BS: P/P: Adult: Sealed With A Kiss
Title: Sealed With A Kiss
Fandom: Bandslash, Fall Out Boy
Characters/Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~800
Warning: ( skip) Kink: Snowballing
Disclaimer: This is a fictional story about characters based, in part, on the images and histories of real people. If that bothers you and/or you are one of those people, you probably don't want to read this. No harm is intended; no profit is being made.
Summary: Snowballing. I don’t know what else to say here.
Author's Notes: This is part of a challenge/writing exercise/exercise in insanity that reni_days and myself are participating in. All the stories in this set (a minimum of 53 per victim) will be posted at kink_challenge.
Pete looked up at Patrick, smiling at him even as he flicked his tongue against Patrick’s cock. He loved this part, loved watching Patrick forget himself and be in the moment. Patrick’s face was red and sweaty, his hair was damp and sticking to his forehead, his hat lying forgotten on the bed next to him. Pete tightened his fist on his own cock, trying to hold off, but he knew it was a temporary measure at best. He was too hard, too hot, too fucking turned on to wait for much longer, but he was determined to make Patrick go first.
His dick throbbed in his hand and he brought his attention back to the goal of the moment. He pulled off of Patrick’s dick, staring at it: swollen, red and wet with his own spit and Patrick’s pre-come. Patrick groaned and opened his eyes, and Pete waited until he was sure that Patrick was focused on him before opening his mouth and sliding it back down Patrick’s dick. He tongued at the head, swirling over it before tracing down, bringing his lips down to meet his fist and then jerking at the length of Patrick’s cock, moving his head in time with his hand and keeping his eyes on Patrick’s face the entire time.
Patrick was totally blissed out, making the breathy little squeaks that he swore he didn’t make, but Pete knew better. When he was sure that Patrick was paying attention, he started humming the first thing that came to mind--it wasn’t it his fault that it was “Dead On Arrival.” Patrick muttered, “Fuck Pete,” and fisted his hands in the sheets, jerking his hips up and into Pete’s mouth. And, hey, that worked, ‘s not like Pete was the singer. He pulled his hand off Patrick’s dick and kept up the thread of the chorus, trying not to gag when Patrick jerked particularly hard and hit the roof of his mouth.
Patrick was starting to lose his rhythm, which only ever happened when he was close, and Pete pulled back a bit, hollowing his mouth and sucking as Patrick started to come. He waited until he was sure Patrick was finished, licking softly at the head of Patrick’s dick, and then he climbed up Patrick’s body, rubbing his dick against the edge of Patrick’s thigh, trying hard not to come as he leaned down and sealed his lips over Patrick’s.
He caught the little sound of surprise Patrick made when he opened his mouth for Pete’s tongue, the startled motion of his body as he realized that Pete hadn’t swallowed, was still holding Patrick’s come in his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue. Then Patrick’s hands came up, one at the nape of his neck, one flat on his back and he pulled Pete to him, kissing him fiercely and passing his own come back and forth between their mouths until they were just chasing the last tastes of it from each other’s tongues.
Pete tried to hold on, but the feel of Patrick’s hip beneath him and the reality of Patrick eating his come out of Pete’s mouth was too much and he came, even as they were still kissing, grinding down against Patrick’s thigh and panting into Patrick’s mouth.
The kiss gentled as they both settled back into their skins and eventually Pete drew his head away and slid down, still lying on Patrick, but resting his head on Patrick’s chest.
“Fuck Pete, you’re so gross.” Patrick’s voice was slow and low, halfway to sleep already.
“Hey, now, you liked it, I could tell!” Pete was indignant.
“Not that, the fact that you’re gluing us together with your come.” Patrick raised one hand and motioned vaguely where Pete was pressed against Patrick’s hips.
“Oh. Okay then.” Pete snuggled back down and felt himself start to drift, he probably wouldn’t actually sleep, but it was nice to sort of zone out while Patrick slept. He’d clean them up later, Patrick wouldn’t even notice.
Fandom: Bandslash, Fall Out Boy
Characters/Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~800
Warning: ( skip) Kink: Snowballing
Disclaimer: This is a fictional story about characters based, in part, on the images and histories of real people. If that bothers you and/or you are one of those people, you probably don't want to read this. No harm is intended; no profit is being made.
Summary: Snowballing. I don’t know what else to say here.
Author's Notes: This is part of a challenge/writing exercise/exercise in insanity that reni_days and myself are participating in. All the stories in this set (a minimum of 53 per victim) will be posted at kink_challenge.
Pete looked up at Patrick, smiling at him even as he flicked his tongue against Patrick’s cock. He loved this part, loved watching Patrick forget himself and be in the moment. Patrick’s face was red and sweaty, his hair was damp and sticking to his forehead, his hat lying forgotten on the bed next to him. Pete tightened his fist on his own cock, trying to hold off, but he knew it was a temporary measure at best. He was too hard, too hot, too fucking turned on to wait for much longer, but he was determined to make Patrick go first.
His dick throbbed in his hand and he brought his attention back to the goal of the moment. He pulled off of Patrick’s dick, staring at it: swollen, red and wet with his own spit and Patrick’s pre-come. Patrick groaned and opened his eyes, and Pete waited until he was sure that Patrick was focused on him before opening his mouth and sliding it back down Patrick’s dick. He tongued at the head, swirling over it before tracing down, bringing his lips down to meet his fist and then jerking at the length of Patrick’s cock, moving his head in time with his hand and keeping his eyes on Patrick’s face the entire time.
Patrick was totally blissed out, making the breathy little squeaks that he swore he didn’t make, but Pete knew better. When he was sure that Patrick was paying attention, he started humming the first thing that came to mind--it wasn’t it his fault that it was “Dead On Arrival.” Patrick muttered, “Fuck Pete,” and fisted his hands in the sheets, jerking his hips up and into Pete’s mouth. And, hey, that worked, ‘s not like Pete was the singer. He pulled his hand off Patrick’s dick and kept up the thread of the chorus, trying not to gag when Patrick jerked particularly hard and hit the roof of his mouth.
Patrick was starting to lose his rhythm, which only ever happened when he was close, and Pete pulled back a bit, hollowing his mouth and sucking as Patrick started to come. He waited until he was sure Patrick was finished, licking softly at the head of Patrick’s dick, and then he climbed up Patrick’s body, rubbing his dick against the edge of Patrick’s thigh, trying hard not to come as he leaned down and sealed his lips over Patrick’s.
He caught the little sound of surprise Patrick made when he opened his mouth for Pete’s tongue, the startled motion of his body as he realized that Pete hadn’t swallowed, was still holding Patrick’s come in his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue. Then Patrick’s hands came up, one at the nape of his neck, one flat on his back and he pulled Pete to him, kissing him fiercely and passing his own come back and forth between their mouths until they were just chasing the last tastes of it from each other’s tongues.
Pete tried to hold on, but the feel of Patrick’s hip beneath him and the reality of Patrick eating his come out of Pete’s mouth was too much and he came, even as they were still kissing, grinding down against Patrick’s thigh and panting into Patrick’s mouth.
The kiss gentled as they both settled back into their skins and eventually Pete drew his head away and slid down, still lying on Patrick, but resting his head on Patrick’s chest.
“Fuck Pete, you’re so gross.” Patrick’s voice was slow and low, halfway to sleep already.
“Hey, now, you liked it, I could tell!” Pete was indignant.
“Not that, the fact that you’re gluing us together with your come.” Patrick raised one hand and motioned vaguely where Pete was pressed against Patrick’s hips.
“Oh. Okay then.” Pete snuggled back down and felt himself start to drift, he probably wouldn’t actually sleep, but it was nice to sort of zone out while Patrick slept. He’d clean them up later, Patrick wouldn’t even notice.