A fortunately well-insulated dressing room fills with heavy breathing and hushed noises. Ian and Matt had opted to stay back at the venue while the others went to pick up pizza, leaving minimal time to properly handle everything pent up from being on a tour bus for 4 hours. Jon and HK had also stayed, but were busy running around the venue, fiddling with lighting or discussing crowd and line situations. Ian and Matt managed to run away with temporarily unknown whereabouts, slipping into the single dressing room and locking the door behind them. Ian flicks on the lights, bright white ones that only surround a mirror taking up most of the wall. A granite counter sits right below the mirror, with only a sink, cherry hand soap, and a roll of cheap paper towels. Old furniture with ragged fabric and attempted sharpie signatures sits in lonesomeness, moved and stained too many times.
Ian’s back hits the door as Matt encroaches on him, both giggling in spite of themselves. Ian’s eyes flit to Matt’s lips fondly, Matt closing the space between them. Ian runs a hand up the back of his fuzzy head, knocking his beanie off. Ian strips Matt’s shirt off, hands running back and forth between his neck and shoulders. Coercing Ian’s thighs apart with his knee, Matt grabs his wrists and pins them to the door, ducking his head to kiss his neck. Remembering their limited schedule, Ian pushes him away with a small “C’mon”, dragging him by the hand to the love seat opposing the couch; old, itchy material and mysterious dark spots.
And that’s how Ian finds himself atop Matt’s lap, knees on either side of his thighs in the tight space the small seat allows. His shorts and underwear bunch up at his ankles, kept from falling off by his sneakers alone. Matt stares upwards at Ian’s face; the puffs of breath escaping his lips, the uncontrollable frowning of his eyebrows. Ian steadies Matt’s dick underneath him, eyes falling shut as he lowers himself down. Letting himself sit with almost all his body weight, he moans with near-effeminacy, swollen dick nudging Matt’s stomach. Holding Matt’s shoulders, he bounces his hips, gaining speed as he gets more accustomed to the sensation.
“Fuck, Matt. You feel so good, fuck-“ gasps Ian, face smushed against the side of Matt’s head. Matt’s hands alternate between Ian’s hips and ass, keeping a firm grip.
“Sound’ so pretty for me,” murmurs Matt, kissing Ian’s throat, “you’re gorgeous.”
Ian slows his movements and grabs Matt’s face with both hands, leaning downwards to kiss him. Moving his hips again, Ian groans against Matt’s mouth, panting as a he pulls away. Their foreheads rest against each other, skin vaguely sticky with sweat. Moans blend together, Matt forcing Ian all the way down with each thrust. Matt orgasms, toes curling and nails dug into flesh. He sluggishly jerks Ian off, who whimpers his name and hunches his back to hide his face by Matt’s jaw. He cums on Matt’s stomach, taking a second to catch his breath before pulling himself off of his dick. He clumsily gets up and tugs his shorts up, moving to grab paper towels to wipe the cum off Matt and himself. Matt peels off the condom and walks it to a trash can sitting under the counter, letting Ian clean his stomach and dick for him before tucking himself back in his boxers. Ian traverses his hands along Matt’s chest, leaning in to kiss him, before there’s five quick knocks on the door. Matt jumps away and stumbles to zip his pants and pull on a shirt.
“Hey, unlock the door!” Romil shouts from the outside, “We have food!”
Ian laughs as he calmly watches Matt scramble to pull himself together.
“Are you sure they’re even in there?” Ian hears Merlyn ask. He walks to the door, picking up Matt’s beanie and tossing it to him, before taking a deep breath and opening it.
“Hey,” greets Ian cooly, “Hurry up, I’m starving as fuck.”
The boys shuffle in, giving Ian skeptical looks but looking joyous all the same.
“Were y’all making out in here, or what?” quips Joba softly, punching Matt on the arm.
Matt laughs a little too loud.