Archive of Our Own ^beta

Thorne and John were waiting in the recording studio for the rest of the band. John sat on a nearby amp, tuning his red bass guitar. Thorne was seated on the sofa, playing on his mobile, his legs draped over the armrest. The room was quiet save for John’s strumming and an odd clicking sound. It wasn’t loud exactly but Thorne could still hear it. At first it didn’t bother him, but after several minutes, he set his phone down on his chest and looked up.

“Do you hear that?” he asked.

John stopped strumming and looked across at his boyfriend. “Hear what?”

“This bloody clicking noise,” Thorne replied. “Do you hear it too? Or am I just going mental?”

John looked confused for a moment, but then he smiled and laughed. Thorne watched him and swung his legs off the couch, sticking his phone into his pocket. John ran a hand over his hair and set his bass aside, still chuckling.

“Sorry, love,” he told Thorne. “I didn’t even realize I was doing that.”

“Doing what?” Thorne asked. “You mean that noise?”

John nodded. “Yeah, sorry. It’s a habit I’ve picked up ever since I got this stud.”

“What?” Thorne raised his eyebrows and stood up.

John stuck his tongue out, revealing a shiny black stud right through the center of it. Thorne’s blue eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

“You have a tongue piercing?” he exclaimed. “How the hell is that possible? I have a lot of experience with your tongue and I have never felt anything!”

John put his tongue away and chuckled. “I’ve always had the hole because I got the piercing when I was young, but after a few years I stopped wearing studs and stuff in it. Without them, it’s barely noticeable.” He rubbed his beard. “But I saw this one at the shop the other day and decided to start wearing it.”

“I see.” Thorne walked closer to his boyfriend and John stood up. “How does it feel?” the singer asked.

“What do you mean?” John replied, arching an eyebrow. “It feels fine to me.”

“But how would it feel to someone else?” Thorne wrapped his arms around John’s neck and cupped the back of his head.

John grinned and pulled Thorne closer, kissing him soundly on the mouth. His teeth caught the rock star’s lower lip, tugging gently, and Thorne gasped softly. John’s tongue darted past his lips and Thorne felt the metal stud caressing his tongue, cold as ice. He shivered and pressed himself even closer to John, rubbing their hips together. John squeezed his waist and sucked at Thorne’s tongue, making his knees go weak. The singer gripped his lover’s shoulders and melted against John, grinding the stirring bulge in his jeans against John’s thigh.

“Jesus, we’re late one time and this is what we walk into.”

Thorne and John pulled away in surprise and looked toward the door. The other members of the band–Zeke, David, and Michael, and the band’s manager, Jason–had just entered the room. John blushed while Thorne just rolled his eyes at the interruption.

“Fuck off, you guys,” he said. “It’s about time you got here.”

“Hey, at least it was only five minutes,” Jason pointed out,

“Yeah, another five and we all would be scarred for life,” Zeke added with a smirk.

Thorne rolled his eyes again and kissed John’s cheek before pulling away. John picked up his bass again while Zeke sat at his drums, David stood at his keyboard, and Michael pulled out his guitar. Jason sat outside the recording both and gave them a thumbs up to start the rehearsal. Thorne grabbed the microphone and started singing, standing beside John like he would during a concert. As they rehearsed, all Thorne could think about was John and his tongue stud. His jeans started getting tighter again.

A few nights later, John and Thorne were alone on the tour bus, in the main room. The rest of the band, including Jason and their driver, Trixie, were still out. Thorne and John had mostly been talking on one of the sofas, until Thorne had leaned closer and pulled John in by his T-shirt, kissing firmly. John kissed him back and Thorne laid back on the couch, pulling the bassist onto lap. John’s long legs straddled his hips, their chest, their groins, pressed perfectly together. Thorne wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s slender shoulders and John spread his hands on the singer’s chest.

John licked along Thorne’s lips, prodding, and the singer opened his mouth. John’s tongue slipped between his teeth and the metal stud clicked against Thorne’s teeth, the icy slide of it a stark contrast to the heat of their mouths. Thorne groaned and rocked his hips up, grinding the bulge in his jeans against John’s. John laced a hand through his lover’s messy black hair and tugged lightly, pulling Thorne’s head up, kissing him deeper. Thorne’s scalp tingled and he moaned into their mouths, grabbing John’s biceps when the bassist gave another pull.

“John,” Thorne gasped. “Fuck.”

John smirked and tugged at Thorne’s bottom lip, drawing out a breathy whine. His eyes were burning with lust, dark and hooded against his eyeliner. Thorne tugged at the hem of his boyfriend’s shirt as they kissed, trying to remove it without separating their lips. John pulled away only for a moment to let Thorne tug it up his arms, over his head, and onto the back of the couch. Thorne ran his hands approvingly up and down John’s lean torso, raking his painted nails down the bassist’s rib cage and over his nipples. John shivered and Thorne grinned, before cupping the back of his boyfriend’s head and drawing him back in.

John rolled his hips forward, the tent of his erection straining the tight denim. Thorne’s own jeans felt just as tight, his whole body feeling hot. John pushed at Thorne’s chest, pinning him firmly to the couch, separating their lips. Thorne whined and tried to chase after him, but John held him down, flashing a devilish grin. He pulled Thorne’s shirt off and tossed it away, then pinned him down again. Thorne moaned, tilting his head back as John began kissing down his jaw and neck, his beard rasping over the sensitive skin.

John tugged at Thorne’s earlobe, licked lightly at the skin beneath, then nibbled the shell. Thorne moaned and shivered again. John’s teeth scraped his pulse point before sinking in, sucking a deep, dark bite into the fair skin. Then his tongue came out to lick over the mark, and Thorne felt the heat of it and the chill of the stud sliding across his flesh.

“Oh, John, fuck,” the rock star moaned, arching his neck to give John more access. “Yes, Baby Boy, more.”

John chuckled, his breath ghosting across Thorne’s skin. He kissed Thorne’s throat and slid down out of his lap, his knees on the floor. The bassist kissed a line down his lover’s chest and took a nipple into his mouth, swirling his agile tongue around it, the icy metal of the stud making the tender nub stiffen instantly. Thorne hissed at the sensation and grabbed the back of John’s hair. John continued his oral path down Thorne’s body until he reached the singer’s crotch. There was a wet spot on the denim, Thorne’s erection straining against his zipper.

John cupped him through the fabric and rubbed him with the heel of his hand. Thorne cried out and rocked his hips up, nails of his other hand digging into his thigh. John winked at his boyfriend.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

He opened Thorne’s studded leather belt and pulled it free from his jeans, then undid the button and zipper, pulling the fabric down Thorne’s thighs, along with his underwear. The rock star’s cock bobbed free into the air, leaking and heavy with need. John’s big brown eyes darkened even more at the sight and he licked his reddened lips. He put his strong hands on Thorne’s thighs to keep them spread and pressed kisses and love bites to the insides, getting closer and closer to his boyfriend’s cock. Thorne dug his nails into the sofa cushions, biting his lip as he watched John worship his skin.

Then finally, John took Thorne’s cock into his mouth, sucking hard and fast down to the root. Thorne cried out and grabbed John’s hair with both hands, arching his back off the couch. John bobbed his head up and down, sucking sloppily and noisily, salvia running down his chin and soaking his beard. With each upstroke, he pressed his tongue stud into the leaking slit at the tip of Thorne’s cock, and when he went down, ran the stud along the shaft, teasing the veins beneath the skin.

Thorne was moaning and gasped above John, his fingers clenched tight in the other man’s hair, his toes curling inside his shoes. He’d had a lot of blowjobs before but amazingly, never with someone with a tongue piercing. He had no idea it could feel so bloody amazing. Thorne looked down and met John’s lust-dark eyes, licking his own swollen lips. He carded one hand through John’s hair gently and cupped his cheek, stroking the sharp bone there with his thumb.

“Your mouth is good, Baby Boy,” Thorne said huskily. “So hot and warm and wet around my prick. You look so pretty on your knees for me.”

John whined at the words and sucked harder, his short nails leaving indents in Thorne’s thighs. The little pinpricks of pain only added to Thorne’s pleasure. He could feel the coil of white-hot pleasure burning hotter, higher. Thorne yelled out John’s name, fisting his hands in his lover’s hair as he came explosively inside his mouth. John sealed his abused lips around his boyfriend’s cock, swallowing every thick, milky spurt that went down his throat. He sucked softly as Thorne came down from his high and slowly pulled off, panting, his jaw aching in the best way, a few drops of come catching on his facial hair.

Thorne looked down at his boyfriend’s face. John’s eyes were darker than a starless night sky, his perfect lips swollen and red as fresh strawberries, his hair a mess from Thorne’s clenching hands. Thorne grinned at him and cupped John’s chin in his palm, tracing the shape of his mouth. John turned his head and took the tip of his lover’s thumb into his mouth, nipping at it almost playfully, before he whined, staring at Thorne with desperate heat in his eyes. He rolled his hips and Thorne’s gaze flitted down to the large bulge at John’s crotch.

“Come here, Baby Boy,” Thorne murmured, keeping his hand under John’s chin and guiding him upward.

John crawled up the rock star’s body and settled in his lap again. Thorne grabbed the back of his neck and hauled him down for a messy kiss, his other hands cupping and squeezing John’s pert arse, encouraging him to move. John whined again, higher, as he rutted himself against Thorne, moaning loudly.

“Yeah, just like that,” Thorne whispered between biting kisses. “Just like that, Baby Boy. You feel so good. Come for me, John, come inside your jeans while you hump my lap like a bitch in heat.”

John shivered at the dirty words and kissed Thorne harder, rolling his narrow hips, chasing his own release while Thorne gripped his arse, urging him on. John’s wiry body shuddered as he came with a loud yell, his jeans and underwear becoming so warm and sticky Thorne could feel it against his bare cock, laying soft on his belly. John melted against his boyfriend, nuzzling his neck. Thorne stroked his lover’s hair and rubbed his smooth back as John slowly came down from his bliss.

They held each other for several minutes, basking in the afterglow. John slowly raised his head and offered a smile at Thorne.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Thorne replied, kissing his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” John returned, his eyes now warm and soft, like melted chocolate.

Thorne kissed his lips again and again, until John shifted and rubbed the wet patch at the front of his jeans, darkening the fabric.

“Let’s get cleaned up,” Thorne suggested.

John nodded in agreement. They got off the couch and walked hand in hand to their bedroom in the back of the tour bus. John peeled off his sticky jeans and underwear while Thorne removed his own. They got into bed and under the heavy black-and-purple duvet, their naked bodies warm. Thorne curled up against John’s chest and John put an arm around him, stroking his ruffled black hair. Thorne nuzzled him and closed his eyes, the soothing sound of John clicking his tongue stud lulling him to sleep.