the boys you do - 1/1.
Alex Gaskarth is pretty sure that Ian Planet exists solely to torture him. He must have done something wrong in a past life to deserve such a harsh fate; see, he’s kind of got a huge gay crush on his guitar tech who - aside from being sexy as hell - is straight. This is bad considering Alex is maybe flamingly homosexual and he’s got it real bad for the guy. Sometimes when Ian brings him his guitars onstage he fantasizes about pushing the tech up against an amp and kissing him in front of the thousands of screaming fans. He fantasizes about cornering Ian by the guitar rack before the encore every night and jerking him off dirtyhotquick before running back onstage.
In other words, Alex is completely, royally fucked. Well… in the sense that he’s not getting fucked. This is probably something he shouldn’t be thinking about onstage while Jack is making dick jokes, but. Ian comes onstage to bring him his guitar - it’s the infamous blue ‘Turd’ guitar and, while Alex is slinging the strap over his shoulder, Ian leans in close to talk to him.
“Hey, your battery pack for your in-ears is slipping, lemme fix that,” he says, breath fanning out over Alex’s neck. Alex stays perfectly still as Ian’s hand brushes against his lower back, tries not to do anything embarrassing when the other man fumbles with the pack clipped to his belt and breathes a heavy sigh of relief afterward. The fans scream when Jack tries - as usual - to hump Danny’s face when he replaces the picks on Jack’s mic stand. If they only knew…
Alex leans forward and says, “Alright, you dick fucker, let’s play another song. This one is called Break Your Little Heart and it goes like this. ‘Cause I’m gonna break Jack’s little heart later tonight when he tries to stick his hand down my pants.” He’s totally focused on playing his guitar, singing the right lyrics. He is definitely not thinking about Ian’s breath on his neck; he’s not thinking about pushing the guitar tech up against the wall after load-in and tasting those lips for himself. And anyway, if this is anyone’s fault, it’s Ian’s for having perfectly kissable lips that would look ridiculous on anyone else.
“Fuck you, man, last night you said you liked it,” Jack replies, giving the girls in the front row a campy wink. From the corner of his eye, Alex can see Danny squirming. He can be so fucking possessive of Jack sometimes; it would be cute if he weren’t afraid Danny would strangle him or something if they get too touchy onstage. The thing is, Danny has nothing to worry about. Jack loves him. All is well until Alex looks to the left of the stage, stumbles over the chords he’s supposed to be playing and forgets the lyrics to his own damn song. Ian is standing there next to Matt, watching them play with an amused expression on his face.
Alex looks away quickly and Jack catches his eye, giving him a confused look as he fumbles and tries to get back into the song before anyone notices. ‘You okay?’ Jack mouths, strutting over to him and making a big play of leaning in to talk to Alex. “What’s going on,” Jack murmurs under his breath, leaning away from the mic so it won’t pick up their conversation.
“Nothing, nothing, I’m fine. Just... got a little flustered for a second,” Alex lies.
Jack nods, gives him a sloppy, wet kiss on the cheek and walks away to go and harass Zack on the other side of the stage. The crowd erupts into shrieks when he and Zack start circling each other and then, at the end, Zack ‘gives in’ and lets Jack hump him. And, of course, two songs later they need to switch guitars again. It’s not even enough time to calm his jumbled nerves. After Lost In Stereo, they all run offstage quickly for the interlude before Therapy.
Ian comes up with Alex’s guitar and takes the other one from him, setting it down carefully. “You’re drooping again,” Ian says, stepping in close and invading Alex’s space completely. This time, though, Ian hooks his fingers in Alex’s belt loops and holds them there for a minute before tugging his jeans up for him, reaching around the older man to adjust his battery pack once more. Ian’s hand grazes his ass this time; Alex gasps involuntarily and freezes up completely. He should step back or something - it would be the right thing to do - but all he can think about is the fact that they have about thirty seconds before they need to be back onstage and the things he could do with his mouth in that amount of time.
To cover his tracks, he says, “Good job tonight, man,” evenly.
With ten seconds before they need to run back out, Ian grabs Alex and goes, “Hold on, I just wanna make sure your pack isn’t going anywhere.” He gives it a little tug to test it and make sure it’s going to stay on Alex’s belt and then - to Alex’s shock - Ian lets his hand drop down very casually to Alex’s ass and squeezes. No one notices the little squeak that gets caught in Alex’s throat; they’re all too busy taking their places on the stage or getting things ready for the next song, the next interlude, everything. He fumbles a bit with his speech before Therapy, but he doesn’t think the kids pick up on it when he repeats himself once or twice. At least, he really hopes so. Ian just grabbed his ass and he can’t stop thinking about it. He can’t stop thinking about where else he’d like those hands to be.
*
The thing is, Ian thinks that Alex would make a really great boyfriend. He’s just not so sure about how to go about convincing Alex to actually, y’know, be his boyfriend because Ian is one of those discerning people who doesn’t go around flaunting his sexuality everywhere he goes. So far, his attempts at getting Alex to notice him have failed. It’s not like he can just pull a Danny and corner Alex somewhere and confess his feelings because... he just doesn’t do that. Plus, even though Alex and Jack are best friends, they are also two very different people.
He’s not that surprised when, after load-in, Danny grabs him by the arm and drags him away from the rest of the group to talk. “Are you ever going to tell Alex you like him?” Danny asks.
Ian can practically feel the colour draining from his face. He looks down at his shoes on the wet concrete of the loading area and mumbles, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” If he pretends nothing is going on for long enough, he’ll get over it. Probably. Considering he’s been touring with All Time Low for months and months and his feelings aren’t going away, though, that’s probably a bad plan.
“Come on, dude, I see the way you look at him. You’re like a puppy, tripping all over yourself trying to get him to like you. Maybe it’s time you say something since what you’re doing is clearly not working.”
He sighs. “Jack put you up to this, didn’t he?”
Danny nods and runs his fingers through his hair. “Alex can be kind of oblivious sometimes, y’know? So maybe you should just try being really forward with him and see what happens. I mean, it worked for me, dontcha know.” He grins, ruffles Ian’s hair and walks away whistling some song; Ian doesn’t know what it is and he doesn’t really care.
Somehow, Ian doesn’t think telling Alex he wants to fuck him onstage is going to work so well. He’s had exactly three boyfriends total and he isn’t really interested in hooking up, which is something Alex does a lot of on tour. And then there’s the fact that what he wants is less about sex and more about... well. Stupid things like holding hands and cuddling and all of that stupid romantic crap. He’s probably not going to say anything. It’s better that way; less potential for embarrassment since he’s gotten enough of that lately since Ryan insists on taking pictures of him when he decides to nap in random locations and putting them on Twitter.
*
So later, on the bus, everyone is crammed into the back lounge watching Donnie Darko and Alex somehow ends up at the very end of the couch, smooshed in next to Ian. There’s not really a good way to deal with it because if he moves even the slightest bit, his leg or his elbow or whatever will brush against Ian; he’s glad it’s dark so no one can see how profusely he blushes every time it happens. They’ve both been bullied into sharing what little space is left on the couch by Danny and Jack, who are making out on the other half of it. It’s kind of borderlining on porn, but it’s a porno that Alex really doesn’t want to watch because it’s his best friend and that’s just... creepy.
The movie is a little creepier, though. Every time someone enters or leaves the room, Alex flinches a bit - despite all his talk, he is a certifiable coward when it comes to creepy shit. Maybe halfway through the movie, he feels this weight on his shoulders and it takes a second to register that it’s Ian’s arm. Shit. Is he supposed to act like he hasn’t noticed it or is he supposed to say something? Before he can worry about it too much, though, Ian leans in close and whispers, “Sorry, I’m kind of running out of room over here. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, no, it’s all good,” Alex says. It’s not like his internal organs have just turned into quivery pools of jello, or anything. Nope. It’s all good. He’s just sitting here calmly with his guitar tech’s arm around him like everything is normal and he’s not thinking about how to kick Jack and Danny out so he can maybe make a move. Of course not. Because that would be very, very wrong. Ian is straight. He likes girls. Alex - upon last check, which was about an hour ago - is definitely not a girl. That doesn’t change the fact that he feels all jumbled and stupidly happy when Ian’s hand slips from his shoulder down to his side.
Again, Ian whispers, “Sorry, sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.” Alex shifts slightly; he figures it’s safe to put his hand on Ian’s knee since there’s really nowhere else for it to go. If he accidentally moves his hand up to Ian’s thigh and digs his fingers in a couple of times, it’s because this movie is really fucking freaky and he’s afraid of the demonic rabbit thing. He’s totally not trying to feel Ian up because that would be wrong.
Sometimes Alex has to wonder how Ian can be so oblivious to the effects his actions have on him. For example, Ian’s hand moves down to Alex’s hip just where his shirt has ridden up slightly and he starts tracing little circles on the bare skin with his thumb. But, when Alex glances over at him he’s completely absorbed in the movie, so it can’t be an intentional thing. He sighs and curls the fingers of his other hand into the sleeve of his hoodie. At least Ian is warm. And he smells pretty good, too, considering the last venue they were at that had proper showers was three days ago. Not that Alex is being a pervert and, like, trying to smell him or anything weird.
Of course the minute Alex has his raging hormones under control, someone comes into the back lounge and he freaks the fuck out. It’s just Matt - and he knows it’s just Matt - but he still panics, flails his arms and ends up gasping and clinging to Ian pathetically. Ian laughs and rubs his side.
“Aw, Alex, if you wanted to cuddle you could’ve just said so,” Ian says jokingly. Jack and Danny pull apart long enough to right themselves - and, um, gross; Alex really never wants to be in the same room as them again because he can tell that Jack was totally just getting a handjob - and laugh at him.
“You all suck,” he grumbles, extracting himself from Ian’s grip and stomping off to his bunk grumpily. He didn’t want to see the ending anyway. Jack makes some comment about getting the stick out of his ass, but he ignores it and instead flips his best friend off and growls, “Oh, go blow your boyfriend or something, fuck off.” The sad thing is, Jack probably will.
*
The next day during sound check - once all the boring press-related crap is over with - Ian decides he’s going to try being more forward with Alex. Like, not forward in the Kurily-tested, Barakat-approved ‘Let’s have sex anywhere and everywhere’ way but more of a... subtle forwardness, if that is even a thing. When he brings out a different guitar for Alex, for instance, he makes an effort to brush up against the older man, to touch his shoulder or his arm and looks him directly in the eye every time they speak. Alex doesn’t appear to take notice at all.
This is... To say the least, it’s very frustrating. Ian sulks about it through dinner and doesn’t even protest when Ryan, Yellowcard’s drum tech, takes more creepy pictures of him. “Hey, what’s with you?” Ryan asks, sitting down on the floor next to where Ian is lying. Ian does some of his best thinking when he’s on the floor. It’s kind of his thing.
“Nothin’,” he sighs.
“Is this about your crush on Alex?” Ryan asks cautiously.
Ian sits up and groans. “Jesus, does everyone know about that?” he grumbles, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it. He hates his hair. It’s poofy and stupid and he wishes it would just behave. Also, if he lets it grow any longer it will start looking like he has an afro. Unlike Alex’s hair, which is soft-looking and shiny and he really, really wants to tangle his fingers in someday. Preferably, you know, with Alex underneath him, naked and moaning.
Ryan grins. “Everyone but Alex, I think. And he’s moping around for God knows what reason, so you’d better go and sweep him off his feet before someone else moves in and takes your chance.”
Before departing, Ryan whips out his phone and takes yet another creeper picture of Ian. If they weren’t, like, best friends, Ian would be pissed, but as it is, he just rolls his eyes and says, “Fuck off.” Ian stays there, lying on the floor, thinking about how pathetic his existence is since he’s kind of lusting after his boss. Clearly, he is not very good at this whole flirting thing. If only he knew someone who was good at writing so he could pull some type of Cyrano de Bergerac type maneuver, but the only person like that he knows is Alex, which would defeat the purpose.
*
Alex decides to up the ante that night, partly because he’s really horny and he’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t figure out whether Ian likes him or not soon, his dick will fall off. So, a few songs into the set when Jack makes some offhanded comment about them having sex later that night, he leans into the microphone and says, “While we’re on the topic of hot guys, you wanna know who I think is hot?” The crowd roars; they’re expecting him to say Jack, but he’s not going to. He says, “Ian Planet. I think my guitar tech is really fucking sexy. Ian, get your ass out here and show these beautiful motherfuckers how hot you are.”
Ian comes onstage sheepishly. Alex puts an arm around him, looks out at the crowd, and plants a wet, sloppy kiss on the guitar tech’s cheek. Jack laughs and adds, “Hey man, fuck you, I thought we agreed you were going to stop cheating on me again.”
“Last night Jack told me he wanted to have a threesome with Ian,” Alex says. Jack walks over and drops to his knees in front of Alex, causing a near riot at the barrier as the girls all rush to whip their cameras out. It’s all in good fun; Alex reaches down and pretends he’s going to push Jack’s head into his crotch before pushing him away gently. “Hey, let’s play another song. This one is about the time I gave Jack a blowjob in the back of the bus,” he says before launching into the opening chords of Stella.
They have two minutes before Remembering Sunday once Alex steps offstage. Ian comes over to bring him his acoustic; Alex slings the strap over his shoulder and - very deliberately - lets his pants sag so that Ian has no choice but to adjust his pack for him. They’re standing by Alex’s guitar rack in the shadows, where no one can see. A minute and thirty seconds. Alex lays his hand on Ian’s shoulder as Ian reaches around to fix his pants and his battery pack, waiting until Ian’s hand is at his waist before stepping forward, sliding his hand back to Ian’s neck and connecting their lips. To his surprise, Ian kisses back, all soft lips and probing tongue, and this is so not the time because Alex needs to be back out there in under a minute and not thinking about sneaking off so he can kiss Ian properly.
“Ian - shit, sorry - I can’t, fuck,” he says against Ian’s lips. This is quite possibly the worst timing ever.
Before Ian can say anything, Matt walks over to them and says, “Alex, get out there now.” Alex sighs and steps back out onto the stage, where all of the fangirls cheer for him and - he thinks - some girl screams ‘I love you Alex!’ It’s a nice sentiment, but not exactly the person he wants to be hearing it from. Because... he’s pretty sure he just fucked that one up royally. All through Remembering Sunday, he’s thinking about how to make up for being such a complete douchewad, but then Ian is short with him, wordlessly handing him the next guitar and taking his acoustic and replacing it on the rack before walking away.
“Wait - Ian,” Alex says helplessly, but there’s no time to follow him and try to apologize or anything. Frustrated, he says to no one, “Ian, I’m sorry. Fuck. I really like you.” He looks across to the other side of the stage where, in the wings, he can just see Jack and Danny holding hands and kissing; for the first time in his life, he’s actually jealous of his best friend. This sucks.
*
Right before Therapy, Ian doesn’t know what to do. He’s fucking embarrassed, for one thing. A guy he’s been crushing on for the better part of a year just kissed him and it ended up being really awkward; he doesn’t want to be some random hook-up for Alex, but if that’s the best he’s going to get maybe he should just take it and move on. When he hands off the guitar, Alex leans in close and murmurs, “I’m really sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean... I wanted to kiss you, okay? And I know you’re straight, so... I’m just really sorry.”
Ian says, “You’re wrong about me being straight.” This time he doesn’t even make any pretense about it, just slides his hand down over Alex’s back and grabs his ass. Alex makes this pleased little ‘mmf’ sound, leans forward and mashes their lips together quickly.
“You should, uh, come hang out in my bunk if you’re gonna be up later,” Alex says quickly. It’s an invitation, sure, but to what? “More privacy and stuff.” Ian says nothing - he’s still turning it over in his head - but he does bring his other hand up to cup Alex’s jaw and kiss him again, this time more roughly; his other hand seems to have made itself at home in Alex’s back pocket. Um. He squeezes Alex’s ass again playfully and - honest to god - Alex squeaks. They don’t have a lot of time before Alex needs to be back onstage, maybe thirty seconds.
Very stealthily - he’s not sure if anyone can see them right now so he’s being cautious - Ian moves his hand from Alex’s ass and slides it down between them to palm Alex through his jeans. It’s maybe a little mean, but he can feel the other man stiffen and moan softly, so he keeps doing it until Alex is hard against him and, coincidentally, it’s showtime again. He pulls away from Alex’s mouth, looping both index fingers into Alex’s belt loops, and murmurs, “Maybe I’ll help you out with that after the show.” Then - again very carefully in case anyone is watching - he gives Alex’s cock a little squeeze through the layers of fabric and grins when Alex tips his head back and moans loudly.
Once the band is back onstage, Ryan - who has apparently been lurking in the shadows - comes up to him and says, “Well, aren’t you just full of surprises, Ian Planet. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Ian enjoys it probably a lot more than he should, watching Alex onstage as he makes a point of keeping his guitar in front of his crotch the whole time. He did that. He’s the reason Alex is hard, he’s the reason Alex is so obviously trying not to thrust against his guitar to try and get off right now. And the whole time he’s watching Alex onstage, he’s also thinking about what it would feel like. He’s thinking about what it would be like to jerk Alex off, to kiss him and touch him and watch him fall apart. Or maybe he wouldn’t even wait until after load-in; maybe he’d just grab Alex as soon as they come offstage and drop to his knees right then and there and give Alex a blowjob. He’d probably even swallow. And Ian? He doesn’t swallow for just anyone. He’d probably even let Alex fuck his mouth. He’d just sit there and take it. He’d sit there and let Alex’s length fill his entire mouth and, when that wouldn’t be enough, he’d open his throat and he’d deepthroat Alex.
And then, he thinks, after Alex came, he’d just push him up against the wall and fuck him. That’s what he wants. He’d be gentle, though; he couldn’t be rough since, you know, he’s kind of in love with the guy. It’s not as startling a realization as he thought it would be.
*
Alex waits for Ian and he never comes. He stays awake in his bunk, staring at the ceiling and watching the minutes tick by on his phone. The longer he lies there, waiting, the more unlikely it seems that Ian is ever going to show up. Maybe he’s an idiot. He spent the entire rest of the show hard against his guitar, trying not to think about it. The honest truth is that he’s been thinking about it non-stop since; he’s been thinking about what it would be like to have Ian’s hand wrapped around him, warm and strong and rough from years of playing guitar. He’s been thinking about what it would be like to have Ian’s cock in his mouth, his ass, what Ian’s fingers would feel like moving inside him...
It’s midnight, he’s still impossibly hard and he’s fantasizing about his guitar tech alone in his bunk. Since most of the band and crew are still in the lounge watching a movie, Alex decides that now is as good a time as any to get himself off. He tugs his underwear down - leaving them around his knees just in case - and strokes himself lightly, still thinking about Ian. He thinks about what Ian’s lips felt like, what they’d be doing if Ian were there with him right now. He thinks about Ian palming him through his jeans backstage; he thinks about what would have happened if it had happened at the end of the show. Maybe he’d let Ian fuck him over one of the amps. They’d have to stay quiet. He’d have to sink his teeth into Ian’s shoulder or hand or something to keep from being too loud, he’d have to clamp his teeth down on his lower lip to keep from making a sound.
Basically, Alex has decided that he really, really wants Ian Planet. The sad thing is that he doesn’t even want to hook up with the guy, necessarily. He wants to wake up every day and he wants the first thing he does to be kissing Ian. He wants to steal kisses backstage between songs, he wants to sneak off during parties to make out, he wants to be able to get excited about hotel nights because hotel nights mean sex. He wants Ian right now, in his bunk, kissing and touching and whispering. He wants to know whether Ian is a hair-puller, a biter, a screamer... God, just... God.
He comes all over his hand and - surprise, surprise - he’s still thinking about Ian when he reaches for a baby wipe to clean himself off with.
*
So Ian? He comes up with a plan. The next morning, before anyone else is up, Matt is awake and checking his emails. Ian thinks about opening with that line from the Godfather or whatever, the line about making him an offer he can’t refuse, but then he thinks better of it. Instead, he sits down next to the tour manager and asks, point blank, “Do you still have a thing for Grieco?” Matt turns beet red and makes a soft, strangled noise in his throat. That’s a yes, then. “I have a plan that you might be interested in helping me with. I kind of need a favour.”
“I’m listening...” Ian leans over and explains the plan to Matt in hushed tones. At first, Matt tells him it’s the worst plan ever, but the more they talk about it, the more enthusiastic the older man seems about it. He must really like Grieco if he’s even agreeing to this. It probably is one of the worst plans anyone has ever come up with - Ian is not exactly the scheming type - but, hey, if it works... It will be a little like killing two birds with one stone.
*
Alex is now positive that Ian’s entire purpose is to torture him. Because... Ian’s been flirting with Matt all day, and Alex is seething with jealousy. He’s been trying not to let it show, but he also knows he’s been doing a really bad job of it. Normally, he thinks, his eye shouldn’t twitch every time two people have a conversation. And he likes Matt - he really, really does; he’s a great friend and a great tour manager - but at this moment in time, Alex just really wants to punch him and tell him to stay the fuck away from Ian. So, yeah, Alex is a little jealous. It’s not even that it’s a little flirting, either. It’s a lot of flirting, and whispering, and holding hands and touching - and every time they touch Alex feels like clawing his skin off because, goddammit, that should be him. Yesterday, it was him, but he fucked that up.
Suffice to say, he spends the day in a shitty mood and he sulks around the bus until even Zack gets fed up with him. By the time their set is about to start, Alex is so tense he’s bouncing around everywhere, unable to keep still, anxious to the extreme. Ian and Matt are talking in the corner, smiling and laughing about something. He grits his teeth when Matt touches Ian’s shoulder and Ian smiles brightly. Alex tries to focus on his vocal warm-ups, all the weird sounds he’s supposed to be making to prepare his vocal cords. He tries not to look like an idiot in case Ian is watching him.
When Ian passes by him, much too close, he flinches a little where Ian's skin brushes his. "Hey, chill out," Ian says, flashing Alex a thousand-megawatt smile that makes him blush. He feels like a stupid kid with a crush. He rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, too impatient for the show to start.
Finally, there are about ten minutes to showtime. Alex is still irritable as fuck. Hands slide down from behind him to rest on his hips; he tries to pull away and growls, "Don't touch me." Ian's hands stay where they are, holding him firmly in place. Any other day he'd be leaning into the touch, but given the circumstances it doesn't seem like such a hot idea.
"Is this why you've been so crabby all day?" Ian asks, pressing his fingers idly down into Alex's hipbone. "Were you... jealous?" And then Ian's mouth is on the back of Alex's neck, he's pulling Alex impossibly closer and all Alex can do is whimper and let himself be manhandled. He likes it. He likes being manhandled, likes being pushed around and helpless and out of control.
"I was not jealous," Alex lies, even as he rests his hand on top of the guitar tech's and tries not to squirm when Ian's other hand slips between his legs. Shit, he is such a tease. There's not enough time for Alex to get off, not here, not with all these people around. He's not going to admit to being jealous, even though he totally is. A little moan slips out when Ian nips his earlobe; he can't even hide how turned on he is by this.
"Do you like this? Is this, is this what you want?"
He turns his head to answer. They end up kissing instead, off-center with their lips just barely touching. Alex is a total slut for this; he'd do anything right now as long as Ian never stops touching him. The corner by his guitar rack is dimly lit, not quite dark - Alex bites down on Ian's lower lip when the younger man undoes his belt buckle one-handed and pops the button on his jeans. Frustrated, he whimpers "Ian," and then "We can't, there's no time and everyone's..."
"C'mere," Ian says in his ear, tugging on the waistband of his now-unzipped jeans. Alex turns, clumsily looping his arms around the other man's shoulders and allowing himself to be guided into the corner. "Is this what you want?" Ian repeats, trailing his fingers over Alex's lower stomach. Teasing, again.
And, fuck, Alex is beginning to understand what girls mean when they say they'd drop their panties for a guy, because that's how this feels. "Yes," he says quietly. "Yes; is that what you want to hear?"
Ian slips his hand inside Alex's boxers and strokes his cock almost lazily, seeming to completely ignore to way Alex's hips push up against his hand desperately. To be fair, Alex isn't the only one that needs to get off right now but - shit - he can barely even think anything besides moremoremoremore. Alex isn't stupid, though; he leans forward and rests his chin on Ian's shoulder to counteract the fact that he's shaking. "You're so hot like this," Ian whispers in his ear.
"Don't stop, fuck, please." It's a miracle his legs still work once Ian increases the speed of his movements, swiping his thumb over the head of Alex's cock, squeezing, reaching around with his other hand to grab his ass. Once his muscles start to tense up, Ian kisses him again, licking into his mouth and leaving this beer-weed-Ian taste behind that will linger throughout the entire show as a reminder. Which, fuck. He even tastes good.
Ian pulls away, asks "Are you gonna...?"
Alex whines and curls his fingers into the guitar tech's hair just before his entire body twitches from the orgasm. Jesus Christ. Ian keeps stroking him through it, although his touch gets noticeably gentler. "Holy shit," he breathes. "Wow."
"Okay?"
"More than okay. Holy fuck." Alex can't find the words he's looking for, so instead he leans forward even more and presses his face against Ian's neck so he can inhale that dirtyhotsexy smell some more. He doesn't really know what this means, aside from the fact that now he's going to be playing a show with dried cum in his boxers. Awesome. He's never gotten off this much from just a handjob before.
*
Ian barely touches Alex through the entire show. He's not sure if he's supposed to, if that was a one-time thing, what. All he knows is that he can't get Alex out of his head - not that he ever can on a normal day - but now he can't stop thinking about all the hot little noises he makes, can't stop thinking about Alex's pupils so dilated the brown irises are barely visible, lips slightly parted and making these ridiculously hot sounds because of something he did.
He's so distracted during load-in afterward that he keeps nearly colliding with Evan, who after the third time just shakes his head and says, "Will you just man up and tell Alex how you feel already? You two are so fucking obvious."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Evan rolls his eyes. "If Jeff and I can see how stupidly in love you two are all the way from front of house every night, then you should probably do something about it before it's too late. And we all saw you two before the show, so don't try to pretend it didn't happen." Ian can feel the heat rise to his face; he had tried to be discreet about it and obviously that plan failed.
"I... I..." There's really no good way to mask his embarassment at this point. "I'm gonna pretend this conversation never happened and go talk to Alex."
"Good luck with that, then," Evan says. He shrugs and cheerfully goes back to whatever he was doing; Ian’s not entirely sure what he does besides act like a married couple with Jeff and really, he doesn’t think he wants to know. Since they’re so obviously in love and in denial in the world of front of house, but that is a thought for another day since he has a mission to accomplish that has a lot to do with the seduction of one Alex Gaskarth. Well, hopefully, anyway.
*
Alex is lying in his bunk in his underwear when Ian comes to him. It’s kind of a compromising position, honestly, because he’s pretty much just lying there staring at the ceiling and running his fingers over his now-hairless chest aimlessly. He’d decided, when he was in the shower - because a venue with showers that had actual hot water, fuck yeah - that it was time to do a little manscaping and so he feels like a newborn baby, all hairless and soft. It’s nice, though. And he decides that he’s probably definitely going to keep this up when he looks over at Ian, who bites his lip, raises his eyebrow and goes, “Oh.”
“Hi,” Alex says. Most of the band and crew are in the front lounge, hanging out, so they’re the only ones in the bunk area at the moment. It’s stupid, but now that they’ve sort of fooled around he feels a little bit shy around Ian. Especially since at this very moment he’s thinking about Ian’s hands on his hips, what they’d feel like right now pressing him into the mattress, or maybe holding his arms above his head so he’d be totally helpless... Fuck.
Ian looks at him with these sleepysexyhot eyes and goes, “So um. Last night, is that, that offer still open or...?”
“Yeah. Yeah, uh, hey.” He holds his breath a little when Ian strips off his shirt and climbs into the bunk - which is small enough with just one person in it - and then they’re basically pressed against each other. “I thought you didn’t... Never mind.” This time, neither of them are holding anything back; Ian reaches for him and then they’re kissing hot and deep, limbs tangled together in not quite enough space for both of them. Alex doesn’t even ask for permission, he just knows once they start grinding on each other that it’s time for less clothes and reaches down to undo Ian’s belt. He’s operating more on instinct than any actual sense of what he should be doing. It’s more than a little distracting that Ian keeps licking, biting, sucking on his neck and palming him through his boxers. “Mmm,” he whines, pushing Ian’s hands away. “Not yet, not yet.”
So Alex kind of has something in mind that is not going to happen due to space constraints; he’s been thinking about it ever since he felt Ian’s erection pressed up against his thigh but it’s just going to have to wait for another day. Or the showers, if the next venue they’re at has big enough ones... He takes his time, breaking the kiss to catch his breath and then moves back in and licks Ian’s neck. Ian’s skin tastes like sweat and maybe slightly of alcohol and smoke, but he doesn’t really mind. “Don’t tease, Alex. Fuck.”
“‘m not teasing,” Alex murmurs in what he hopes is a sexy voice - it probably just sounds stupid - and slips his hand into Ian’s boxers without any further comment. Although, Jesus Christ. It’s not that Alex thinks dicks are ugly, or anything, but he’s pretty sure this is the first time his mouth has ever watered at the sight of one. Either love does that to people or Ian Planet is just really, really hot. This pretty much adds to his overwhelming desire to get on his knees for the guy. As is, he’s got his arm at kind of a horrible angle for jerking someone else off and he’s really fucking nervous. Both of his hands are shaking.
Ian reaches for him, pulls him in closer until they’re nose to nose, and says, “You’re so fucking hot.”
Alex shifts a bit, moves his arm to a more comfortable position and tries to maintain his composure - easier said than done when Ian’s hand is moving further and further up his inner thigh. It’s not that surprising to him, really, that the guitar tech is quiet, breathing heavy in his ear and occasionally making a sound or two that send shivers down his spine. He feels like he’s falling apart, a little bit. Ian’s smart, though; when he pushes Alex’s underwear down he also leans in for a kiss to stifle the resulting moans that come once he’s got his hand wrapped around Alex’s cock. “Oh my god,” Alex whimpers.
“Shhhh, shhhh,” Ian says, slipping his other hand between Alex’s legs and pushing them apart a little further. “Is this what you want?” he asks, just barely teasing with a fingertip and, fuck yes, Alex wants that. He can’t quite form the words though, only panting little breaths and moans. Thankfully Ian figures it out all on his own, pulling his hand back for a second to brush some hair out of Alex’s eyes. He says, “Tell me that this is okay.”
“There’s lube in one of my pockets with the shit in them.”
“That’s... Found it,” Ian says, reaching over Alex to grab the bottle of lube and then pops the cap open, focused on coating his fingers in it. Alex has had a thing for his hands as long as they’ve known each other, so even just watching this is a huge turn-on. The thought of those fingers being inside him makes his hands shake even more, so this has to be one of the most disappointing handjobs he’s ever given. It’s hard to tell how Ian feels about it because he’s so fucking quiet. His answer comes - along with Ian - with this sudden tensing, a hitching of breath, and then... Yeah. No time to think because Ian’s hand is between his legs again, one finger slowly pushing into him while Ian strokes his cock with the other hand. And it’s ridiculously hot because it’s that mixture of roughness and quiet that’s just perfect.
So Ian’s fingers are kind of like magic; all Alex can say and do and think is “Moremoremoremore.” He closes his eyes, twists his fingers into Ian’s hair and tries not to make too much noise when Ian adds a second finger and curls them, pressing up and making his entire body twitch. It sneaks up on him again when he comes, just, suddenly it feels like his nerves are all misfiring or exploding or something and he sees those little stars at the edges of his vision.
Once he’s come down a little bit from the high, Ian looks at him with concern in his eyes. “You’re shaking,” Ian says, rubbing his shoulder worriedly.
“No, it’s... I’m okay, I’m fine, don’t worry. Just...” Alex feels pathetic having to ask, but he does. “Can you stay here until I fall asleep or something?” It’s cold on the bus, he’s naked and he doesn’t really feel like being alone. This is probably a one-night stand. There won’t be anything after this, so he doesn’t want it to end sooner than it has to. He thinks about putting some clothes back on before he realizes that all of the bones in his body seem to have left or melted or... dissolved.
Ian’s arms slide around his waist and they lie there for a long time just looking at each other without saying anything. “You’re okay, right?” Ian asks. Alex nods. Physically, yeah, he’s okay. Maybe not so much emotionally, but he’s not going to say anything about that or he’ll probably start doing something really shitty and embarrassing like crying. Ian brushes his lips against Alex’s lightly and tells him, “Go to sleep, it’s late.” Surprisingly, it doesn’t take that long for Alex to drop off into sleep.
*
When Ian wakes up, he’s somewhere that is distinctly not his own bed. It smells like sex and, overwhelmingly, Alex. And then he remembers when he tries to stretch and comes into contact with soft, warm skin. He fell asleep thinking to himself that he’d just close his eyes for a few minutes and then he’d get up once his body stopped tingling all over. Of course, as soon as he does stretch out a little, Alex stirs, lifting his head just a little and staring at Ian with blank, sleepy eyes. He’s way too fucking cute for his own good.
“Go back to sleep,” Ian whispers, fighting the growing urge to stay exactly where he is and maybe have a sleepy make-out session leading to more sex. It’s not going to happen. One night only. “It’s early still, I just kind of fell asleep. You don’t have to get up or anything.” So, reluctantly, he sits up and pulls his clothes on. Alex goes back to sleep; Ian gives into temptation a little and touches Alex’s cheek lightly before he crawls out of the bunk and stumbles into the front lounge to find something for breakfast. He tries not to think about what would’ve happened if he stayed. The rest of the crew eventually emerges from their respective bunks - Matt first, followed closely by Grieco, then Evan and Jeff and the rest of them after that.
It’s maybe an hour later when Alex finally gets up and enters the lounge purposefully. “Morning, guys,” he yawns, rolling his shoulders so that the joints crack. And Ian is borderline staring, as he always does when Alex is wearing little to no clothing. Except that this time he’s thinking about what Alex looks like naked, skin flushed when he’s hard and the sounds he makes in bed. He’s thinking about Alex’s skin against his own, and also wondering why the universe likes to test him like this the one time he hooks up since it’s really not fair for one person to be so good-looking and so very, very off-limits. It’s a little surprising, then, when Alex walks over to him and says, “Ian,” softly.
“Hey,” he replies. “What’s up?”
Alex gets onto the couch, basically straddling his hips, and crushes their lips together hard. So, apparently, that’s what’s up - but Ian kisses back, placing one hand at the small of Alex’s back to keep him from, like, falling or something and uses the other one to play with Alex’s hair. Not like he can mess it up since it’s already all over from sleeping and - kind of - sex. He doesn’t even care that everyone he works with is witness to this; Alex’s lips are soft and warm and he totally should not have gotten up so they could do other stuff, too. When they pull apart to breathe, Alex looks at him with a really hard, determined expression and says, “I don’t want last night to be a one-time thing.”
“I thought that’s what you wanted.” He moves his hand down to Alex’s shoulder, fighting the urge to run his fingers along the line of the older man’s collarbone.
“No,” Alex says. “I just... I was afraid that’s all you wanted, so I went along with it.” He’s sitting there fidgeting since he can never, ever sit still for too long and everyone is staring at them. Ian doesn’t know what to say. He never knows what to say. Evan’s giving him that ‘I told you so’ look he’s so very, very good at. Clearly the whole jealousy plan didn’t work out since he’s still single and so, it would seem, is Matt. It was a stupid plan.
After a very long, awkward pause, Matt grumbles, “Will you two seriously just get it over with already,” jabbing the keys on his laptop violently. “If one of you doesn’t ask the other out I’m going to tell Interscope you want to become a polka band and replace Alex with Trace Cyrus as the lead singer. And no one wants that. No one.”
There’s another uncomfortable silence until - of all people - Grieco is the one that speaks up. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he says, turning to Matt, who’s sitting beside him, and kissing the tour manager square on the lips. Which, clearly, no one was expecting, including Matt. “Look, I’m tired of trying to figure you out, so do you like me or not?” Matt makes this strangled sound that probably means yes and nods his head. Then, Grieco looks at Alex and Ian, shakes his head, and goes, “See? It’s not so difficult. Use your words.”
Alex says, “You’d better not replace me with Trace Cyrus.” Then he leans in and kisses Ian again, apparently having decided that making out is more important than his job security, or something. Not that Ian minds this development since it is way more interesting and more enjoyable than listening to the others bicker; that and it has the added benefit of leading to more making out, which he could get used to quite easily. At some point Jack and Danny must have stumbled in from their shared bunk, because the next thing Ian knows Jack has planted himself beside them on the couch.
“Oh, you guys are finally dating, cool,” he says without even blinking. He and Alex high-five.
THE END
In other words, Alex is completely, royally fucked. Well… in the sense that he’s not getting fucked. This is probably something he shouldn’t be thinking about onstage while Jack is making dick jokes, but. Ian comes onstage to bring him his guitar - it’s the infamous blue ‘Turd’ guitar and, while Alex is slinging the strap over his shoulder, Ian leans in close to talk to him.
“Hey, your battery pack for your in-ears is slipping, lemme fix that,” he says, breath fanning out over Alex’s neck. Alex stays perfectly still as Ian’s hand brushes against his lower back, tries not to do anything embarrassing when the other man fumbles with the pack clipped to his belt and breathes a heavy sigh of relief afterward. The fans scream when Jack tries - as usual - to hump Danny’s face when he replaces the picks on Jack’s mic stand. If they only knew…
Alex leans forward and says, “Alright, you dick fucker, let’s play another song. This one is called Break Your Little Heart and it goes like this. ‘Cause I’m gonna break Jack’s little heart later tonight when he tries to stick his hand down my pants.” He’s totally focused on playing his guitar, singing the right lyrics. He is definitely not thinking about Ian’s breath on his neck; he’s not thinking about pushing the guitar tech up against the wall after load-in and tasting those lips for himself. And anyway, if this is anyone’s fault, it’s Ian’s for having perfectly kissable lips that would look ridiculous on anyone else.
“Fuck you, man, last night you said you liked it,” Jack replies, giving the girls in the front row a campy wink. From the corner of his eye, Alex can see Danny squirming. He can be so fucking possessive of Jack sometimes; it would be cute if he weren’t afraid Danny would strangle him or something if they get too touchy onstage. The thing is, Danny has nothing to worry about. Jack loves him. All is well until Alex looks to the left of the stage, stumbles over the chords he’s supposed to be playing and forgets the lyrics to his own damn song. Ian is standing there next to Matt, watching them play with an amused expression on his face.
Alex looks away quickly and Jack catches his eye, giving him a confused look as he fumbles and tries to get back into the song before anyone notices. ‘You okay?’ Jack mouths, strutting over to him and making a big play of leaning in to talk to Alex. “What’s going on,” Jack murmurs under his breath, leaning away from the mic so it won’t pick up their conversation.
“Nothing, nothing, I’m fine. Just... got a little flustered for a second,” Alex lies.
Jack nods, gives him a sloppy, wet kiss on the cheek and walks away to go and harass Zack on the other side of the stage. The crowd erupts into shrieks when he and Zack start circling each other and then, at the end, Zack ‘gives in’ and lets Jack hump him. And, of course, two songs later they need to switch guitars again. It’s not even enough time to calm his jumbled nerves. After Lost In Stereo, they all run offstage quickly for the interlude before Therapy.
Ian comes up with Alex’s guitar and takes the other one from him, setting it down carefully. “You’re drooping again,” Ian says, stepping in close and invading Alex’s space completely. This time, though, Ian hooks his fingers in Alex’s belt loops and holds them there for a minute before tugging his jeans up for him, reaching around the older man to adjust his battery pack once more. Ian’s hand grazes his ass this time; Alex gasps involuntarily and freezes up completely. He should step back or something - it would be the right thing to do - but all he can think about is the fact that they have about thirty seconds before they need to be back onstage and the things he could do with his mouth in that amount of time.
To cover his tracks, he says, “Good job tonight, man,” evenly.
With ten seconds before they need to run back out, Ian grabs Alex and goes, “Hold on, I just wanna make sure your pack isn’t going anywhere.” He gives it a little tug to test it and make sure it’s going to stay on Alex’s belt and then - to Alex’s shock - Ian lets his hand drop down very casually to Alex’s ass and squeezes. No one notices the little squeak that gets caught in Alex’s throat; they’re all too busy taking their places on the stage or getting things ready for the next song, the next interlude, everything. He fumbles a bit with his speech before Therapy, but he doesn’t think the kids pick up on it when he repeats himself once or twice. At least, he really hopes so. Ian just grabbed his ass and he can’t stop thinking about it. He can’t stop thinking about where else he’d like those hands to be.
*
The thing is, Ian thinks that Alex would make a really great boyfriend. He’s just not so sure about how to go about convincing Alex to actually, y’know, be his boyfriend because Ian is one of those discerning people who doesn’t go around flaunting his sexuality everywhere he goes. So far, his attempts at getting Alex to notice him have failed. It’s not like he can just pull a Danny and corner Alex somewhere and confess his feelings because... he just doesn’t do that. Plus, even though Alex and Jack are best friends, they are also two very different people.
He’s not that surprised when, after load-in, Danny grabs him by the arm and drags him away from the rest of the group to talk. “Are you ever going to tell Alex you like him?” Danny asks.
Ian can practically feel the colour draining from his face. He looks down at his shoes on the wet concrete of the loading area and mumbles, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” If he pretends nothing is going on for long enough, he’ll get over it. Probably. Considering he’s been touring with All Time Low for months and months and his feelings aren’t going away, though, that’s probably a bad plan.
“Come on, dude, I see the way you look at him. You’re like a puppy, tripping all over yourself trying to get him to like you. Maybe it’s time you say something since what you’re doing is clearly not working.”
He sighs. “Jack put you up to this, didn’t he?”
Danny nods and runs his fingers through his hair. “Alex can be kind of oblivious sometimes, y’know? So maybe you should just try being really forward with him and see what happens. I mean, it worked for me, dontcha know.” He grins, ruffles Ian’s hair and walks away whistling some song; Ian doesn’t know what it is and he doesn’t really care.
Somehow, Ian doesn’t think telling Alex he wants to fuck him onstage is going to work so well. He’s had exactly three boyfriends total and he isn’t really interested in hooking up, which is something Alex does a lot of on tour. And then there’s the fact that what he wants is less about sex and more about... well. Stupid things like holding hands and cuddling and all of that stupid romantic crap. He’s probably not going to say anything. It’s better that way; less potential for embarrassment since he’s gotten enough of that lately since Ryan insists on taking pictures of him when he decides to nap in random locations and putting them on Twitter.
*
So later, on the bus, everyone is crammed into the back lounge watching Donnie Darko and Alex somehow ends up at the very end of the couch, smooshed in next to Ian. There’s not really a good way to deal with it because if he moves even the slightest bit, his leg or his elbow or whatever will brush against Ian; he’s glad it’s dark so no one can see how profusely he blushes every time it happens. They’ve both been bullied into sharing what little space is left on the couch by Danny and Jack, who are making out on the other half of it. It’s kind of borderlining on porn, but it’s a porno that Alex really doesn’t want to watch because it’s his best friend and that’s just... creepy.
The movie is a little creepier, though. Every time someone enters or leaves the room, Alex flinches a bit - despite all his talk, he is a certifiable coward when it comes to creepy shit. Maybe halfway through the movie, he feels this weight on his shoulders and it takes a second to register that it’s Ian’s arm. Shit. Is he supposed to act like he hasn’t noticed it or is he supposed to say something? Before he can worry about it too much, though, Ian leans in close and whispers, “Sorry, I’m kind of running out of room over here. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, no, it’s all good,” Alex says. It’s not like his internal organs have just turned into quivery pools of jello, or anything. Nope. It’s all good. He’s just sitting here calmly with his guitar tech’s arm around him like everything is normal and he’s not thinking about how to kick Jack and Danny out so he can maybe make a move. Of course not. Because that would be very, very wrong. Ian is straight. He likes girls. Alex - upon last check, which was about an hour ago - is definitely not a girl. That doesn’t change the fact that he feels all jumbled and stupidly happy when Ian’s hand slips from his shoulder down to his side.
Again, Ian whispers, “Sorry, sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.” Alex shifts slightly; he figures it’s safe to put his hand on Ian’s knee since there’s really nowhere else for it to go. If he accidentally moves his hand up to Ian’s thigh and digs his fingers in a couple of times, it’s because this movie is really fucking freaky and he’s afraid of the demonic rabbit thing. He’s totally not trying to feel Ian up because that would be wrong.
Sometimes Alex has to wonder how Ian can be so oblivious to the effects his actions have on him. For example, Ian’s hand moves down to Alex’s hip just where his shirt has ridden up slightly and he starts tracing little circles on the bare skin with his thumb. But, when Alex glances over at him he’s completely absorbed in the movie, so it can’t be an intentional thing. He sighs and curls the fingers of his other hand into the sleeve of his hoodie. At least Ian is warm. And he smells pretty good, too, considering the last venue they were at that had proper showers was three days ago. Not that Alex is being a pervert and, like, trying to smell him or anything weird.
Of course the minute Alex has his raging hormones under control, someone comes into the back lounge and he freaks the fuck out. It’s just Matt - and he knows it’s just Matt - but he still panics, flails his arms and ends up gasping and clinging to Ian pathetically. Ian laughs and rubs his side.
“Aw, Alex, if you wanted to cuddle you could’ve just said so,” Ian says jokingly. Jack and Danny pull apart long enough to right themselves - and, um, gross; Alex really never wants to be in the same room as them again because he can tell that Jack was totally just getting a handjob - and laugh at him.
“You all suck,” he grumbles, extracting himself from Ian’s grip and stomping off to his bunk grumpily. He didn’t want to see the ending anyway. Jack makes some comment about getting the stick out of his ass, but he ignores it and instead flips his best friend off and growls, “Oh, go blow your boyfriend or something, fuck off.” The sad thing is, Jack probably will.
*
The next day during sound check - once all the boring press-related crap is over with - Ian decides he’s going to try being more forward with Alex. Like, not forward in the Kurily-tested, Barakat-approved ‘Let’s have sex anywhere and everywhere’ way but more of a... subtle forwardness, if that is even a thing. When he brings out a different guitar for Alex, for instance, he makes an effort to brush up against the older man, to touch his shoulder or his arm and looks him directly in the eye every time they speak. Alex doesn’t appear to take notice at all.
This is... To say the least, it’s very frustrating. Ian sulks about it through dinner and doesn’t even protest when Ryan, Yellowcard’s drum tech, takes more creepy pictures of him. “Hey, what’s with you?” Ryan asks, sitting down on the floor next to where Ian is lying. Ian does some of his best thinking when he’s on the floor. It’s kind of his thing.
“Nothin’,” he sighs.
“Is this about your crush on Alex?” Ryan asks cautiously.
Ian sits up and groans. “Jesus, does everyone know about that?” he grumbles, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it. He hates his hair. It’s poofy and stupid and he wishes it would just behave. Also, if he lets it grow any longer it will start looking like he has an afro. Unlike Alex’s hair, which is soft-looking and shiny and he really, really wants to tangle his fingers in someday. Preferably, you know, with Alex underneath him, naked and moaning.
Ryan grins. “Everyone but Alex, I think. And he’s moping around for God knows what reason, so you’d better go and sweep him off his feet before someone else moves in and takes your chance.”
Before departing, Ryan whips out his phone and takes yet another creeper picture of Ian. If they weren’t, like, best friends, Ian would be pissed, but as it is, he just rolls his eyes and says, “Fuck off.” Ian stays there, lying on the floor, thinking about how pathetic his existence is since he’s kind of lusting after his boss. Clearly, he is not very good at this whole flirting thing. If only he knew someone who was good at writing so he could pull some type of Cyrano de Bergerac type maneuver, but the only person like that he knows is Alex, which would defeat the purpose.
*
Alex decides to up the ante that night, partly because he’s really horny and he’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t figure out whether Ian likes him or not soon, his dick will fall off. So, a few songs into the set when Jack makes some offhanded comment about them having sex later that night, he leans into the microphone and says, “While we’re on the topic of hot guys, you wanna know who I think is hot?” The crowd roars; they’re expecting him to say Jack, but he’s not going to. He says, “Ian Planet. I think my guitar tech is really fucking sexy. Ian, get your ass out here and show these beautiful motherfuckers how hot you are.”
Ian comes onstage sheepishly. Alex puts an arm around him, looks out at the crowd, and plants a wet, sloppy kiss on the guitar tech’s cheek. Jack laughs and adds, “Hey man, fuck you, I thought we agreed you were going to stop cheating on me again.”
“Last night Jack told me he wanted to have a threesome with Ian,” Alex says. Jack walks over and drops to his knees in front of Alex, causing a near riot at the barrier as the girls all rush to whip their cameras out. It’s all in good fun; Alex reaches down and pretends he’s going to push Jack’s head into his crotch before pushing him away gently. “Hey, let’s play another song. This one is about the time I gave Jack a blowjob in the back of the bus,” he says before launching into the opening chords of Stella.
They have two minutes before Remembering Sunday once Alex steps offstage. Ian comes over to bring him his acoustic; Alex slings the strap over his shoulder and - very deliberately - lets his pants sag so that Ian has no choice but to adjust his pack for him. They’re standing by Alex’s guitar rack in the shadows, where no one can see. A minute and thirty seconds. Alex lays his hand on Ian’s shoulder as Ian reaches around to fix his pants and his battery pack, waiting until Ian’s hand is at his waist before stepping forward, sliding his hand back to Ian’s neck and connecting their lips. To his surprise, Ian kisses back, all soft lips and probing tongue, and this is so not the time because Alex needs to be back out there in under a minute and not thinking about sneaking off so he can kiss Ian properly.
“Ian - shit, sorry - I can’t, fuck,” he says against Ian’s lips. This is quite possibly the worst timing ever.
Before Ian can say anything, Matt walks over to them and says, “Alex, get out there now.” Alex sighs and steps back out onto the stage, where all of the fangirls cheer for him and - he thinks - some girl screams ‘I love you Alex!’ It’s a nice sentiment, but not exactly the person he wants to be hearing it from. Because... he’s pretty sure he just fucked that one up royally. All through Remembering Sunday, he’s thinking about how to make up for being such a complete douchewad, but then Ian is short with him, wordlessly handing him the next guitar and taking his acoustic and replacing it on the rack before walking away.
“Wait - Ian,” Alex says helplessly, but there’s no time to follow him and try to apologize or anything. Frustrated, he says to no one, “Ian, I’m sorry. Fuck. I really like you.” He looks across to the other side of the stage where, in the wings, he can just see Jack and Danny holding hands and kissing; for the first time in his life, he’s actually jealous of his best friend. This sucks.
*
Right before Therapy, Ian doesn’t know what to do. He’s fucking embarrassed, for one thing. A guy he’s been crushing on for the better part of a year just kissed him and it ended up being really awkward; he doesn’t want to be some random hook-up for Alex, but if that’s the best he’s going to get maybe he should just take it and move on. When he hands off the guitar, Alex leans in close and murmurs, “I’m really sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean... I wanted to kiss you, okay? And I know you’re straight, so... I’m just really sorry.”
Ian says, “You’re wrong about me being straight.” This time he doesn’t even make any pretense about it, just slides his hand down over Alex’s back and grabs his ass. Alex makes this pleased little ‘mmf’ sound, leans forward and mashes their lips together quickly.
“You should, uh, come hang out in my bunk if you’re gonna be up later,” Alex says quickly. It’s an invitation, sure, but to what? “More privacy and stuff.” Ian says nothing - he’s still turning it over in his head - but he does bring his other hand up to cup Alex’s jaw and kiss him again, this time more roughly; his other hand seems to have made itself at home in Alex’s back pocket. Um. He squeezes Alex’s ass again playfully and - honest to god - Alex squeaks. They don’t have a lot of time before Alex needs to be back onstage, maybe thirty seconds.
Very stealthily - he’s not sure if anyone can see them right now so he’s being cautious - Ian moves his hand from Alex’s ass and slides it down between them to palm Alex through his jeans. It’s maybe a little mean, but he can feel the other man stiffen and moan softly, so he keeps doing it until Alex is hard against him and, coincidentally, it’s showtime again. He pulls away from Alex’s mouth, looping both index fingers into Alex’s belt loops, and murmurs, “Maybe I’ll help you out with that after the show.” Then - again very carefully in case anyone is watching - he gives Alex’s cock a little squeeze through the layers of fabric and grins when Alex tips his head back and moans loudly.
Once the band is back onstage, Ryan - who has apparently been lurking in the shadows - comes up to him and says, “Well, aren’t you just full of surprises, Ian Planet. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Ian enjoys it probably a lot more than he should, watching Alex onstage as he makes a point of keeping his guitar in front of his crotch the whole time. He did that. He’s the reason Alex is hard, he’s the reason Alex is so obviously trying not to thrust against his guitar to try and get off right now. And the whole time he’s watching Alex onstage, he’s also thinking about what it would feel like. He’s thinking about what it would be like to jerk Alex off, to kiss him and touch him and watch him fall apart. Or maybe he wouldn’t even wait until after load-in; maybe he’d just grab Alex as soon as they come offstage and drop to his knees right then and there and give Alex a blowjob. He’d probably even swallow. And Ian? He doesn’t swallow for just anyone. He’d probably even let Alex fuck his mouth. He’d just sit there and take it. He’d sit there and let Alex’s length fill his entire mouth and, when that wouldn’t be enough, he’d open his throat and he’d deepthroat Alex.
And then, he thinks, after Alex came, he’d just push him up against the wall and fuck him. That’s what he wants. He’d be gentle, though; he couldn’t be rough since, you know, he’s kind of in love with the guy. It’s not as startling a realization as he thought it would be.
*
Alex waits for Ian and he never comes. He stays awake in his bunk, staring at the ceiling and watching the minutes tick by on his phone. The longer he lies there, waiting, the more unlikely it seems that Ian is ever going to show up. Maybe he’s an idiot. He spent the entire rest of the show hard against his guitar, trying not to think about it. The honest truth is that he’s been thinking about it non-stop since; he’s been thinking about what it would be like to have Ian’s hand wrapped around him, warm and strong and rough from years of playing guitar. He’s been thinking about what it would be like to have Ian’s cock in his mouth, his ass, what Ian’s fingers would feel like moving inside him...
It’s midnight, he’s still impossibly hard and he’s fantasizing about his guitar tech alone in his bunk. Since most of the band and crew are still in the lounge watching a movie, Alex decides that now is as good a time as any to get himself off. He tugs his underwear down - leaving them around his knees just in case - and strokes himself lightly, still thinking about Ian. He thinks about what Ian’s lips felt like, what they’d be doing if Ian were there with him right now. He thinks about Ian palming him through his jeans backstage; he thinks about what would have happened if it had happened at the end of the show. Maybe he’d let Ian fuck him over one of the amps. They’d have to stay quiet. He’d have to sink his teeth into Ian’s shoulder or hand or something to keep from being too loud, he’d have to clamp his teeth down on his lower lip to keep from making a sound.
Basically, Alex has decided that he really, really wants Ian Planet. The sad thing is that he doesn’t even want to hook up with the guy, necessarily. He wants to wake up every day and he wants the first thing he does to be kissing Ian. He wants to steal kisses backstage between songs, he wants to sneak off during parties to make out, he wants to be able to get excited about hotel nights because hotel nights mean sex. He wants Ian right now, in his bunk, kissing and touching and whispering. He wants to know whether Ian is a hair-puller, a biter, a screamer... God, just... God.
He comes all over his hand and - surprise, surprise - he’s still thinking about Ian when he reaches for a baby wipe to clean himself off with.
*
So Ian? He comes up with a plan. The next morning, before anyone else is up, Matt is awake and checking his emails. Ian thinks about opening with that line from the Godfather or whatever, the line about making him an offer he can’t refuse, but then he thinks better of it. Instead, he sits down next to the tour manager and asks, point blank, “Do you still have a thing for Grieco?” Matt turns beet red and makes a soft, strangled noise in his throat. That’s a yes, then. “I have a plan that you might be interested in helping me with. I kind of need a favour.”
“I’m listening...” Ian leans over and explains the plan to Matt in hushed tones. At first, Matt tells him it’s the worst plan ever, but the more they talk about it, the more enthusiastic the older man seems about it. He must really like Grieco if he’s even agreeing to this. It probably is one of the worst plans anyone has ever come up with - Ian is not exactly the scheming type - but, hey, if it works... It will be a little like killing two birds with one stone.
*
Alex is now positive that Ian’s entire purpose is to torture him. Because... Ian’s been flirting with Matt all day, and Alex is seething with jealousy. He’s been trying not to let it show, but he also knows he’s been doing a really bad job of it. Normally, he thinks, his eye shouldn’t twitch every time two people have a conversation. And he likes Matt - he really, really does; he’s a great friend and a great tour manager - but at this moment in time, Alex just really wants to punch him and tell him to stay the fuck away from Ian. So, yeah, Alex is a little jealous. It’s not even that it’s a little flirting, either. It’s a lot of flirting, and whispering, and holding hands and touching - and every time they touch Alex feels like clawing his skin off because, goddammit, that should be him. Yesterday, it was him, but he fucked that up.
Suffice to say, he spends the day in a shitty mood and he sulks around the bus until even Zack gets fed up with him. By the time their set is about to start, Alex is so tense he’s bouncing around everywhere, unable to keep still, anxious to the extreme. Ian and Matt are talking in the corner, smiling and laughing about something. He grits his teeth when Matt touches Ian’s shoulder and Ian smiles brightly. Alex tries to focus on his vocal warm-ups, all the weird sounds he’s supposed to be making to prepare his vocal cords. He tries not to look like an idiot in case Ian is watching him.
When Ian passes by him, much too close, he flinches a little where Ian's skin brushes his. "Hey, chill out," Ian says, flashing Alex a thousand-megawatt smile that makes him blush. He feels like a stupid kid with a crush. He rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, too impatient for the show to start.
Finally, there are about ten minutes to showtime. Alex is still irritable as fuck. Hands slide down from behind him to rest on his hips; he tries to pull away and growls, "Don't touch me." Ian's hands stay where they are, holding him firmly in place. Any other day he'd be leaning into the touch, but given the circumstances it doesn't seem like such a hot idea.
"Is this why you've been so crabby all day?" Ian asks, pressing his fingers idly down into Alex's hipbone. "Were you... jealous?" And then Ian's mouth is on the back of Alex's neck, he's pulling Alex impossibly closer and all Alex can do is whimper and let himself be manhandled. He likes it. He likes being manhandled, likes being pushed around and helpless and out of control.
"I was not jealous," Alex lies, even as he rests his hand on top of the guitar tech's and tries not to squirm when Ian's other hand slips between his legs. Shit, he is such a tease. There's not enough time for Alex to get off, not here, not with all these people around. He's not going to admit to being jealous, even though he totally is. A little moan slips out when Ian nips his earlobe; he can't even hide how turned on he is by this.
"Do you like this? Is this, is this what you want?"
He turns his head to answer. They end up kissing instead, off-center with their lips just barely touching. Alex is a total slut for this; he'd do anything right now as long as Ian never stops touching him. The corner by his guitar rack is dimly lit, not quite dark - Alex bites down on Ian's lower lip when the younger man undoes his belt buckle one-handed and pops the button on his jeans. Frustrated, he whimpers "Ian," and then "We can't, there's no time and everyone's..."
"C'mere," Ian says in his ear, tugging on the waistband of his now-unzipped jeans. Alex turns, clumsily looping his arms around the other man's shoulders and allowing himself to be guided into the corner. "Is this what you want?" Ian repeats, trailing his fingers over Alex's lower stomach. Teasing, again.
And, fuck, Alex is beginning to understand what girls mean when they say they'd drop their panties for a guy, because that's how this feels. "Yes," he says quietly. "Yes; is that what you want to hear?"
Ian slips his hand inside Alex's boxers and strokes his cock almost lazily, seeming to completely ignore to way Alex's hips push up against his hand desperately. To be fair, Alex isn't the only one that needs to get off right now but - shit - he can barely even think anything besides moremoremoremore. Alex isn't stupid, though; he leans forward and rests his chin on Ian's shoulder to counteract the fact that he's shaking. "You're so hot like this," Ian whispers in his ear.
"Don't stop, fuck, please." It's a miracle his legs still work once Ian increases the speed of his movements, swiping his thumb over the head of Alex's cock, squeezing, reaching around with his other hand to grab his ass. Once his muscles start to tense up, Ian kisses him again, licking into his mouth and leaving this beer-weed-Ian taste behind that will linger throughout the entire show as a reminder. Which, fuck. He even tastes good.
Ian pulls away, asks "Are you gonna...?"
Alex whines and curls his fingers into the guitar tech's hair just before his entire body twitches from the orgasm. Jesus Christ. Ian keeps stroking him through it, although his touch gets noticeably gentler. "Holy shit," he breathes. "Wow."
"Okay?"
"More than okay. Holy fuck." Alex can't find the words he's looking for, so instead he leans forward even more and presses his face against Ian's neck so he can inhale that dirtyhotsexy smell some more. He doesn't really know what this means, aside from the fact that now he's going to be playing a show with dried cum in his boxers. Awesome. He's never gotten off this much from just a handjob before.
*
Ian barely touches Alex through the entire show. He's not sure if he's supposed to, if that was a one-time thing, what. All he knows is that he can't get Alex out of his head - not that he ever can on a normal day - but now he can't stop thinking about all the hot little noises he makes, can't stop thinking about Alex's pupils so dilated the brown irises are barely visible, lips slightly parted and making these ridiculously hot sounds because of something he did.
He's so distracted during load-in afterward that he keeps nearly colliding with Evan, who after the third time just shakes his head and says, "Will you just man up and tell Alex how you feel already? You two are so fucking obvious."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Evan rolls his eyes. "If Jeff and I can see how stupidly in love you two are all the way from front of house every night, then you should probably do something about it before it's too late. And we all saw you two before the show, so don't try to pretend it didn't happen." Ian can feel the heat rise to his face; he had tried to be discreet about it and obviously that plan failed.
"I... I..." There's really no good way to mask his embarassment at this point. "I'm gonna pretend this conversation never happened and go talk to Alex."
"Good luck with that, then," Evan says. He shrugs and cheerfully goes back to whatever he was doing; Ian’s not entirely sure what he does besides act like a married couple with Jeff and really, he doesn’t think he wants to know. Since they’re so obviously in love and in denial in the world of front of house, but that is a thought for another day since he has a mission to accomplish that has a lot to do with the seduction of one Alex Gaskarth. Well, hopefully, anyway.
*
Alex is lying in his bunk in his underwear when Ian comes to him. It’s kind of a compromising position, honestly, because he’s pretty much just lying there staring at the ceiling and running his fingers over his now-hairless chest aimlessly. He’d decided, when he was in the shower - because a venue with showers that had actual hot water, fuck yeah - that it was time to do a little manscaping and so he feels like a newborn baby, all hairless and soft. It’s nice, though. And he decides that he’s probably definitely going to keep this up when he looks over at Ian, who bites his lip, raises his eyebrow and goes, “Oh.”
“Hi,” Alex says. Most of the band and crew are in the front lounge, hanging out, so they’re the only ones in the bunk area at the moment. It’s stupid, but now that they’ve sort of fooled around he feels a little bit shy around Ian. Especially since at this very moment he’s thinking about Ian’s hands on his hips, what they’d feel like right now pressing him into the mattress, or maybe holding his arms above his head so he’d be totally helpless... Fuck.
Ian looks at him with these sleepysexyhot eyes and goes, “So um. Last night, is that, that offer still open or...?”
“Yeah. Yeah, uh, hey.” He holds his breath a little when Ian strips off his shirt and climbs into the bunk - which is small enough with just one person in it - and then they’re basically pressed against each other. “I thought you didn’t... Never mind.” This time, neither of them are holding anything back; Ian reaches for him and then they’re kissing hot and deep, limbs tangled together in not quite enough space for both of them. Alex doesn’t even ask for permission, he just knows once they start grinding on each other that it’s time for less clothes and reaches down to undo Ian’s belt. He’s operating more on instinct than any actual sense of what he should be doing. It’s more than a little distracting that Ian keeps licking, biting, sucking on his neck and palming him through his boxers. “Mmm,” he whines, pushing Ian’s hands away. “Not yet, not yet.”
So Alex kind of has something in mind that is not going to happen due to space constraints; he’s been thinking about it ever since he felt Ian’s erection pressed up against his thigh but it’s just going to have to wait for another day. Or the showers, if the next venue they’re at has big enough ones... He takes his time, breaking the kiss to catch his breath and then moves back in and licks Ian’s neck. Ian’s skin tastes like sweat and maybe slightly of alcohol and smoke, but he doesn’t really mind. “Don’t tease, Alex. Fuck.”
“‘m not teasing,” Alex murmurs in what he hopes is a sexy voice - it probably just sounds stupid - and slips his hand into Ian’s boxers without any further comment. Although, Jesus Christ. It’s not that Alex thinks dicks are ugly, or anything, but he’s pretty sure this is the first time his mouth has ever watered at the sight of one. Either love does that to people or Ian Planet is just really, really hot. This pretty much adds to his overwhelming desire to get on his knees for the guy. As is, he’s got his arm at kind of a horrible angle for jerking someone else off and he’s really fucking nervous. Both of his hands are shaking.
Ian reaches for him, pulls him in closer until they’re nose to nose, and says, “You’re so fucking hot.”
Alex shifts a bit, moves his arm to a more comfortable position and tries to maintain his composure - easier said than done when Ian’s hand is moving further and further up his inner thigh. It’s not that surprising to him, really, that the guitar tech is quiet, breathing heavy in his ear and occasionally making a sound or two that send shivers down his spine. He feels like he’s falling apart, a little bit. Ian’s smart, though; when he pushes Alex’s underwear down he also leans in for a kiss to stifle the resulting moans that come once he’s got his hand wrapped around Alex’s cock. “Oh my god,” Alex whimpers.
“Shhhh, shhhh,” Ian says, slipping his other hand between Alex’s legs and pushing them apart a little further. “Is this what you want?” he asks, just barely teasing with a fingertip and, fuck yes, Alex wants that. He can’t quite form the words though, only panting little breaths and moans. Thankfully Ian figures it out all on his own, pulling his hand back for a second to brush some hair out of Alex’s eyes. He says, “Tell me that this is okay.”
“There’s lube in one of my pockets with the shit in them.”
“That’s... Found it,” Ian says, reaching over Alex to grab the bottle of lube and then pops the cap open, focused on coating his fingers in it. Alex has had a thing for his hands as long as they’ve known each other, so even just watching this is a huge turn-on. The thought of those fingers being inside him makes his hands shake even more, so this has to be one of the most disappointing handjobs he’s ever given. It’s hard to tell how Ian feels about it because he’s so fucking quiet. His answer comes - along with Ian - with this sudden tensing, a hitching of breath, and then... Yeah. No time to think because Ian’s hand is between his legs again, one finger slowly pushing into him while Ian strokes his cock with the other hand. And it’s ridiculously hot because it’s that mixture of roughness and quiet that’s just perfect.
So Ian’s fingers are kind of like magic; all Alex can say and do and think is “Moremoremoremore.” He closes his eyes, twists his fingers into Ian’s hair and tries not to make too much noise when Ian adds a second finger and curls them, pressing up and making his entire body twitch. It sneaks up on him again when he comes, just, suddenly it feels like his nerves are all misfiring or exploding or something and he sees those little stars at the edges of his vision.
Once he’s come down a little bit from the high, Ian looks at him with concern in his eyes. “You’re shaking,” Ian says, rubbing his shoulder worriedly.
“No, it’s... I’m okay, I’m fine, don’t worry. Just...” Alex feels pathetic having to ask, but he does. “Can you stay here until I fall asleep or something?” It’s cold on the bus, he’s naked and he doesn’t really feel like being alone. This is probably a one-night stand. There won’t be anything after this, so he doesn’t want it to end sooner than it has to. He thinks about putting some clothes back on before he realizes that all of the bones in his body seem to have left or melted or... dissolved.
Ian’s arms slide around his waist and they lie there for a long time just looking at each other without saying anything. “You’re okay, right?” Ian asks. Alex nods. Physically, yeah, he’s okay. Maybe not so much emotionally, but he’s not going to say anything about that or he’ll probably start doing something really shitty and embarrassing like crying. Ian brushes his lips against Alex’s lightly and tells him, “Go to sleep, it’s late.” Surprisingly, it doesn’t take that long for Alex to drop off into sleep.
*
When Ian wakes up, he’s somewhere that is distinctly not his own bed. It smells like sex and, overwhelmingly, Alex. And then he remembers when he tries to stretch and comes into contact with soft, warm skin. He fell asleep thinking to himself that he’d just close his eyes for a few minutes and then he’d get up once his body stopped tingling all over. Of course, as soon as he does stretch out a little, Alex stirs, lifting his head just a little and staring at Ian with blank, sleepy eyes. He’s way too fucking cute for his own good.
“Go back to sleep,” Ian whispers, fighting the growing urge to stay exactly where he is and maybe have a sleepy make-out session leading to more sex. It’s not going to happen. One night only. “It’s early still, I just kind of fell asleep. You don’t have to get up or anything.” So, reluctantly, he sits up and pulls his clothes on. Alex goes back to sleep; Ian gives into temptation a little and touches Alex’s cheek lightly before he crawls out of the bunk and stumbles into the front lounge to find something for breakfast. He tries not to think about what would’ve happened if he stayed. The rest of the crew eventually emerges from their respective bunks - Matt first, followed closely by Grieco, then Evan and Jeff and the rest of them after that.
It’s maybe an hour later when Alex finally gets up and enters the lounge purposefully. “Morning, guys,” he yawns, rolling his shoulders so that the joints crack. And Ian is borderline staring, as he always does when Alex is wearing little to no clothing. Except that this time he’s thinking about what Alex looks like naked, skin flushed when he’s hard and the sounds he makes in bed. He’s thinking about Alex’s skin against his own, and also wondering why the universe likes to test him like this the one time he hooks up since it’s really not fair for one person to be so good-looking and so very, very off-limits. It’s a little surprising, then, when Alex walks over to him and says, “Ian,” softly.
“Hey,” he replies. “What’s up?”
Alex gets onto the couch, basically straddling his hips, and crushes their lips together hard. So, apparently, that’s what’s up - but Ian kisses back, placing one hand at the small of Alex’s back to keep him from, like, falling or something and uses the other one to play with Alex’s hair. Not like he can mess it up since it’s already all over from sleeping and - kind of - sex. He doesn’t even care that everyone he works with is witness to this; Alex’s lips are soft and warm and he totally should not have gotten up so they could do other stuff, too. When they pull apart to breathe, Alex looks at him with a really hard, determined expression and says, “I don’t want last night to be a one-time thing.”
“I thought that’s what you wanted.” He moves his hand down to Alex’s shoulder, fighting the urge to run his fingers along the line of the older man’s collarbone.
“No,” Alex says. “I just... I was afraid that’s all you wanted, so I went along with it.” He’s sitting there fidgeting since he can never, ever sit still for too long and everyone is staring at them. Ian doesn’t know what to say. He never knows what to say. Evan’s giving him that ‘I told you so’ look he’s so very, very good at. Clearly the whole jealousy plan didn’t work out since he’s still single and so, it would seem, is Matt. It was a stupid plan.
After a very long, awkward pause, Matt grumbles, “Will you two seriously just get it over with already,” jabbing the keys on his laptop violently. “If one of you doesn’t ask the other out I’m going to tell Interscope you want to become a polka band and replace Alex with Trace Cyrus as the lead singer. And no one wants that. No one.”
There’s another uncomfortable silence until - of all people - Grieco is the one that speaks up. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he says, turning to Matt, who’s sitting beside him, and kissing the tour manager square on the lips. Which, clearly, no one was expecting, including Matt. “Look, I’m tired of trying to figure you out, so do you like me or not?” Matt makes this strangled sound that probably means yes and nods his head. Then, Grieco looks at Alex and Ian, shakes his head, and goes, “See? It’s not so difficult. Use your words.”
Alex says, “You’d better not replace me with Trace Cyrus.” Then he leans in and kisses Ian again, apparently having decided that making out is more important than his job security, or something. Not that Ian minds this development since it is way more interesting and more enjoyable than listening to the others bicker; that and it has the added benefit of leading to more making out, which he could get used to quite easily. At some point Jack and Danny must have stumbled in from their shared bunk, because the next thing Ian knows Jack has planted himself beside them on the couch.
“Oh, you guys are finally dating, cool,” he says without even blinking. He and Alex high-five.
THE END