I wrote porn?
For dragonsinger's Bandom Het Fic Exchange, I received fueledbyxdani's requests. I chose this one to write:
2: Patrick/Greta = Patrick is really shy in social situations, but is totally the opposite in bed.
So yeah. 713 words. NC-17, I guess. Patrick/Greta during the final days of recording Goodbye Blues. Looked over by hitchedtoastar, who's all kinds of awesome.
medicine man
Their sound, it’s darker, richer, fuller this time around. Patrick listens to the playback in awe, constantly turning to Pete and going, “Are you hearing this?” in his Very Excited voice. Pete keeps nodding and smiling, trying not to laugh. But Patrick’s right. It’s fucking amazing.
The songs aren’t even mastered yet, and Patrick loves the raw quality of it all. Loves the way he can hear when Darren hits a rim accidentally, when Chris or Bob’s voices warble a little on the high notes. Greta’s voice, though, it never fails. It’s strong and pure, and her hands are the same on the keys.
Patrick’s trying to pretend that hearing her voice go husky doesn’t make him hard.
Patrick has half a mind to send Ryan Ross a fruit basket in thanks for finding these guys.
Eventually, Pete leaves, content to let Patrick hang out for however long he needs to. He makes a call once he’s outside, smiling genuinely. “Hey. Yeah, we’re in town. You should come make sure he isn’t in this studio all night.”
--
Patrick doesn’t hear the door to the little room open, too caught up in what has to be the fifth round of full-track playbacks. He’s singing along to the beginning of Medicine Man and jumps when someone sits in the chair next to him.
Greta smiles and says, “Are you just going to sit and listen to the album, or do I actually get to have you while you’re here?”
“It is a good album,” Patrick says in his defense, teasing her.
“Here,” she replies, and restarts the track, taking down the vocal levels. “Medicine man, dance me across the country. Medicine man, dance me across the sky,” she sings to him, climbing into his lap so he can get a grip on her hips. She grins and keeps singing, moving with the sound.
He cuts her off with a hard kiss somewhere around can you hear my cry, because he thinks he’ll go crazy with the looks she’s giving him.
She moans, and he’d swear it was on key still.
--
The first time they had sex, Greta was surprised to say the least. Patrick was always so, so quiet around most everyone, but as soon as he got her alone, leading her to his room by the hand, he leaned in close, whispering in her ear.
Patrick Stump, Greta realized, is very, very good at talking dirty.
And he’s been consistent through their relationship. The first time he went down on her, he moaned along with her, and resisted when she tried to push him away once she’d finished.
“Why?” he asked, his mouth and chin still wet.
“It’s too much,” Greta said, trembling with aftershocks.
Patrick ran his fingers over her again, light, making her jerk. The smile he favored her with was downright evil. “You’re that sensitive, after?”
Greta hadn’t really felt the need to answer, shaking under his touch.
“Next time,” Patrick said, hovering over her, his lips moving against her collarbone. “Next time, I want to tie you up so you can’t stop me when you’ve only come once. I want to keep licking and sucking at you. I want to taste you come again and again.”
Now, a year and a half later, Patrick’s made true on that promise several times, but Greta prefers to have him behind her while he gets her off. She likes to lean into his chest, spread her legs so that her ankles are over his, and let her head fall back onto his shoulder. That way, Patrick can talk her through it easy, can finger her until she’s a mess in his arms.
--
Patrick’s trying to get Greta to stand and turn around, so she can sit in his lap facing the mixing board. So he can have his way with her. She’s protesting though, and when she stands up it’s to put the vocal recordings back on. Patrick makes what may or may not be a pathetic sound as her voice floods the room. She smirks and puts the song on repeat, swaying to it in front of him.
“Medicine man,” she says, low, “can you heal my body?”
Patrick’s litany of yesyesyesyes is all the answer she needs.
2: Patrick/Greta = Patrick is really shy in social situations, but is totally the opposite in bed.
So yeah. 713 words. NC-17, I guess. Patrick/Greta during the final days of recording Goodbye Blues. Looked over by hitchedtoastar, who's all kinds of awesome.
medicine man
Their sound, it’s darker, richer, fuller this time around. Patrick listens to the playback in awe, constantly turning to Pete and going, “Are you hearing this?” in his Very Excited voice. Pete keeps nodding and smiling, trying not to laugh. But Patrick’s right. It’s fucking amazing.
The songs aren’t even mastered yet, and Patrick loves the raw quality of it all. Loves the way he can hear when Darren hits a rim accidentally, when Chris or Bob’s voices warble a little on the high notes. Greta’s voice, though, it never fails. It’s strong and pure, and her hands are the same on the keys.
Patrick’s trying to pretend that hearing her voice go husky doesn’t make him hard.
Patrick has half a mind to send Ryan Ross a fruit basket in thanks for finding these guys.
Eventually, Pete leaves, content to let Patrick hang out for however long he needs to. He makes a call once he’s outside, smiling genuinely. “Hey. Yeah, we’re in town. You should come make sure he isn’t in this studio all night.”
--
Patrick doesn’t hear the door to the little room open, too caught up in what has to be the fifth round of full-track playbacks. He’s singing along to the beginning of Medicine Man and jumps when someone sits in the chair next to him.
Greta smiles and says, “Are you just going to sit and listen to the album, or do I actually get to have you while you’re here?”
“It is a good album,” Patrick says in his defense, teasing her.
“Here,” she replies, and restarts the track, taking down the vocal levels. “Medicine man, dance me across the country. Medicine man, dance me across the sky,” she sings to him, climbing into his lap so he can get a grip on her hips. She grins and keeps singing, moving with the sound.
He cuts her off with a hard kiss somewhere around can you hear my cry, because he thinks he’ll go crazy with the looks she’s giving him.
She moans, and he’d swear it was on key still.
--
The first time they had sex, Greta was surprised to say the least. Patrick was always so, so quiet around most everyone, but as soon as he got her alone, leading her to his room by the hand, he leaned in close, whispering in her ear.
Patrick Stump, Greta realized, is very, very good at talking dirty.
And he’s been consistent through their relationship. The first time he went down on her, he moaned along with her, and resisted when she tried to push him away once she’d finished.
“Why?” he asked, his mouth and chin still wet.
“It’s too much,” Greta said, trembling with aftershocks.
Patrick ran his fingers over her again, light, making her jerk. The smile he favored her with was downright evil. “You’re that sensitive, after?”
Greta hadn’t really felt the need to answer, shaking under his touch.
“Next time,” Patrick said, hovering over her, his lips moving against her collarbone. “Next time, I want to tie you up so you can’t stop me when you’ve only come once. I want to keep licking and sucking at you. I want to taste you come again and again.”
Now, a year and a half later, Patrick’s made true on that promise several times, but Greta prefers to have him behind her while he gets her off. She likes to lean into his chest, spread her legs so that her ankles are over his, and let her head fall back onto his shoulder. That way, Patrick can talk her through it easy, can finger her until she’s a mess in his arms.
--
Patrick’s trying to get Greta to stand and turn around, so she can sit in his lap facing the mixing board. So he can have his way with her. She’s protesting though, and when she stands up it’s to put the vocal recordings back on. Patrick makes what may or may not be a pathetic sound as her voice floods the room. She smirks and puts the song on repeat, swaying to it in front of him.
“Medicine man,” she says, low, “can you heal my body?”
Patrick’s litany of yesyesyesyes is all the answer she needs.