Bandom Porn: Super Patrick
Title: Super Patrick
Fandom: Bandom
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Prompt: crimefighting
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1130
Summary: Patrick is super! Pete is a necessary distraction!
Notes: Full version of my entry for Porn Battle VII. Inspired by a comment swanswan left in my LJ.
Disclaimer: Lies! All lies!
Super Patrick
by Lenore
"Hi, I'm Rick Stansfield for Channel 7 News, coming to you live from midtown, where an armed robbery was apparently thwarted this morning by, of all things, a singing crime fighter. I have with me Tina Alessandro and Veronica Li, who were in the Chase bank branch at the time the gunmen entered and witnessed the still unidentified hero save the day. Ladies, what did you see?"
"There were these guys, right?" Tina says, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. "Like five of them or something. With these big ass-- um, I can't say that on TV, can I? Okay, okay, like, these really big guns. And they were yelling for people to get down and stuff."
"I thought they were going to shoot us all," Veronica says, shivering.
Tina nods. "But then there was this other guy. Right, Ronnie?"
"This little guy," Veronica says. "With this 504 Plan cap. I remember that distinctly. And he just starts--"
"Singing," Tina continues. "Fuc-- um, freakin' great voice, too. And those guys in black, it was like they went all mesmerized and sh-- uh, stuff."
"They just laid their guns down," Veronica says, her eyes wide with amazement. "And held up their hands, and somebody called the cops, and then we all started looking around for the singing guy--"
"But he was gone. Just like that. Didn't even give us a chance to thank him."
"You know who he looked like?" Veronica looks to Tina.
Tina shakes her head. "Don't say it."
"504 Plan cap, Allie."
"You have Fall Out Boy on the brain."
"Do not!"
"Do too!"
Rick Stansfield clears his throat. "And that's the story from midtown. Now back to you in the studio, Libby."
***
A few hours later, in another part of town...
"I'm here today with Pete Wentz," Howard Stern says into the microphone. "Fall Out Boy bassist. Husband to Ashlee Simpson. So, Pete, how does it feel being married to one of the hottest women in Hollywood?"
"Feels pretty damned good, Howard," Pete says, smiling.
"Come on. Tell us all about it. Don't spare any details."
Pete laughs. "Oh, I'll give you details..."
***
A few hours later, in Pete and Patrick's hotel suite...
Pete swipes the card and opens the door and finds Patrick sitting cross-legged on the couch, nervously hunched over his laptop.
"Anything?" Pete bends down to give Patrick a quick kiss.
Patrick shakes his head. "So far, it's all about you and Ashlee and that mirror at the Soho Grand." He turns an adorable shade of pink.
Pete plunks down beside him. "That shit always works like a charm."
"Um." Patrick ducks his head. "Tell Ashlee I owe her one?"
Pete grins. "Dude, she said you can totally save Texas for her sometime, you know, if there's like a hurricane or whatever. She has this theory about the power of your voice on the weather. Actually, she has charts and graphs and shit about it."
"I didn't mean to...you know, use the Voice in front of so many people. But those guys, I really thought they were going to--"
"Hey," Pete says firmly. "What did we say? You never have to be sorry for using your powers for good-doing."
He tilts Patrick's chin with his fingers and kisses him, settles his head on Patrick's shoulder and cuddles closer. "So what are they saying about me?" He scans the page open in the browser and snorts. "Fucking Perez Hilton."
"I'm sorry you have to do this for me," Patrick says in a small voice.
"Dude, I am totally doing this for me. You're mine, and no one's taking you away from me, not top secret government dudes, not anyone. If I have to be the world's most distracting jackass to keep you, I seriously have no problem with that. Besides," he grins, "I'm really good at it."
Patrick leans his cheek against the top of Pete's head. "I'm still grateful." His voice drops an octave lower. "I could do something nice for you. Show my appreciation."
"Sexy nice?" Pete says hopefully.
"Sexy nice," Patrick agrees.
Pete takes the computer out of Patrick's hands and places it safely on the coffee table, and then all bets are off. He's everywhere, kissing frantically, groping, doing his best to get his hands under clothes, inside Patrick's pants.
"I want you." He bites Patrick's earlobe.
"I got that," Patrick says, a smile in his voice.
Pete pulls at Patrick's clothes, doing his best to squirm out of his own pants, and yeah, there's going to have to be a round two, because this is going to be over all too soon. He gets Patrick's t-shirt scrunched up under his armpits, his jeans open, boxers pushed down around his hips. Good enough. Pete stretches out over Patrick and starts to shove into his body, their cocks sliding together.
"Shit, Pete!" Patrick says, pushing up against him.
"Patrick, Patrick," Pete pants. "I want--"
"I know, Pete." Patrick sucks a place on the underside of Pete's jaw.
He takes a breath, and Pete shivers in anticipation, and then Patrick does it. Starts to sing. Starts to use the Voice. It's so soft that Pete almost has to strain to hear, because Patrick knows Pete's tolerances and his hot spots and every other damned thing about him. He gives Pete just enough, but never too much. The vibration travels along every nerve in Pete's body, blossoms and flares and blazes a shuddery trail of pleasure straight to his cock.
"God," he moans, because it's Patrick, and it's the Voice, and it's so fucking good.
Patrick clutches at Pete's shoulders, his fingers curling and uncurling, pressing harder and harder, and Pete knows what that means. Patrick is close, so close. He hums a little louder, trying to take Pete with him, and fuck, that works every time. Pete squeezes his eyes closed, and pyrotechnics go off in his head as he comes all over Patrick's belly, as Patrick comes all over him.
Afterwards, Pete slumps against Patrick, a pleasant buzz in his head. The Voice always leaves him like this, boneless and drooling and practically preverbal. Patrick starts to squirm and then buck and finally shoves Pete off him, because as Patrick likes to say, skinny can be fucking heavy.
"Super Patrick broke me," Pete mumbles, his eyes still mostly rolled back in his head.
"Super Patrick loves you," Patrick says softly against Pete's cheek.
Pete tightens his arms around Patrick's shoulders. "Super Patrick probably shouldn't talk about himself in the third person, because that's kind of freaky."
Patrick elbows Pete in the ribs, but he's smiling, because he knows every damned thing there is about Pete, so he knows what this means. I love you, too.
Fandom: Bandom
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Prompt: crimefighting
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1130
Summary: Patrick is super! Pete is a necessary distraction!
Notes: Full version of my entry for Porn Battle VII. Inspired by a comment swanswan left in my LJ.
Disclaimer: Lies! All lies!
Super Patrick
by Lenore
"Hi, I'm Rick Stansfield for Channel 7 News, coming to you live from midtown, where an armed robbery was apparently thwarted this morning by, of all things, a singing crime fighter. I have with me Tina Alessandro and Veronica Li, who were in the Chase bank branch at the time the gunmen entered and witnessed the still unidentified hero save the day. Ladies, what did you see?"
"There were these guys, right?" Tina says, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. "Like five of them or something. With these big ass-- um, I can't say that on TV, can I? Okay, okay, like, these really big guns. And they were yelling for people to get down and stuff."
"I thought they were going to shoot us all," Veronica says, shivering.
Tina nods. "But then there was this other guy. Right, Ronnie?"
"This little guy," Veronica says. "With this 504 Plan cap. I remember that distinctly. And he just starts--"
"Singing," Tina continues. "Fuc-- um, freakin' great voice, too. And those guys in black, it was like they went all mesmerized and sh-- uh, stuff."
"They just laid their guns down," Veronica says, her eyes wide with amazement. "And held up their hands, and somebody called the cops, and then we all started looking around for the singing guy--"
"But he was gone. Just like that. Didn't even give us a chance to thank him."
"You know who he looked like?" Veronica looks to Tina.
Tina shakes her head. "Don't say it."
"504 Plan cap, Allie."
"You have Fall Out Boy on the brain."
"Do not!"
"Do too!"
Rick Stansfield clears his throat. "And that's the story from midtown. Now back to you in the studio, Libby."
***
A few hours later, in another part of town...
"I'm here today with Pete Wentz," Howard Stern says into the microphone. "Fall Out Boy bassist. Husband to Ashlee Simpson. So, Pete, how does it feel being married to one of the hottest women in Hollywood?"
"Feels pretty damned good, Howard," Pete says, smiling.
"Come on. Tell us all about it. Don't spare any details."
Pete laughs. "Oh, I'll give you details..."
***
A few hours later, in Pete and Patrick's hotel suite...
Pete swipes the card and opens the door and finds Patrick sitting cross-legged on the couch, nervously hunched over his laptop.
"Anything?" Pete bends down to give Patrick a quick kiss.
Patrick shakes his head. "So far, it's all about you and Ashlee and that mirror at the Soho Grand." He turns an adorable shade of pink.
Pete plunks down beside him. "That shit always works like a charm."
"Um." Patrick ducks his head. "Tell Ashlee I owe her one?"
Pete grins. "Dude, she said you can totally save Texas for her sometime, you know, if there's like a hurricane or whatever. She has this theory about the power of your voice on the weather. Actually, she has charts and graphs and shit about it."
"I didn't mean to...you know, use the Voice in front of so many people. But those guys, I really thought they were going to--"
"Hey," Pete says firmly. "What did we say? You never have to be sorry for using your powers for good-doing."
He tilts Patrick's chin with his fingers and kisses him, settles his head on Patrick's shoulder and cuddles closer. "So what are they saying about me?" He scans the page open in the browser and snorts. "Fucking Perez Hilton."
"I'm sorry you have to do this for me," Patrick says in a small voice.
"Dude, I am totally doing this for me. You're mine, and no one's taking you away from me, not top secret government dudes, not anyone. If I have to be the world's most distracting jackass to keep you, I seriously have no problem with that. Besides," he grins, "I'm really good at it."
Patrick leans his cheek against the top of Pete's head. "I'm still grateful." His voice drops an octave lower. "I could do something nice for you. Show my appreciation."
"Sexy nice?" Pete says hopefully.
"Sexy nice," Patrick agrees.
Pete takes the computer out of Patrick's hands and places it safely on the coffee table, and then all bets are off. He's everywhere, kissing frantically, groping, doing his best to get his hands under clothes, inside Patrick's pants.
"I want you." He bites Patrick's earlobe.
"I got that," Patrick says, a smile in his voice.
Pete pulls at Patrick's clothes, doing his best to squirm out of his own pants, and yeah, there's going to have to be a round two, because this is going to be over all too soon. He gets Patrick's t-shirt scrunched up under his armpits, his jeans open, boxers pushed down around his hips. Good enough. Pete stretches out over Patrick and starts to shove into his body, their cocks sliding together.
"Shit, Pete!" Patrick says, pushing up against him.
"Patrick, Patrick," Pete pants. "I want--"
"I know, Pete." Patrick sucks a place on the underside of Pete's jaw.
He takes a breath, and Pete shivers in anticipation, and then Patrick does it. Starts to sing. Starts to use the Voice. It's so soft that Pete almost has to strain to hear, because Patrick knows Pete's tolerances and his hot spots and every other damned thing about him. He gives Pete just enough, but never too much. The vibration travels along every nerve in Pete's body, blossoms and flares and blazes a shuddery trail of pleasure straight to his cock.
"God," he moans, because it's Patrick, and it's the Voice, and it's so fucking good.
Patrick clutches at Pete's shoulders, his fingers curling and uncurling, pressing harder and harder, and Pete knows what that means. Patrick is close, so close. He hums a little louder, trying to take Pete with him, and fuck, that works every time. Pete squeezes his eyes closed, and pyrotechnics go off in his head as he comes all over Patrick's belly, as Patrick comes all over him.
Afterwards, Pete slumps against Patrick, a pleasant buzz in his head. The Voice always leaves him like this, boneless and drooling and practically preverbal. Patrick starts to squirm and then buck and finally shoves Pete off him, because as Patrick likes to say, skinny can be fucking heavy.
"Super Patrick broke me," Pete mumbles, his eyes still mostly rolled back in his head.
"Super Patrick loves you," Patrick says softly against Pete's cheek.
Pete tightens his arms around Patrick's shoulders. "Super Patrick probably shouldn't talk about himself in the third person, because that's kind of freaky."
Patrick elbows Pete in the ribs, but he's smiling, because he knows every damned thing there is about Pete, so he knows what this means. I love you, too.