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“Are you listening, Joe ?”
Tom frowns at his uncharacteristically distracted bandmate, who is staring off into the distance with an almost baffled expression. Joe doesn't normally let conversation roll off of him like this, though he feels only mildly ashamed. He waves his hand dismissively at Tom, blinking a few times. “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about something.”
Tom seems to get the message and ends up walking away after one last failed attempt to speak to him. Joe now has the capacity to focus all of his attention to the corner of the dressing room, where Steven is stiffly propped up against the wall like a floor lamp. The behavior he'd demonstrated for the past hour or so was absolutely nothing like him whatsoever, and Joe had taken it upon himself to piece together what could be the matter just by looking at him.
Steven almost appeared to be panicking silently. There had been an uncomfortable absence of his voice ever since they'd arrived at the venue, his normally running mouth bolted shut. He's standing silently there, staring at the floor as if deep in thought. He's not high, Joe's certain of it. He doesn't act that way while high anyway.
After being unable to fathom what the issue could be, Joe gives up and tiptoes over. He doesn't catch Steven's attention until he's a foot away, causing him to jump. “What's your issue ?” Joe whispers, unwilling to make this anyone else's business.
Steven glances back and forth shiftily between the ajar dressing room door and Joe, leaning intently towards him. He gestures weakly. “Shut the door,” Steven mutters, and Joe wanders over to do exactly that. Steven does, now, look quite stressed out, clinging to the long sparkly coat he's got on for the show tonight.
“Listen, Joe,” he nearly whimpers, and Joe fears the worst. “.... there's a hole in my pants.”
Joe deflates and rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Steven, I thought you were on something.” He casts an unimpressed glance down at Steven's oddly patterned latex leggings, hugging his nicely-shaped legs like they're sewn right onto him. “Just get another one. Or… I dunno. Tough it out. I'm sure you can pass off a little hole as intentional.”
Steven grips Joe's open shirt. “You don't get it,” he mumbles, now an odd shade of pink. “First off, I don't have another pair. Second I- I cannot get on stage like this. It's not- it's not in a convenient spot, nor is it little.”
Joe stares at him, almost comically raising an eyebrow. Very slowly, he leans over to check out Steven's back, fingers brushing the pretty coat as it runs down to the back of his thighs. Steven makes a little squeaking noise as Joe moves the fabric aside to peer at his ass.
“Ah,” Joe hums, immediately met with a full view. It almost looks by design, the way the hole is placed perfectly around Steven's entire ass. He can't help but grin, chuckling quietly to himself. “Maybe you should've considered underwear,” Joe suggests, and Steven wriggles under his gaze. “Don't get smart with me,” he growls, batting at Joe's hand on his coat. With a frown, Joe decides Steven is in no position to have an attitude, and reaches down to pinch the soft curve of his rear end, drawing out a little whine. “I don't know who you think you are,” he whispers, “but simmer down before I walk away.” However, Joe is immediately distracted by Steven's ass again, letting a half-second of silence pass between them before grabbing it with his full hand.
“Joe, this is not the time,” Steven protests, but his voice is shivering and he seems unsure of himself, so Joe kisses his temple and moves to stand behind him. “Sorry,” he mumbles, holding the long coat out of the way with one arm, and wiggling one finger down to rub at Steven's exposed hole. This disarms him almost immediately, Steven gasping and leaning his full weight onto the body behind him. Joe holds him around the waist and presses light kisses to his jaw. Steven's legs tremble, and already he can barely shake out a word or two.
“What's wrong with you ?” he keens, Joe involving a second finger to massage his hole with. It takes Steven no time at all to grow half-hard, and even less time before his cock is fully hard and pressed against his tight ass pants. Joe is amusing himself greatly by threatening to dip his fingers in, just to make Steven squirm. “We don't have time for this,” Steven pants, to which Joe replies, “if you're good, we'll have just enough time.”
The ripped pants dilemma is set aside for now, as Joe only removes his fingers for a second to slip them in his mouth. Deeming them adequately slicked up, Joe wastes no time in stuffing one into Steven, who would've fallen right over if Joe hadn't been holding him up. He shivers pitifully when the second finger is added, quiet groans leaving his slack lips.
“Would you relax ?” Joe demands, Steven's hole gripping his fingers like a vice. Steven only responds in a little shivery breath, anything he was about to say cut off as Joe finds his sweet spot faster than he'd anticipated. Steven whimpers, leaning his head back over Joe's shoulder. “Hurry up,” he pleads, and Joe decides he doesn't have time to make Steven apologize for being impatient. He wiggles the fingers out after a minute or two, then spins Steven around to bend him over the nearest object, which, to his luck, is the arm of the shitty haphazard couch in the middle of the room.
Steven's moaning starts out just as desperate as Joe's thrusting; after unzipping his pants and wetting his cock as best he can with spit, he fits himself into Steven, somehow turned on more by the presence of the hole in his pants, and starts a quick pace with little to no regard for Steven himself. Steven shivers under him, and Joe reaches a hand around to fish his dick out of his pants, rubbing the base.
“You're loose,” Joe grunts, and all Steven can do is babble quietly, something about how good it feels. Joe can only pray that the backstage noise covers up the smacking of skin-on-skin. He's certain he hadn't locked that door earlier, so he better make this quicker than they'd ever done it before.
Steven's back arches into Joe's hips. “Joey, I'm almost there,” he sobs. It's a wonder that so little action has gotten him so worked up. Perhaps he is high, Joe thinks, but all he really cares about is his own climax, not bothering to change anything as he feels Steven shudder and squeal through his orgasm.
Joe cums slightly over a minute after Steven, who is limp and draped over the arm of the couch, and he immediately slides his cock out to tuck himself away. “Sorry. I've just worsened your situation,” Joe observes, as there's cum dripping down Steven's thighs. He leans down to kiss the top of his head. “Well, never show me your bare ass and expect me not to do anything about it, I guess.”
Steven grumbles as Joe decides his work here is done and begins to wander off, though he's stopped when Steven rights himself and gasps. “I do have pants !” is all he offers, and sprints away out the second back door that Joe hadn't noticed until now, holding his coat over his ass.
Well, anything to get the brain juices flowing. Joe feels accomplished. They're required for sound check in less than five minutes, so he should probably get on that.