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Phil shoved Steve back with one hand on his chest, pushing him straight back against the wall. “Could he make you feel as good as I do?” he asked, voice low and rough. That tone and the look on his face--pissed off and determined--made him seem half a foot taller, and Steve found himself shrinking back against the wall for a moment before managing to straighten himself out and look Phil square in the eye.
“Dunno,” Steve quipped. The fuck was going on here? “Haven’t tried yet.”
Oh, Phil looked pissed. He put one hand against the wall next to Steve’s head and leaned in close: “Cheeky bitch.”
In reality, Steve would never, not with anyone else. He and Phil were way too tethered together for him to break away like that, but Phil witnessing some (so harmless, at least to Steve, that he hadn’t even realized it was flirting) flirting between Sav and Steve had made his blood boil. At first, Steve found the sudden display of temper a little amusing, but Phil was good at making himself intimidating when he needed to be and he was showing no indication of backing off anytime soon.
Steve opened his mouth to respond but was cut off with a hand silencing him. “Have you thought about it?” Phil asked, his pitch even lower than it had been.
Steve figured at this point that merely thinking about fooling around with anyone else--Sav--would throw Phil right over the deep end. And maybe it would ease Phil’s tension to know that Steve really hadn't thought much about it--merely fleeting thoughts, snapshots of what would never come to be. Because he loved Phil. But he wasn’t sure Phil would buy that right now.
Steve shook his head. Phil eyed him warily, a glint of anger still so present in his eyes, but lowered his hand from Steve’s mouth. His other was still against the wall, keeping him at least halfway cornered. “I don’t consider myself to be an exceptionally jealous bloke,” he said. “But for some reason...it got to me today.”
Didn’t they all flirt with one another? Steve huffed in response, saying: “It shouldn’t. And, just so y’know, Phil, you do get jealous.” He started to weave himself away from Phil’s body draped over his. “But usually not like this.” Before he could get more than a few inches away, he was yanked back by his arm and then tossed back onto the bed. Phil had gotten so strong, and Steve was still so light, he knew it didn’t take much to throw him around; he rolled over onto his back and was pounced on instantly, Phil’s dense thighs straddling his hips.
“I think I have reason to be,” Phil said, grabbing Steve’s wrists and pinning them. “Tonight was a very interesting performance.”
Phil was already hard and he ground down against Steve, the weight and the friction enough to make him gasp quietly through barely-parted lips; he tried to pull his wrists from Phil’s hold but just found them pinned down harder. “I didn’t mean--” he started to say, but was again cut off, this time by Phil’s teeth colliding with his and a tongue sliding past his lips. Phil pulled his wrists up over his head and kept them there as he ground down harder, belt buckles scraping and growing hard-ons rubbing against one another.
Steve’s wrists were only freed when Phil reached down and unbuckled his belt hastily, unzipping Steve’s fly and yanking down his pants as much as he could while still sitting on top of him; Steve reached for Phil’s belt but the other beat him to it, unbuckling, unbuttoning and unzipping in a fury.
Phil grabbed Steve’s hand and placed it over the bulge in his underwear, sliding his hold down to his wrist and making Steve’s palm rub all over his hard-on. Jealous or not, Phil’s aggression was a little surprising--normally quite gentle with him, Steve wasn’t exactly used to the turn of events but found himself getting hard too with Phil’s little gyrations over him and the soft, low groans he was making. Maybe the extra aggression was from their infrequent escapades, but Steve could put most of the blame on Phil--he’d had more of an eye for groupies lately and, instead of getting outwardly pissy about it, Steve had ducked his head and sulked silently. And now Phil was upset with him for some harmless flirting?
“I didn’t mean to,” Steve started to say again. He kept rubbing Phil’s dick through his underwear and felt the tiny bead of precum wet the fabric; he ran over it with his thumb and felt the shaft twitch.
“No, maybe you didn’t ask Sav to grind up on you for the better part of the show,” Phil said--a major exaggeration, Steve felt. “But you didn’t do anything about it, did you?” He shimmied down Steve’s thighs and yanked the shirt over his head abruptly, tangling hair in the process, then yanked Steve’s pants down before he could blink.
Both of them naked, Phil crawled over him again and grabbed a handful of blonde hair, yanking his head up to kiss him. It was hot and wet and messy, Phil totally consuming him and making it near impossible to even think--the hand running over his hip bone and then gripping his cock didn’t help the matter. Steve moaned against Phil’s mouth and bucked his hips as much as he could with Phil strewn over him; Phil’s grip in his hair tightened, moving Steve’s head as he wanted to with their kisses.
Steve managed a breath of air: “I never say anything about the girls--the groupies--”
Phil grabbed a handful of hair at his nape and pulled his head back. “Neither do I. But Sav...or Joe. Or Rick,” he said, dragging his teeth along Steve’s neck. “Any of them is a problem. Wouldn’t you feel the same?” He yanked his hair again, making Steve wince and claw at his shoulder: “Are you gonna make it up to me? Make me try to forget what I had to see?”
Steve tried to tear away, a surge of defiance taking over, but Phil was still stronger; he was pulled down by his hair and his face was shoved into Phil’s groin as he reclined on the bed, then gently running his fingers through Steve’s hair as if to convince him. Steve laid himself out flat and took Phil’s cock in his mouth; as soon as the head was surrounded by his lips, Phil reclined further, pushing his hips out and pushing Steve’s head down, a gag cutting through the sudden quiet in the room.
Phil’s hands in his hair, fingers constantly stroking through fine strands and over his scalp, and the low groans and growls he was making were turning Steve on more than the actual act of giving him head. He pressed his hips flatter against the mattress and propped himself up on his elbows, using the position to grind his own dick into the sheets; with no warning, Phil straightened up, holding Steve’s head in place and making him gag again as he struggled to stay suctioned around his cock, and reached down to rub his shoulder blade.
“You do like it,” Phil said. The soothing hand returned to Steve’s head and he did his best not to tug himself away from Phil to get some air. His struggle, all the drool and the suction of his tongue seemed to turn Phil on relentlessly and the next moment he was thrusting into Steve’s mouth as much as Steve would allow; one thumb brushed over his cheekbone and his cheek was held as Phil said, “Look at me.”
That alone took extra effort. Steve tried to blink away the involuntary, blurring tears as he wiggled his tongue underneath the shaft, a thick vein rubbing over the muscle and through all the saliva that had pooled there, and looked up at Phil. A tear running down his temple was wiped away and, at first, he thought he was about to be shown some mercy, but Phil reared his hips forward again and Steve’s neck bent back awkwardly; his hands gripped those sturdy hips but he was still held in place and the cock in his mouth drove back further. He could taste precum and he could feel coarse curls just brushing up against the tip of his nose, then Phil asked, “How long do you think you can hold it there?”
Not very long, Steve assumed. Still, he tried to breathe through his nose and do nothing else, just keep Phil’s cock warm in his mouth; his tongue twitched beneath it and more saliva started to creep underneath his tongue and from the back of his throat. That accumulation was making it even more difficult than the dick lodged in his throat and, after a few moments, Steve sputtered and shoved Phil back hard, gasping for breath and wiping drool away from his chin with the back of his hand. Quickly, Phil grabbed him by the throat and pushed him back onto the bed, two fingers in Steve’s mouth to get slick with all the drool he couldn’t wipe away.
“No one else can make you this turned on,” Phil said, the slick fingers moving down between Steve’s legs, the other hand still around his neck. Steve wrapped one arm around his shoulders, the other hand placed on his hip, only further validating the statement. Phil smiled, actually smiled, when he breached Steve and he arched up against him, the hand on his hip squeezing: “I can see it. I can feel it,” he said, thrusting his fingers in. “You’re mine.”
Steve pulled Phil forward to get some friction on his cock in addition to the slight nudging over his prostate; Phil was teasing him and he let out a whine. “We belong to each other,” he said, spreading his legs, reaching around to grope Phil’s ass, in turn feeling the hand around his throat grip harder.
“Maybe you really don’t see how other people look at you,” Phil said, seeming to muse the thoughts to himself more so than to his counterpart. He drove his fingers in as deep as they could go, rubbing the pad of his thumb of Steve’s taint, and Steve arched up again and clawed at the back of his neck. “But I see it. I can’t help but get jealous sometimes, Steve.”
Steve felt his nails dig into Phil’s spine, then he was roughly flipped over with a hand in his hair, pulling his neck back, and two fingers back inside. “Phil,” he gasped, and Phil draped himself over his backside, pressing his chin into the crook of Steve’s neck before ducking and biting into the muscle. His hair was freed, a stinging still tormenting his scalp, and Phil wrapped his hand around Steve’s cock; the unintentional dribble of precum kept his strokes slick and steady and Steve arched back into him, rubbing his ass against Phil’s groin as those talented fingers inside prodded at his prostate.
He was so close, panting and moaning freely. Fuck it, just let it out. They never played this rough, not in the bedroom--Steve’s passing thoughts that maybe it was just Phil hamming it up for fun were gone. He was actually jealous and so, so horny, and the insatiable desire for him made Steve horny in turn.
“Who else?” Phil growled, stroking Steve harder, his fist so tight Steve had no doubt that he could feel how close he was to bursting. “Who else does it like this for you? Who else gets you off so fucking good, Steve?”
No one, Steve answered in his mind, only able to moan back a reply; Phil bit into his shoulder and pushed Steve’s hair aside with his nose, asking again, “Who else?”
“Fucking hell, no one, Phil,” Steve answered, sweating and frantic, gripping the sheets beneath himself in a twisted mess. “Fuck--please--”
Steve could hear the satisfied smile as Phil said, “Good” and suddenly, terribly, his body pulled away and Steve was left face down, ass up, groaning. He reached for his dripping cock but Phil, sounding further away, ordered, “Don’t you dare.” So Steve obeyed, burying his face into the mattress, the few seconds between Phil’s absence and him being lubed up and fingered again pure agony. One slick hand wrapped around his hip, then Phil’s own hips were shoved against Steve and he was pushing in; Steve bit down on the sheets, haggard groans coming through gritted teeth, and tried to lower himself even more to rub his cock against the bed.
Phil yanked Steve up, their bodies parallel, and his cheek pressed into his shoulder blade: “Not yet.” He started to move his hips, the slowness of his thrusts making Steve nervous for what was actually to come. Phil’s arm around his chest braced tighter, fingertips toying with one nipple, and his other hand slid over to press flush against his lower abdomen, just missing where Steve needed to be touched the most. As quickly as he was pulled up, Steve was shoved back down with a palm between his shoulder blades, forcing his back to arch; Phil’s hands grabbed his hips as he started to really plow him, no mercy shown. It was all of Steve’s groans, low when Phil’s cock hit his prostate, then high and whiny when he pulled back, and the smacking sounds. Plus Phil’s growls and what sounded like curses stifled low in his throat; Steve pushed himself back, getting up on his hands, in an effort to nurse those sounds completely out of him.
Steve sort of wished he could see Phil’s face, but maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t able to. Phil’s aggressive tactic had become as frightening as it was arousing--Steve’s ass was smacked, his back was raked with blunt nails and his hair was pulled roughly yet again. Steve reached for his cock, the slight friction on the head from the mattress lost, and Phil quickly grabbed that wrist, then the other, and pulled his arms back; Steve landed back down, face-first into the bed, and sputtered and groaned.
“I'm the one who gets to make you come,” Phil said, tightening his hold on Steve’s wrists. He clasped them tight against the small of his back; Steve’s fingertips brushed over Phil’s abdomen until the grasp around him caused him to wince and turn his hands into loose fists. Steve could accept the statement, he could accept the vice around his wrists, but Phil showed no sign of slowing down, let alone stopping, and Steve wanted to come so badly he bit his lip to stop himself from begging for it.
It felt too good, anyway, Phil rearing back and forth into him like that. So hard, so ferocious. So much fucking stamina. Again, Steve did what he could to move back on him, to get as much contact as he could and to make Phil want it even more; moving fast yet again, Phil had him flipped over onto his side, the smaller man effectively spooning him.
Steve felt a little weird with his leg being held up like that, Phil’s hand gripping the crook of his knee, but the angle was amazing. It felt like Steve’s body had completely molded to Phil’s, inside and out, and the cock inside him was brushing against every nerve, the head nudging his prostate hard. Phil would pull back at just the right time--just when Steve was ready to beg again--and squeeze his leg, then shove right back in. His pace had been forced to slow a bit but Steve felt even closer to the edge; he reached around and groped for his partner, fingers managing to grip short hair and pull Phil’s face against his.
He turned his head to the side for a kiss, getting plenty of teeth and tongue in response before Phil’s mouth molded with his and their kisses were as seamless and as in sync as their performances onstage. Usually. Barring that Steve, apparently, didn’t flirt with the others. Amidst the chaos of sex, Steve almost let out a laugh into Phil’s mouth at that thought--how silly it was for him to be jealous. He should know that Steve was his, and he was Steve’s. That would always be the way.
“Phil,” Steve whined, drawing out his name. He nuzzled Phil’s jaw, swollen lips planting soft kisses there, his nose brushing along the warm skin. He felt Phil’s hold leave the crook of his knee, so Steve hooked his leg back over his thigh; Phil’s fingers slowly trailed over his ribs, down his abdomen, over the blonde hairs that adorned Steve’s skin, then finally to his still-leaking erection, hot and hard and swollen.
“Come for me,” Phil said, nibbling at Steve’s ear, getting a mouthful of hair in the process. He stroked Steve’s dick firm and slow, not fast enough to make him finish right then but enough to drive him closer and closer to completion. “Come like only I can make you.” His free arm snaked behind Steve’s head, the hand closing around his throat, though looser than Steve expected; he felt his pulse quiver beneath Phil’s palm and his Adam’s apple bob frantically under his fingers. He arched his back, trying to press himself into Phil as much as he could, clamping them together as tight as possible with his leg awkwardly hooked around the back of Phil’s thighs and his hand still attempting to fist at his hair, elbow cocked and angled.
Steve whined Phil’s name again and was met with a deep, wet kiss on his mouth; Phil fisted his cock harder, still steady, working him so luxuriously that Steve started to see stars behind his eyes even before he actually started shooting through Phil’s fingers and onto his own body. Phil’s fingers scuttled from his throat to his mouth, sliding between Steve’s lips and over his tongue, and he did his best not to bite down on them as he came; instead, he sucked on them hard and whimpered, shuddering and spasming against Phil as the white, hot goo made a mess all over him and the sheets.
Phil fucked him through it the whole time. He let go of Steve’s spent cock and grabbed his leg again, gripping his thigh roughly as he thrust in and out with so much force the bed was shaking and bumping against the wall; Steve was still writhing against him, letting out soft moans and sighs, not even interrupted when Phil leaned in close to dirty talk in his ear again.
“That was so good, Steve,” he purred, licking the sweat from Steve’s neck. “See? No one else can make you come like that. So fucking hard.” He punctuated those three words with his thrusts, nearly knocking Steve forward face-first again, then reached around and gathered the still-wet cum from Steve’s torso. “Tell me what you want,” he ordered, sliding his fingers into Steve’s mouth.
Steve licked his own cum from Phil’s fingers, still sliding them around in his mouth as he answered, garbled slightly, “Come for me.”
Phil drove his fingers in deeper, making Steve gag. “Where?”
Steve tore away, giving Phil another mouthful of blonde hair. “Inside me,” he said, surprising even himself with the lack of a beat before answering. Yes, that’s what he wanted--to be completely ensconced with Phil inside and out, even if the origin hadn’t been so affectionate.
“Make you mine?” Steve didn’t expect Phil’s response to be posed as a question and not a statement, and his voice was rough as he said it, only a matter of time before he let it all go.
Steve turned his head and tried to look as best he could into Phil’s eyes--wild yet somehow soft, the overwhelming lust still veiled with affection that made Steve’s heart skip a beat when their eyes met. “I’m already yours.”
Phil snaked his arm around Steve’s neck and shoulder again, pulling him in close, kissing him hard, and came with a jolt of his hips and a moan into Steve’s mouth. He did the same to Phil, reached around him to cradle his upper half and lock them together, shuddering as the heat filled him and Phil suffocated his own moans with their tangling of tongues, him grazing his teeth over Steve’s bottom lip before sucking on it. One last vibration against Steve’s spine and then Phil’s strong arms were wrapping around him entirely, squeezing him, Phil’s nose against the nape of his neck.
Steve let both their breaths quiet and slow for another minute before he asked, “You’re not still mad at me?”
Phil half-chuckled, half-groaned, and squeezed Steve’s body to his even harder. “Fuck. No.” He reached up and brushed Steve’s hair back from his ear to kiss his neck. “I was just jealous.”
“No reason to be,” Steve mumbled, letting his head drop to rest on Phil’s forearm, and closed his eyes. “I guess I need to go over to you onstage some more...want me to grind on you until you get hard?”
Phil laughed quietly against Steve’s shoulder. He slowly pulled out, nudged Steve onto his back, then hovered over him on all fours. “It wouldn’t take long.”
Finally face-to-face again, Steve could see how flushed Phil was and how much sweat was slick through his chest hair, even some droplets like morning dew adorning his collarbones and his throat; he reached up and stroked the chest hair, then down to the hair on his abdomen, and kept one hand on Phil’s waist. Phil slowly sank himself down, pressing his body on top of Steve’s entirely, and kissed his cheek. “This was a good start of making it up to me,” he said quietly, pushing Steve’s legs apart with his knee between his thighs.
Steve snapped back into full alertness, bracing his hands on Phil’s shoulders. “A start? Come on, Phil--”
But Phil was already humping him and sinking his teeth into Steve’s neck. Steve should have guessed his “other half” wouldn’t be satisfied with only one round.