Testosterone Boys

[pseudonumity]

Title: Testosterone Boys
Author: Sue (
pseudonumity)
Pairing: Patrick/Pete
Rating: NC-17 for sex (-ish)
Summary: Patrick finds himself caught in the uncomfortable stares of another man, who just happens to be his best friend.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter I

Patrick sat in his bunk on the tour bus watching the others play videogames a few feet away. He liked the bus. It was spacious, comfortable; it didn't smell any better than the van had since it was the same group of guys (with the same tendency towards leaving their garbage where it fell and throwing food half-eaten on whatever surface was handy), but still, every so often Patrick missed the van. He missed the intimacy of it, the security of such close quarters, but mostly he missed having an excuse to fall asleep curled into Pete.

Pete.

Patrick had never thought of himself as gay. There was nothing wrong with it, he had piles of gay friends and never felt strange around them, but it just wasn't how he defined himself. He had never felt any sort of attraction to other men. They were just ‘the guys’; funny little humans to have around and be obnoxious with. They weren’t like the graceful, delicious-smelling women he loved wrapping his arms around. He had a girlfriend, and she kept him completely satisfied.

Well, mostly satisfied.

There was something about the look in Pete's eyes sometimes; some fire, some passion, something his girlfriend had never stirred in him. For a while now Patrick had just passed it off as Pete being Pete. The media frequently gave itself over to binges of questioning Pete's sexuality, and he did nothing to help the matter by joking about it. Half-truths and bits of sarcasm were enough to hold up the ambiguity, but lately Patrick had started to wonder. As far as he knew, Pete had only been with women, but that didn't really mean anything. It was a matter of the attraction, of wanting to be with other men, and the look in Pete's eyes certainly seemed to be one of desire.

Patrick watched him now and again, staring at his face while he talked to Andy or Joe or anyone else who happened to be nearby and male, but there was never that same look, that gleam that seemed to scream "I want to touch you. I want to fuck you". And truth be told, Patrick wanted him to. He wanted those caramel arms wrapped around him, those thin, perfect lips on his neck, his chest, his cock. The images started to roll through Patrick's head: Pete next to him, on top of him, inside him. He had barely noticed, but curled up in the corner of his bunk, staring at Pete and letting his mind wander, the front of his pants had grown considerably tighter.

As if he knew, Pete suddenly looked up from his game and straight at Patrick. It was that same expression, the deeply serious passion that seemed to emanate from him. Patrick very nearly came right then and there. Barely holding on to his sanity, he forced himself to calm down, but no, Pete was getting up, walking over. He threw himself in Patrick's bunk and sprawled out next to him.

"So are you coming or not?" The innuendo of his question struck Patrick as almost comical. Of course he couldn't possibly know. There was no way he was privy to the images still rolling through Patrick's head. But the timing of his visit, the look in his eyes, the phrasing of the invitation to join the others was uncanny.

"No, I'm just reading". Patrick gestured lamely to a book lying next to him and wondered if the shaking of his voice was as pronounced as he feared.

"Suit yourself". Pete climbed back out of the bunk, one hand pushing against the wall behind them for force, the other placed innocently on Patrick's thigh for balance. The small touch was too much. Patrick took full advantage of the brief moment where Pete's return to the front of the bus blocked the others' view and hurled himself towards the small but functional bathroom at the back. Slamming the door shut behind him he fumbled with the fly of his jeans, desperate to free himself. He tore his boxers down those few necessary inches and stared at his own throbbing erection. Wasting little time marveling at what his best friend could do to him, he grabbed hold of himself and began jerking furiously. The intensity of his arousal kept his session short, and in no time his hips were bucking forward against his own fist, his teeth clenching his lower lip as he bit back the moans that fought to give him away to his bus mates. Pete, he thought, just Pete. Pete's skin, his cock, his ass, but above all that penetrating stare, that stare that had brought Patrick to climax on more occasions than he could count, both alone and with his unwitting girlfriend.

One of the moans broke free as Patrick came. Waves of pleasure ripped through him as his hand became coated in his own fluids. His body still screamed for Pete, for some post-coital comfort, but there was only the small, efficient bathroom and a never-ending slideshow in his head.

Having cleaned himself up (as well as wiped down the side of the sink, part of the mirror, and the back of the toilet, all of which had served as destinations for his eager outburst), Patrick returned to his bunk, hoping that none of the other guys had heard that final moan. Halfway down the narrow hall he looked up at the front of the bus and saw nothing but pairs of eyes looking back.

"So, you miss her then?" joked Andy.

Patrick could do nothing but blush. He let them assume it had been about his girlfriend, he supposed that was alright. The road gets lonely and masturbation was practically a way of life for a band that did not pander to groupies. He grabbed the edge of the curtain and started to pull it across in the hopes of gaining some privacy, but at the last second his eyes met Pete's, still so intense, but this time paired with a quiet smirk.

Chapter II

Finally at their destination, the road-weary band members disembarked from the comfort of the tour bus and set themselves to the business of unloading and setting up. Out came the instruments, the amps, all the lovely little pieces of deceptively heavy technology necessary to put on a Fall Out Boy show. With everything unloaded and set in place, the friends found themselves with some downtime before it would become necessary to sound check for the show itself. The general consensus was that a meandering walk through the night's host town would be nice after so many hours of near immobility, but Patrick ducked out, making some half-assed excuse about calling his girlfriend, which received numerous eye-rolls after his earlier actions. Returning to the tour bus with no intention of calling anyone, Patrick threw himself back into the well-used bunk and tried to sort out his thoughts.

He barely had a chance to get comfortable when he heard footsteps nearby. After so much time together, he immediately recognized them as belonging to Pete. Sure enough, the curtain was whipped back to reveal the object of his confusion. Pete sat down on the bunk opposite.

"Enjoying the conversation? I suppose you're saving a lot of money by not using a phone." The smirk taunted Patrick. It made all those looks seem deliberate, like Pete knew exactly what he was doing to Patrick, and that the tease of pretending nothing was going on was the entire point.

But there was nothing going on, Patrick's mind insisted, we're friends. Just friends. I'm just going crazy. I'm just... why the hell would I be imagining this? I'm straight! I don't want anything more from him!

Pete's eyebrows went up as Patrick's lack of response stretched on a second longer than was comfortable.

"Uh... yeah. I couldn't get through. I'll try again in a minute".

Pete reached into his back pocket and pulled out Patrick's cell phone.

"You left it on one of the amps."

Shit. Shit! Pete knew Patrick was lying. He had no idea what to say, how to cover the fact that he had just claimed to make a phone call when he didn't even have his phone.

"I..."

Pete didn't give him time to respond. Patrick had barely formed the syllable when his lips were suddenly covered by the soft skin of his friend's. For a second it was barely a kiss, it was just them taking in each other's hot breath, lips sliding over each other, Pete's hands on the sides of Patrick's face, just the intimacy of being so close to each other. Then it was over. Pete kissed Patrick feverishly, desperately. Patrick's mouth was immobile with shock, but Pete continued, sucking Patrick's lower lip, slipping his tongue in what space was available. Finally, as if after an eternity, Patrick realized what was happening, that some tiny part of his fantasy was being realized. He threw his own hands out, clenching the back of Pete's head and pulling him even closer. He kissed him back, opening his mouth more fully, allowing Pete to explore it with his tongue, to slide along Patrick's, to taste his dearest friend and deepest desire.

Pete moved towards Patrick, coming across the narrow hall and into the occupied bunk. He laid himself on Patrick, forced their hips together, grinding his body against the one beneath him. Patrick let one of his hands leave Pete's hair and slip down to his ass, squeezing the tight cheek and pressing them all the more firmly together. Patrick could feel the erection forming against him, and soon realized his own member was awake. Pete tore his lips away from Patrick's, being bid farewell by a desperate moan of complaint, and moved down to his neck, kissing, licking, sucking, and biting the tender flesh. His hands slipped over Patrick's torso, down to his waist and back up again, this time under the shirt, flat against his new-found lover's skin. Patrick could barely breathe at the sensation. It had never been like this with girls. The feel of strength in a man's hands was decidedly different, and the knowledge that it was his closest friend made it impossibly intimate.

The hand with which Patrick so eagerly fondled Pete's ass moved down further, sliding between Pete's legs from behind. Pete groaned his approval and reciprocated by relocating one of his hands to Patrick's crotch, feeling the outline of his erection through the uncomfortably tight jeans. The feel of Pete stroking him, even through the layers of fabric, drove Patrick to a fever pitch. He removed himself almost violently from Pete's grasp and tore off his shirt. Pete, taking the cue, unzipped his own hoodie and began disrobing as Patrick moved to his jeans, barely coordinating his fingers enough to loosen the belt, open the button, and pull down the zipper. Despite the trinity of obstacles, within seconds he was pulling down both his jeans and boxers, fumbling to get them off while he still lay partially under Pete, who had managed his own pants more easily.

Patrick froze, pants around ankles, half bent over trying to pull them off, his face just inches from Pete's naked cock. Patrick had seen Pete naked before. Pete was not shy about his body, but it had never been like this. It had never been hard. It had never been for Patrick.

But now it was. The realization broke Patrick from his daze. He was suddenly fully aware that all his fantasies, all those pleasures he had imagined, they could all happen here, now, with Pete. With the greatest force of will he had ever managed, he looked away from Pete's cock. He looked up at his face and almost shattered at the look that greeted him there. It was those same eyes, that same intensity, but a thousand times stronger. A million. It was as if every look that came before had been behind some veil, some mask of "it's just flirting". But this, this said "I'm going to have you. No games, no hesitation, I'm going to be with you. I'm going to own you".

As if to confirm all of these thoughts, Pete launched himself back onto Patrick. His lips went to Patrick's face, hands to torso, cock to cock. The feeling of Pete pressed against him, rubbing against him, sliding his dick along Patrick's was overwhelming. They writhed together, bodies pressed as tightly against one another as the laws of physics would allow, and then closer still. Patrick could barely contain himself. He had always been able to hold on, hold out, keep it going until his partner was satisfied, but now he couldn't. Not with Pete. Not with this hard, firm, tanned body screaming against his own.

"Pete, I'm c..." He couldn't even manage the warning. He came hot and sticky between them, shooting until he felt like his entire body was being drained at the effort. Pleasure upon indescribable pleasure ripped through him as he bucked his hips up against Pete, who responded in kind, letting his own juices pour out and mingle with Patrick's.

Panting and still clinging to one another, they lay in the quiet bunk of the empty bus for a few minutes.

"We've got to go sound check," said Pete, breaking the silence finally. Patrick grunted some reply, not really caring about the sound check, or the performance, or anything at all. He just wanted this moment to continue.

But it didn't. Pete climbed off, his face and chest glistening with sweat, his stomach with the fruits of their passion. He picked up his pants, shirt, and hoodie and strolled down to the bathroom to make quick work of the evidence. Patrick lay in bed, marveling at the calm with which Pete operated. It was almost as if nothing had just happened, or else something had, but it was of no particular note. Exiting the bathroom washed and dressed, Pete strolled past Patrick, still sprawled naked in the bunk, and left the bus. Knowing he likely had only minutes before someone came looking for him, Patrick similarly rose, cleaned up, and dressed. No matter what had just happened, there was still the show to do.

Chapter III

The show went off as it always did. The screaming, spinning, jumping; caught up in the energy of the crowd, the thought of what had just happened seemed to leave Patrick completely. This was immediate, tangible, powerful. This was music.

But afterwards, when the lights had dimmed and the crowd had thinned and Patrick's hand was cramped and sore from signing anything placed in front of him, everything that came before flooded back. It had really happened. He had really kissed Pete, touched Pete, cum under Pete. The weight of it was almost enough to knock him backwards. What now? What would it be like on the bus, around the guys, with his girlfriend? Oh shit, his girlfriend. Could he even look her in the eyes after this?

He barely even took note of what he was doing as he slipped into all the habits and routines of the load out. With everything put away and road-ready, the simultaneously exhausted and energized band-mates piled back into the familiar bus. Patrick couldn't even look up. He didn't dare meet Pete's eyes. He couldn't imagine what they might be saying now. Returning to, or rather hiding in his bunk, Patrick kicked off his jeans, rolled as close to the wall as he could get, and tried to fall asleep.

Hours later he was still awake. The bus gently shook as it rambled its way to the next city, which would normally have been soothing, but tonight only annoyed him. There were voices coming from the front of the bus. Andy and Pete were still awake. Joe had gone off to bed at some point. Patrick must have been awake for that, but with his mind reeling as it was, he hadn't even noticed.

Not even really needing to, but simply out of boredom from lying in bed fruitlessly for so long, Patrick got up to relieve his bladder. When he exited the bathroom to return to his bunk, his eyes betrayed him and peered up the aisle to the front of the bus. Andy was no longer around, it was only Pete.

And this time, it really was only Pete.

There was no stare, no heat, no passion. Pete looked up at Patrick the way he looked at everyone else. Patrick's could almost hear his own heart breaking. He had always felt uncomfortable when Pete had looked at him so intently, but he never realized how he had come to crave it, to love it. So was it over now? Had Pete just wanted to fool around, see if he could get Patrick off, and then be done with it? Was it some little challenge he had made to himself and now, declaring himself the victor, no longer cared about?

Patrick didn't know if his emotions were visible on his face, but not wanting to tempt fate by waiting it out, he rushed back into the dark privacy that waited behind the flimsy curtain and buried his face in his pillow.

He heard the same footsteps he knew so well, the ones he had recognized earlier that very day, but this time they didn't pause near him. They continued past him, stopping only when Pete reached his own bunk and crawled in. Patrick felt a sob working its way through him but he bit it back, forced himself to swallow it. He wasn't going to cry over this. He wasn't even sure he wanted this. If Pete had just used him for his own goals, fine. It was over. No more uncomfortable stares in rooms full of people, no more wandering mind when he was with the woman he loved, the woman he knew loved him back. Fine. Good. Great. Done.

Not done. He could still smell Pete on his sheets. His body still felt the lingering echoes of every inch of skin that had been touched. He could still recall with perfect clarity the husky breaths of his lover rushing over the side of his face. No, it wasn't going to end like this. He wasn't going to let himself be used and thrown away. He focused on the sounds of breathing around him. He recognized the low, steady breaths and slight snores that he had gotten so used to over the years. Everyone was asleep. Patrick moved as quietly as he could manage through his righteous indignation. He climbed out of his fortress of self-pity and moved quickly towards Pete's bunk. Barely taking a moment to think about what he was going to say or do, he slid back Pete's curtain and climbed in.

Pete was lying in the middle of his mattress. There was no getting next to him, which was just as well. Patrick didn't mind being on top of him for this. It only served to heighten the sense of authority he felt he needed. Pete looked up, half-asleep and entirely confused, and squinted in the dark to recognize the form above him. Patrick's mind spun with images and intentions but no words came forward to express them. Pete's eyes opened more fully as he took in his surroundings, but Patrick, tired of just sitting there waiting for words to equal the ones his friend always seemed to manage for their songs, seized the moment and moved in.

The kiss was hard, passionate, insistent. It said everything it needed to. "I want you. I know you wanted me and I'm going to make you want me again. You know how good it felt. You know it could feel that good again. Kiss me. Touch me. Fuck me." If Pete had been the aggressor before, the ball was now most definitely in Patrick's court, and it was working. Pete's arms went up and wrapped themselves around the heated body of his companion. But Pete, being Pete, was not going to just lay there and take what was given to him. He rolled Patrick further into the corner and positioned himself on top. He was going to set the bounds here. He was going to define the rules.

Pete reached down and massaged Patrick's crotch, feeling the growing erection and urging it on. Patrick was almost shaking with passion and desire. He had it again, that feeling that he had craved for so long, the one he had finally been able to act upon just hours before. He melted into Pete's sheets as the pleasures only this man could provide washed through him. Fuck yes, this was what he wanted. This is what he needed. Pete's tongue lapped at his neck, traced a line down to the hollow at the base of his throat, and then departed from the skin completely as he trailed wet kisses over Patrick's t-shirt, marking a definite path down to his boxers.

Even before Patrick had realized where Pete was headed, he was already rock hard. The knowledge of what was coming made his cock ache with impossible lust. Not even bothering to pull down the elastic, Pete simply pulled back the flaps of Patrick's fly and let his engorged member present itself. Patrick shuddered with anticipation as Pete's hot breath drew a line down his shaft. At the bit of flesh where his cock met his balls Pete lightly placed the tip of his tongue. Patrick almost passed out from the overwhelming ecstasy that tore through him as Pete dragged his tongue oh so slowly along his length. As he approached the head Patrick couldn't help but buck his hips forward at the air above him.

Suddenly Patrick was alone. His head spun as he tried to put the last three seconds together, but no, he wasn't in Pete's bunk. He was in the aisle just outside of it. His shirt was sweat-soaked and his eager cock still protruded from his boxers, but he was sprawled on the floor. He looked up into the bunk he had so recently inhabited and saw Pete's face poking out from behind the curtain.

"Sorry lover, but were on a crowded bus, and I want to make you scream."

Chapter IV

The next few days were pure torture, but Patrick loved every second of it. Their touring schedule was tight and he could never get Pete alone for more than a few seconds. The heated stares were back, but Patrick no longer wilted uncomfortably underneath them, he returned them fully. If Pete's eyes implied passion, Patrick's screamed it. Not willing to settle for being at Pete's beck and call, Patrick took full advantage of what stolen moments he could. Passing him in some darkened hallway at yet another venue, Patrick would grab Pete from behind, force him against a wall, and grind his semi-hard cock into Pete's ass, nibbling at the side of his neck. Pete would try to push off the wall, turn things around, but Patrick would only slam him back against it and continue the borderline assault for a handful of seconds before releasing his panting partner and walking away as though nothing had happened. Pete's stares became more desperate, wild, and Patrick knew that he had gained control. Now it would be Pete sweating alone in his bunk, aching for his lover's touch.

Finally, after almost a week of constant teasing, Pete broke. In the middle of the night, driving away from some forgettable city and towards yet another, Patrick was jarred from sleep by a foreign body in his bunk. He barely had time to register the fact that the intruder was Pete before his mouth was covered in hot kisses. His body was being touched in so many places it seemed impossible that it could be the work of only two hands, but they were Pete's hands, and that made them more.

"You want this?" He rasped between licks and nibbles, barely giving Patrick time to breathe. "You want me to fuck you?"

Patrick responded by grabbing the front of Pete's shirt and flinging him with more strength than he knew he had against the wall of the bunk. He wasn't going to be played again. He wasn't going to lose himself and let Pete regain control of what was happening. Pete's eyes widened with surprise as he landed softly in the corner and was soon covered by the entirety of Patrick's body.

"Yes I want it, and I know you want it just as badly," he hissed into Pete's ear before running his tongue around its outer edge. Patrick knew that Pete tended towards the dominant role with women, but his breathing and the way his hips pushed up against Patrick betrayed the fact that he responded well to being dominated as well.

Now it was Patrick's turn to coat his lover in kisses. These were not tender kisses to express some deep affection. These were hot, wet, hungry kisses of passion and desire. These kisses were sex.

Patrick grabbed the bottom of Pete's shirt and tore it up to his chin. He continued his oral assault on Pete's chest. He suckled at Pete's nipples, nibbled his collar bone, licked and caressed his tattoos. Pete's hands were balled into fists as he clung to the back of Patrick's shirt. With one hand planted firmly in the center of Pete's chest, holding him down, Patrick used the other to grab the waistband of Pete's boxers and pull them halfway to his knees, revealing his erect cock, the same smooth caramel colour as the rest of his skin. Without a moment of hesitation to consider what he was doing, or the fact that he had never done it before, Patrick opened his mouth and encircled Pete's member.

Pete threw his head back and a deep moan escaped his lips as he reeled with pleasure at what was being done to him. Still holding down his chest, Patrick's free hand went around Pete's base as his soft, full lips slid over the head, sucking and licking the tender flesh. Even though he had never blown another man, he knew what he liked on himself, and he mimicked his favourite techniques as best he could. He listened to the strained breathing as Pete tried to muffle his outbursts, paid close attention to what kind of suction and pressure made Pete thrust his hips forward, desperate for more. He catalogued every detail of response, and whatever Pete like, Patrick did again. And again. He was going to give Pete the best fucking blow job of his life. He wanted to be begged for the privilege of receiving head.

Pete put both hands on the back of Patrick's head and tried to force him to take more. Patrick took the cue but refused to obey. Pete choked out a half-formed "fuck" as his hands pounded the bed in frustration, gripping the sheets until his knuckles were white. Only when he was free to move as he pleased did Patrick try to take more. Relaxing his throat as best he could (though it was difficult to relax any part of his body given that he was practically cumming just from the knowledge of how he was making Pete feel), Patrick angled forward and slid Pete further into his mouth. Pete thrust upwards and almost choked Patrick. The hand that had been wrapped around his shaft moved flat against his hip and pressed Pete firmly against the mattress.

"You're going to behave yourself or you'll be the one lying half-done in the hallway," he whispered, letting his lips play over Pete's tip as he said it. Pete moaned his reluctant submission and Patrick once again slid him into his mouth. This time he was able to take a little bit more, and he could feel Pete straining against himself, using whatever self-control he could manage through the pleasure to keep his own hips down. Patrick pulled back a little and tried once more. This time he took all of Pete. His lips and nose brushed Pete's pubic hair, and he heard some strangled sound that could only be described as a whimper. Patrick had him. Completely.

He pulled back again and returned to sucking, licking, and kissing the top few inches of Pete's cock, stroking the bottom few, and every so often gently licking the balls or teasing them with his other hand, which he had managed to free once Pete had been forced to submit. He deep-throated his lover a few more times, and after just a handful of minutes of this treatment felt Pete's hips once again fighting forward, his cock getting even a little bit harder, letting Patrick know that he was about to cum.

As if these signs might be insufficient, Pete tried to give Patrick some warning, but could barely manage a single syllable. Patrick stroked Pete faster, slid his mouth farther over Pete's cock. He wasn't going to try to deep-throat him; on the off-chance Pete bucked forward Patrick had no desire to be choked. Instead he just continued to lick and suck, hungry to know how Pete tasted.

He didn't have to wait long. With one final moan that would surely have woken the bus were they not all still half-deaf from the night's performance, Pete came in Patrick's mouth. The rush of fluid was salty; not completely foreign to Patrick, who had tasted himself on the lips of girls in the past, but at the same time very different. This was Pete's taste. This was Pete's passion on his tongue. The thought of this intimacy drove Patrick over the edge, and he felt himself cum in his boxers, despite the fact that his own cock had not so much as been touched during the entire affair.

He swallowed his lover's spent load and returned to the top of the bed, laying a deep, satiated kiss on his lips. Patrick was sure that Pete had also tasted himself on women, but he wanted Pete to taste this kiss. This was different. This was Pete on Patrick's lips.

Patrick broke the kiss and hovered over Pete for a moment, staring at Pete's face as his breathing slowed and his eyes opened. He looked up at Patrick with an expression that was almost shock, as though he didn't really believe that Patrick could make him give himself over so completely. A half-smile crept onto Patrick's face as he leaned in for one last kiss, this time soft, just his lips on Pete's, not wanting anything, not forcing anything, just kissing his lover.

Pete finally found his words and whispered, "I should go back. They shouldn't find me here," against the side of Patrick's face. With a barely noticeable nod of agreement, Patrick rolled off and allowed Pete to climb over him and out of the bunk. The curtain closed once more, and Patrick took one final bit of pleasure from the sound of Pete collapsing into his own bed, his muscles too broken by ecstasy to lower himself in gently.

Chapter V

It seemed their dynamic had shifted again. It wasn’t Pete staring Patrick down with sex in his eyes, nor was it Patrick fighting to prove his equal footing in the matter. It was no longer a battle, it was simply a fact. They were lovers. Finding time alone together was still virtually impossible save for scattered seconds in back hallways and hushed meetings in the middle of the night. It wasn’t that they thought any of the guys would disapprove of their relationship; it just didn’t seem to be anyone’s business.

It had been two weeks now since Patrick had bothered to call his girlfriend. She had tried to call him a few times, but he had started to just turn his phone off. At the end of the tour he would have to confront the issue, but for the time being he was miles away from caring.

All he wanted now was Pete. He had achieved one of his goals anyway. When Pete crawled into his bunk at unspeakable hours of the night, he was not above begging Patrick to go down on him. He had his pride, but he also had his desires, and he seemed to have no problem forfeiting the former for the sake of the latter. For his part, Pete was more than willing to reciprocate. He eagerly finished what he had started the night Patrick first tried to turn the tables, and just as Patrick’s skills were aided by the fact that he had experienced it first hand, the pleasure Pete could provide was greater than any Patrick had ever received from women who could read his reactions but never fully know how it felt.

But now he wanted more. He wanted to fuck Pete and be fucked by him. He wanted to force his dick into Pete’s tight little ass and, as Pete had put it, make him scream. There was just never time. They were never alone long enough, and in the middle of the night still had to restrain themselves from making too much noise. Having their closest friends possibly know they were sleeping together was one thing, having them hear the play by play was quite another.

So they snuck around, fooled around, did as much as they could with what privacy they could manage, but the intense lust was creeping back into both of their eyes. If anyone bothered to pay attention to their perpetual stares, they would either recognize them as lovers or theorize they secretly hated each other. Truth be told, the way they acted in their stolen moments could be considered either. When other people were around they could be friends, talk, sit next to each other, make excuses to touch each other in small, inconspicuous ways, but when they were alone there wasn’t time for romance, only sex. Pete had more bruises from being thrown around by Patrick, slammed against walls, kissed so hard his head collided with whatever was behind him than had ever been incurred by on-stage antics. And with Joe around, that was saying something.

Still, Patrick was not the sole initiator of their meetings. In the middle of the night (and for the last week it had been every night) it was always Pete padding down the hallway when the others had fallen asleep, Pete slipping in behind the curtain and climbing on top of his lover, whether he intended to remain dominant or not.

But then one night he didn’t come. Patrick lay in bed awake until the sun began to rise, but he did it alone. Having already learned that when it came to Pete, if he wanted results he needed to take it upon himself to get them, Patrick slipped out of his bunk and headed back towards Pete’s. It was risky, forcing a meeting this close to morning. None of the guys were early birds by any means, but when the sun was up their sleep was lighter and they awoke more easily. Nonetheless, Patrick wanted to know what was going on. If their affair was going to be intermittent, that was fine, but it had been steady so far and this hiccup was worrisome.

Pete was once again centered on his mattress. With a leg on either side, Patrick seated himself on Pete’s thighs. He had intended to wake his lover with gentle kisses and whispers at the side of his face, but Pete’s eyes were already open. He sat up and tucked his head under Patrick’s chin.

“I was wondering if you’d come looking for me.”

“I wasn’t going to wait forever.” Patrick rested his arms on Pete’s shoulders, Pete wrapped his around Patrick’s lower back, sliding them up and down, occasionally grabbing his ass.

“Speaking of that…” Patrick muttered through a grin, referencing the way Pete was molesting his cheeks.

Pete chuckled. “Soon.”

“When?”

Pete looked up and met Patrick’s eyes. “Why do you think I didn’t visit you tonight?” Patrick’s brow furrowed slightly as he tried to figure out what Pete was implying. “I don’t want you exhausted when I visit you later.”

Understanding dawned on Patrick’s face. Understanding and excitement. The crotch of his boxers similarly expressed the latter, and Pete pulled him closer, pressing his body against the growing mass.

“I’m pretty sure I can manage,” Patrick replied. Leaning back, he reached between them and slipped his cock out from between the flaps of his fly. He began to stroke himself, while at the same time rocking his hips back and forth, smiling just a little bit wider as he felt Pete’s reaction below.

Pete groaned against Patrick’s neck and then kissed the underside of his chin. “I don’t want you to ‘manage’, I want you to fuck me.”

Now it was Patrick who groaned. He had already known what Pete was implying, but hearing him say it outright only excited him further.

“I can do both.” Patrick continued to stroke and rock. Pete took one hand off of Patrick’s ass, licked his lips, and then sucked on his own middle finger for a few seconds.

“Really?” Pete queried coyly. The hand went back behind Patrick, who was still only just figuring out what Pete had planned when he felt the back of his boxers slip down a few inches and the moistened finger circle his hole.

“Fuck yes,” spat Patrick, pulling Pete’s face up towards his own for a passionate kiss. Pete pressed his finger against the unwilling ring of muscles, which resisted, despite Patrick’s best efforts to relax, but were no match for Pete’s insistence.

Patrick broke the kiss and bit back a scream as his ass rebelled, but Pete was in, pushing deeper, searching for that spongy mass. When the tip of his finger found and pressed against it, Patrick’s entire body quaked at the force of will necessary to keep himself from waking the bus. The hand with which he caressed his own cock abandoned its post and sought out that of his companion. His body seized with pleasure and pain but still he made every effort at a quality hand job. The efforts were not in vain and soon Pete was biting back his own telling cries, one hand still working Patrick’s ass, the other with a digit buried therein.

Patrick had never felt the need to cum so soon. His muscles desperately tried to force Pete out, but the passion sweeping though him begged for more. The orgasm was more intense than any he had ever experienced and his entire body shook as it tore through him, cutting off any chance of him controlling his voice. His cock spewed its approval on Pete’s chest, and Patrick was forced to give up his attempted hand job entirely for a moment as he lost all control of his limbs. Pete didn’t seem to mind. He was still fucking Patrick with his eyes, watching his face, his body, and his member as he came, thrilling at what it was in his power to do to a man who had figuratively (and a few times almost literally) broken him with his lust.

Barely conscious and still only vaguely in control of his faculties, Patrick forced his hand back onto Pete’s cock. Between the rush of watching his partner cum, the excitement of knowing it was his doing, and the pure base pleasure of having a hand work his dick, Pete was not long in following. He threw his head against Patrick’s chest, which was still heaving as he struggled to regain his breath, and added his own contribution to the sticky mess between them.

They clung to each other for a moment, enjoying the post-coital embrace.

“Don’t forget what you said,” whispered Pete between strangled breaths, “you’d better be ready when I come for you later.”

Chapter VI

It was still fairly early in the day when the tour bus pulled to a stop. It had been a short drive and there was a good chunk of hours standing between now and the performance that night.

“We’ll see you later,” said Joe as he walked past Patrick.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. You’re going. You have that radio interview.”

“I thought that was cancelled.”

“No, me and Andy got cancelled. They still want you and Pete.”

Patrick tried to hide the fact that his mind was reeling. Had Pete known this? Was this what he had meant earlier in his bunk? Thoughts of ducking out early or making excuses to be late flooded Patrick’s mind, pushing out even the fact that he was still in the middle of a conversation.

“You’d better have more to say than that,” commented Joe when the silence continued. “It’s radio. Just being pretty isn’t enough.”

Patrick forced a half smile at a joke he barely had the concentration to process. Pete was already dressed, sitting at the front of the bus and taking a phone call. When he hung up he looked over at Patrick. His eyes still held their now standard lust, but this time tinged with a playfulness, the look of a small child who knew full well he was about to misbehave.

“You’d better get dressed,” he said. “We’ve got to go soon.”

Patrick was on autopilot. He grabbed some clothes, taking no note of specifics, or even whether or not they were clean, threw them on, made a final stop in the bathroom, and presented himself.

The bus had come to a stop right out side the radio station, and once Pete and Patrick had disembarked, it continued on to that night’s anonymous venue. Patrick had a hard time imagining a better day. He’d finally get to be with Pete, and he got to skip out on set up.

Patrick reached for the door, but Pete grabbed his hand and pulled it away.

“This way,” he instructed, guiding Patrick down the block.

“But the…”

“It was cancelled.”

Patrick hoped there was no one on the street with an interest or a camera phone. He didn’t want photos up on the internet of him trying to walk nonchalantly down some random street with the beginnings of a massive erection.

Around a corner and half a block away Pete pointed to a round, rusted sign encircled by lights and suspended by a couple well-worn wires.

“Honeymoon Motel: A/C, TV, & Round Beds.” Patrick couldn’t help but giggle a little as he read it out. Pete walked right past the main office and towards the rooms. He pulled a small key on a comically oversized tag out of his pocket (Patrick wondered how it was possible he hadn’t noticed it, given how tight Pete wore his jeans) and slipped it into the lock on one of the doors. “You sure do know how to spoil a guy.”

“Well, I figure if we’re going to have some seedy rock ‘n roll fuck-fest, what better place than a seedy motel?”

“Yeah, but it’s a seedy gay rock ‘n roll fuck-fest. You couldn’t have found something a little more… colourful?”

Pete snickered and walked through the door, Patrick close behind. Pete closed and locked the door as Patrick wandered over to the crimson bed and plopped himself down.

“Ooh, velvet. At least there’s…”

Patrick didn’t even have time to finish the joke. Pete was suddenly on him. Hungry lips devoured his own. If Pete had been eager or aggressive in the past, now he was rabid. He pulled away from Patrick and sat up on his lap, tearing off his hoodie and moving on to his pants. Patrick followed suit, but rendered clumsy and useless by anticipation, his uncooperative fingers seemed to take even longer than normal to perform the simple task. Pete was in no mood for patience. Ripping Patrick’s hands away, he grabbed his lover’s pants, nearly popping the button off completely in his haste, and in one quick motion tore them from his legs. The boxers came off next, flying through the air and landing somewhere across the room. Patrick’s eyes grew wide with excitement and, truth be told, a little bit of fear. He had never seen Pete so wild. For his part, Pete wasn’t sure he had ever wanted to fuck someone so badly.

Pete threw himself back on Patrick, kissing, licking, and nibbling any bit of flesh that presented itself. Their naked bodies twisted together, every inch of exposed skin aching to touch another. For the first time they didn’t need to quiet themselves, and the moans poured out of both of them. The thin walls would not be enough to muffle their voices, but no one knew who was in the room, so they were safe to express themselves fully.

Pete’s cock rubbed against Patrick’s. Their legs intertwined and pulled their lower bodies so close it was almost painful. Thrusting, grinding, writhing together, they clawed at each other. There were soft caresses and merciless attacks. Pete slid his hand along the top of Patrick’s chest and around the back of his neck, grabbing a chuck of hair and almost tearing it out as he forced Patrick’s head back, exposing the soft skin under his chin, which was then assailed by as series of kisses and nibbles.

Patrick’s hands were manic on Pete’s skin, claiming every inch of his hard, tight body. Almost incapable of processing everything he was experiencing, Patrick lost himself completely in the moment. He rolled over, pinning Pete under him, and then grabbed Pete’s left arm and whipped it across his body, forcing him onto his stomach. Patrick licked the back of his ear, sucked lightly at his neck, and began a long line of nibbles and nips between his shoulder blades and down his back. Perching himself on the back of Pete’s thighs, Patrick placed a wet, hungry kiss just above Pete’s crack before pulling gently at the cheeks and running his tongue in a hot circle around Pete’s hole.

Pete grabbed the sheet below him with both fists, the muscles of his back rippling as a deep moan shot out of him.

“Pete, we need…”

Pete didn’t wait for Patrick to finish the sentence. He scrambled forward, out from under Patrick and to the top of the bed. Practically ripping the nightstand drawer off its rails, he wrenched it open and returned with a small bottle of lube.

“Did you think I wouldn’t be prepared?” Pete smiled as he thrust the bottle into Patrick’s hand and threw himself back on the bed, face down. Patrick removed the cap and squirted a generous amount of the fluid onto his cock. He recapped the bottle and began to work the lube over himself. Thoroughly coated, he massaged the tight ring of muscled with what remained on his hand. Mimicking Pete’s earlier action, he pushed against the opening with the tip of a finger, slowly entering his intended.

Pete’s entire body tightened.

“Does it hurt too much?” asked Patrick, pausing. He wanted to fuck Pete so badly, but he wanted Pete to enjoy it, too.

“No. It’s alright. I just never… I never let any of them fuck me.” Patrick got Pete’s meaning. He had become more and more certain that he was not Pete’s first male lover. The way Pete sucked him off, the way he had used his own finger earlier that day, it just never felt like it was new to him. Patrick didn’t really care, but now he found himself enjoying the thought that he would be the first to enter Pete.

Patrick pushed his finger in further, trying to be as gentle as possible but also with obvious intent. Pete suddenly screamed, but not with pain. Patrick had reached his goal. He pressed against Pete’s prostate and reveled in the way Pete twisted beneath him.

“Another,” he gasped. Patrick did as he was told, pulling out only to re-enter, this time with two fingers. Again Pete shook at the initial pain, but the pleasure he felt a moment later drowned it out completely.

“God, Patrick, fuck me.” Patrick sucked in a ragged breath at the demand and removed both fingers. This was it; he was finally going to have Pete the way he had wanted him for so long. The muscles of Pete’s ass were somewhat more prepared than they had been at first, but still fought against this new, larger intrusion. Pete’s eyes shot open for a second and then closed tightly as his body screamed against the act. Patrick paused for a second and let Pete adjust to the sensation before pushing in further. He could barely keep the presence of mind to even notice what his lover was doing, so intense was the ecstasy he felt as Pete’s hole encircled his cock. He inched out a little and then thrust forward again, and then again. All the pain disappeared from Pete’s face as this new pleasure consumed him. Patrick slammed his hips against Pete’s ass, violently, passionately.

Pulling out, he spun Pete around again, landing him on his back. Grabbing both caramel legs and pushing them up against Pete’s chest, he pushed himself back in and continued his attack, now facing his lover. Pete’s legs fell to either side of Patrick, who grabbed Pete’s torso and pulled him forward, mirroring his own thrusts.

Both men were rapturous. After having their friendship evolve into passionate desire, the culmination of so much longing heightened the visceral experience a hundred-fold. Their sweat-drenched bodies pounded together, moans and grunts flew out from them, letting anyone in earshot know just how fucking good it felt.

Pete’s legs tied themselves around Patrick’s back, holding him tightly and stopping his barrage of thrusts. His body seized, and Patrick could feel Pete’s ass tighten around his member. His body arched and his head went back, a veritable scream coming out of him as hot juice spurted from his cock. Patrick had never seen Pete cum so hard, and the sight heightened his passion beyond anything he ever dreamed possible. He forced Pete’s legs off of him and resumed his fevered pace, moments later shooting his own liquid sex into Pete’s battered ass.

Pulling out, he collapsed on Pete’s chest. For a long while they laid there together, feeling each other’s breath as it slowed and evened out, laying stray kisses on whatever skin presented itself, just enjoying the simple pleasure of being alone, naked, and together.

Epilogue

Sprawled out on the round bed of the cheap motel room, Patrick and Pete savoured this rare moment of privacy.

“How long before we have to go back?” Patrick finally asked.

“We should probably have gone already.”

Patrick let out one last heavy breath and lifted himself off the bed. He went to the washroom and grabbed a quick shower, knowing it was probably a bad idea to return to their band-mates smelling of sweat and sex. Afterwards, emerging from bathroom, he paused briefly, leaning against the wall. He gazed upon the body of his lover, who still lay naked on the bed.

“What?” Pete asked, self-consciously.

“Just enjoying the view.” Pete blushed a little at Patrick’s response. “Did you just blush? After everything we just did, you’re blushing at that?”

“Shut up.” Pete smiled and continued to blush as he climbed off the bed. On his way into the bathroom he stopped next to Patrick and kissed him, slowly and deeply. This kiss wasn’t about sex or passion or desire, stolen in a back hallway or hidden behind a curtain, this kiss was love.

Patrick smiled and rested his forehead against Pete’s for a moment before walking off to find his clothes, which he discovered had been thrown everywhere. His pants were near the foot of the bed. His shirt covered the better part of a lamp. The offending boxers had managed to find their way behind the television, and he only spotted them there because the antiquated antenna had caught a bit of the elastic.

He dressed and waited for Pete, who had also opted for a quick shower. He made a mental note of suggesting they save water and shower together the next time they did this.

Pete returned from the bathroom and began his own game of ‘find the pants’ while Patrick sat on the edge of the bed watching.

“You could help, you know,” suggested Pete as he peered under the dresser in search of an errant sock.

“I know,” replied Patrick, smiling but not moving.

Pete stood up and walked towards him. Leaning in, he placed a soft kiss on Patrick’s cheek and ran a hand down his back to his ass.

“I don’t think we have time for any more of that.”

“What makes you so sure I want more?” Pete asked wryly, smiling against the side of Patrick’s face as he quickly withdrew his hand, which now held the missing sock. He finished dressing and grabbed the front of Patrick’s shirt, pulling him up for a final embrace before they left their tiny sanctuary.

“Go back to the radio station. I’ll return the key and meet you there in a few minutes,” said Pete. Patrick nodded his agreement and headed for the door, but then stopped suddenly and returned to the side of the bed.

“We’ll need this,” grinned Patrick, pulling the bottle of lube from the mess of sheets and slipping it into his pocket. Pete grinned back and Patrick departed.

A few minutes later they were back in front of the radio station. Pete called a taxi, and soon they were standing next to the tour bus, which was now parked behind the night’s venue. They boarded the bus and sat down with Joe and Andy, who were passing the time playing video games.

“So how was the interview?” asked Andy.

“Good. Same as always,” responded Pete.

“Who was on top?”

Patrick and Pete both froze at the question. Andy was grinning widely at them while Joe snickered, not looking up from the game.

“Give us some credit. Neither of you can keep a secret to save your lives.”

“Or keep quiet, for that matter,” added Joe.

Patrick and Pete looked at each other. A tiny smile crept onto Pete’s face, and soon Patrick was smirking as well as the pair, slightly embarrassed, thought about the various sounds that they had made while they thought their friends were deafened by sleep.

Joe broke their reverie by swearing at the TV screen. Muttering something about Andy cheating, he grabbed the two extra controllers and tossed them towards Pete and Patrick.

“Are you guys playing or not?”

Pete grabbed both controllers and handed one to Patrick. Finally freed from their secret, he also planted a kiss on Patrick’s temple.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to be one of those couples that’s making out all the time,” teased Andy.

“Nah,” replied Pete, grinning, “we’ll be far too busy constantly fucking in front of you.”

A round of laughter filled the bus and the foursome began their game. Nothing was different; nothing was awkward. They were just four guys driving around in a bus, playing shows, and occasionally parting ways so half of them could sleep while the other half did anything but.