Joey had driven at five miles below the limit all the way to practice. His heart had been going like a jackhammer the entire time as he’d silently prayed this afternoon wasn’t one where the cops were bored enough to pull someone over for y’know driving through town or some other bullshit. He had a theory how that particular interaction would turn out — dressed as he is currently — and he wasn’t eager to test it.
It had started as a joke; something he’d seen in a magazine. Something to make them stand out from the sludge of bands playing the same songs on the same stages weekend after weekend. That half-hearted existence wasn’t for them. It wasn’t for him.
He hadn’t told anyone, not even Shawn or Paul. He’d wanted to see the other guy's reaction when he trotted into practice wearing fishnets and a dress shorter than his mom would let his sisters wear. Because if they didn’t lose their shit what was the fucking point?
Paul had wolf-whistled loud and low, dumping his bass and coming over chuckling to put a hand up Joey’s skirt. Joey has swatted him off, laughing as well, as others had converged around them. Shawn had grunted at him to put on the mask for the full effect, pulling down his own to match, grinning at Joey with it’s rictus leer. Even Mick had come over to rub a strand of Joey’s hair between his thick fingers as though he’d only just noticed how long and smooth it was.
Otherwise practice had gone on as usual; they’d argued about the speed of the metronome and they could barely get through a track without someone needing a smoke break. By the end Joey’s skirt had hitched up until it was nearly around his waist, where he had his thighs spread around the snare. But he guessed that didn’t matter since the rest of the kit stopped anyone getting an eyeful. The dress is pulling around his chest and back whenever he lifts his arms, and he’s already cracked a side-seam. But none of that shit matters if the aesthetic is going to stick.
Outside earlier, Shawn had taken a drag and said he’d drop Joey off at the party they were all heading to after practice. Joey had told him it was cool as Donnie had already offered, and besides he could drive his goddamn self if needed.
‘I’ll drop you off,’ Shawn had repeated, flicking his butt and heading back inside. So Joey guesses that this is one of those days where they’re staying back to “tidy up” after practice is over.
Joey’s sat on the couch, fingertips tingling as he waits for Shawn to lock-up. Shawn comes back into the room, keys jangling.
‘Let’s take a look at you then,’ he says, voice low and rumbling slightly from smoking half a pack between songs. He pockets the keys and shrugs his denim jacket off to hang over one of the chairs as Joey gets up, pulling down the mask and tugging on his hem.
He stops when his boots are toe to toe with Shawn’s sneakers and looks up. Shawn’s a head taller and half a decade older, and Joey can feel his entire body ignite as he puts a warm hand on his hip. He can feel the heat of Shawn’s skin through the thin fabric of the dress.
Shawn hums, dropping the hand to trace along Joey’s hem, thumb stroking his inner thigh through the holes in his fishnets. Joey can feel his muscles tense, the fine hairs rising on his skin. Shawn’s hand tightens on his thigh as the other comes up to his jaw, thumb hooking under the mask. He lifts it enough to fit his mouth to Joey’s before pulling it completely off. Joey moans into the kiss. He’s already so wound up from the heady novelty of the dress he practically melts into Shawn’s hands.
Shawn sucks his lip as he pulls back, still holding Joey’s chin. Joey’s got both his hands fisted in the t-shirt over Shawn’s chest, panting, practically hanging off him. Shawn huffs, putting his arms around his waist to hug Joey into him. Joey slips a hand between them fumbling between Shawn’s thighs for his dick. He’s hard and Joey smirks.
‘Mm,’ he says, ‘is that for me, baby?’ Shawn doesn’t answer but kisses him again, harder, cupping his head and backing him up until he’s standing in front of the couch.
‘C’mon,’ Shawn says, pulling at Joey to turn and knee up on the couch, his forearms across the back. Shawn puts a palm in the centre of his back and pushes so Joey will drop his chest, which pulls up his skirt. Joey bites his lip, feeling a flush start to creep up his thighs. He’s been half hard most of practice, caught up in the thrill of himself, and Shawn’s barely going to have to lay a hand on him to make him lose his shit.
‘Where’d you get it?’ Shawn asks, wriggling the dress up the rest of the way and swearing sharply under his breath. Joey hadn’t been able to work out how to wear his boxers under the tighs without all the fabric bunching up. So. He hadn’t.
‘Thrift store,’ Joey says, looking over his shoulder at Shawn to watch him taking in Joey’s bare ass, balls and cock, all caught up the fishnets, appreciatively.
'What’d you say?’ Shawn asks, knowing Joey couldn’t have strolled in with a dress without raising some eyebrows at home.
‘Said it was my sister’s,’ Joey says, giggling and biting his lip as he feels Shawn’s hands smoothing over his skin.
‘And these?’ Shawn asks, fingers hooking into the holes in the fishnets to snap them against his skin.
‘Dollar store,’ Joey says, feeling Shawn hook his thumbs under and then pulling until they rip along the seam exposing his bare ass. ‘—dude,’ he yelps and Shawn chuckles. Joey knows they were only a dollar but for fuck’s sake.
‘You look like a chick,’ Shawn says, thumbing his cheeks apart. Joey snorts softly, tingling warmth feeling unfurling down his spine.
‘That’s kind of the poi—’ he says, gasping as Shawn grabs his balls — hard — through the fishnets. Fuck yeah. He arches, twisting to look over his shoulder, hair dropping down over his face. Shawn’s looking back at him.
‘You gonna let me fuck you like one?’ Shawn asks, voice low and quiet.
‘Yeah, fuck, do it, yeah,’ Joey pants. Shawn's hand is on his dick now, over the fishnets, and the feeling is kind of turning him inside out, and making coherent thought difficult. He shivers as he feels Shawn spit on his hole and start working his longest finger into him. It burns and he can feel his gut clenching but he wants it. He wants it so badly he’s pushing back onto Shawn’s hand, groaning.
Shawn grunts, spitting again as he adds another finger, smoothing a hand down over Joey’s hip. Joey whines, trying not to squirm as Shawn’s hand tightens. There’s a light flickering behind his eyes and it feels like he’s been building to this moment for hours. The feeling’s raw and close to the surface; something about the thought of being fucked in the dress is making him feel like his brain is short-circuiting over and over again. Shawn grunts.
‘Say something,’ he says as he adds another finger and Joey moans.
‘What?’ Joey gasps, confused. He’s burning up in his clothes and his dick is chafing against the nets.
‘Say something,’ Shawn repeats, ‘—say you want it.’
‘Oh, sure,’ Joey says, panting as Shawn fucks his fingers into him, ‘fuck me, Shawn, baby, fuck me, please, I want you to fuck me, baby please—’
Shawn makes a soft noise and withdraws his hand. Joey’s still rambling getting more and more incoherent as he feels the head of Shawn’s dick against his hole. Joey groans low in his chest as Shawn pushes in, hand heavy on the back of his neck.
‘Fuck,’ Shawn grits out when his hips are flush to Joey. Joey moans. The fishnets are digging into him making his dick pound in time to his pulse. The pressure of the elasticated fabric both too much and too little at the same time. He shifts onto one elbow, so he can get a hand between his thighs.
Shawn’s thrusting into him now, short, rough strokes that almost flatten Joey to the back of the sofa back. But he tenses the muscles in his thighs and arms, pushing back into him as much as he can. He can’t really get a hand on his dick, so he just has to sort of rub over the front of the fishnets where his cock is caught up and hanging heavily.
‘Fuck yeah,’ Shawn says, ‘—c’mon.’ He pulls up the dress more so he can see where Joey’s touching himself. Joey groans, so overstimulated his vision is going blurry at the edges. Shawn shifts his grip, both hands catching his hips so he can keep him in place as he fucks into him. Joey pants through his mouth as the sensation peaks and he feels the orgasm spilling through his limbs, twisting up his gut until Joey’s hissing through his teeth. He comes, wetting his fishnets and his hand. He moans, forcing himself not to flop against the back of his seat.
Shawn grunts low, blunt fingers digging into Joey’s flesh. It stings but Joey’s so fucked-out and dazed it hardly seems to matter. Joey lets his forehead drop to his forearms; he’s sweating and he can feel his come is sticky on his inner thigh. Shawn’s got both his hands fisted in the fabric of Joey’s dress, dragging, pulling Joey back onto his dick. Joey’s thighs have just started to shake uncontrollably from the effort of holding him up when Shawn goes rigid against and lets out a low groan, and Joey knows he’s coming.
For a second all there is is the sound of their breathing. Then Shawn pulls out and Joey collapses onto the couch with a deep groan. There’s more come dripping down his leg but he can’t find it in himself to do anything about it. Shawn clears his throat and Joey can feel him pulling his hem back down.
‘C’mon,’ Shawn says, ‘—we gotta get out, there’s another booking at nine.’ Joey groans again but forces himself upright, thighs twinging. He takes in the damage to his tights — ripped nearly to the knee and starting to crust with dried come — as Shawn grabs his jacket and Joey’s bag and shuffles him towards the exit.
Shawn kisses him once more, hard and hot, hand tight on the back of his head, before opening the door and handing over his keys for Joey to get in the car while he locks up.
‘So, I’m your date tonight, right?’ Joey asks when Shawn gets into the driver’s side, grinning as he lights a cigarette and smooths his hem prissily. Shawn snorts at him, eyes dipping briefly to examine the new bruise blooming on his inner thigh.
‘You fucking wish,’ he mutters and Joey laughs as Shawn revs the engine and swings the car out of the lot.