Joe/Patrick for Jessa
Jessa left this away message last night:
while i am at school, you are welcome to leave me loving and congratulatory messages regarding the complete status of my faulkner draft. you are also welcome to describe how joe trohman seduces patrick stump.
So I did:
Joe seduces Patrick BADLY.
The reasons are twofold: 1) Joe sucks at seduction, as he really doesn't do candles and things that seem like a really great idea stoned (buy him socks! His feet are always cold!) are usually not heralded as anything other than bizarre in the harsh light of day ("Um, thanks for the tube socks, but, what?") and 2) Patrick is terrible about picking up on any sort of seduction hints, especially from boys, especially especially from boys in his band who aren't Pete. (Pete gets a pass. Pete's is ALWAYS in seduction mode, and Patrick just tunes him out.)
This is why, after nearly 2 years of traveling around in shitty vans and sharing beds (where he always ended up curled around Patrick and thank god Patrick slept like the dead because hello morning wood!) Joe had only seen Patrick's dick once, and that was totally an accident, as the bathroom door at that particular seedy motel didn't latch quite right.
"Seriously," Pete says to him after a show in Kansas City, "you need to just tell him."
"Tell who what?" Joe asks, a little distracted watching Patrick restringing his guitar backstage.
"Patrick, that you want to jump him," Pete says with a sly smile and Joe chokes on his ginger ale.
"What the fuck are you--"
"Seriously, he might surprise you," Pete cuts him off with a pat on the shoulder and walks off.
Joe is very confused.
Joe is very perplexed, even.
Joe is very mortified that at least SOMEONE didn't think he was subtle.
Joe... thinks Pete possibly has a point. Not about Patrick surprising him-- he's still pretty sure he'll get shot down, and fast. But really, there is only so much anticipation (or blue balls) a guy can take. And at this point, Joe being a jackass won't fuck up the band (he's tested this out, and it seems to hold true), so one proposition can't hurt, right?
Joe is very stoned when he come up with that last one.
Then I type [blah blah blah plot blah], and abruptly jump forward and change POVs, which Jessa seems not to mind…
"Fuck," Patrick says, and he's suddenly very, very awake and Joe's hand is suddenly very, very much sliding into the slit in his boxers. He blinks again-- the room is dark, but there are flashes of headlights through the flimsy curtains every now and then and Joe's eyes are half-lidded, and he's biting his lip. "Joe," he says through gritted teeth, and really, if Joe is, like, dreaming or something, he knows he's not supposed to wake him up or he'll go crazy. But Patrick's never heard of sleep-handjobs, actually, and if Joe is just stoned, this is really, really lame.
And awesome, because Joe's hand is warm and strong and seems to really know what its doing, and Patrick's head arches back against his pillow when his palm slides over the head, stuttering along hot skin until Patrick starts leaking, just a little, just enough that Joe says "yeah, fuck" really quietly and smoothes out the rhythm-- up, down, over, tug. Joe's up on one elbow and Patrick's hands ball into fists around the scratchy cotton of the bedsheets and he wants to tell Joe to stop, wake up, that he's not Pete, he's not anyone really, and Joe should stop, stop, because he's going to... but he can't get the words out before he's gasping and arching into Joe's hand, and his whole body is hot and trembling as he comes.
"Joe," he rasps, and fuck this is going to awkward and awful when Joe realizes, but Joe's hand is still moving, gentle strokes that make Patrick's thighs shiver and he presses his face into the crook of Patrick's neck and Patrick can feel the damp brush of lips against his skin.
"God, Patrick," Joe whispers, and he sounds young, like he always does, and just a little broken too, and Patrick's whole body goes still as he feels the small jerk of Joe's hips against his thigh.
He's not sure why he does it-- this is still a bad idea, this is still JOE, who loves Star Wars and Metallica and PETE, not him, oh, god, this is insane-- but Patrick's hand finds its way to the back of Joe's head, fingers threading into his curls and Joe's hitched breath against his shoulder makes Patrick's stomach twist a little with want. He's buzzing, still floating a little from his orgasm, and Joe is warm and heavy next to him, half on him really, and when Patrick shifts against him, pressing his thigh just a little over, up, Joe shudders and moans and Patrick tightens his hand in Joe's hair reflexively. "Yeah, fuck, please, please" Joe is panting now and Patrick doesn't know what to do, doesn't know anything but that Joe is begging him, and that Joe's hand is sticky with his come, fisting in the hem of Patrick's t-shirt.
He turns a fraction, just enough to free the arm trapped under Joe, just enough to wiggle it up and back down, past the elastic on Joe's track pants. Joe is deathly still as he does it, eyes pressed shut, mouth open a fraction and Patrick suddenly wants to kiss him, really seriously kiss Joe Trohman, but then his fingers brush the head of Joe's cock, already hard and hot and slick and Joe bucks against him with a whimpering sound and Patrick growls a little, low in his chest. "Come on, Joe," he says, and he's awake again, alert, eyes fixed on Joe's mouth, his panting gasping breaths, and it doesn't take long, two minutes, maybe three, and Joe is groaning and coming and Patrick's already half-hard again, just from watching, just from knowing he's the one pulling those noises from Joe's throat.
Joe's still again as he comes down, nothing but a little sigh against his shoulder as he pulls his hand free, and Patrick's skin flashes hotcold. God, bad ideas are one thing but this was just... "
'Trick?" Joe says, his voice small and worried and Patrick blinks over at him, Joe's nose a few spare inches from his on the pillow. And he's not sure what to say to make it better, but Joe's wearing the face he wears when he hasn't memorized a part, or when he's late to rehearsal. When he's worried Patrick will yell at him. And since yelling is the last thing on Patrick's list right now, he jumps back to the first (fuck it, he thinks, the shit in the middle can wait) and leans in to press his lips to Joe's softly, pausing when Joe makes a small shocked noise, and smiling a little when Joe gets over it, opening his mouth when Patrick swipes his tongue over Joe's lower lip.
The kiss is at an awkward angle and he can only sustain it for a few minutes before his neck protests, but Joe follows as he leans back, propping himself up on his elbow again and leaning over to keep kissing Patrick, keep touching him. Patrick's other hand, the non-sticky one, cords through Joe's hair and this is... yeah, unexpected, but in that way that a new puppy at Christmas is unexpected.
You're really surprised, and you worry a little that you'll fuck it up, but there is no way in hell you're giving it back.
while i am at school, you are welcome to leave me loving and congratulatory messages regarding the complete status of my faulkner draft. you are also welcome to describe how joe trohman seduces patrick stump.
So I did:
Joe seduces Patrick BADLY.
The reasons are twofold: 1) Joe sucks at seduction, as he really doesn't do candles and things that seem like a really great idea stoned (buy him socks! His feet are always cold!) are usually not heralded as anything other than bizarre in the harsh light of day ("Um, thanks for the tube socks, but, what?") and 2) Patrick is terrible about picking up on any sort of seduction hints, especially from boys, especially especially from boys in his band who aren't Pete. (Pete gets a pass. Pete's is ALWAYS in seduction mode, and Patrick just tunes him out.)
This is why, after nearly 2 years of traveling around in shitty vans and sharing beds (where he always ended up curled around Patrick and thank god Patrick slept like the dead because hello morning wood!) Joe had only seen Patrick's dick once, and that was totally an accident, as the bathroom door at that particular seedy motel didn't latch quite right.
"Seriously," Pete says to him after a show in Kansas City, "you need to just tell him."
"Tell who what?" Joe asks, a little distracted watching Patrick restringing his guitar backstage.
"Patrick, that you want to jump him," Pete says with a sly smile and Joe chokes on his ginger ale.
"What the fuck are you--"
"Seriously, he might surprise you," Pete cuts him off with a pat on the shoulder and walks off.
Joe is very confused.
Joe is very perplexed, even.
Joe is very mortified that at least SOMEONE didn't think he was subtle.
Joe... thinks Pete possibly has a point. Not about Patrick surprising him-- he's still pretty sure he'll get shot down, and fast. But really, there is only so much anticipation (or blue balls) a guy can take. And at this point, Joe being a jackass won't fuck up the band (he's tested this out, and it seems to hold true), so one proposition can't hurt, right?
Joe is very stoned when he come up with that last one.
Then I type [blah blah blah plot blah], and abruptly jump forward and change POVs, which Jessa seems not to mind…
"Fuck," Patrick says, and he's suddenly very, very awake and Joe's hand is suddenly very, very much sliding into the slit in his boxers. He blinks again-- the room is dark, but there are flashes of headlights through the flimsy curtains every now and then and Joe's eyes are half-lidded, and he's biting his lip. "Joe," he says through gritted teeth, and really, if Joe is, like, dreaming or something, he knows he's not supposed to wake him up or he'll go crazy. But Patrick's never heard of sleep-handjobs, actually, and if Joe is just stoned, this is really, really lame.
And awesome, because Joe's hand is warm and strong and seems to really know what its doing, and Patrick's head arches back against his pillow when his palm slides over the head, stuttering along hot skin until Patrick starts leaking, just a little, just enough that Joe says "yeah, fuck" really quietly and smoothes out the rhythm-- up, down, over, tug. Joe's up on one elbow and Patrick's hands ball into fists around the scratchy cotton of the bedsheets and he wants to tell Joe to stop, wake up, that he's not Pete, he's not anyone really, and Joe should stop, stop, because he's going to... but he can't get the words out before he's gasping and arching into Joe's hand, and his whole body is hot and trembling as he comes.
"Joe," he rasps, and fuck this is going to awkward and awful when Joe realizes, but Joe's hand is still moving, gentle strokes that make Patrick's thighs shiver and he presses his face into the crook of Patrick's neck and Patrick can feel the damp brush of lips against his skin.
"God, Patrick," Joe whispers, and he sounds young, like he always does, and just a little broken too, and Patrick's whole body goes still as he feels the small jerk of Joe's hips against his thigh.
He's not sure why he does it-- this is still a bad idea, this is still JOE, who loves Star Wars and Metallica and PETE, not him, oh, god, this is insane-- but Patrick's hand finds its way to the back of Joe's head, fingers threading into his curls and Joe's hitched breath against his shoulder makes Patrick's stomach twist a little with want. He's buzzing, still floating a little from his orgasm, and Joe is warm and heavy next to him, half on him really, and when Patrick shifts against him, pressing his thigh just a little over, up, Joe shudders and moans and Patrick tightens his hand in Joe's hair reflexively. "Yeah, fuck, please, please" Joe is panting now and Patrick doesn't know what to do, doesn't know anything but that Joe is begging him, and that Joe's hand is sticky with his come, fisting in the hem of Patrick's t-shirt.
He turns a fraction, just enough to free the arm trapped under Joe, just enough to wiggle it up and back down, past the elastic on Joe's track pants. Joe is deathly still as he does it, eyes pressed shut, mouth open a fraction and Patrick suddenly wants to kiss him, really seriously kiss Joe Trohman, but then his fingers brush the head of Joe's cock, already hard and hot and slick and Joe bucks against him with a whimpering sound and Patrick growls a little, low in his chest. "Come on, Joe," he says, and he's awake again, alert, eyes fixed on Joe's mouth, his panting gasping breaths, and it doesn't take long, two minutes, maybe three, and Joe is groaning and coming and Patrick's already half-hard again, just from watching, just from knowing he's the one pulling those noises from Joe's throat.
Joe's still again as he comes down, nothing but a little sigh against his shoulder as he pulls his hand free, and Patrick's skin flashes hotcold. God, bad ideas are one thing but this was just... "
'Trick?" Joe says, his voice small and worried and Patrick blinks over at him, Joe's nose a few spare inches from his on the pillow. And he's not sure what to say to make it better, but Joe's wearing the face he wears when he hasn't memorized a part, or when he's late to rehearsal. When he's worried Patrick will yell at him. And since yelling is the last thing on Patrick's list right now, he jumps back to the first (fuck it, he thinks, the shit in the middle can wait) and leans in to press his lips to Joe's softly, pausing when Joe makes a small shocked noise, and smiling a little when Joe gets over it, opening his mouth when Patrick swipes his tongue over Joe's lower lip.
The kiss is at an awkward angle and he can only sustain it for a few minutes before his neck protests, but Joe follows as he leans back, propping himself up on his elbow again and leaning over to keep kissing Patrick, keep touching him. Patrick's other hand, the non-sticky one, cords through Joe's hair and this is... yeah, unexpected, but in that way that a new puppy at Christmas is unexpected.
You're really surprised, and you worry a little that you'll fuck it up, but there is no way in hell you're giving it back.