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Five Finger Death Punch	By : mmarc56 Category: Celebrities - Misc > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1552 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Five Finger Death Punch or any of its members, this story is a work of fiction, and I made no money writing it.

Chapter List
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Chapter Eighteen: Hotel, Part 2

“Do you hear that?”

Jason leaned against the wall separating their room from Ivan’s and Chris’s. His eyes slid over to look at Zoltan who muted the television and watched the wall carefully with a blank expression. After another second of listening in dead silence he heard it too: there was the undeniable sound of intercourse taking place next door. Jason looked back over at him with a grin and their eyes locked.

Zoltan shook his head and unmuted the television without saying anything. “Turn that off!” He whispered roughly, “I can’t hear.”

“Why do you want to?” The guitarist asked without lowering his voice.

“Shh!” he snapped. Jason pressed his ear into the wall and stirred his hips. Zoltan shook his head again. “They’re so gay for each other…” he mumbled.

“Leave it alone.”

“Oh, stop acting like a saint. You’ve gotta be interested in this too. You didn’t even see them fuck when they were drunk!”

“You don’t even remember it!” Zoltan retorted.

“Whatever…” Jason put his ear against the wall again and added under his breath, “You’re such a sexual man. I know you’re as into this as I am. Don’t act like you aren’t.”

Jason confused Zoltan. He had been the one who came to him in the beginning, embarrassed and angry that he had acted so chill after hearing his confession of wanting to kiss a man himself. “Make an exception” he had said. Zoltan shook his head. Now, despite being the one who came to him when Chris and Ivan weren’t satisfying him, he acted so uninterested. He had got what he wanted – what Zoltan thought he wanted too: Chris and Ivan kissed each other. They kissed and fucked and Jason had seen it and they were fucking right now too. Jason was a whore. Zoltan wasn’t special to him. He kissed him the same way he kissed his other bandmates, aside from Jeremy. Zoltan thought he knew the reason for his behavior: he was curious. He wanted to watch men kiss, then do it himself, but now the younger guitarist didn’t even know what was going through the older man’s mind. There was nothing special about himself – Jason only kissed him because he was willing – he knew that now, but something had to special about their singer and bassist for him to keep going back to them. His unusual engrossment in them was what sparked his homoerotic interests in the first place, but why? What was so damn special about them that made him want to continuously pursue them in his own strange way rather than just accept the first man he had ever kissed who was still willing and still curious?

“Jason, come here,” The guitarist beckoned him to the bed.

“What? No.” He continued to lean against the wall, attempting to subtly touch his crotch.

Zoltan turned the television off. “Jason. Come here. I wanna ask you something.”

He stood up straight and looked at him. “What?”

“What’s your deal with Chris and Ivan?”

As if he had realized the younger man had nothing interesting to say he returned his ear to the wall and mumbled, “What’s your deal with them? You wanted them to kiss and fuck and all that shit too. God, stop acting like a freaking saint, Z.”

Zoltan shook his head again. “You wanna go next door and ask to join or something?” Jason ignored him.

“Wow, they’re really into it. I think that’s Chris… Is he on bottom?” He laughed in excited astonishment and grabbed himself.

“Leave it alone, Jason! Damn,” Zoltan turned the television on and cranked up the volume.

“Hey! Turn it off man!”

“No! Quit being sick!”

The guitarist’s eyes widened and he glanced nervously at the wall as he harshly snapped, “Shh!” He angrily looked between Zoltan and the television before he added in the same threatening tone, “Would you turn that shit off?”

“Nope.”

Jason jumped at him and tackled him, grabbed the remote, his knee in the other man’s chest, and tried to pry it out of his grasp. “Get off!” Zoltan said, both of them struggling to keep their voices down.

“Turn it off,” Jason said through his teeth, “Bitch!” He slid his knee into the guitarist neck and the remote broke free from his hand. He spun over and hastily muted the television before chucking the remote across the room right as Zoltan was grabbing him again. They struggled on the bed some before he pulled himself free of the older man’s arms and stood up, enraged and red in the face.

“You’re a bitch, Jason!” he shouted, “I hope you drown in a pool of your own piss!”

“Go to hell!”

Zoltan stormed over to the television and turned it off and then spun around and stared angrily at his bandmate. In the silence of them glaring at each other the sounds of Chris and Ivan resurfaced. Suddenly there was a loud noise from one of them, presumably Chris, and both of the men looked back at the wall. There was some heavy moaning and then it fell quiet.

“C’mere,” Jason mumbled to Zoltan. As if their argument that had just taken place only a moment ago had never happened, the younger guitarist joined him in the bed and laid down as his little spoon. Cuddling together in dead silence broken only by their shallow breathing, they listened carefully until the muffled moans in the other room started up again. “Isn’t that sexy?” Jason whispered quietly in his ear. He stuck his hand down his own pants and Zoltan could feel him touching himself against his ass. He stirred his hips into him and the older man held him tighter. “Don’t you like that?” He said, his soft voice trimmed with the strain of pleasure he was causing himself. “Listen to them…” He pressed his face into the back of Zoltan’s neck and breathed heavily against it.
“Shh…”
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