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Lead Lives in Love	By : Nevoreiel Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Franz Ferdinand Views: 1109 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Franz Ferdinand. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Lead Lives in Love
- 1
Title: Lead Lives in Love
Pairing: Bob/Paul; Nick/Alex
Rating: R
Summary: Strange things happen after gigs. Strange indeed.
Disclaimer: Not real, never happened, no offence meant at all. I love them too much to offend on purpose.
Notes: This is just plain silly, if the first line didn't give that away already. I tried to make Paul speak Scottish like; kill me if I got it horribly wrong. There is only one line that I completely adore, everything else is mediocre.

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Bob has an overactive bladder or at least it seems like it. Poor Bob gets so nervous before each show that he downs more water than would be advised. Of course, by the end, he's trying very hard to contain himself. He's sure to cross one leg over the other as he takes the final bow, his belt buckle biting in cruelly. Would be terrible to have a wee accident.

Managing all that, he walks off-stage and then sprints for the bogs. The others like to tease him about it. Not that he cares.

At first Bob fumbles in his haste to relieve himself. Taking a few breaths, he tries again, but never quite gets there. The door creaks open and Bob, in pain and frustrated, shouts, "Can't a man take a piss in peace!?" Only then does he realize that it's only Paul. Bob grins sheepishly.

Paul raises an eyebrow quizzically, "Need some help wi' 'at?"

"Wha...? I...no. I think I can manage, thanks." Bob looks dazed and his face is scarlet. His fingers tug at the zip and buttons as he stares fixedly at the tile in front of him. There's a rustle of cloth and the sound of a zipper. Bob's face turns even darker as he tells himself to keep his eyes lowered and not to look! But once he thought of not looking, he just had to look.

Paul puts Bob to shame and Bob cannot stop staring, his own plight forgotten. Paul cocks his head to the side and stares back at Bob through his sweaty fringe, flashing a quick smile.

Bob stammers and stutters unintelligibly, averting his eyes, though wishing he could keep watching unashamedly. Finally managing the zip, Bob almost sighs in relief and he can almost swear that Paul tries to whistle through the gap in his teeth, albeit quietly.

Paul washes his hands as Bob frantically tucks himself in, still not looking at Paul. The water from the tap runs cold and Bob contemplates splashing his burning face. He looks up into the mirror and is startled to see Paul's reflection saluting him. "I'll lae ye tae it, 'en," Paul grins cheekily.

Bob almost wrings the knob's rusty neck, shutting off the tap. He's not sure why or how or what exactly for, but Paul ends up pressed up against the tiled wall, all the same. Bob is panting; towering over Paul, who is looking at him in an unsettling way, head lowered with eyes rolled up. The thought crosses Bob's mind that Paul engineered the whole thing, but he dismisses it. He leans in, neck bent uncomfortably, feeling the hot mouth and pushing his tongue inside. His wet hands grasp at the striped shirt, one clutched in a fist to awkwardly push up the material, the other grasping underneath to feel the warm, shuddering skin.

Slack in Bob's grip, lazily giving in to the onslaught, Paul slings an arm about Bob, pushing his hips forward. Bob moans into Paul's mouth, fingertips grazing over Paul's stomach, hooking on the belt. He's much more dexterous in undoing Paul's trousers than he was with his own.

They kiss savagely, slick and smooth like silk. Paul's arms tighten around Bob's neck before he breaks away, a little glassy-eyed, lips tingling pleasantly. His smile is lascivious as he surrenders to the attentions given him.

Slowly sinking to his knees, Bob slides the palms of his hands down Paul's heaving sides. His eyes are bright when he looks up at Paul from his kneeling position. With thumbs hooked on the belt loops, Bob slides the trousers down, marveling at Paul's girth. The best-hung man in Scotland indeed! Fingers slide over the jut of the hips, gripping tightly, and Paul moans low and urgent when Bob wraps his lips about him, tongue relentless against the heavy weight. Paul pants unevenly, hands urging Bob on, clutching at his shoulders, fingertips pressed to the feathery, damp strands of his golden hair.

Bob needs no urging. Keeping Paul still, he hollows out his cheeks, jaw aching; though that's not the only thing that's aching. Peeling away one hand, he reaches down to fumble with his zip once more. He almost chokes on Paul's cock when the door creaks open, Alex and Nick stumbling in.

At first they do not see the pair against the wall, their own faces attached at the mouth and hands flying everywhere. When they do, they quickly tear apart, Alex's hand still down Nick's parted trousers.

The four cease breathing, they are so startled. Poor Bob goes scarlet, and not solely from lack of oxygen.

Alex is the first to speak, "Well...this is a surprise. But don't mind us, we promise not to be a bother." He smiles quickly and drags Nick after him, hand still inside Nick's trousers.

Paul shrugs with one shoulder, the slight shock not dampening his spirit. Bob whines low in his throat, scrambling to get his hand past the band of his trousers, Paul's fingers tight in his hair.

Alex leads Nick as far as the opposite wall – a small, shadowed niche conveniently there just for them. He leans against the wall and pulls Nick in for a noisy kiss, eyes slits of murky blue-green. Nick's mouth descends, so soft and scorching that Alex's head lolls back to rest against the wall. He works his fingers over the sharp collarbones, sliding them to the angular shoulders, gently urging down. A sharp nip of teeth makes Alex hiss and he watches hungrily as Nick slides to his knees, looking up at him with a piercing gaze.

Alex focuses on Paul across the way, Bob's blond head at his crotch, bobbing along. He draws in his breath, feeling dizzy and lightheaded, when Nick pulls him into his mouth. Paul smiles hazily, fingers curled tightly in Bob's fluffy hair. Alex smiles in response, stroking Nick's head encouragingly.

Paul groans and bucks helplessly, knees folding under his own weight. Bob holds him up, stroking himself all the quicker. Finding his own release, he lets Paul slump to the floor.

Alex watches avidly, gasping a little. Tensing, he sighs, "yes...", and empties into Nick's eager mouth, fingertips poised lightly on his temples.

Warm and sated, he draws Nick up, kissing him slow and deep. He reaches into Nick's trousers and lovingly finishes the job he started, hand curving in steady arcs and twists. Nick moans into their kiss, hips pushing into Alex's firm grip.

Everyone collectively catches their breath, flushed, with blood thudding madly in their heads. Bob and Paul slowly stand, using each other for support, walking to the sinks. Bob's hands are trembling a fair bit as he splashes cold water on his face. Paul has a satisfied look about him. Blissful even. Alex and Nick make their way to the mirrors, straightening out their clothes, giving coy looks to each other's reflection.

They stand one per mirror, hiding unsightly marks. There is a lot of adjusting as each arranges himself to the left, getting decent before leaving the loo. With a crisp zip, they do up their trousers at the same moment.

Filing out, Alex is the last to leave, giving Nick's arse a parting pinch. Nick's scolding voice fades as the door closes behind them.

End
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Lead Lives in Love