What Happens Backstage - Part 8

Leo’s POV

I’d had enough.

Enough of walking into rooms mid-orgasm. Enough of hearing whispers behind dressing room doors. Enough of watching this band fall apart under the weight of lust, secrets, and personal agendas.

This was my band.

And it was time to remind them of that.

I call the emergency meeting after rehearsal.

No excuses. No one leaves. Phones off. Doors locked.

They all sit around the bus lounge like schoolboys waiting to be scolded—Micah biting his nail, Jett manspreading like nothing's wrong, Ash and River not even looking at each other. Tension so thick you could jerk it off.

I step in front of them, arms crossed. I make sure to pause long enough for them to get nervous.

“So. The ship mentions have gone down.”

No one speaks.

“I wonder why,” I say, pacing slowly. “Oh wait—I know. I walked in on Micah and Jett fucking.”

Micah scoffs. “You want truth? Fine. What about Ash and River? You think that’s not happening?”

Ash leans back. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know enough,” I snap. “You’re all mixing off-script. And guess what? The fans aren’t biting anymore. No one's shipping anyone because you don’t know who to fuck on stage anymore.”

They look at each other, guilty, defensive, hard to tell.

I slam my hand on the table. “You can’t just freestyle your chemistry. That’s not how this works. We need a consistent ship.”

Ash shrugs. “You know there could be a new ship, right?”

My eyes narrow. “You wanna talk chemistry?”
I grin darkly. “Fine. Let’s test it.”

They stare at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Everyone,” I say calmly, “take your clothes off.”

Jett whistles. “What the hell, Leo.”

“As your leader,” I continue, ignoring him, “I have to take matters into my own hands. Now. I’m going to assess you.”

Micah is the first to stand. His hoodie hits the floor. Shirt next. Then sweats. He’s fully naked, semi-hard, shameless.

Jett follows with a smirk, peeling his shirt off slow like a stripper. His cock swings thick between his legs once the boxers drop.

Ash stands reluctantly. River hesitates too. But eventually they’re both naked, dicks already swelling from the tension.

I sit back on the couch, watching them all. “Good.”

Their cocks twitch in the air. No one speaks.

“Now,” I command, “Ash. Make out with Micah.”

Micah steps forward like he’s been waiting. He grabs Ash’s face and kisses him deep. Their bodies press, cocks brushing. I notice Ash isn’t fully hard yet—but Micah is leaking.

“Okay,” I say. “Now Ash, with River.”

Ash turns, and something shifts.

River’s eyes lock on his like he’s starved. Their kiss is messier. Needier. Ash’s hips grind into River’s, and both of them are fully hard within seconds.

“Interesting,” I mutter, stroking my own thigh.

Jett steps in, jealous. “Watch this.”

He yanks Micah back and kisses him hungrily. Micah gasps. Jett grabs his ass with both hands, lifting him slightly. Their cocks rub furiously between their stomachs, wet and desperate.

I lick my lips.

Their bodies are flushed, every one of them dripping with lust.

I clear my throat.

“Ash, River—fuck.”

They don’t question it.

Ash pins River to the wall and lifts his leg, pushing into him with a groan. River throws his head back, moaning shamelessly.

“F-fuck—Ash—”

At the same time I nod at Jett and Micah.

“You too.”

Micah straddles Jett on the couch, guiding him in. Their mouths never part, even as Jett slides in with a choked moan.

Now it’s happening all at once.

River clinging to Ash as he’s pounded against the wall, moaning his name.
Micah riding Jett with abandon, their bodies slapping together.

I finally stand, cock aching, and strip.

I sit back down, naked, stroking myself slow, watching all of it like a king on his throne.

Moans echo through the bus.

Ash growls in River’s ear.
Micah begs Jett to go faster.
Sweat glistens on their backs, cocks wet, balls tight.

I stroke faster. My eyes dart from River’s thighs shaking as Ash fucks him deep—to Micah biting down on Jett’s shoulder as he cums hard between them.

Then Jett grunts and fills Micah.
River sobs Ash’s name and cums all over the floor.
Ash moans and spills inside him, barely holding himself up.

And I explode—hot, thick ropes across my chest as I groan their names under my breath.

The bus is silent now.

Bodies trembling. Breathing uneven.

I stand, wipe myself off, and look around like a director finishing a masterpiece.

“Well,” I say, smug as hell, “I think I found the winner.”