(no subject)
Title: A Caricature of Intimacy
Fandoms: Skins cast one, Panic at the Disco
Rating: nc17
Pairing: established Sid/Tony, with Sid/Tony/Brendon, Tony/Brendon, Sid/Ryan/Spencer
Wordcount: 2932
Summary: Panic comes to play at Jal's father's club. Tony and Sid really enjoy them. Like, really enjoy them.
Disclaimer: neither the show nor the band are mine.
Warnings: nothing. pretty tame for an orgy fic.
Notes: for the prompt 'proposition' on my Sid/Tony smut table. I have used quotes from Time to dance, Lying is the most fun a girl can have with her clothes on, and The only difference between martyrdom and suicide is press coverage, and the title is from Build god then we'll talk.
Canon I'm messing with: On Tony's fake blog it says he likes all these bands I looked up that are crap techno, so no. Panic playing such a small venue (but hey, at least they really are in Europe at the time). PatD wearing this for their concert http://blogs.browardpalmbeach.com/crossfade/panic-at-the-disco.jpg while I have no idea when those pictures were taken.
Mostly, Tony likes Jal's club. Well it's not technically Jal's club. But that's one of the things he likes about it, that since it's not quite hers, she doesn't have to worry about the laws of running a club. The bouncers are brutal, and what's worse is that they actually seem to care when people aren't legal, unlike most of the clubs Tony tries to wriggle his way into. But one quick text to Jal and she'll come downstairs and tell the burly men he's on the list. Even when she has no clue who's playing, and is wearing pygamas when she comes downstairs.
Which is actually the second thing Tony likes. Having a friend that has a bunch of bedrooms on top of a nightclub is fucking awesome. If he and Sid need a minute, which really, is less of an if and more of a when, they've got options. They don't have to choose between public frottage (complete with stained trousers), and skuzzy echoey loo sex. Jal lets them go upstairs.
The only thing he doesn't like about it are Jal's brothers. They're idiots. Clearly Jal got all portions of the Frazer allotment of brains. Tony isn't one for rap. He likes techno when he's rolling (who doesn't?), and rock when he's high, drunk, or oddly enough, sober. He'll dance to R&B, because one needs to know how to dance to anything, but it's not really his thing. If he was dating Michelle it would be different. She would be the type to go out dancing every night, and as boyfriend he'd need to dance every night. As it is, Sid's more of a mosher. Far more relaxing, in a heart-beating, nerves-tingling, elbows in the face sort of way.
Tonight the whole gang is there. It's an experimental night, something other than rap. Apparently Mr Frazer is trying to expand his customer base. Tony's never heard of the band, but he's bored, and Sid is generally up for anything, so they go. It's not quite a date because everyone has shown up, even Posh Kenneth, practically glued to Michelle's side. It should be surprising, the wannabe gangster showing up to a rock band, but it's not. Some guys will do anything for sex, and Michelle's the type to hold out until she gets something of value, monetary or prestige wise.
They all piss around for a bit while the DJ is playing a strange mix of techno, classic rock and pop. It's like he's been told anything but rap, and it's impossible to dance to such an odd compilement of music. So they don't, instead they go to the couches and talk. Anwar buys everyone a round, except Maxxie, who's getting drinks from the bloke he'd been hitting on all night. The bloke is at least twenty years older than Maxxie, and Tony wouldn't consider him for a second. Tony hasn't really considered anyone lately, he's got everything he wants in Sid. He hasn't even cheated in over a year.
Then the DJ stops, and everyone knows to gather by the small stage. The lights dim even more, and they wait with anticipation. And then the band comes out. Tony wants to laugh when they come onto the stage. The drummer looks like a pudgy lesbian, though at least he's wearing a white beaded suit instead of plaid. The base guitarist and the lead singer are obviously gay, and the other guitarist looks like he crossdresses more often than not. There's nothing wrong with the supergay band look, in his mind it beats the hell out of eighties hair metal. It just is the complete opposite of what anyone aligns Frazer with. The lead singer is wearing a ruffled cravat for fucksakes!
They start immediately into the song. In the first three words the singer plunges into a falsetto, well she's not bleeding on the ballroom floor, and Tony can almost feel the disgust of half the audience. Still, the music is good. He's nodding his head along, and he can feel Sid beside him start to jump up and down. By the time they get to what Tony thinks is probably the chorus when I say shotgun you say wedding, shotgun - wedding, shotgun - wedding! the audience has separated. Most of them have faded back to the drinks table, but there are still a good twenty people beginning to crash against each other.
It's harder than one would think to mosh to music you've never heard before. This band's music is like waves, nearly silent, ballady parts crescendoing to a shout after a few seconds. Normally you'd stop moshing when the calmer songs start, but this band isn't doing it properly.
Then a song comes on that starts calmly, but the lyrics are pure sex, is it still me that makes you sweat? Am I who you think about in bed? When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress? and as Tony cranes his neck to see the dolled up singer pour himself into the song, suddenly all Tony can think about is what the guy would look like naked. His body electrifies, and he wants to suck cock. It's an ache inside him, he wants the band like he hasn't wanted anything in a long time.
Sid's hand reaches for his, and he can tell Sid wants the same, and nothing would be better than retiring upstairs to get off. But then they'd miss the rest of the songs. Hard as rock, the singer wailing about testosterone boys and Harlequin girls, Tony turns and tilts his head. His hands curl around Sid's great arse, his tongue rubbing against Sid's. Their mouths are fucking in a cruel mockery of what their bodies scream to do, but it'll have to be enough.
Tony doesn't know if Mr Frazer is motioning the band behind the audience, or if their playlist is just naturally short, but in what seems like no time at all, the twinky guitarist shouts 'last song' into the mike. He and Sid, and the rest of the captivated audience boo loud enough to hopefully cover the crass cheering of the idiots sitting at the bar.
It's a great moshing song. Tony is being pressed on at all angles, and it's not a surprise to feel he's not the only one with an erection. Rock music does that, it's so much more alive than any other kind. They're all roaring, trying to convince the band this doesn't have to be the last song, and Tony can hardly hear the words, but he catches desperate for attention and figures it's a song mocking emoness of teenagers. It doesn't matter if the band is making fun of him, he still loves it.
The drummer stands and everyone bows, and though they scream "encore" at the top of their lungs, they don't return to their instruments. The lights raise a fraction and the crowd quickly disperses. Tony winces as something about having bitches comes on the stereo system. It's almost a crime to have to listen to it, after hearing such good music for the last half hour. He and Sid join everyone at the bar, and Maxxie tosses him a bottle of water which he chugs dry.
Tony's sweaty, and aching, and horny. People have sharp extremities, he can feel the bruises already starting to form. It hardly matters, all he wants to do is run upstairs and fuck Sid until they're both screaming and he can't see. He takes Sid's hand again, fingers lacing, and is about to start making whatever transparent excuse will let Jal let them go upstairs when an idea hits him.
Five minutes later they're outside the room the acts stay in. Nobody is supposed to know about this room, aside from the Frazers, the business partners, and the acts themselves. Tony knows, of course, but he's never cared enough -at all, really- about a rapper to go hunt him down. This is different. Tony doesn't knock on the door, because that doesn't show confidence, and he knows if they're going to pull this off they'll need the biggest set of bollocks ever.
"Who are you?" the drummer asks.
Before Tony can think of something brilliant to say, Sid interrupts with "We're your groupies." It's a bad time to kick Sid in the shin, an equally bad time to mention that Tony doesn't even know the band's name, but seriously, he'll need to have a talk later with Sid about letting Tony take the lead in new situations.
"Where the hell is Zack?" the bassist groans. Tony guesses that's the manager, or someone else that's supposed to protect them from rabid fans. Knowing Jal's father, Tony guesses Zack is probably having to insist that they still get paid, even though everyone hated the band.
"Look, just let us suck your cocks and we'll leave." Sid says reasonably. Except this band doesn't appear to be fans of casual sex, like every teenager Tony knows. If the lead singer's eyebrows raise any higher they'll disappear into his hair.
"Fucking Christ, Sid," he groans.
"You want to suck me off?" the guitarist questions. He's wearing a beige lace suit, and normally, no, Tony would never want to suck off that kind of bloke. But he's horny, and the music is still racing through his head, making his body thrum.
"Ryan, Jesus." the bassist groans.
"What? I like the accent." Ryan says to his bandmate, then turns back to Sid. "What if I'd rather fuck you? Does your gay for celebrities thing extend to being fucked in the ass?"
"Ryan!" the drummer shouts in a tone remarkably like Jal. Any second now Ryan's going to get a lecture, Tony's sure of it. But Sid interrupts it all by dropping to his knees and pulling Tony's jeans apart.
And holy shit, it's so incredibly wrong. There's a huge problem with this, and it's much less that he's being sucked off in front of four guys with the door still wide open, and much more that Sid's taking charge. If that means he's got control problems, so be it.
"Boyfriend of three years," Tony informs the band. "We just like you too." He's inwardly wincing at the utter lack of cool phrasing, but at some point cool needs to be flushed down the loo so everyone can move onto hot grunty sex.
"I call the pretty one," the drummer says. Tony takes a look around the room. That's hardly a clue, all six of them are fucking beautiful. Shit, Sid's the manliest one of them all, and that's really saying something.
The lead singer comes forward and with light fingers on Tony's jaw, turns his head to the side. Sid's still sucking him, and he's making out with a hot bloke who sings like someone is having sex in his throat. It's a ridiculous situation, and Tony knows it's only gonna get worse/better.
"Fuck off Brendon. I called him." the drummer bitches.
Brendon pulls away from the kiss and it pisses Tony off, so he snaps "I'm not the bloody shotgun seat" as Brendon says "Move faster next time Spence." And it should kill the mood that Brendon already knows there'll be a next time, that he and Sid are practically anonymous sluts in just another city in a series. But it doesn't. Brendon's nimble fingers dance across his balls, curl around his shaft where Sid's lips can't reach, move up Sid's face to pluck his hat off, and Tony doubts anything could kill his mood. The four horsemen could appear in the room and Tony would only tell them to sod off for a few minutes.
Then his dick is cold, because Sid's pulled off, and his saliva is drying in the cool air. Sid has pulled off because Ryan's hand has pulled his head to the side. Without an audible warning he shoves his own cock into Sid's mouth. Tony stops making out with Brendon for a minute so he can watch his boyfriend, but then Brendon starts stroking him and his attention is reclaimed. Brendon's got long fingers, still warm from clutching the mike with all he's got. They feel fucking great against his cock, and even though they miss some of the spots Sid knows to get, the difference in experience adds to the heat of the moment.
Tony only clues in to what's happening when he hears Sid grunt at him to pass the lube. It's not whorish of Tony that he carries a tiny tube of lubricant whenever he and Sid hang out, it's called being ready for any situation. It's not like they're girls and can self lube. After the third time making do with spit in the staff bathroom at school, Tony learned his lesson. He squats so he can get the tube out of his jeans, which are currently down around his ankles, and looks to his side. His hand stutters in it's travels, the scene in front of him is shatteringly hot. Better than most of the porno he's ever watched.
In the time that he and Brendon have been snogging and wanking each other, Sid's gotten far more advanced action. He's on his hands and knees, mouth still bobbing effortlessly on Ryan's monstrous cock. He's drooling a bit, lips bright red from the stretch, and Tony wants to pull him off to snog him, but thinks both parties will probably be upset if he tries. Ryan's sitting, legs spread out, back resting against the room's single couch. The still unnamed bass player is sitting with his trousers unzipped, wanking as his gaze goes back and forth between Sid and Tony. On the other side of Sid, the drummer is kneeling between his legs. One of the drummer's -Tony thinks Brendon called him Spence- hands is slowly wanking Sid, the other is drawing lines on his arse. Tony knows from experience that'll make Sid's skin goosebump, and it'll make him more desperate for real touch. For someone that doesn't know a thing about his boyfriend, Spence is doing pretty good.
He doesn't trust himself to have perfect aim with the container, so he regretfully separates from Brendon to pass it to the drummer. "Thanks" Spence says, and Tony harshly suppresses a giggle. The few times he'd wanked off to an orgy fantasy, he'd never imagined manners as part of it.
Tony doesn't make out with Brendon any more. It's easier to lick at his adam's apple, it still makes what they're doing more intimate, and it gives them both the chance to watch. And watching is important, because Sid's taking it ruthlessly, Ryan fucking his throat as Spence fucks his arse. Sid's just a vessel for cock in this, and it's just about the hottest thing he's seen in his life. These noises are pouring out of him, and Tony can't tell if Sid's moaning because he loves it, or gagging, and he doubts a single person in the room cares. It doesn't matter, as long as they don't stop.
He erupts over Brendon's hand, but keeps stroking Brendon through his orgasm. He's not about to be the shitty lover in this group. When Brendon slumps against him, he figures the singer for done, but doesn't pull away like Tony used to after a quick cheat. He doesn't have to flee, trying to outmove the guilt, Sid's here. Sid's on his knees, being used, and Tony desperately wants to take pictures with his mobile, but A) figures it's a bit tacky, and B) will probably end up getting his phone confiscated so that he doesn't leak pictures online.
Ryan and Spence come at the same time, Ryan with a low groan, Spence's more a series of grunts. They both stand and tuck themselves in, and take the few steps until they're beside him. Brendon shifts, leaning until he's resting against Spence, and Ryan redresses him. The bassist appears to be sleeping, still half naked on the couch. Tony figures he should probably be making small talk with the band, but Sid's on the floor, one arm holding him up as he wanks himself to a finish. He uses his pants to clean himself up, and pulls on his lame tshirt and dark jeans.
Tony sees Ryan and Spence and Brendon leaning against each other, and is happy for them. He doesn't know a thing about them, maybe they're just friends, using other bodies as surrogates so they don't cross that line. But they seem happy with each other, fine with seeking comfort in each other. Sid's dressed and coming towards him, and Tony knows this is the real moment of doubt. If they can't handle these few seconds, their relationship will be forever altered. Tony wants everything to be fine, he wants to be like Ryan and Spence and Brendon.
Sid comes close enough that Tony can smell the aura of come around him. He reeks, and Tony knows that he still loves him, and everything is going to be okay. He holds out his hand and Sid slips his fingers through and everything is going to be okay.
Still, they've got to get out. Tony really doesn't want to hear 'thanks' again, and it's not like they can fake any of the 'I'll call you sometime' bullshit, not when they've fucked an entire touring band. So Tony just flashes one of his make-the-teachers-melt smiles, and leads Sid out. They've gotten what they want. Now they just have to figure out how to tell their mates about it without anyone freaking out.
Fandoms: Skins cast one, Panic at the Disco
Rating: nc17
Pairing: established Sid/Tony, with Sid/Tony/Brendon, Tony/Brendon, Sid/Ryan/Spencer
Wordcount: 2932
Summary: Panic comes to play at Jal's father's club. Tony and Sid really enjoy them. Like, really enjoy them.
Disclaimer: neither the show nor the band are mine.
Warnings: nothing. pretty tame for an orgy fic.
Notes: for the prompt 'proposition' on my Sid/Tony smut table. I have used quotes from Time to dance, Lying is the most fun a girl can have with her clothes on, and The only difference between martyrdom and suicide is press coverage, and the title is from Build god then we'll talk.
Canon I'm messing with: On Tony's fake blog it says he likes all these bands I looked up that are crap techno, so no. Panic playing such a small venue (but hey, at least they really are in Europe at the time). PatD wearing this for their concert http://blogs.browardpalmbeach.com/crossfade/panic-at-the-disco.jpg while I have no idea when those pictures were taken.
Mostly, Tony likes Jal's club. Well it's not technically Jal's club. But that's one of the things he likes about it, that since it's not quite hers, she doesn't have to worry about the laws of running a club. The bouncers are brutal, and what's worse is that they actually seem to care when people aren't legal, unlike most of the clubs Tony tries to wriggle his way into. But one quick text to Jal and she'll come downstairs and tell the burly men he's on the list. Even when she has no clue who's playing, and is wearing pygamas when she comes downstairs.
Which is actually the second thing Tony likes. Having a friend that has a bunch of bedrooms on top of a nightclub is fucking awesome. If he and Sid need a minute, which really, is less of an if and more of a when, they've got options. They don't have to choose between public frottage (complete with stained trousers), and skuzzy echoey loo sex. Jal lets them go upstairs.
The only thing he doesn't like about it are Jal's brothers. They're idiots. Clearly Jal got all portions of the Frazer allotment of brains. Tony isn't one for rap. He likes techno when he's rolling (who doesn't?), and rock when he's high, drunk, or oddly enough, sober. He'll dance to R&B, because one needs to know how to dance to anything, but it's not really his thing. If he was dating Michelle it would be different. She would be the type to go out dancing every night, and as boyfriend he'd need to dance every night. As it is, Sid's more of a mosher. Far more relaxing, in a heart-beating, nerves-tingling, elbows in the face sort of way.
Tonight the whole gang is there. It's an experimental night, something other than rap. Apparently Mr Frazer is trying to expand his customer base. Tony's never heard of the band, but he's bored, and Sid is generally up for anything, so they go. It's not quite a date because everyone has shown up, even Posh Kenneth, practically glued to Michelle's side. It should be surprising, the wannabe gangster showing up to a rock band, but it's not. Some guys will do anything for sex, and Michelle's the type to hold out until she gets something of value, monetary or prestige wise.
They all piss around for a bit while the DJ is playing a strange mix of techno, classic rock and pop. It's like he's been told anything but rap, and it's impossible to dance to such an odd compilement of music. So they don't, instead they go to the couches and talk. Anwar buys everyone a round, except Maxxie, who's getting drinks from the bloke he'd been hitting on all night. The bloke is at least twenty years older than Maxxie, and Tony wouldn't consider him for a second. Tony hasn't really considered anyone lately, he's got everything he wants in Sid. He hasn't even cheated in over a year.
Then the DJ stops, and everyone knows to gather by the small stage. The lights dim even more, and they wait with anticipation. And then the band comes out. Tony wants to laugh when they come onto the stage. The drummer looks like a pudgy lesbian, though at least he's wearing a white beaded suit instead of plaid. The base guitarist and the lead singer are obviously gay, and the other guitarist looks like he crossdresses more often than not. There's nothing wrong with the supergay band look, in his mind it beats the hell out of eighties hair metal. It just is the complete opposite of what anyone aligns Frazer with. The lead singer is wearing a ruffled cravat for fucksakes!
They start immediately into the song. In the first three words the singer plunges into a falsetto, well she's not bleeding on the ballroom floor, and Tony can almost feel the disgust of half the audience. Still, the music is good. He's nodding his head along, and he can feel Sid beside him start to jump up and down. By the time they get to what Tony thinks is probably the chorus when I say shotgun you say wedding, shotgun - wedding, shotgun - wedding! the audience has separated. Most of them have faded back to the drinks table, but there are still a good twenty people beginning to crash against each other.
It's harder than one would think to mosh to music you've never heard before. This band's music is like waves, nearly silent, ballady parts crescendoing to a shout after a few seconds. Normally you'd stop moshing when the calmer songs start, but this band isn't doing it properly.
Then a song comes on that starts calmly, but the lyrics are pure sex, is it still me that makes you sweat? Am I who you think about in bed? When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress? and as Tony cranes his neck to see the dolled up singer pour himself into the song, suddenly all Tony can think about is what the guy would look like naked. His body electrifies, and he wants to suck cock. It's an ache inside him, he wants the band like he hasn't wanted anything in a long time.
Sid's hand reaches for his, and he can tell Sid wants the same, and nothing would be better than retiring upstairs to get off. But then they'd miss the rest of the songs. Hard as rock, the singer wailing about testosterone boys and Harlequin girls, Tony turns and tilts his head. His hands curl around Sid's great arse, his tongue rubbing against Sid's. Their mouths are fucking in a cruel mockery of what their bodies scream to do, but it'll have to be enough.
Tony doesn't know if Mr Frazer is motioning the band behind the audience, or if their playlist is just naturally short, but in what seems like no time at all, the twinky guitarist shouts 'last song' into the mike. He and Sid, and the rest of the captivated audience boo loud enough to hopefully cover the crass cheering of the idiots sitting at the bar.
It's a great moshing song. Tony is being pressed on at all angles, and it's not a surprise to feel he's not the only one with an erection. Rock music does that, it's so much more alive than any other kind. They're all roaring, trying to convince the band this doesn't have to be the last song, and Tony can hardly hear the words, but he catches desperate for attention and figures it's a song mocking emoness of teenagers. It doesn't matter if the band is making fun of him, he still loves it.
The drummer stands and everyone bows, and though they scream "encore" at the top of their lungs, they don't return to their instruments. The lights raise a fraction and the crowd quickly disperses. Tony winces as something about having bitches comes on the stereo system. It's almost a crime to have to listen to it, after hearing such good music for the last half hour. He and Sid join everyone at the bar, and Maxxie tosses him a bottle of water which he chugs dry.
Tony's sweaty, and aching, and horny. People have sharp extremities, he can feel the bruises already starting to form. It hardly matters, all he wants to do is run upstairs and fuck Sid until they're both screaming and he can't see. He takes Sid's hand again, fingers lacing, and is about to start making whatever transparent excuse will let Jal let them go upstairs when an idea hits him.
Five minutes later they're outside the room the acts stay in. Nobody is supposed to know about this room, aside from the Frazers, the business partners, and the acts themselves. Tony knows, of course, but he's never cared enough -at all, really- about a rapper to go hunt him down. This is different. Tony doesn't knock on the door, because that doesn't show confidence, and he knows if they're going to pull this off they'll need the biggest set of bollocks ever.
"Who are you?" the drummer asks.
Before Tony can think of something brilliant to say, Sid interrupts with "We're your groupies." It's a bad time to kick Sid in the shin, an equally bad time to mention that Tony doesn't even know the band's name, but seriously, he'll need to have a talk later with Sid about letting Tony take the lead in new situations.
"Where the hell is Zack?" the bassist groans. Tony guesses that's the manager, or someone else that's supposed to protect them from rabid fans. Knowing Jal's father, Tony guesses Zack is probably having to insist that they still get paid, even though everyone hated the band.
"Look, just let us suck your cocks and we'll leave." Sid says reasonably. Except this band doesn't appear to be fans of casual sex, like every teenager Tony knows. If the lead singer's eyebrows raise any higher they'll disappear into his hair.
"Fucking Christ, Sid," he groans.
"You want to suck me off?" the guitarist questions. He's wearing a beige lace suit, and normally, no, Tony would never want to suck off that kind of bloke. But he's horny, and the music is still racing through his head, making his body thrum.
"Ryan, Jesus." the bassist groans.
"What? I like the accent." Ryan says to his bandmate, then turns back to Sid. "What if I'd rather fuck you? Does your gay for celebrities thing extend to being fucked in the ass?"
"Ryan!" the drummer shouts in a tone remarkably like Jal. Any second now Ryan's going to get a lecture, Tony's sure of it. But Sid interrupts it all by dropping to his knees and pulling Tony's jeans apart.
And holy shit, it's so incredibly wrong. There's a huge problem with this, and it's much less that he's being sucked off in front of four guys with the door still wide open, and much more that Sid's taking charge. If that means he's got control problems, so be it.
"Boyfriend of three years," Tony informs the band. "We just like you too." He's inwardly wincing at the utter lack of cool phrasing, but at some point cool needs to be flushed down the loo so everyone can move onto hot grunty sex.
"I call the pretty one," the drummer says. Tony takes a look around the room. That's hardly a clue, all six of them are fucking beautiful. Shit, Sid's the manliest one of them all, and that's really saying something.
The lead singer comes forward and with light fingers on Tony's jaw, turns his head to the side. Sid's still sucking him, and he's making out with a hot bloke who sings like someone is having sex in his throat. It's a ridiculous situation, and Tony knows it's only gonna get worse/better.
"Fuck off Brendon. I called him." the drummer bitches.
Brendon pulls away from the kiss and it pisses Tony off, so he snaps "I'm not the bloody shotgun seat" as Brendon says "Move faster next time Spence." And it should kill the mood that Brendon already knows there'll be a next time, that he and Sid are practically anonymous sluts in just another city in a series. But it doesn't. Brendon's nimble fingers dance across his balls, curl around his shaft where Sid's lips can't reach, move up Sid's face to pluck his hat off, and Tony doubts anything could kill his mood. The four horsemen could appear in the room and Tony would only tell them to sod off for a few minutes.
Then his dick is cold, because Sid's pulled off, and his saliva is drying in the cool air. Sid has pulled off because Ryan's hand has pulled his head to the side. Without an audible warning he shoves his own cock into Sid's mouth. Tony stops making out with Brendon for a minute so he can watch his boyfriend, but then Brendon starts stroking him and his attention is reclaimed. Brendon's got long fingers, still warm from clutching the mike with all he's got. They feel fucking great against his cock, and even though they miss some of the spots Sid knows to get, the difference in experience adds to the heat of the moment.
Tony only clues in to what's happening when he hears Sid grunt at him to pass the lube. It's not whorish of Tony that he carries a tiny tube of lubricant whenever he and Sid hang out, it's called being ready for any situation. It's not like they're girls and can self lube. After the third time making do with spit in the staff bathroom at school, Tony learned his lesson. He squats so he can get the tube out of his jeans, which are currently down around his ankles, and looks to his side. His hand stutters in it's travels, the scene in front of him is shatteringly hot. Better than most of the porno he's ever watched.
In the time that he and Brendon have been snogging and wanking each other, Sid's gotten far more advanced action. He's on his hands and knees, mouth still bobbing effortlessly on Ryan's monstrous cock. He's drooling a bit, lips bright red from the stretch, and Tony wants to pull him off to snog him, but thinks both parties will probably be upset if he tries. Ryan's sitting, legs spread out, back resting against the room's single couch. The still unnamed bass player is sitting with his trousers unzipped, wanking as his gaze goes back and forth between Sid and Tony. On the other side of Sid, the drummer is kneeling between his legs. One of the drummer's -Tony thinks Brendon called him Spence- hands is slowly wanking Sid, the other is drawing lines on his arse. Tony knows from experience that'll make Sid's skin goosebump, and it'll make him more desperate for real touch. For someone that doesn't know a thing about his boyfriend, Spence is doing pretty good.
He doesn't trust himself to have perfect aim with the container, so he regretfully separates from Brendon to pass it to the drummer. "Thanks" Spence says, and Tony harshly suppresses a giggle. The few times he'd wanked off to an orgy fantasy, he'd never imagined manners as part of it.
Tony doesn't make out with Brendon any more. It's easier to lick at his adam's apple, it still makes what they're doing more intimate, and it gives them both the chance to watch. And watching is important, because Sid's taking it ruthlessly, Ryan fucking his throat as Spence fucks his arse. Sid's just a vessel for cock in this, and it's just about the hottest thing he's seen in his life. These noises are pouring out of him, and Tony can't tell if Sid's moaning because he loves it, or gagging, and he doubts a single person in the room cares. It doesn't matter, as long as they don't stop.
He erupts over Brendon's hand, but keeps stroking Brendon through his orgasm. He's not about to be the shitty lover in this group. When Brendon slumps against him, he figures the singer for done, but doesn't pull away like Tony used to after a quick cheat. He doesn't have to flee, trying to outmove the guilt, Sid's here. Sid's on his knees, being used, and Tony desperately wants to take pictures with his mobile, but A) figures it's a bit tacky, and B) will probably end up getting his phone confiscated so that he doesn't leak pictures online.
Ryan and Spence come at the same time, Ryan with a low groan, Spence's more a series of grunts. They both stand and tuck themselves in, and take the few steps until they're beside him. Brendon shifts, leaning until he's resting against Spence, and Ryan redresses him. The bassist appears to be sleeping, still half naked on the couch. Tony figures he should probably be making small talk with the band, but Sid's on the floor, one arm holding him up as he wanks himself to a finish. He uses his pants to clean himself up, and pulls on his lame tshirt and dark jeans.
Tony sees Ryan and Spence and Brendon leaning against each other, and is happy for them. He doesn't know a thing about them, maybe they're just friends, using other bodies as surrogates so they don't cross that line. But they seem happy with each other, fine with seeking comfort in each other. Sid's dressed and coming towards him, and Tony knows this is the real moment of doubt. If they can't handle these few seconds, their relationship will be forever altered. Tony wants everything to be fine, he wants to be like Ryan and Spence and Brendon.
Sid comes close enough that Tony can smell the aura of come around him. He reeks, and Tony knows that he still loves him, and everything is going to be okay. He holds out his hand and Sid slips his fingers through and everything is going to be okay.
Still, they've got to get out. Tony really doesn't want to hear 'thanks' again, and it's not like they can fake any of the 'I'll call you sometime' bullshit, not when they've fucked an entire touring band. So Tony just flashes one of his make-the-teachers-melt smiles, and leads Sid out. They've gotten what they want. Now they just have to figure out how to tell their mates about it without anyone freaking out.