Summary: A moment backstage.
Disclaimer: : Inspired by two probably separate incidents that I have combined for purposes of this fic. Any similarity between the fictional version of the person or persons portrayed here and the actual person or persons is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person(s) on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person or persons). I am not casting aspersions on the sexual orientation or activity of the characters represented within.
Nobody else would have noticed, or if they did, they would have chalked it up to his stage persona, an act. But Tony had known Peter for years, and he could read the lines in his body, the way his voice whined, just a little bit, when he hit certain notes, and the way he was practically grinding against the microphone stand.
Peter was desperate, and luckily for him, Tony was feeling indulgent.
The screaming of the audience was still ringing in their ears as they exited the stage, and the minute they were out of view, Peter was pressed against him.
“Tony, please,” he whispered. “Please, I just-”
“In here,” Tony said, keeping his voice low as people milled around in the murky half-darkness of backstage. He yanked open the door to the broom closet and practically shoved Peter in, shutting the door and yanking the cord dangling from the single ceiling bulb. The tiny space filled with a dingy light, but it was more than enough to see with.
Tony pressed Peter firmly against the wall, letting him grind against him while they kissed. “Please,” Peter gasped after a few frantic minutes. “Your hands, I need – please, Tony-”
Ah, that was it. Peter had been watching him at the keyboards again.
“Paying attention to me instead of the audience?” he asked conversationally, slowly unzipping Peter’s ridiculously tight trousers. Peter whimpered. “I won’t be letting you get away with that, you know. It’s quite rude.” He grasped Peter’s cock and began stroking him, slowly and teasingly. Peter’s head fell back against the wall with a thump, and the noises he made would have put his onstage vocals to shame. Which wouldn’t have been a problem, if there hadn’t suddenly been footsteps right outside the door.
“Good gig, I thought,” they could hear Phil say.
Tony immediately slapped his hand over Peter’s mouth, pressing him even harder against the wall. The singer’s blue eyes went wide.
“Keep quiet,” Tony whispered into his ear, stroking him faster. Peter arched off the wall as much as he could, moaning, the sound muffled. Tony grinned wickedly and nipped at the side of Peter’s neck.
“You seen Tony and Pete?” Phil asked.
“Can’t say that I have,” they could hear Mike’s deep voice reply. Peter moaned again, louder, and Tony responded by tightening his grip. Peter’s fingers flexed, nails scraping across Tony’s hips, sending sparks of pain skittering across his skin. It was almost enough to make him lose his iron self-control, for just a moment.
“You,” Tony growled. “You’ll pay for that later.” Peter whimpered, the noise vibrating against his hand.
“Why don’t you go take care of the equipment,” they could hear Mike say. “I’ll keep an eye out for them.”
Peter came with a barely-muffled scream, shaking body kept upright only by the combined efforts of the wall and Tony Banks. Tony waited, releasing his hand only when he was sure Peter could be quiet.
“Ugh, forget these trousers,” Peter muttered, looking down. He rubbed his jaw, looking back up at Tony.
“Don’t think those puppy eyes of yours will get you anywhere,” Tony scolded gently, dropping a quick kiss to his forehead. “You’re still in trouble. Now, let’s get out of here before someone gets suspicious.”
Peter fixed himself up as best he could and they opened the door to the closet slowly, looking out.
Mike was leaning against the wall, grinning lazily, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “You are terribly unsubtle,” he told them taking in their rumpled appearance – Peter’s more so, of course, but Tony’s shirt had come untucked at some point, which was as disheveled as he usually let himself get.
“Good thing Phil and Steve are taking care of the equipment, then,” Tony smiled. “Come on, back to the hotel. Peter needs to get out of these clothes.”
“He does look like he could use a change of trousers,” Mike commented as they began to walk off.
“Oh, I never said he was putting clothes back on again, did I?”
Peter whimpered. Quietly.