Jon maybe is a little drunk. He’s had two beers and a round of shots with Tom earlier and maybe another round a bit later, and his body feels pleasantly warm. He doesn’t really mean to stumble into Pete’s study, he’s actually just looking for the pantry because William said something about pastries, but now Jon thinks that William was making fun of him and that Pete doesn’t even really have a pantry. He purses his lips and turns to leave, but then suddenly the door opens, and Pete is hustling Spencer inside. Jon stumbles a little and slips into a corner behind an armoire without thinking, breath catching as he watches Pete press Spence against the desk and kiss him hard.
Spence makes a desperate little noise and pushes slightly at Pete’s chest, the faint light from the window behind him catching in his hair. Pete pulls back, grinning, and nips at Spencer’s lip.
“It’s my birthday, Spencer,” he says, and slides his hands from Spencer’s shoulders to his hips. Jon swallows and considers crawling out of his corner and leaving, because he’s not sure he wants to see this. Well. He’s not sure he’s should see this. On the other hand, Spence is making these little whining noises, Pete’s hand is moving over the front of his jeans, Spencer’s hips pushing up, and Jon feels his dick twitch.
“Shut up,” Spence says, and pushes his hips against Pete’s, grinning, before Pete dives down again, pressing their lips together. Spence stretches his neck, hands slipping around Pete’s waist to squeeze his ass, and Jon bites his lip to hold back a groan. Pete does groan, though, and rocks against Spencer slightly. Jon can hear him mumble something, and Spencer’s responsive laugh.
“You want me bad,” Spence finally says, moving one hand away from Pete’s ass and between them, out of Jon’s sight. Pete’s hips jerk forward and he curses. Jon shivers, breath caught in his throat.
“I wanna fuck you bad, yeah. Pretty bad,” Pete says hoarsely, his laugh strained as Spencer’s hand starts moving, short and fast, shoulder twitching. Spence bites his lip, expression shifting for a moment, as if he’s catching his breath, his mouth pink and soft.
Okay, Jon thinks. He’s going to get out of this corner now, and it’ll be embarrassing, yeah, but it’s a party and they’re all drunk, and later they’ll laugh about it, and Jon won’t have to watch his boss fuck the drummer of his band.
“What do you wanna do?” Spence says then, voice like honey, and Jon feels his stomach drop. “Tell me, birthday boy,” Spence says, and to Jon it sounds like stay.
“I want,” Pete starts, groaning, stopping, then continuing. “I want you to suck my cock.” He laughs, and Jon thinks, holyfuck. Spence grins again, and moves his hands to Pete’s shoulders, pushes him off and switches their positions, Pete against the desk, before dropping to his knees.
Pete fists his cock, fly open, and Spence settles down; his T-shirt is riding up, probably where Pete touched him, revealing smooth white skin, the waistband of his silly pink underwear, and Jon wants nothing more than to crawl out of here and over and lick Spencer’s skin. He digs his nails into the palms of his hands, trying to keep quiet, and is thankful for Pete’s loud moan when Spence finally licks around the tip of his cock and sucks him inside hard. Spencer’s head starts bobbing, and from his angle Jon can see his lips wrap wetly around Pete’s cock, his fingers closing around the base. Jon stares for a moment before giving in and pressing the flat of his hand against his erection, suppressing a moan.
“Fuck,” Pete says and moves his hands into Spencer’s hair, tugging lightly. Jon sees Spence relax, the tension in his shoulders disappearing, and Pete hisses, hips jerking, shoving into Spencer’s mouth. Spence makes a little wet-mewling sound around Pete’s cock and matches his rhythm, cheeks hollowing in a little.
“Oh god, oh god,” Pete says; Jon echoes it in his head, chest tight with suppressed sound. He imagines Spencer’s mouth on his own cock, lips soft, strong drummer fingers, precision. Spence moans around Pete’s cock, speeding up a little, taking Pete’s little thrusts easily. Jon presses against his cock a little harder, shaking.
“Stop.” Pete’s voice sounds broken now, and he’s breathing heavily. “Stop, I’m gonna come.”
Spence obeys, pulls back and wipes his mouth; his lips are red and swollen. Jon wants to lick into his mouth and kiss him hard; he breathes a moan and watches Pete pull Spencer up, hands in his hair, holding him close, kissing him hard. Yeah, Jon thinks, like that.
“Now?” Spence breathes when they break apart with a wet sound that shoots sparks up Jon’s spine. “And now?”
“Clothes off,” Pete says, tugging Spencer’s T-shirt over his head and fumbling with his belt, pushing his pants down. Spence toes off his shoes. He steps out of his jeans, his boxer briefs, and Jon feels his mouth go very dry; Spencer’s skin looks cold and marble-like, the round swell of his ass perfect and pleasing; Jon’s fingers twitch even as Pete’s dark hands close over it, squeezing.
“And you?” Spence says, shoulders shaking with laughter, thighs flexing when Pete’s fingers slip between his cheeks, pressing. Jon imagines he can see Spencer’s goosebumps from his spot, even though that’s pretty much impossible.
“I don’t need to take my clothes off to fuck you,” Pete replies, grinning. Spence swats his shoulder but kisses him, arms winding around Pete’s neck, fingers burying in his hair. Jon exhales shakily, rubs his cock again, harder, a little faster.
“Come on,” Pete says, and then spins him and Spencer around, pressing Spence down against the table, before sliding to his knees and pulling Spencer’s cheeks apart. Spence whines, long and desperate, back arching as he looks around. For a moment Jon thinks Spence sees him, but then Spence squeezes his eyes shut, moaning loud and Pete licks over his opening.
“Oh god,” Spence pants, “fuckfuckyes.”
Pete licks harder, and Jon groans and fumbles his fly open, dipping his hand in, fingers wrapping around his cock finally, hips raising off the wall as he starts stroking himself slowly. Spence is pushing against Pete’s tongue frantically now, skin covered in a pearly sheen of sweat.
“Please,” he presses out, and Jon grits his teeth. “Please, Pete.” Jon feels his nerves catch fire at the tone in his voice, and fuck, he wouldn’t make Spencer wait. Spence mewls again, shifting his legs apart wider, and Pete thrusts a finger inside him, two, and Jon strokes himself harder. He moans Spencer’s name, quietly, lost in Spencer’s sounds.
Pete pulls back a moment later, climbs to his feet and aligns his cock. Spence pushes back against him and Pete shoves inside him hard, inch by inch, fingers digging into Spencer’s hips. Spence makes a desperate sound, hands slithering over the desk for something to hold on until Pete’s hands find his and close around them.
Fuck, Jon thinks or moans or groans, head spinning, even though the way Pete presses against Spence now makes it impossible to see much other than for Pete’s hard thrusts into Spencer, but Jon thinks that Spencer’s sounds make up for it. He rubs his cock harder, pushing into his fist, breathing heavily.
He closes his eyes, the blood rushing in his ears, the sound skin against skin, sliding, Spencer’s whines, Pete’s growling, and he comes, biting his lip, nearly drawing blood. His mind goes blank for a moment, and when he opens his eyes again, Pete has pushed Spencer’s knee on the desk and is shoving into him hard and fast. Jon sees Spencer tensing and then Spence makes a high, keening noise and freezes. Jon’s dick twitches again, and he shivers.
Pete comes with a shout and then pulls out, sagging against Spencer for a moment before pulling him down on the floor. They kiss, long and slow, and Jon feels his inside twinge a little. He stays in his corner, quiet, while Spence pulls on his clothes and rearranges his hair.
They walk to the door and Spence slips outside, but Pete looks around the frame, brows raised, and Jon feels his heart skip a beat and screech to a stop.
“Enjoy the show?” Pete asks, and Jon isn’t sure whether Pete’s angry or amused or both.
He swallows. “Pretty much, yeah.”
Pete eyes him intently for a moment, before continuing, lips curling into a not-quite smile. “Don’t even think about it.” He stops, eyes going dark and Jon shivers a little.
“About what?” he asks finally, swallowing.
“Spencer,” Pete says and touches the armoire next to Jon’s head. “Spencer is mine.”
“Yeah,” Jon says, and nods quickly. “Whatever.”
“Just making sure you know that,” Pete says, and then his face splits into his easy going smile again. “Come on, there’s still a party down there.”
“Yeah.” Jon looks away. “Go ahead.”
***
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
flimsy) wrote,
