Revenge Therapy [Standalone]
Title Revenge Therapy
Author foryouforever
Rating PG-13, I suppose.
Pairing Jealous!Tom Delonge / Pete Wentz (implied Mark Hoppus / Pete and wannabe Tom / Mark. Win?)
Disclaimer I don't own anything in this. Just the words. Sorry.
A/N Written for revengetherapy, in case you thought the title was a coincidence. x3 Inspired by her.
X-Posted @ blink_slash182 & my own writing journal.
Tom loitered in the doorway watching Mark and that dickhead, Pete Wentz, mix together; they were both grinning stupidly and Tom couldn't help but feel jealous. Mark spent all his time with this guy, but there was nothing remarkable about him at all.
Tom was much better looking than him, too, if he did say so himself, and at least he didn't have to have his dick on the front cover of a magazine just to get attention. Anger at Mark and jealousy at Pete rose up inside of him.
Mark leaned over, wearing a sickening smirk, and murmured something into Pete's ear, making Pete laugh and roll his chair over, bumping his against Mark's in a weird sort of hip-checky way. Tom was almost completely convinced they were doing this just to tease him, but of course, nobody knew that he was standing there, nor did anyone know about his slight infatuation with his best friend. Not that he knew, anyway.
Pete looked around at that moment: Tom had scuffed his foot along the ground and sworn softly. Pete simply grinned, not making the assumption that Tom had been standing there all that time.
"Tom! Man, come on in - what's up?" He asked warmly, only succeeding in making Tom hate him more; he didn't show this, though, instead deciding to smile back, fighting off the bitterness.
"Nothing much, dude, just wandering, you know? You guys almost finished up here? Do you still want a ride home, Mark?"
"I'll just catch one with Pete if you're heading right now - we'll be a couple of hours, yet." Mark responded, eyes on Pete; Tom changed tactics, quelling his jealousy.
"I actually wanted to talk to Pete, so I can hang on - I've got nothing pressing, nowhere I need to be." He shrugged, sitting down.
"Oh, we'll, whatever." Mark raised an eyebrow and then looked down at his phone, Twittering.
"What do you want to talk to me about?" Pete asked curiously, amusement clear on his face. Tom shook his head and shot him an annoyed look; Pete's infamous shit-eating grin widened.
"Just some stuff I have to go over with you. Shit's crazy, you know?" It made no sense, but Mark was paying no attention and Pete understood perfectly.
Two and a half hours later, Mark and Pete were finished for the night. Mark excused himself to go to the bathroom and Tom turned to Pete.
"You're doing it to piss me off, right?" He said immediately. Pete smirked.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," the bassist responded lightly.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Wentz - don't play shit clueless with me."
"It's actually Mark," Pete admitted, "He's the one trying to make you jealous. I admire how well it's working, too - man's got skill."
Tom flushed, "Fuck this." He growled and grabbed the back of Pete's neck, guiding their faces together. Pete instantly sunk into it, evidently, he enjoyed the attention.
They kissed furiously, teeth colliding on more than one occasion, but Tom was past caring: he needed release. Mark was fucking with him, so it was time to turn the tables. His hand slipped down Pete's body, sliding under his t-shirt and running his fingers over the trail of fine hair he found.
Pete's hands were first to make it to the fly of the other's jeans while Tom focused on releasing every ounce of anger and jealousy into the kiss.
Mark returned just as Pete's hand delved into his band mate's boxers. Tom gave a soft moan and rocked his hips forward. Mark's jaw dropped and his eyes widened - the feeling spreading through him was unfamiliar. Like a car crash, though, he couldn't tear his eyes from the pair. Both had heard him re-enter the room, but neither had paid him any attention, too wrapped up in one another.
Tom bit down on Pete's lip, letting out a long drawn-out moan (mostly for effect, but partly because it felt good to really release) and Pete giggled softly, letting the other man lean against him while he regained his breath.
They both heard the studio door slam as Mark darted from the room, mind racing, the image of Tom and Pete painted on the insides of his eyelids.
"What..." Pete asked, "Was that?"
Tom smirked, buttoning his pants back up and kissing Pete's cheek, "That was my first successful revenge therapy session."
comments, concrit, all more than welcome.
Author foryouforever
Rating PG-13, I suppose.
Pairing Jealous!Tom Delonge / Pete Wentz (implied Mark Hoppus / Pete and wannabe Tom / Mark. Win?)
Disclaimer I don't own anything in this. Just the words. Sorry.
A/N Written for revengetherapy, in case you thought the title was a coincidence. x3 Inspired by her.
X-Posted @ blink_slash182 & my own writing journal.
Tom loitered in the doorway watching Mark and that dickhead, Pete Wentz, mix together; they were both grinning stupidly and Tom couldn't help but feel jealous. Mark spent all his time with this guy, but there was nothing remarkable about him at all.
Tom was much better looking than him, too, if he did say so himself, and at least he didn't have to have his dick on the front cover of a magazine just to get attention. Anger at Mark and jealousy at Pete rose up inside of him.
Mark leaned over, wearing a sickening smirk, and murmured something into Pete's ear, making Pete laugh and roll his chair over, bumping his against Mark's in a weird sort of hip-checky way. Tom was almost completely convinced they were doing this just to tease him, but of course, nobody knew that he was standing there, nor did anyone know about his slight infatuation with his best friend. Not that he knew, anyway.
Pete looked around at that moment: Tom had scuffed his foot along the ground and sworn softly. Pete simply grinned, not making the assumption that Tom had been standing there all that time.
"Tom! Man, come on in - what's up?" He asked warmly, only succeeding in making Tom hate him more; he didn't show this, though, instead deciding to smile back, fighting off the bitterness.
"Nothing much, dude, just wandering, you know? You guys almost finished up here? Do you still want a ride home, Mark?"
"I'll just catch one with Pete if you're heading right now - we'll be a couple of hours, yet." Mark responded, eyes on Pete; Tom changed tactics, quelling his jealousy.
"I actually wanted to talk to Pete, so I can hang on - I've got nothing pressing, nowhere I need to be." He shrugged, sitting down.
"Oh, we'll, whatever." Mark raised an eyebrow and then looked down at his phone, Twittering.
"What do you want to talk to me about?" Pete asked curiously, amusement clear on his face. Tom shook his head and shot him an annoyed look; Pete's infamous shit-eating grin widened.
"Just some stuff I have to go over with you. Shit's crazy, you know?" It made no sense, but Mark was paying no attention and Pete understood perfectly.
Two and a half hours later, Mark and Pete were finished for the night. Mark excused himself to go to the bathroom and Tom turned to Pete.
"You're doing it to piss me off, right?" He said immediately. Pete smirked.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," the bassist responded lightly.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Wentz - don't play shit clueless with me."
"It's actually Mark," Pete admitted, "He's the one trying to make you jealous. I admire how well it's working, too - man's got skill."
Tom flushed, "Fuck this." He growled and grabbed the back of Pete's neck, guiding their faces together. Pete instantly sunk into it, evidently, he enjoyed the attention.
They kissed furiously, teeth colliding on more than one occasion, but Tom was past caring: he needed release. Mark was fucking with him, so it was time to turn the tables. His hand slipped down Pete's body, sliding under his t-shirt and running his fingers over the trail of fine hair he found.
Pete's hands were first to make it to the fly of the other's jeans while Tom focused on releasing every ounce of anger and jealousy into the kiss.
Mark returned just as Pete's hand delved into his band mate's boxers. Tom gave a soft moan and rocked his hips forward. Mark's jaw dropped and his eyes widened - the feeling spreading through him was unfamiliar. Like a car crash, though, he couldn't tear his eyes from the pair. Both had heard him re-enter the room, but neither had paid him any attention, too wrapped up in one another.
Tom bit down on Pete's lip, letting out a long drawn-out moan (mostly for effect, but partly because it felt good to really release) and Pete giggled softly, letting the other man lean against him while he regained his breath.
They both heard the studio door slam as Mark darted from the room, mind racing, the image of Tom and Pete painted on the insides of his eyelids.
"What..." Pete asked, "Was that?"
Tom smirked, buttoning his pants back up and kissing Pete's cheek, "That was my first successful revenge therapy session."
comments, concrit, all more than welcome.