Manthony ✨

Stay Hidden

~STAY HIDDEN~

⚠️TW: ⚠️Smut - If you do not like smut, don't read! Thank you and enjoy! :)

ATTENTION: This is FANFICTION and none of this is CONFIRMED. No hate to ANY of the Chase Atlantic members or their girlfriends, please! Enjoy <3

"Duckin' paparazzi, doin' flips," - Chase Atlantic (PARANOID)

~Christian~

The convention seems to be lasting hours. I walk around with Mitchel and Clinton, running into fans and taking pictures, signing things (and occasionally an arm or something) until we're ready to go to dinner. We duck paparazzi on the way out and get into the car. Clinton sits in the front, Mitchel and I in the back. I don't care what food we get. I'm tired and not all that hungry anyway. The drive is longer than expected. We're about 30 minutes into the drive their when Mitchel puts his head on my shoulder. I lean my head against his and grab his knee, trying to stop it from bouncing. Eventually he falls asleep and I'm wondering how far this restaurant is when the driver slams on the breaks. I hold tight to Mitchel, so his seatbelt won't lock on his chest. He groans and lays down on my lap, seatbelt contorting to attempt some form of protection considering he's in a very dangerous position. I want to tell him to sit up, but I hear the driver say we're 10 minutes away. I brush my thumb up the bridge of his nose, between his eyebrows, helping him sleep. Eventually I'm realizing how tired I am myself and decide to close my eyes. Of course, the minute I do, we're there. I help Mitchel up and head out of the car. We sit next to each other at the table, the buzzing of the other people in the restaurant continues separately from our small box to sit in, in case anyone decides they recognize us and want to try something. We stare at the menu until I'm getting more and more nauseous by the minute. The more I look at the options, so I set it down and tell the waiter I'll just have a coke. I mean, when in doubt, soda isn't too bad. I sure hope Mitchel eats a little bit, but he only orders soda too. Well, so much for going fancy. I glance at him, and he glances back at me. The look we give each other says enough. He turns back to his brother and watches him talk with an old friend. Well, that old friend can't know about Mitchel and I so there's no way we're sneaking out of here. The waiter brings our drinks and I sip at it, the flavor perfect. I'm busy staring at a waitress cleaning a mess downstairs, trying to find some form of entertainment when I feel Mitchel's hand sliding up my inner thigh. I turn to him, and he very quietly shushes me. This is a dangerous game, and he knows it. But you only live once, so I let him. I distract myself to the best of my ability with my drink, but his hand keeps sliding up. Eventually he's got his hand over my dick, making me give him a quick look. He smiles softly and I try to control my breathing when he starts rubbing his hand against me. I put my hand over his, stopping him. He looks at me and gives me a look that has me wishing we were in bed instead of here. We finish at the restaurant and get back in the car. He's onto me, sliding his hand up my shirt and tracing my nipples. I lean my head back and turn to look at him,

"I love the way you touch me," I whisper, and he takes this game farther, slipping my sweatshirt off and pressing his mouth to my chest. I'm getting harder by the second and he pulls away, telling me to put my sweatshirt back on. I do, and he unbuttons my pants and puts his hand in my underwear. I gasp when his finger runs over the tip of me. He jerks me off in the backseat of the car and tilts my chin towards him, kissing me. He tastes like soda. I groan softly into the kiss, and he keeps going until I'm sure I'm going to come. He's fucking crazy for pulling my pants down a bit more and leaning over me, licking with his tongue. The action is a tease. I fist at my thighs, and he teases me until my breathing is shallow, finally taking me into his mouth and sucking. It may be an awkward position, but it still feels good. He pulls away before I can finish and I pull my pants up, letting him use his hand to make me finish in my pants. I moan as quietly as possible as he keeps rubbing the head. He finally takes his hand away and I button my jeans back up, desperately needing to clean off. We make it back and I head to the shower. I've just washed off my body and I'm getting to my hair when Mitchel walks in. He undresses, looking at me the whole time. The sight of it gets me hard and I watch as he steps in beside me,

"Clinton ran off with that old friend of his," he says, giving me a look that's worth dying for, "So why don't you pin me to the wall and fuck me," he offers, and I take the opportunity, getting his body wet with the shower water before slamming him against the wall and making him put his hands against the tile. I decide that I'll tease him with my fingers first and I slip three inside, not wanting to start small. His breathing is so arousing. Fuck. I move my fingers, so they hit his prostate, making him let out soft moans,

"They left, we can be loud," I tell him, wanting him to be loud. I love the noises he makes, and I want him to scream my name. Better fuck him good if I want that to happen. I take my fingers out and push my dick into him,

"Christian," he breathes, and I press my body against his, then pull away, back and forth. I speed up after a while and he's groaning against the wall. After a few more pumps, he's coming, and I keep going until I fill him up. When I pull away, he turns to me, starting to wash off himself. I didn't get him to scream, at least not today. Besides, I'm probably going to fuck him in my bed after this.