler swallows thickly, hyperaware of how utterly naked he is compared to the multiple layers the necromancer wears.
he points at the ground and tyler instantly drops to his knees, entranced. his eyes stay fixed on the mask like if he just looks hard enough he’ll be able to see who’s really under it. it’s a fruitless effort, though—the fabric is too thick, the room too dark.
a hand meets the nape of his neck, pushing his face down. tyler’s cheek lowers to the necromancer’s thigh, held there by a tight grip. he nuzzles against the fabric, blinking up at the red eyes. his fingers twitch where they rest in his lap, aching to relieve himself.
the necromancer’s free hand pops open the button of his pants. tyler watches silently, lips parted with soft breaths. his mouth subconsciously fills with drool at the sound of the zipper dragging downwards, pavlov’d like a damn dog.
a soft whine escapes his lips, making the necromancer freeze.
he raises his index finger to his lips in a shushing gesture, shaking his head disapprovingly. tyler swallows another noise building in the back of his throat.
fingers close around the back of tyler’s neck, lifting his head back up. the necromancer shifts his pants down his hips, then reaches into his boxers and pulls his cock out, fingers wrapped around the base.
tyler lurches forward, eager to get a taste, but a hand between his collarbones stops him short.
he huffs in frustration, brows furrowed until he feels a soft tap against his chin. his tongue lolls out of his mouth, resting against the plush velvet of his lower lip. only then does the necromancer’s hand settle back at the nape of his neck, guiding tyler’s mouth to his cock.
he stops just short of tyler’s tongue meeting his tip.
“nngh,” tyler whines, unable to keep his discontent to himself.
it earns him a soft smack to the side of his face—not enough to sting, just enough to make him gasp.
before tyler can even blink, the necromancer slaps his cock against his tongue. once. twice. over. and over. and over again. it bounces against tyler’s soft flesh with wet smacking sounds. tyler keeps his tongue out, an obedient thing, his eyes trained on the ones glowing above.
part of him hopes josh is enjoying the show. another part of him hopes josh is knocked out on the bathroom floor and a stranger is playing with his mouth right now.
the necromancer toys around a bit longer—rubbing his tip over tyler’s lips, coating them in precum, slapping his cock against the hollows of his cheeks.
tyler takes it all, his hands firm against the inside of the necromancer’s thighs, no matter how badly his own dick screams at him from neglect. he said he can wait, so wait he will.
finally, the necromancer pushes his cock past tyler’s lips, sinking into the warm, wet heat. both hands interlock at the base of tyler’s skull, pushing his head down further, further, until tyler’s nose presses into the zipper of his vest.
holding tyler in place, the necromancer slowly lifts his hips, driving his cock farther down his throat. tyler’s nails dig into the fabric of his pants, fighting against his gag reflex as the head of his cock hits the back of his throat over and over.
he’s lucky he has a few days off after this show, because his voice is bound to be wrecked afterwards.
tyler’s throat stretches beautifully, lips wrapped tight around the base of the necromancer’s cock, gliding over his slick length with every motion. his cock is hot and heavy against tyler’s tongue, unignorably familiar in its girth.
on a particularly rough thrust, tyler chokes around him, his throat constricting around the necromancer’s thick cock with a muffled gag.
he pulls tyler off, watching him sputter and gasp for air. tears pool in tyler’s eyes, throat aching already, but he’s not done.
“more,” he croaks weakly.
the necromancer silently guides tyler’s mouth back to his cock, holding him at the tip. tyler takes it as his opportunity to lap at the precum gathered at his slit, humming at the bitter taste. he swirls his tongue around the head, closing his lips around it, sucking on it like a piece of candy.
as hands settle at either side of his head, tyler looks up through his lashes, heart fluttering as he meets the necromancer’s blank stare.
he holds tyler still as he begins thrusting into his mouth again, this time less worried about how deep he can go.
it starts slow, the necromancer taking his time at burying himself down tyler’s tight throat before pulling all the way out, watching his lips slide over every inch, all the way from base to tip. tyler’s lips tingle with every movement, swollen against the necromancer’s cock.
his eyes stay locked on the mask, blood roaring in his ears while his own cock leaks endlessly onto his lap, warm precum dribbling down his thigh.
the necromancer slowly builds speed until he’s slamming his cock down tyler’s throat. his fingers remain locked tightly around the short tufts of hair at the top of tyler’s head, keeping him in place while his hips thrust roughly, abusing the back of his throat.
he makes little to no noise—only sharp inhales, heavy puffs, and the occasional guttural hum to let tyler know his mouth is working. his chest heaves rapidly, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest as he forces tyler’s lips down to the base of his cock.
the sound makes tyler shudder. it’s barely human—certainly not a noise he’s ever heard josh make.
maybe this really isn’t josh.
tyler whimpers around the cock filling his throat, the sound muffled and garbled with the saliva clogging his airway. it makes him gag, and he tries to pull away, but the hands in his hair only grip tighter, holding him steady.
panic swells in tyler’s chest, but he tries to relax, knowing the more he struggles the worse he’ll make it.
just when tyler’s vision starts fading to black, the necromancer finally pulls him off.
he falls backward with a gasp, catching himself on his palms as he coughs and chokes on the spit in the back of his throat. with only a second to recover, the necromancer beckons him forward, stroking his cock in his other hand.
tyler’s cheeks are stained with tears, lips completely numb, jaw aching. still catching his breath, he crawls back between the necromancer’s thighs, mouth opening obediently.
within seconds, the necromancer’s breath stutters, his pace faltering. he cums on tyler’s face, painting him—lips, tongue, nose. it even spurts over one of tyler’s eyes, but he manages to close it just in time.
the cum slowly streaks down his face, and before tyler can swallow what’s in his mouth, the necromancer holds his palm up to his lips. tyler spits into it, a mix of cum and saliva.
his own dick pulses painfully, begging for something, anything, to get him off. hell, it won’t take much. tyler’s afraid even just squeezing it will make him cum.
the necromancer uses his other hand to swipe at the cum coating his face, collecting it on his fingers. he wipes it off on the hand tyler spit in, cupping his palm to keep the puddle from spilling.
after tucking himself back in his pants, his glowing eyes trained on tyler, the necromancer pats his lap. tyler hesitantly crawls on top of him, leaning back against one arm of the chair with his legs strewn over the other, the leather sticking where it meets the crook of his knees.
without warning, the necromancer grips the base of tyler’s cock, curling his wrist to spread his lukewarm cum over tyler’s length.
tyler chokes out a moan, his hands finding the front of the necromancer’s vest and gripping tightly. his head falls back, hips bucking instinctively as the necromancer continues sliding his palm over his cock.
“ohmygodohmygod.”
the necromancer’s arm snakes around his head, clamping a hand down over tyler’s mouth while the other slowly fists his cock, just barely squeezing, using his cum as lube.
it does little to quiet the pathetic cries bubbling up in tyler’s chest. the necromancer’s hand is so warm, so big and meaty, and so wet. feeling his cum spread over every inch of tyler’s cock makes him lightheaded.
he’s dazed and helpless, completely at the necromancer’s mercy as his fist squelches relentlessly over his cock.
tyler finds the strength to pull his eyes from the back of his head, forcing them towards the faceless mask—devoid of emotion, like he couldn’t care less about getting tyler off but he is anyway. those lifeless, red eyes instinctively kick his pulse into overdrive while simultaneously fueling his frantic longing.
tyler cums like that—a white-hot pool of fright and pleasure sinking into his bones, shooting through his veins. he cries into the necromancer’s palm as he releases thick velvety ropes over his fist, cumming so hard it also shoots out over his lap, coating his bare thighs.
as the wave finishes crashing over him, the necromancer slows to a stop, finally removing his hand from over tyler’s mouth.
“jesus christ,” tyler pants, clutching a hand over his chest. “that was so good. i can’t believe you didn’t listen to me sooner.”
the necromancer’s head tilts like he’s confused, to which tyler rolls his eyes.
“alright, josh. you can take it off.”
he doesn’t move. just sits there, chest slowly rising and falling, blankly staring with those red eyes.
“that’s not funny,” tyler says, forcing a laugh. when he doesn’t get a reply, he cautiously removes himself from the necromancer’s lap, blinking with wide eyes. “josh…?”
no response.
slowly, the necromancer bends over, grabbing tyler’s clothes off the floor. he rises to his feet mechanically, almost as if controlled by a remote, and tyler instinctively takes a step back.
“stop. this isn’t funny.”
he flinches when the necromancer suddenly thrusts his clothes towards him. after some hesitation, he yanks them from his grip, fear jittering in his chest.
“what? you want me to get dressed?”
a nod.
“fine. jesus. this isn’t fun anymore, josh. stop it.”
tyler grabs a stray towel josh must’ve used to wipe off sweat earlier during the show, using it to clean himself up. he rushes as he pulls his compression socks up to his knees, the hair at the back of his neck standing on edge as the necromancer watches his every move.
he hates how scrutinized he feels. hates that josh won’t take off the damn mask.
“you’ve proved your point,” tyler grumbles, fastening his belt. “you can take it off now.”
the necromancer’s head tilts again, examining tyler where he stands topless. he slowly looks around the room, spotting where he discarded his tanktop and shirt. tyler follows his gaze, tongue sliding over his top teeth.
“those too?”
another nod.
tyler sighs, stomping across the room to retrieve the rest of his clothes. “this is ridiculous, josh. you gonna wear that thing all night? enough already.”
he tucks his head under the hem of the tanktop, struggling with the tight fabric for a moment before his head finally pokes through the other side.
he’s gone.
tyler blinks rapidly, heart racing in his chest, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the now pitch-black room.
“josh?”
he stumbles for the lightswitch, blindly fumbling around the wall until his fingers meet the cool plastic of the outlet cover.
the overhead lights turn on, slightly easing tyler’s panic, though he’s still entirely alone.
“what the hell?” he mumbles to himself. then, louder, “you’re so not funny, josh!”
he realizes he’s still holding his “always” shirt and quickly slides it over his head, glancing around the room in confusion.
the bathroom door opens, and out comes josh. he’s shirtless, wearing the same shorts he ended the show in, a piece of red confetti still clinging to his upper chest.
he frowns upon seeing tyler. “aren’t you gonna go change?”
tyler’s speechless for a second.
“how’d you do that?”
“do what?”
tyler scoffs. “come on, josh. knock it off.”
josh casts him a sideways glance as he grabs a bottle of water, taking a sip. “knock what off?”
“quit it,” tyler urges, growing more desperate now.
he feels like he’s losing his mind. there’s no way… right?
his lips are still tingling, and he can still feel the euphoric daze of his orgasm, so there’s no way he imagined all that.
“are you okay, man?” josh asks. he picks the confetti off his shoulder and grabs his gray breach hoodie from off the back of a chair.
“please, josh. i’m serious. stop acting like that wasn’t you.”
josh turns away, but not before tyler catches the faintest of grins curled on his lips.
“i have no idea what you’re talking about.”