(no subject)
I WOULD JUST LIKE TO POINT OUT THAT A) I HAVE REAL PROBLEMS WRITING ANYTHING PORNY AND B) I HAVE NEVER WRITTEN PORN (OR FIC, FOR THAT MATTER, POSSIBLY?) INVOLVING A GIRL. SO UH. I DECIDED TO GO FOR BROKE, OR SOMETHING? EEEP.
three-piece puzzle
pete/mikey/alicia
NC-17
~1400 words
for the porn battle! the prompt i picked was Fall Out Boy/My Chemical Romance, Pete/Mikey/Alicia, voyeurism, and this got a bit too long, so the snippet i posted for the comment there is here and this is the rest of it.
The first time it happens is an accident: Pete's in Jersey for Clandestine business and decides to visit Mikey at his and Alicia's place despite the fact he knows it'll probably be awkward, and he sees Gerard beforehand and Gerard tells him they play music a lot, loud, probably won't hear him at the door and hey, why not take his spare key, surprise them?
So Pete does and, for some reason, he thinks it'll be a great idea to take Gerard at his word and actually sneak in, secretive and soft and quiet, to surprise them; it's a stupid idea but most of his are, really, and that's never stopped him doing anything before. The door is new and probably recently oiled, because it doesn't make a noise as he swings it open, and the layout of the place goes: hallway into living room, one door off for what's probably the kitchen, doorway to the living room opening up to reveal a T.V., Ikea coffee table, black couch sporting two long stretches of pale pale skin, the lazy intimacy of movements and murmurs, quick, hitching breaths.
Pete stops (walking, breathing) and stares, for too long, long enough to see Mikey moving from Alicia's mouth to her neck, collarbone and down. He watches because he can't not and Alicia's back arches at the drag of Mikey's mouth over her hip; she catches Pete's eye, and looks surprised for a few moments, shocked, even, right up until she grins. Wide. Daring.
Then Mikey travels down just that little bit further and Alicia's expression changes, mouth dropping open, a breathy sort of moan spilling from her lips.
Pete's legs remember how to work at around this point, but it takes another few seconds for him to actually turn around and leave, just as quiet as he entered.
*
Pete's hotel room for his short stay in Jersey is nice, clean and well laid out, but everytime Pete glances at the coffee table and his one, lone cup sitting on it he thinks it's missing something.
It's not so odd at first because Pete frequently thinks his life is missing something, but then he thinks of the clutter he'd seen on the coffee table at Mikey's, in the split second he'd observed it. Then he blinks, and looks away, and tries to stop thinking.
*
His Sidekick vibrates with a phonecall at 11:46 p.m.: mikeyway!, it proclaims, and Pete's nowhere near as tired as his voice sounds when he answers and says, "Hey."
"Hey," Mikey says. His voice is sort of soft, even when he carries on, adds, "So, uhm. Alicia said you dropped by earlier?" and there's a very small part of Pete that's glad Mikey still says exactly what he wants to and what he means, so he doesn't have to decipher anything right now.
"Uh," Pete says. Clears his throat and thinks, Screw it. "Yeah, yeah."
There's a long pause, almost too long, and Pete is about to check the call is still connected when he hears Mikey let out a long, shaky exhale. It's a sound he recognises; the tone of it, the situation it's drawn from. "So that's. Cool," Mikey says, then, "fuck," and that's quieter -- almost under his breath, muttered like it wasn't meant to be said out loud. Something in the pit of Pete's stomach twists and he closes his eyes, trying not to think of the same thing he's been trying not to think about since he got back to his room.
"Listen," he says. "Mikey. I don't -- it was an accident, it wasn't like," and Mikey cuts over him and says, "Hey, no. It's cool."
Pete's sort of shocked into silence with that, and in the static between them he hears a muffled voice, words he can't make out but are being spoken by someone he knows as well. His grip tightens on the phone and he presses it harder against his ear as he asks, "She's there now?"
A quick, sharp breath. "Yeah."
There's a voice in Pete's head that sounds an awful lot like Patrick, telling him he shouldn't do what he's about to do, shouldn't even be thinking about it, but he can't stop the words from leaving his mouth, his voice a little lower than usual, unintentional. "What is she doing?"
He expects Mikey to stammer a little, stutter around the subject and be uncomfortable about it, but Mikey just says, "Hands. She's -- fuck, Pete," and Pete can tell the stumbling over his words is because of what's happening, what's going on where Pete can't see but can only imagine, rather than because he's talking about it; like he's prepared, like this was planned (although Pete's name being thrown in there, the almost startled tone of Mikey's voice as he sounds it out? Maybe wasn't. Maybe.) Pete can picture it, too: the tight circle of Alicia's fist, nails painted black, the slow roll of Mikey's hips as he rocks up into her hand in that slow, almost completely at ease way he does everything.
He keeps his eyes closed as he listens to the pace of Mikey's breathing beginning to increase, subtle but unmistakable. "Mikey," he mutters. "Mikey, is -- tell me." This is such a bad idea, so bad, and he knows this but he can't help it. "Tell me what she's doing, what. What you're doing, to her."
More static. A faint whistling sound, like Mikey's breathing out through his teeth. "Gonna fuck her," Mikey says after a small space of white noise, "soon. It's -- shit," and there's an odd sound, like Mikey nearly drops the phone, before he adds, "she's so wet, I -- we, we want you here, too, Pete--"
And Mikey groans, low and long, and Pete lets out a similar sound as he shoves any inhibitions he might have once held aside along with his pants, his boxers, and wraps his fingers around his cock as he listens to them, stays with them the whole while as best as he can.
*
Mikey calls again in the morning and this time Pete really is tired when he answers it, barely awake and full of trepidation, almost expecting there to be an awkward, tentative conversation all about mistakes and full of 'let's just forget this'. He answers with, "Hey," just the same as the night before, and he hears Mikey chuckle slightly, familiar, as though he's thinking the same thing.
"Hey," Mikey says, and then, "what?" before he hears the phone being passed over, or maybe just grabbed right out of his hands.
"So," Alicia says, no preliminary greetings or anything, "you should come over. Again. Properly, this time? You still have that key, right?"
Pete says, "Yeah," and it's his answer to both questions there.
*
So the second time it happens it's not such an accident at all; Pete's just as quiet as he lets himself into their place but he doesn't stop short in the doorway this time, doesn't just stare and then walk away. He's quiet because he wants to surprise them both, but for different reasons now: they're on the sofa again, and Mikey is kneeling between Alicia's legs, her hips lifting slightly as she grinds against his thigh, open-mouthed and heavy-lidded, and they don't notice Pete until he presses up close behind Mikey, presses his lips against the bare skin of his shoulder blade because he figures he's got nothing to lose here by jumping straight in.
"Glad you could make it," Alicia says, and the tone of her voice is almost casual until she grits out, voice taut, "so now you can -- one of you, just touch me, god."
"God," Pete repeats, talking into Mikey's skin, "both of you. Fucking. Christ."
He reaches over Mikey's shoulder to skate his fingers over the curve of Alicia's breast, to trail them over her stomach with his mouth moving, open now, over Mikey's shoulder. Her skin jumps underneath his touch, she's so tense and wound up, and Mikey shifts slightly; his thigh rubs against her clit with the movement and she cries out, inarticulate, as Pete moves almost seamlessly into the space Mikey has made for him.
Separately, they each know how the other two works; they come together, and it's easy, and they fit.
three-piece puzzle
pete/mikey/alicia
NC-17
~1400 words
for the porn battle! the prompt i picked was Fall Out Boy/My Chemical Romance, Pete/Mikey/Alicia, voyeurism, and this got a bit too long, so the snippet i posted for the comment there is here and this is the rest of it.
The first time it happens is an accident: Pete's in Jersey for Clandestine business and decides to visit Mikey at his and Alicia's place despite the fact he knows it'll probably be awkward, and he sees Gerard beforehand and Gerard tells him they play music a lot, loud, probably won't hear him at the door and hey, why not take his spare key, surprise them?
So Pete does and, for some reason, he thinks it'll be a great idea to take Gerard at his word and actually sneak in, secretive and soft and quiet, to surprise them; it's a stupid idea but most of his are, really, and that's never stopped him doing anything before. The door is new and probably recently oiled, because it doesn't make a noise as he swings it open, and the layout of the place goes: hallway into living room, one door off for what's probably the kitchen, doorway to the living room opening up to reveal a T.V., Ikea coffee table, black couch sporting two long stretches of pale pale skin, the lazy intimacy of movements and murmurs, quick, hitching breaths.
Pete stops (walking, breathing) and stares, for too long, long enough to see Mikey moving from Alicia's mouth to her neck, collarbone and down. He watches because he can't not and Alicia's back arches at the drag of Mikey's mouth over her hip; she catches Pete's eye, and looks surprised for a few moments, shocked, even, right up until she grins. Wide. Daring.
Then Mikey travels down just that little bit further and Alicia's expression changes, mouth dropping open, a breathy sort of moan spilling from her lips.
Pete's legs remember how to work at around this point, but it takes another few seconds for him to actually turn around and leave, just as quiet as he entered.
*
Pete's hotel room for his short stay in Jersey is nice, clean and well laid out, but everytime Pete glances at the coffee table and his one, lone cup sitting on it he thinks it's missing something.
It's not so odd at first because Pete frequently thinks his life is missing something, but then he thinks of the clutter he'd seen on the coffee table at Mikey's, in the split second he'd observed it. Then he blinks, and looks away, and tries to stop thinking.
*
His Sidekick vibrates with a phonecall at 11:46 p.m.: mikeyway!, it proclaims, and Pete's nowhere near as tired as his voice sounds when he answers and says, "Hey."
"Hey," Mikey says. His voice is sort of soft, even when he carries on, adds, "So, uhm. Alicia said you dropped by earlier?" and there's a very small part of Pete that's glad Mikey still says exactly what he wants to and what he means, so he doesn't have to decipher anything right now.
"Uh," Pete says. Clears his throat and thinks, Screw it. "Yeah, yeah."
There's a long pause, almost too long, and Pete is about to check the call is still connected when he hears Mikey let out a long, shaky exhale. It's a sound he recognises; the tone of it, the situation it's drawn from. "So that's. Cool," Mikey says, then, "fuck," and that's quieter -- almost under his breath, muttered like it wasn't meant to be said out loud. Something in the pit of Pete's stomach twists and he closes his eyes, trying not to think of the same thing he's been trying not to think about since he got back to his room.
"Listen," he says. "Mikey. I don't -- it was an accident, it wasn't like," and Mikey cuts over him and says, "Hey, no. It's cool."
Pete's sort of shocked into silence with that, and in the static between them he hears a muffled voice, words he can't make out but are being spoken by someone he knows as well. His grip tightens on the phone and he presses it harder against his ear as he asks, "She's there now?"
A quick, sharp breath. "Yeah."
There's a voice in Pete's head that sounds an awful lot like Patrick, telling him he shouldn't do what he's about to do, shouldn't even be thinking about it, but he can't stop the words from leaving his mouth, his voice a little lower than usual, unintentional. "What is she doing?"
He expects Mikey to stammer a little, stutter around the subject and be uncomfortable about it, but Mikey just says, "Hands. She's -- fuck, Pete," and Pete can tell the stumbling over his words is because of what's happening, what's going on where Pete can't see but can only imagine, rather than because he's talking about it; like he's prepared, like this was planned (although Pete's name being thrown in there, the almost startled tone of Mikey's voice as he sounds it out? Maybe wasn't. Maybe.) Pete can picture it, too: the tight circle of Alicia's fist, nails painted black, the slow roll of Mikey's hips as he rocks up into her hand in that slow, almost completely at ease way he does everything.
He keeps his eyes closed as he listens to the pace of Mikey's breathing beginning to increase, subtle but unmistakable. "Mikey," he mutters. "Mikey, is -- tell me." This is such a bad idea, so bad, and he knows this but he can't help it. "Tell me what she's doing, what. What you're doing, to her."
More static. A faint whistling sound, like Mikey's breathing out through his teeth. "Gonna fuck her," Mikey says after a small space of white noise, "soon. It's -- shit," and there's an odd sound, like Mikey nearly drops the phone, before he adds, "she's so wet, I -- we, we want you here, too, Pete--"
And Mikey groans, low and long, and Pete lets out a similar sound as he shoves any inhibitions he might have once held aside along with his pants, his boxers, and wraps his fingers around his cock as he listens to them, stays with them the whole while as best as he can.
*
Mikey calls again in the morning and this time Pete really is tired when he answers it, barely awake and full of trepidation, almost expecting there to be an awkward, tentative conversation all about mistakes and full of 'let's just forget this'. He answers with, "Hey," just the same as the night before, and he hears Mikey chuckle slightly, familiar, as though he's thinking the same thing.
"Hey," Mikey says, and then, "what?" before he hears the phone being passed over, or maybe just grabbed right out of his hands.
"So," Alicia says, no preliminary greetings or anything, "you should come over. Again. Properly, this time? You still have that key, right?"
Pete says, "Yeah," and it's his answer to both questions there.
*
So the second time it happens it's not such an accident at all; Pete's just as quiet as he lets himself into their place but he doesn't stop short in the doorway this time, doesn't just stare and then walk away. He's quiet because he wants to surprise them both, but for different reasons now: they're on the sofa again, and Mikey is kneeling between Alicia's legs, her hips lifting slightly as she grinds against his thigh, open-mouthed and heavy-lidded, and they don't notice Pete until he presses up close behind Mikey, presses his lips against the bare skin of his shoulder blade because he figures he's got nothing to lose here by jumping straight in.
"Glad you could make it," Alicia says, and the tone of her voice is almost casual until she grits out, voice taut, "so now you can -- one of you, just touch me, god."
"God," Pete repeats, talking into Mikey's skin, "both of you. Fucking. Christ."
He reaches over Mikey's shoulder to skate his fingers over the curve of Alicia's breast, to trail them over her stomach with his mouth moving, open now, over Mikey's shoulder. Her skin jumps underneath his touch, she's so tense and wound up, and Mikey shifts slightly; his thigh rubs against her clit with the movement and she cries out, inarticulate, as Pete moves almost seamlessly into the space Mikey has made for him.
Separately, they each know how the other two works; they come together, and it's easy, and they fit.