A Vanity Affair
Title: A Vanity Affair
Author:
monimi101
Rating: R
Summary: At Van's Warped Tour, 2005, Sonny feels a bit out of place. Pete shows him what it's really about. Inspired by this picture, which might not actually be them, but sure looks like it.
Warnings: boysex, very light bondage, connotations of cultverse and drugs/alcohol, language
Author's Note: Written just before sunrise, unbeta'd. Hopefully there aren't too many mistakes.
Sonny has always been a bit shy. He covers it up, of course. He pretends to be the self-confidant, maybe vain person that everyone else in the area seems to be. But honestly, he’s not. Because, well. Everyone else is so pretty. I mean, when you’re as beautiful as William Beckett or Aaron Gillespie or Pete Wentz, you’re allowed to be sort of vain. But Sonny… Well, Sonny just isn’t like that. Oh, how he wishes he was.
Somehow, he finds himself at a party, containing all three of these wonderful people. Which is a fairly frightening concept. And flattering, too. That people think he’s cool enough to be hanging out with these guys. He looks around the room, subconsciously trying to spot friends. Matt and Derek don’t seem to be here. Then, they could be. There are a lot of people here, and Sonny certainly can’t see all of them. William, he notes, is talking quietly in a corner with the guy from Gym Class Heroes, one hand on the other man’s hip, the other holding a formidable looking drink, his posture seeming way too girly for something that may well be strait vodka.
Aaron dancing, almost mockingly, with a slender guy with a ridiculous afro, which looks like a doll’s blond ringlets gone horribly wrong. Sonny feels sort of awkward here. He knows he’s being more judgmental than the others here. He feels sort of out of place, like a nerdy groupie who got let in by accident. He decides some liquor would cure a feeling like this. He goes up to the bar and orders the first thing he sees on the menu, having no idea what’s in it or how strong it is. He hopes it’s pretty strong, he needs it. As he’s reaching into his wallet to get the money, a tan hand slips in coolly and offers the bartender a twenty. Sonny turns to see Pete Wentz, who is just as amazing off stage as he is on it, it seems.
“Hello there.” His voice is like honey and sugar poured over razorblades. It’s scary, but at the same time, it makes Sonny want to lick him. Which he supposes is a fairly strong feeling to feel before having had his drink. He lets it slide; the smoke in here isn’t coming form a smoke machine, after all.
“Ah, hi.” He replies. And he feels awkward and silly, here. He shouldn’t feel so out of place here. He’s got a few albums under his belt, a few years of touring. Pete is only just starting. But Pete is a different kind of person, he muses.
“Your set was pretty good, today.” Pete says. And Sonny is all too aware of the other man’s hand on his hip, his breath in his ear.
“Thanks.” Sonny replies, and takes a healthy swig of his drink. “You did pretty well, too.” The way he says it is too noncommittal. It doesn’t really portray the way he was absolutely glued to the set. The way his eyes didn’t leave them the whole time. Sonny supposes it’s a good thing.
“I love your voice.” Pete whispers, and its’ still honey and razorblades. It sends shivers down sonny’s spine, right down to Pete’s hand, just over his tailbone, fingers drumming. “The way you screamed… Was magnificent.” Sonny blushes. He’s not quite sure how to respond to that. He’s starting to think the rumours are right, that maybe there’s a bit more to Pete than pretty eyes and bass playing. Maybe something a little more sinister.
Sonny drinks some more of his drink, which is neon green, and definitely strong. He’s glad about that; he’ll probably do something he shouldn’t, later. He might be already. Some of the things people whisper about this guy… Tales of unwilling fans in the backs of tour busses, who come out shining, changed. Tales of people who aren’t quite the right. Of darker meanings hidden in light pop punk anthems.
“Would you like to dance?” Pete whispers in his ear, his breath on Sonny’s neck, hot and maybe almost wet. And Sonny decided that rumours are just rumours; they always get exaggerated. So he downs the rest of his drink and follows Pete to the dance floor. Pete’s hand never leaves his hip.
A few minutes later, he’s grinding the shorter bassist, and he can feel Derek looking at him, from the corner where he’s exchanging close words with Aaron. Aaron has never liked Pete too much, he remembers. He’s not sure why, but he thinks it has to do with religion. Pete is the sort of person that gives off distinctly un-holy vibes, especially in a place like this. His fingernails are starting to dig into Sonny’s side, and hell if it isn’t one of the hottest things he’s ever felt. And then he feels that honey and razor voice in his ear again, Want to go get some fresh air?
Sonny is reasonably innocent, comparatively, but he isn’t stupid. He nods and lets Pete lead him outside, feels Derek’s eyes on him. He thinks that the drink, and the smoke, were considerably stronger than he’d originally assumed, because outside, Pete is glowing like an angel. The way his skin lights up under the yellow street lamps…Sonny stops walking, just for a moment. Pete stops, too, a few steps ahead of him.
“Sonny.” He says. His tone of voice is hard to place, somewhere between a lusty whisper and a stern command, but still completely neutral. Sonny thinks that is anyone else heard it, they wouldn’t know. Know what, he wasn’t sure. He walks forward, stumbling a bit in the darkness. Within seconds of him name leaving Pete’s mouth, his hands are on the bassist’s shoulders, just about the only thing holding him up. And, more importantly, his lips have crashed into those of the shorter man, needy, wanting. Pete doesn’t do much, but his lips move ever so slightly, and that’s all the permission Sonny needs to flick his tongue out, taste the other man. Pete licks his lip ring, and Sonny licks his tongue, which tastes like nothing he’s ever tasted before, but he thinks that if a good stage show, a perfect crowd… If that was a flavour, that’s what Pete would taste like. And it’s just as addicting.
Pete’s hands return to his hips, his fingernails tracing words into his flesh, leaving little red marks that fade too quickly to read. He brings their hips together, and Sonny moans into him mouth, and then Pete’s tongue is in his mouth, exploring him, conquering him. Sonny doesn’t mind. He thinks he should get himself conquered more often.
“Would you like to come to my bus?” Pete whispers, breaking his lips away from Sonny’s. Sonny nods dumbly, almost licking his lips before he remembers that would be silly, he’ll get to taste Pete more when they get there. Pete smiles, not quite menacingly, and pulls Sonny’s belt loops towards his bus. This is a good thing; Sonny has no idea where his bus is.
They get to the bus without falling over, which, Sonny thinks, is a miracle, as his eyes didn’t leave the pretty curve of Pete’s back the whole time. Pete’s key works on the first try, and the vocalist can’t help but think how unfair that is, because he never gets it the first try. And their buses are almost the same, too.
Inside, there are two people playing Halo, and Pete picks up the other man, so he won’t trip over the chords leading from the controllers to the TV. Sonny licks his neck, and it tastes a lot like his mouth, but a bit saltier. He thinks maybe he shouldn’t, in front of the two guys there but Pete isn’t worried about them, and Sonny doesn’t want to seem like the sort of person who worries about things that don’t need to be worried about, even though he definitely is.
Pete drops him on the top left bunk, then climbs in after him. The sheets are bunched up, and pretty uncomfortable under Sonny’s back, but when Pete straddles him and grinds down, hard, he arches his back, and it stops being a problem.
“Ahh, Pete…” He whispers, almost a moan, and Pete smirks and bites his collar bone. The raven-haired vocalist cries out a bit, remembering he doesn’t want to seem too needy just a moment too late, and by then, he’s already panting, thrusting up against Pete, so it’s sort of too late.
Pete licks and sucks on his neck, and Sonny can literally feel the veins bursting as a bruise forms just below his collar bone. Somehow, the knowledge that he’ll have to hide this for a while seems amazingly hot, and knowing that he belongs to this person, even just for tonight…
His fingers dig into Pete’s sides, nails just barely there struggling to sink in. Pete says something into his neck, without moving his teeth, and it feels so amazing, so wonderful…
Pete’s hands find his belt, unbuckling it, and not bothering to pull it out as he starts working on Sonny’s pants. Sonny rolls his hips upwards, trying to get those skilled hands to touch him. Pete resists, avoids, and arches his body high over the once-shy vocalist, denying his the friction, the pressure he needs. He slides Sonny’s pants down his legs, dragging his fingernails along his inner thighs as he goes, removing his socks, too. The discarded garments fall out of the bunk, and is occurs to Sonny that the curtain isn’t closed all the way, really, just over half, as he struggles out of his shirt, letting it, too, fall to the floor. He hears the two guys on the couch shout at the game; an explosion goes off.
Pete is licking the inside of his thigh now, his tongue hot and wet. Sonny moans, bucks towards the bassist’s mouth. Realizing he isn’t going to get what he wants, which isn’t that much, just a touch where he needs it, Sonny lets his hand stray down his stomach. Just before it gets to the waistline of his boxers, he feels Pete’s hand wrap around both of his wrists, his mouth still licking at his inner thigh, painfully close to his need. Then Pete’s belt is around the vocalists wrists, instead, and Sonny finds his hands ties above his head on an awkward angle.
“Heyy…” Sonny whispers, but it’s really more of a moan, because Pete is far more skilled with his mouth than anyone should be. He feels like he should object to this. That’s not to say he does, but he thinks he should, he doesn’t want to seem that pliant. Pete discards his clothing quickly and efficiently. Sonny is sure he saw the other man drinking, but he’s showing no signs.
“You know you like it, Sonny.” The bassist whispers, and his voice is raw and husky as he pulls his briefs off, letting them fall to a corner of the bunk. He’s kneeling over Sonny, his hands on either side of the vocalist’s face, his back almost touching the ceiling. “You’re the sort of person that loves being tied up.”
This is something Sonny didn’t know, previously, but it’s true. Ohhh, so true.
“Please…” he whispers throatily. “Pete..” He can feel himself blushing, and there’s nothing he wants more than more Pete to take off his boxers and just have his way with him, whatever that might be. He’d do anything, but this… This waiting, this not touching… Sonny couldn’t stand it.
“Please what?” Pete whispers in his ear. “Do you want me to fuck you, Sonny? Shove my dick deep inside you, so you can’t walk straight tomorrow?” Sonny blushes and moans loudly, bucking his hips.
“Or would you rather I rode you? Do you want you cock in me, Sonny?” Pete is whispering in his ear, low and dirty. “What do you want, Sonny?” He bites the tied vocalist, this time on the other side, almost his shoulder. Sonny almost screams, because he’s so ready, for anything, anything at all, and Pete’s teeth puncture his skin, he feels the blood trickle slowly towards is back.
“Anything!” He pleads. “Anything you want, just, please… Please.”
Pete takes his teeth out of Sonny’s shoulder and kisses him, letting the taller man taste his own blood, coppery and sweet. “I need an answer, Sonny.” He whispers cruelly, the honey seeping back into his voice. “What do you want?”
“Just…” And Sonny knows, he normally doesn’t beg. Because begging is for people who need, people you can’t just take what they want. But Sonny does need. He needs Pete more than he can remember needing anything, not that his memory is too clear. “Just fuck me.. God, Pete, Please!”
Pete smiles and slips the boxers down to Sonny’s ankles, and he kicks them off, not knowing or caring where they land. And then Pete’s fingers are in his mouth, and he’s sucking on the, licking them. All his pent up passion, lust, need, finds its way onto Pete’s fingers, who smirks and kisses down Sonny’s stomach. Just as Sonny thinks he’s finally going to got contact, Pete just drags his cheek along Sonny’s cock, instead licking the tight hole just below. Sonny had thought he couldn’t get any more turned on. He was sort of wrong.
Pete laps at his entrance some more, and Sonny is furiously sucking on his fingers, his own hands knotting together, twisting and writhing with need. And then Pete’s tongue is in him, and this time, Sonny does scream. It’s so beyond what he thought it would be, what he’d ever felt before. Pete’s tongue is twisting, curling, thrusting, and Sonny can hear his own breath, each pant a little moan. Pete takes his fingers away from Sonny now, but the black-haired man doesn’t notice, can’t notice anything but Pete’s tongue, hot and wet and- fuck!
Pete slides his fingers into the other man, one at a time, slowly, teasing. And Sonny wants to scream at him, hurry up, please! Just do it already! But he can’t say anything other than moaning Pete’s name, over and over, and finally, Pete has all four fingers in him, his tongue moving to lap at the base of his balls.
Sonny hears a wrapper crinkle, and looks down to see Pete rolling a condom on, and see his fingers moving in and out of him, twisting… And it would be too much, except that Pete’s other hand is around his balls now, somehow keeping him from going over the edge. And then Sonny can hear Pete whispering something in his ear, and he has no idea what, but his fingers slip out, and his cock lines up with Sonny’s entrance, and suddenly, he’s being fucked.
Each thrust moves him forward, Pete doesn’t even pretend to ease into it, and his whispering these little things into Sonny’s hear, that he can’t quite pay attention to, but they’re blowing his mind, and then Pete hits that spot inside him, and Sonny’s hands grab at each other, his back arches, he moans loudly, and he comes, all over Pete’s stomach, and he can feel Pete follow him other the edge before, slowly, collapsing on top of him, pulling out.
“Your screams are still magnificent, Sonny.” Pete whispers, and Sonny closes his eyes, falling asleep almost instantly.
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The End. <3 Please leave a comment, let me know what you thought. Maybe suggest a pairing for next time? In case you were wondering, the person Aaron is dancing with in the beginning is Sisky Business. Although, you probably weren't.
Author:
monimi101
Rating: R
Summary: At Van's Warped Tour, 2005, Sonny feels a bit out of place. Pete shows him what it's really about. Inspired by this picture, which might not actually be them, but sure looks like it.
Warnings: boysex, very light bondage, connotations of cultverse and drugs/alcohol, language
Author's Note: Written just before sunrise, unbeta'd. Hopefully there aren't too many mistakes.
Sonny has always been a bit shy. He covers it up, of course. He pretends to be the self-confidant, maybe vain person that everyone else in the area seems to be. But honestly, he’s not. Because, well. Everyone else is so pretty. I mean, when you’re as beautiful as William Beckett or Aaron Gillespie or Pete Wentz, you’re allowed to be sort of vain. But Sonny… Well, Sonny just isn’t like that. Oh, how he wishes he was.
Somehow, he finds himself at a party, containing all three of these wonderful people. Which is a fairly frightening concept. And flattering, too. That people think he’s cool enough to be hanging out with these guys. He looks around the room, subconsciously trying to spot friends. Matt and Derek don’t seem to be here. Then, they could be. There are a lot of people here, and Sonny certainly can’t see all of them. William, he notes, is talking quietly in a corner with the guy from Gym Class Heroes, one hand on the other man’s hip, the other holding a formidable looking drink, his posture seeming way too girly for something that may well be strait vodka.
Aaron dancing, almost mockingly, with a slender guy with a ridiculous afro, which looks like a doll’s blond ringlets gone horribly wrong. Sonny feels sort of awkward here. He knows he’s being more judgmental than the others here. He feels sort of out of place, like a nerdy groupie who got let in by accident. He decides some liquor would cure a feeling like this. He goes up to the bar and orders the first thing he sees on the menu, having no idea what’s in it or how strong it is. He hopes it’s pretty strong, he needs it. As he’s reaching into his wallet to get the money, a tan hand slips in coolly and offers the bartender a twenty. Sonny turns to see Pete Wentz, who is just as amazing off stage as he is on it, it seems.
“Hello there.” His voice is like honey and sugar poured over razorblades. It’s scary, but at the same time, it makes Sonny want to lick him. Which he supposes is a fairly strong feeling to feel before having had his drink. He lets it slide; the smoke in here isn’t coming form a smoke machine, after all.
“Ah, hi.” He replies. And he feels awkward and silly, here. He shouldn’t feel so out of place here. He’s got a few albums under his belt, a few years of touring. Pete is only just starting. But Pete is a different kind of person, he muses.
“Your set was pretty good, today.” Pete says. And Sonny is all too aware of the other man’s hand on his hip, his breath in his ear.
“Thanks.” Sonny replies, and takes a healthy swig of his drink. “You did pretty well, too.” The way he says it is too noncommittal. It doesn’t really portray the way he was absolutely glued to the set. The way his eyes didn’t leave them the whole time. Sonny supposes it’s a good thing.
“I love your voice.” Pete whispers, and its’ still honey and razorblades. It sends shivers down sonny’s spine, right down to Pete’s hand, just over his tailbone, fingers drumming. “The way you screamed… Was magnificent.” Sonny blushes. He’s not quite sure how to respond to that. He’s starting to think the rumours are right, that maybe there’s a bit more to Pete than pretty eyes and bass playing. Maybe something a little more sinister.
Sonny drinks some more of his drink, which is neon green, and definitely strong. He’s glad about that; he’ll probably do something he shouldn’t, later. He might be already. Some of the things people whisper about this guy… Tales of unwilling fans in the backs of tour busses, who come out shining, changed. Tales of people who aren’t quite the right. Of darker meanings hidden in light pop punk anthems.
“Would you like to dance?” Pete whispers in his ear, his breath on Sonny’s neck, hot and maybe almost wet. And Sonny decided that rumours are just rumours; they always get exaggerated. So he downs the rest of his drink and follows Pete to the dance floor. Pete’s hand never leaves his hip.
A few minutes later, he’s grinding the shorter bassist, and he can feel Derek looking at him, from the corner where he’s exchanging close words with Aaron. Aaron has never liked Pete too much, he remembers. He’s not sure why, but he thinks it has to do with religion. Pete is the sort of person that gives off distinctly un-holy vibes, especially in a place like this. His fingernails are starting to dig into Sonny’s side, and hell if it isn’t one of the hottest things he’s ever felt. And then he feels that honey and razor voice in his ear again, Want to go get some fresh air?
Sonny is reasonably innocent, comparatively, but he isn’t stupid. He nods and lets Pete lead him outside, feels Derek’s eyes on him. He thinks that the drink, and the smoke, were considerably stronger than he’d originally assumed, because outside, Pete is glowing like an angel. The way his skin lights up under the yellow street lamps…Sonny stops walking, just for a moment. Pete stops, too, a few steps ahead of him.
“Sonny.” He says. His tone of voice is hard to place, somewhere between a lusty whisper and a stern command, but still completely neutral. Sonny thinks that is anyone else heard it, they wouldn’t know. Know what, he wasn’t sure. He walks forward, stumbling a bit in the darkness. Within seconds of him name leaving Pete’s mouth, his hands are on the bassist’s shoulders, just about the only thing holding him up. And, more importantly, his lips have crashed into those of the shorter man, needy, wanting. Pete doesn’t do much, but his lips move ever so slightly, and that’s all the permission Sonny needs to flick his tongue out, taste the other man. Pete licks his lip ring, and Sonny licks his tongue, which tastes like nothing he’s ever tasted before, but he thinks that if a good stage show, a perfect crowd… If that was a flavour, that’s what Pete would taste like. And it’s just as addicting.
Pete’s hands return to his hips, his fingernails tracing words into his flesh, leaving little red marks that fade too quickly to read. He brings their hips together, and Sonny moans into him mouth, and then Pete’s tongue is in his mouth, exploring him, conquering him. Sonny doesn’t mind. He thinks he should get himself conquered more often.
“Would you like to come to my bus?” Pete whispers, breaking his lips away from Sonny’s. Sonny nods dumbly, almost licking his lips before he remembers that would be silly, he’ll get to taste Pete more when they get there. Pete smiles, not quite menacingly, and pulls Sonny’s belt loops towards his bus. This is a good thing; Sonny has no idea where his bus is.
They get to the bus without falling over, which, Sonny thinks, is a miracle, as his eyes didn’t leave the pretty curve of Pete’s back the whole time. Pete’s key works on the first try, and the vocalist can’t help but think how unfair that is, because he never gets it the first try. And their buses are almost the same, too.
Inside, there are two people playing Halo, and Pete picks up the other man, so he won’t trip over the chords leading from the controllers to the TV. Sonny licks his neck, and it tastes a lot like his mouth, but a bit saltier. He thinks maybe he shouldn’t, in front of the two guys there but Pete isn’t worried about them, and Sonny doesn’t want to seem like the sort of person who worries about things that don’t need to be worried about, even though he definitely is.
Pete drops him on the top left bunk, then climbs in after him. The sheets are bunched up, and pretty uncomfortable under Sonny’s back, but when Pete straddles him and grinds down, hard, he arches his back, and it stops being a problem.
“Ahh, Pete…” He whispers, almost a moan, and Pete smirks and bites his collar bone. The raven-haired vocalist cries out a bit, remembering he doesn’t want to seem too needy just a moment too late, and by then, he’s already panting, thrusting up against Pete, so it’s sort of too late.
Pete licks and sucks on his neck, and Sonny can literally feel the veins bursting as a bruise forms just below his collar bone. Somehow, the knowledge that he’ll have to hide this for a while seems amazingly hot, and knowing that he belongs to this person, even just for tonight…
His fingers dig into Pete’s sides, nails just barely there struggling to sink in. Pete says something into his neck, without moving his teeth, and it feels so amazing, so wonderful…
Pete’s hands find his belt, unbuckling it, and not bothering to pull it out as he starts working on Sonny’s pants. Sonny rolls his hips upwards, trying to get those skilled hands to touch him. Pete resists, avoids, and arches his body high over the once-shy vocalist, denying his the friction, the pressure he needs. He slides Sonny’s pants down his legs, dragging his fingernails along his inner thighs as he goes, removing his socks, too. The discarded garments fall out of the bunk, and is occurs to Sonny that the curtain isn’t closed all the way, really, just over half, as he struggles out of his shirt, letting it, too, fall to the floor. He hears the two guys on the couch shout at the game; an explosion goes off.
Pete is licking the inside of his thigh now, his tongue hot and wet. Sonny moans, bucks towards the bassist’s mouth. Realizing he isn’t going to get what he wants, which isn’t that much, just a touch where he needs it, Sonny lets his hand stray down his stomach. Just before it gets to the waistline of his boxers, he feels Pete’s hand wrap around both of his wrists, his mouth still licking at his inner thigh, painfully close to his need. Then Pete’s belt is around the vocalists wrists, instead, and Sonny finds his hands ties above his head on an awkward angle.
“Heyy…” Sonny whispers, but it’s really more of a moan, because Pete is far more skilled with his mouth than anyone should be. He feels like he should object to this. That’s not to say he does, but he thinks he should, he doesn’t want to seem that pliant. Pete discards his clothing quickly and efficiently. Sonny is sure he saw the other man drinking, but he’s showing no signs.
“You know you like it, Sonny.” The bassist whispers, and his voice is raw and husky as he pulls his briefs off, letting them fall to a corner of the bunk. He’s kneeling over Sonny, his hands on either side of the vocalist’s face, his back almost touching the ceiling. “You’re the sort of person that loves being tied up.”
This is something Sonny didn’t know, previously, but it’s true. Ohhh, so true.
“Please…” he whispers throatily. “Pete..” He can feel himself blushing, and there’s nothing he wants more than more Pete to take off his boxers and just have his way with him, whatever that might be. He’d do anything, but this… This waiting, this not touching… Sonny couldn’t stand it.
“Please what?” Pete whispers in his ear. “Do you want me to fuck you, Sonny? Shove my dick deep inside you, so you can’t walk straight tomorrow?” Sonny blushes and moans loudly, bucking his hips.
“Or would you rather I rode you? Do you want you cock in me, Sonny?” Pete is whispering in his ear, low and dirty. “What do you want, Sonny?” He bites the tied vocalist, this time on the other side, almost his shoulder. Sonny almost screams, because he’s so ready, for anything, anything at all, and Pete’s teeth puncture his skin, he feels the blood trickle slowly towards is back.
“Anything!” He pleads. “Anything you want, just, please… Please.”
Pete takes his teeth out of Sonny’s shoulder and kisses him, letting the taller man taste his own blood, coppery and sweet. “I need an answer, Sonny.” He whispers cruelly, the honey seeping back into his voice. “What do you want?”
“Just…” And Sonny knows, he normally doesn’t beg. Because begging is for people who need, people you can’t just take what they want. But Sonny does need. He needs Pete more than he can remember needing anything, not that his memory is too clear. “Just fuck me.. God, Pete, Please!”
Pete smiles and slips the boxers down to Sonny’s ankles, and he kicks them off, not knowing or caring where they land. And then Pete’s fingers are in his mouth, and he’s sucking on the, licking them. All his pent up passion, lust, need, finds its way onto Pete’s fingers, who smirks and kisses down Sonny’s stomach. Just as Sonny thinks he’s finally going to got contact, Pete just drags his cheek along Sonny’s cock, instead licking the tight hole just below. Sonny had thought he couldn’t get any more turned on. He was sort of wrong.
Pete laps at his entrance some more, and Sonny is furiously sucking on his fingers, his own hands knotting together, twisting and writhing with need. And then Pete’s tongue is in him, and this time, Sonny does scream. It’s so beyond what he thought it would be, what he’d ever felt before. Pete’s tongue is twisting, curling, thrusting, and Sonny can hear his own breath, each pant a little moan. Pete takes his fingers away from Sonny now, but the black-haired man doesn’t notice, can’t notice anything but Pete’s tongue, hot and wet and- fuck!
Pete slides his fingers into the other man, one at a time, slowly, teasing. And Sonny wants to scream at him, hurry up, please! Just do it already! But he can’t say anything other than moaning Pete’s name, over and over, and finally, Pete has all four fingers in him, his tongue moving to lap at the base of his balls.
Sonny hears a wrapper crinkle, and looks down to see Pete rolling a condom on, and see his fingers moving in and out of him, twisting… And it would be too much, except that Pete’s other hand is around his balls now, somehow keeping him from going over the edge. And then Sonny can hear Pete whispering something in his ear, and he has no idea what, but his fingers slip out, and his cock lines up with Sonny’s entrance, and suddenly, he’s being fucked.
Each thrust moves him forward, Pete doesn’t even pretend to ease into it, and his whispering these little things into Sonny’s hear, that he can’t quite pay attention to, but they’re blowing his mind, and then Pete hits that spot inside him, and Sonny’s hands grab at each other, his back arches, he moans loudly, and he comes, all over Pete’s stomach, and he can feel Pete follow him other the edge before, slowly, collapsing on top of him, pulling out.
“Your screams are still magnificent, Sonny.” Pete whispers, and Sonny closes his eyes, falling asleep almost instantly.
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The End. <3 Please leave a comment, let me know what you thought. Maybe suggest a pairing for next time? In case you were wondering, the person Aaron is dancing with in the beginning is Sisky Business. Although, you probably weren't.