DISCLAIMER: I do not own these boys. This is merely based off my imagination. I took the venue where I saw Cheap Date and based it off that, and just the date in general. These are good Christian boys; doubt they'd be doing anything like this anytime soon haha. I heart reviews :) They're very helpful in my writing.


The show's just barely ended before Kyle's pulling Austin offstage and into the back corridor. This isn't the one they used before they went onstage, so he figures he's got at least ten minutes before Jonathan or Caleb come calling, and he wants to make the most of what they've got. God, does he.

He can still hear the screams of the crowd; feel the last twang of Austin's bass deep in his chest. He fucking loves shows like this, when they can get personal with the crowd and still have a good time. It's crowds like that that get him where he is now, currently pressing his bassist up against a semi-clean wall in a dark hallway.

They're both quiet, save for a few gasps and grunts as Kyle presses their chests together, sweaty clothes soaking into each other. It should be fucking gross, especially since Austin's still kind of wet from that asshole with the water bottle, but it's so not.

It's Austin who kisses first, hard and demanding, and it's Kyle who turns the tables and grabs Austin's biceps, pressing them against the cold stone wall, locking them against his sides.

God, it's been so long since they've done this. Before Cheap Date they hadn't had time—they'd been with the rest of the band, mostly, or they'd been off enjoying their own lives. Now, though. Now they're here, and it's so real it's unreal.

Tonight's not a hotel night—they've got a straight drive to Grand Rapids, and there's absolutely no way Kyle can get what he wants in a bunk. It's not like they haven't tried, because they have, but there's only so many times either one of them can stand hitting the bunk above them or smashing into the wall before it's intervention time.

Besides, this venue is perfect for what he's got in mind. The kids filed out after their set, heading back towards the buses, no doubt, and the side of the place where they played is closed off, with only the arcade side open.

No one could possibly come looking for them here. Ziggy, maybe, but he probably left when the kids all did, into the back to help load all the equipment and merch, take over for what Austin and Kyle should be doing but aren't.

"Take off that stupid fucking headband," Kyle mutters, hands now pushing up under Austin's shirt, thumbing against smooth hot skin, grating low against sharp hipbones.

"I thought you liked this headband." There's absolutely no doubt that Kyle does love it in ridiculous amounts. Now, though, is not one of those times. Adrenaline is still pumping through his system, pushing him into overdrive, and he can't tangle his hands in Austin's hair with that headband in the way, and that's such a shame because he wants to.

Instead of saying all that, what Kyle says is "I only like it when it's wrapped around my cock. Now shut up and do it," and if there's a foolproof way to get someone to obey you, he's found it.

"You're in a hurry tonight," Austin remarks as he obediently slips off his headband. Any words he might've said next are lost as Kyle kisses him roughly, one hand moving up from Austin's hip to tangle in his hair.

"We've got about eight minutes," Kyle says against his lips. "I'm making the best of it."

Even in the dark and in such close proximity Kyle can see Austin raise an eyebrow and shake his head in mock-pity. "And you think you can do this in eight minutes? Such a fucking teenager."

Kyle bares his teeth and slides a leg between Austin's thighs, raising up, almost lifting his bassist off the ground, and he doesn't even try to tamp down the huge grin that spreads across his face when Austin involuntarily throws his head back, slamming against the brick wall behind him as he moans.

"Seven minutes," Kyle repeats before he closes the gap between them, sliding his tongue into Austin's mouth as he thrusts forward.

He doesn't try to be quiet—never has liked it—as they rock against each other, but their mouths mash together with such intensity that almost any noise is muffled. Austin nips at his lip, pulls back and releases it with a wet snapping sound, and fuck, now it's on.

Kyle takes a handful of Austin's hair, grips it around the crown, and pulls back hard, moving from Austin's mouth to his neck and nipping at the column of his throat. Austin's never really told him if he likes it rough, but his hips push against Kyle's anyway and Kyle can feel how hard he is.

"Six minutes," Kyle breathes as he pushes his hips forward and up, long torso undulating smoothly.

This thing that they have, they don't really know what it is. They're not exclusive, not anything outside of bunks, hallways, and hotel rooms. Release of tension, maybe. At least, that's what Austin thinks, though right now he's not thinking much of anything as Kyle's slender fingers move down between them, undoing Austin's belt and zipper, popping the button on his jeans.

"Time's running out, you fucking metronome," Austin snaps. "Hurry up."

Kyle smirks, takes his time pushing down boxers and jeans. "Talking more won't make me go any faster," he whispers against Austin's ear, breath hot on the side of his neck, overheating the already-flushed skin. Austin shivers.

"Four minutes," Kyle whispers as he slides down. Even on his knees he's still a fucking giant, and Austin has about three-tenths of that fourth minute to think about this fact before Kyle's lips are wrapping neatly around his cock.

Words escape his mouth in a groan, one hand moving to tangle in Kyle's white-blonde hair. Shit, he'd forgotten how good Kyle was at giving head. At this rate, four minutes would give them one minute to spare, two if Kyle did that fucking thing with his tongue again.

"Jesus," Austin gasps, hips shaking with the urge to snap forward. "Fuck, Ky."

When this thing started, they don't know. Warped Tour—one of them—maybe, or Sassyback Tour, though Kyle thinks it's probably the latter because he swears he remembers this hallway.

What else Kyle thinks—fuck, he shouldn't be doing this much thinking when he's got his bandmate's cock down his throat—is how ironic it is that someone would build an all-ages venue within walking distance of two strip clubs.

Kyle hums around Austin's cock, taking him in deeper before pulling back up, twirling his tongue around the shaft. Austin tightens his grip on Kyle's hair, pushing him down just the slightest bit. He can hear the stifled sounds of Kyle choking him down, and he'll feel like an ass later, but right now he doesn't care.

The hallway's dark—like, really dark—and all he can see clearly is the silvery glint of Kyle's nose ring as his head bobs. He also notices something else that makes his dick twitch and stomach tighten.

"Are you—?" he begins, eyes impossibly wide, but all words are lost in an incoherent stream as Kyle moves the hand gripping Austin's cock to his hip, fingers clenching in the smooth groove of bone and skin. He opens his mouth wider, swallowing until his nose brushes Austin's heated skin.

The hand that had been wandering moves down, confirming Austin's suspicions, before Kyle's palming his cock through the denim of his jeans. The moan he lets out vibrates off the walls, too loud and too soft all at once.

That, coupled with the obscene sucking noise Kyle makes as he slides his lips off Austin's cock to tongue at the slit, is what brings Austin over the edge, and he barely has time to choke out "Fuck, 'm coming," before he is, hard enough that he practically sees fucking stars.

Kyle's caught off-guard and most of it lands on his face, stripes of come on his eyebrows, cheeks, and lips. What actually lands in his mouth is almost immediately swallowed, and god that's really, really hot.

Kyle raises a hand to his face and runs a finger through the come on his cheek, looking up at Austin as he sucks the finger into his mouth, moaning too loudly around the digit. He repeats, doesn't say anything until there's nothing left on his face. He can see, even in the dark, how intensely Austin's looking at him, watching every flash of skin, every little movement.

"C'mere," Austin finally mutters, finality in his voice as he grabs Kyle's arm and pulls him upward. He mashes their lips together, too hard and with too much teeth and tongue, but he can taste himself and that's all that matters.

One hand goes to the back of Kyle's head, pressing him closer, and the other goes to his own beltline, tucking himself back in and zipping up before moving to Kyle's. His hand goes down, cups Kyle's dick through the denim, squeezes.

The high, keening noise Kyle emits is enough to egg Austin on further. He pulls back a bit and takes a deep breath. They don't say anything, almost like neither of them want to, and in lieu of words Kyle pushes his hips forward, thrusting into Austin's hand.

"One minute," Austin mutters now, dipping down to tongue at Kyle's pale neck, teeth grazing and nipping the skin as he undoes Kyle's jeans, pulls his dick out.

Kyle gasps, eyes slipping closed as his hips jerk forward. His hands tighten on Austin's shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into the skin through the shirt. He can feel the burn building in the pit of his stomach; hear the familiar rushing waterfall pounding at his eardrums.

"Austin, please," he gasps, words falling reverent from his mouth. What he's begging for, he doesn't even begin to fathom, but he just wants release. He unclenches a hand to cup Austin's jaw, pulling his face forward so that they can kiss, filthy and everything like the whole night has been.

His hips jerk once, twice, and then Austin's twisting his wrist, putting pressure at the head and sliding down, and that's all it takes for Kyle to come, cries muffled as his lips continue to slide over Austin's. It gets lazier and lazier until Kyle's sure his breathing is back to normal.

"Shit," he breathes, arms shaky as he reaches down to tuck himself back in. He looks at Austin and laughs softly; taking in the other man's mussed hair. "Sorry, bro," he says, his attempt at casual conversation.

Austin shakes his head, grins a little. "Not a problem. Sorry about, uh, you know…"

Kyle does know, but it's not like he cares. He doesn't take just anybody backstage after a show and suck their cock; Austin's special. If he wanted it gentle he'd choose girls. He doesn't bother to respond, and instead kisses Austin gently.

When they pull away, Kyle tries his best to smooth out Austin's hair, picking up his headband from where he'd dropped it on the ground earlier. He guesses at least one other person knows what's going on, but he still figures it's for the best if they hide this, just for now.

How long, though, is anybody's guess. The vast amount of people they have around them during tour makes keeping a secret nearly impossible, and if anyone knows of impossibilities it's Kyle.

Besides, Kyle already knows that Austin's all his, and he doesn't need everyone else knowing for him to know that it's true. "Thanks," he says, completely out of the blue. While Austin seems puzzled, he just cards his fingers through Kyle's hair, murmuring you're welcome.

Outside the hallway, they hear a voice shout, "Kyle is Austin with you? We need to go," and it's Caleb, of course. Kyle kisses Austin gently, steals his hoodie before they leave to hide the stains on his shirt.

They've got a couple hours and a bus to sleep on, and Kyle can already feel exhaustion tugging at his bones, hunching his tall frame. They make it to the parking lot, where everyone else is waiting—thankfully fan-less, Kyle doesn't feel like dealing right now—impatiently.

"I don't even want to know," Kent says as way of greeting when Kyle and Austin approach, tangled like some awkward monster. Marc mutters some kind of unintelligible agreement, while Jonathan and Caleb seem more concerned about trying to beat Ziggy and K Dirty to the door of the bus. "I'm just glad you're alive."

Kyle and Austin both laugh and scramble onto the bus.