Chapter Text
“Blondie was a hot little thing, with nice tits. Not huge or anything but enough to fill out my palms.”
“Sure, sure,” Ace responded lazily; he stared blankly at the glass of beer in his hand before taking a large gulp.
They were seated in a booth at the singular dive bar in some small midwestern town. The structure itself had nice bones - forest green walls, dark mahogany panelling and floors, and a couple iron light fixtures that cast a diffused glow over the smokey room - but it was definitely a bit run down. A bit like himself at the moment, Peter noted wryly. It was a rare free day, and for once he had decided to take it easy as he was still recovering from a nasty hangover from yesterday’s post show partying. Despite having even more than him last night, Ace was still plowing forwards per usual, taking another long pull from his drink.
“Anyways, so she was-”
“Nobody cares about your lay from last night.” Paul interjected. Peter snapped to focus on him, and the tall brunette half sat, half fell into the booth, unceremoniously shoving against Ace with one hand and holding a dirty martini in the other. Ace didn’t take the hint, so Paul ended up pressed up against the space cadet, a bit of the drink sloshing onto his hand.
“Is that right?” Peter said. He could feel his hackles rising.
Ace just looked slowly between the two men and started giggling. Sleepy eyes landing on Peter, Ace quipped, “Careful Paulie, this kitty has claws.” Paul just pouted at him in an exaggerated manner, and Peter noticed that the rhythm guitarist was wearing red lipstick that accented his full lips nicely. The shade was softer than the one he used for his stage makeup, but no less alluring.
“You’re probably going to describe how she blew you next, and talk about how she choked on the Spoiler, blah, blah.” Paul waved his hand dismissively. The hem of his bell sleeved blouse dipped into the cocktail, but he didn’t seem to notice. “We’ve heard it all before.”
Ace was full on cackling now.
“Shut the fuck up Ace!” Ace just laughed harder, his almond eyes becoming crescent moons. Clenching his teeth, Peter ignored the spaceman and studied Paul. His dark eyes were a little red and he was attractively flushed from his cheekbones to across the bridge of his nose.
“Paul, are you drunk?” Peter questioned.
“Nooo.” He smiled widely and tilted his head. “‘m not.”
“He’s on another planet.” Ace said to Peter, having finally gotten himself back under control.
“I can see that.” As Paul started to deny their observations, Peter interrupted. “What the hell brought this on? How much have you had tonight?”
“Aw, don’t worry so much. If Paulie wants to drink, why not let him, he’s a big boy after all.” Ace’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he sipped his beer. Is this what Gene felt like every night, Peter wondered, because if so he owed him an apology.
Looking expectantly at Paul, the other man just shrugged and downed his entire drink in one go. He sputtered a little, “Fuck, it’s strong.”
Peter shook his head, “Alright, that’s enough. You shouldn’t have any more.”
“But what if I want more,” Paul said huskily. Delicately picking up the small skewer, Paul’s red lips closed around the lone olive, and he bit down on it, pulling it into his mouth with his teeth so it disappeared after a glimpse of pink tongue. All the while, Paul maintained eye contact with Peter, his gaze half-lidded and smoldering.
Peter had seen this look many times, in developed photos and directed at the most beautiful girls, but never towards him. What the fuck was going on?
Stunned speechless, he watched Paul then tip the glass so the last couple of drops met his lips, the long line of his neck on display as his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed.
Peter looked towards Ace, but the guitarist was just focused on Paul, a strange expression on his face.
“Sooo…” Paul drawled out, “Have you ever done anything different with a girl?”
“Different? What do you mean by that?”
“When they are blowing you, have you ever let them, you know.” Paul didn’t elaborate further, instead just crooking two of his fingers in a ‘come hither’ gesture.
Peter spit out the mouthful of Guinness and Ace started laughing again.
“Are you asking if Peter likes to take it up the ass? Hahahahaha!” Ace wiped the tears from his eyes with one hand, as he slapped his knee with his other. Peter did a quick sweep of the room; it appeared that the other patrons were too preoccupied to notice the guitarist’s words, either that or they just didn’t give a fuck. Peter shot him a glare anyways.
“What are you playing at Paul?”
Leaning forwards so that his chest was unintentionally emphasized, Paul cupped a hand around the side of his mouth, shielding his words from the rest of the bar. He said conspiratorially, “I know that you sleep with Ace sometimes.”
Ace smacked his head against the wood paneling lining the inside of the booth as he keeled over. There was the hyena cackle again. “He’s got us there,” the spaceman weezed out.
As Peter opened his mouth to lie like his life depended on it, Paul pressed a finger against his lips, shushing him. “It’s okay, I’ll keep your little secret. Ace has got a nice ass, I know, so I can’t blame you for it.” Peter’s cheeks were aflame and he could feel his embarrassment morphing into anger. “‘sides, I like a little prostate massage myself so…”
“Paul.” It was a warning. “Stop yanking my chain.”
“I’m not, I swear.” The singer whined petulantly, dragging out the sentence. With his eyebrows drawn together and his mouth twisted downwards into a frown, he looked like the most forlorn puppy in the world. Peter should have been exasperated but instead he felt a sharp twinge in his chest for putting that look there, even if the reaction was more overdramatic than the situation called for.
Peter swallowed the thought before replaying. “Okay, then what are you doing?”
“I’m…” Paul looked downwards at his empty glass for a moment. Pushing himself upwards with both hands and wobbling just a bit once he reached the mostly upright position, he narrowed his eyes at Peter. “I’m going to get another drink.” “Acey, do you want anything?”
“Sure sugar, another beer s’ fine.” The space case winked at the singer.
As Paul started to walk away, Peter rushed to his feet and grabbed the younger man by the arm. Pulling him, without any resistance on Paul’s part, Peter ended up back on his side of the booth once more with Paul halfway on his lap.
“I’m serious, I’m cutting you off for tonight.”
“I can’t believe you’re the voice of reason.” Ace remarked from across the booth. Peter barely registered what he said, as he was distracted by Paul. Holding Peter’s arm with one hand and nuzzling his shoulder with the side of his cheek, Paul’s other hand started rubbing circles on his thigh. Every sensation felt heightened, as his skin prickled, feeling Paul’s stubble scratch across his shoulder to the crook of his neck.
“I can’t fucking believe it either.” Peter muttered quietly. He felt a wave of heat travel from his flushed cheeks down to pool deep in his belly, right above his cock. And it was not unaffected as Paul stroked dangerously upwards on his thigh.
“Paul-”
“Pete, Petey, Peter… Cris-cuola.” Paul said languidly, rolling the last word in his mouth. And mispronouncing it. He had drawn away enough that Peter could see that his eyes were slightly unfocused and his pupils dilated. “I’m trying to tell you something, but you’re acting like a prick and a brick.” He giggled. “But I can see you’re interested so let me fill in the gaps for you.”
Paul kissed him softly on the cheek. “Do you get it now, hmm?”
Peter remained frozen, eyes wide and just staring at the other man, lips slack and slightly open. He was hot all over, and his cock was pressing insistently against his jeans.
“Noo?” The younger man was downright purring. “Alright, how about this.” He licked a stripe down the shell of Peter’s ear. Peter exhaled loudly through his nose. Then Paul blew on the same spot, causing the drummer to shudder and moan quietly.
Paul moved his hand to cup his arousal through his jeans. “I think you get it now.” Despite the fact he was fully hard, upon feeling the tortuous sensation of Paul touching him, Peter snapped back to the present. Grabbing Paul’s hand, he pulled it away.
“Fuck.”
“That’s the idea, yeah.” Paul smiled at him cheekily and proceeded to give him a fleeting kiss on the lips. Peter felt himself craving more.
“Goddamnit Paul.” The man in question had buried his face into Peter’s neck and was kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin there. Looking over at Ace, he was no help as he just offered up a crooked smile.
“Alright, that’s enough! We’re getting the fuck out of here.” Peter announced with as much authority as he could muster up. Pushing Paul off him, causing the other man to whine in protest, Peter tried to hold onto his lingering patience. “You can’t just start pawing at me in public, c’mon, let’s just get you up. With a bit more force, Peter maneuvered Paul to the edge of the booth and guided him to stand up with a firm grip on his upper arm.
Peter hesitated. Turning his attention back over to their lead guitarist, even as Paul slithered his hand around his waist and started to pet the top of his head with the other, Peter asked, “Ya coming with, Ace?”
“Nah, I got” the other man raised his empty glass in lieu of finishing his sentence. “The night’s not over yet, and I’m not done either. And maybe Gene will wander back over here later to keep me company.”
“Okay, well if you’re sure.”
Paul was rambling quietly about how Peter was ‘the prettiest kitty ever’ and other humiliating things to that nature. Peter was just trying to tune it out.
There was that look again. The guitarist’s face was uncharacteristically stern with his mouth tight around the corners. And his eyes shined with a clarity that contrasted with how much Peter had seen him drink tonight. It was disconcerting.
“Take good care of him for me.” Ace said just loud enough for Peter to catch over the chatter of the rest of the bar.
Swallowing back his surprise, Peter just nodded.
After studying him for a tense breath, just like that, Ace was smiling again and the moment was broken.
Just as Peter was about to turn away with Paul in tow, Ace called out, “Actually, can you spot me some cash?”
Dead broke per usual, Peter thought uncharitably. Fishing a five from his beat up wallet, he slapped it on the table, watching Ace kill the last couple swallows of his Guinness.
“That enough?” Peter grumbled out.
“Yeah, I’ll close Paulie’s tab if he’s got one. Oh, and you might want to wipe your cheek and your mouth before you go.”
Peter scrubbed a hand over his burning face, hard enough to make his already pink skin flush a ruddy red. Suddenly, he felt a hand grope his asscheek. Jolting up with surprise, his head whipped back over to his companion as he wrenched the errant appendage away. Paul was completely unrepentant, just smiling down at him, teetering in his heels despite Peter holding onto him by the wrist.
Glancing over at Ace, he seemed to be watching the whole scene closely with a faded grin on his face. Catching Peter’s gaze, he gave two thumbs up.
“You’re good, and nobody saw anything… I think.”
“Fantastic.” Peter said sarcastically. He maneuvered Paul so that he had one hand supporting the taller man’s waist. Without saying goodbye, Peter started trudging through the bar towards the exit, all the while dragging Paul along.
Oblivious to the looks they were getting, Paul continued rambling on a new subject, not picking up that Peter was only responding in short, one word sentences. Instead, Peter’s mind was elsewhere, mulling over what just occurred.
No matter how he sliced it, it was clear Paul was coming onto him, but the singer also was uncharacteristically drunk. Did he get drunk deliberately in order to lower his inhibitions enough to make this proposal? If so, why was he targeting Peter specifically? It’s not as though Paul had given any indication that he was interested before.
Peter didn’t even know that Paul swung that way until tonight, even though he had had his suspicions in the past. And given his earlier comments, was Paul messing around with Ace on the side, and somehow Peter had never picked up on it? There was no way….
Why did he even care anyways?
The crisp, evening air brushed over his face, helping cool his hot cheeks and ease his racing thoughts.
There was one thing Peter was sure of - that everything was topsy-turvy. And not just because Paul was smashed and he was mostly sober.
But the craziest part was that he still wanted Paul.