While You're Waiting - Ch. 2
I have been horribly lax in posting, most especially because as of today we have 10+ finished chapters that merely need editing before they can be posted. Gah. Apologies!
The first chapter can be found here.
Title: While You're Waiting (2/?; work in progress)
Authors: verapermendacia and padawanhilary
Pairing: Pete Wentz of Fall Out Boy and Christian Bale (of "American Psycho," "Batman Begins," etc.)
Rating: NC-17 for handjobs and oral sex.
Length: 1,773 words ~ 3 pages.
Notes: Takes place roughly around the end of the Honda Civic Tour, dates approximate and possibly effed up. It's fiction, which means we made all of this up.
When Pete wakes up, he has no idea where he is, what the hell he was doing before he fell asleep, or why his body is so fucking sore. He keeps still for a minute as his brain drifts to full consciousness, then realizes abruptly that there's someone in bed with him, and that someone's arm is around his waist, their chest pressed to Pete's back. Pete shifts, trying to turn his head, and as he does so he catches sight of the handle of a flogger peeking out of a bag sitting on a chair across the room. His memory catches up to him then like a slap in the face, and Pete lets out a low groan, rubbing at his eyes for a moment.
Okay, so. Christian Bale is in bed with him, and Bale beat the everloving shit out of him last... Pete squints at the clock, but the lights are out now and he can't make out the numbers since it isn't a digital. Well fuck. Several hours ago, he guesses. Pete slithers carefully out from under Christian's arm and gropes around till he finds his pants, thoughtfully retrieved by Christian sometime after he kicked Pete's ass. That's the only explanation, anyway; Pete sure as fuck didn't bring them in. He fishes his cell phone out of his pants pocket and checks the time. 2 in the fucking morning, Jeeeeeesus.
The question is, now what the fuck should he do? "Awkward," Pete mutters to himself, standing up and peering at Christian's face. Christian is fast asleep, his serene expression a stark contrast to the man Pete became familiar with a few hours ago. Pete doesn't particularly want to have to make small talk in the morning, is the thing; he really wants to go home and crawl into his own bed and sleep with Hemingway, who's probably a pretty sad little bulldog right at this moment, and then lick his wounds alone in the comfort of his own house come, say, 11 am. But... He can't just leave, either, can he? He ought to at least say good-bye.
Now, what's the best way to do that? Pete stares at Christian a few seconds longer before he hits on the perfect idea.
Bale comes awake slowly to something he's felt on many occasions, but there's something about that sensation utterly not meshing with the present situation that drags him out of sleep that much faster: this is Pete, he realizes, and Pete has his mouth wrapped around Bale's cock like it's covered in something sticky. Groaning softly, Bale places one big hand on the back of Pete's head, fingers sliding through Pete's dark hair aimlessly.
Fuck yeah, he didn't get slapped! Pete shuts his eyes and concentrates on not gagging while he congratulates himself privately; not that he really expected Christian to bitch-slap him for waking him up in such a manner, but it has happened to him once. He opens his mouth as wide as he can, shifting as Bale rolls onto his back, taking in the warm, musty scent of Christian's skin, the taste of his dick.
Christian sighs, tipping his head up for just a minute to look at Pete. This is completely outside the realm of what he might have expected, but that seems like a good sign to him. He drops his head back and flexes his hips, letting out a pleased sigh. Pete might not be an utterly green brat after all, or at least there's consideration underneath the sullen exterior.
A blowjob isn't really Pete's normal operating procedure for saying good-bye to his one-night stands, but he's not sorry he's doing it (yet, anyway), and there's just something about the night that makes him reluctant to leave without even a word. And well, Pete figures this will at least be memorable. He sucks down more of Christian's dick, cheeks hollowing around the shaft, eyes shut now because he's the teeniest bit self-conscious for some stupid reason.
Between the nap and the sheer shocking fact of Pete doing this in the first place, it doesn't take long. Christian lets out a sharp noise, probably louder than he has up to this point, and comes hard, cock jerking in Pete's mouth as the pleasure rocks through him. He pulls his hand away from Pete's hair just so he doesn't grab and pull. They aren't scening now, and he's had first-time boys react badly to that kind of rough treatment after the fact.
Pete gags for a moment, taken by surprise, but he keeps right on sucking till Christian goes limp in his mouth, swallowing as much of it down as he can manage. He's kinda messy, and some of Christian's come dribbles down Pete's chin like he's got a hole in his lip, but when he pulls back and wipes at his mouth, he's smiling. "Hi," he says stupidly, settling on top of Christian's stomach, suddenly shy again.
"Hi." Smiling, Christian pets Pete's hair gently. "That was good. Thank you."
That gets a pleased grin from Pete, who gets up again and crawls up the bed till he's on all fours over Christian's chest, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth, messy hair falling all over the fucking place. "You're welcome," he says huskily, wanting, for no reason other than the fact that it's still dark in the room, to keep his voice down.
"Would you like something in return for that little favor?" Christian grins, fingers working in an attempt to get Pete's unruly hair back from his eyes again.
"I-what?" Pete's brain derails for all of 1.63 seconds before he realizing what Christian is offering. "Oh, god, please?" Wow, he's fucking stupid. Christian must've beat what's left of Pete's brain cells right out of his skull. Pete was actually just going to wake Christian up long enough to tell him that he's leaving, but what the fuck, what's a little more time...
Bale grins, dragging Pete up and kissing him. "You want me to use my hand or my mouth?" he offers, sliding his hand downward just in case Pete wants something immediate.
"Hand, hand's fine," Pete babbles, laughing and curling awkwardly onto his side as Christian man-handles him. He's still naked and his back is still fucking raw, from the feel of it, but that doesn't stop him from enjoying some nice making out. Pete's always felt the hand-job was an underappreciated sex act.
Still grinning, Bale wraps his hand around Pete's cock, stroking gently at first, then harder as Pete starts to twist and moan. He really is gorgeous, this boy, all dark-smudged bedroom eyes and the hair, God, the hair that's so fucking unruly. Bale rather likes him, frankly, and his sounds are incredibly hot.
Pete's easy, especially at this time of day. He steals another kiss from Christian even as he twitches against the hand on his dick, his needy little noises getting lost in Christian's mouth.
Christian moans in return, gripping Pete's cock strongly and starting to stroke quick and rough. "Go on," he murmurs into Pete's ear and then biting sharply. "Come for me. Do it."
It's the bite that does it, but the demand on Christian's part certainly doesn't hurt. Pete comes with a sad little gasp, throat closing as his muscles all tighten at once, spilling himself over Christian's hand for the second time in one night. He goes limp them, laid out neatly against Christian's chest with one arm draped over his side, eyes focusing again after a few moments of complete disorientation.
"There." Christian smiles. "Thank you." He'll lean unceremoniously over for his bag later to dig for wipes, but for now, he supposes this is fine.
"You're welcome," Pete responds, wondering why Christian is thanking him for that, but whatever. He reaches for Christian's hand, bringing it up to his face, and without a second thought he licks his quickly-cooling spunk from Christian's fingers, eyes half-lidded for the moment while he works. Pete doesn't even have to think about it; in fact, slows as he finishes up, suddenly wondering if Christian is going to think he's revolting.
Pleased and surprised yet again, Christian strokes his dry hand over Pete's hair. "Very nice," he murmurs, drawing Pete up for another kiss.
Pete squirms, kissing Christian back with evident relief, and wasn't there a bit in here somewhere about him planning to leave? Y'know, head home to his dog and his house and his own fuckin' bed, all that good stuff. "Thanks," he mumbles, pressed snugly against Christian's chest.
Smiling, Christian strokes Pete's hair, then hugs him close. "You don't have to thank me for that," he murmurs.
"No, I have to thank you for what you did to my back," Pete teases, and it has no edge to it now, not tucked against Christian's chest like a rescued puppy. There's nothing more for it, though; either he's going to lay here and cuddle with Christian, or he needs to tell the poor man why Pete woke him up from a perfectly good sleep and then get the hell out. "Look, um... I have to be somewhere in the morning, so I actually have to leave... but I didn't wanna go without telling you."
"Oh." Christian pets Pete's hair back from his eyes -- he can't seem to stop doing that -- and squelches a mild disappointment. "All right."
Pete's face is almost unreadable in the dark, save for a small, rather nervous smile that he usually saves for when he's around people who will mock him shamelessly for it, like a good friend should. People like, say, Patrick and Joe and Andy. He doesn't know what else to say, so instead he does the first thing that comes to mind, which is to kiss Christian again one last time before scrambling awkwardly out of bed, groping again for his pants. Pete hesitates, once he's dressed, feeling like more of an ass than he usually would right now. "Thank you again," he offers, backing towards the door.
Surprised again by Pete's apparent need to get the hell out of Dodge, Christian sits up himself. "You're welcome," he says. He's had partners leave after sex before, he's had subs (and even a dominant) leave after scenes as well, but none of that seems to be the actual issue. He isn't sure what the issue is, and he feels as though he's more in the dark than the brand-new bottom who just shuffled out the door. Once Pete's gone, Bale's left rubbing the back of his neck, wondering what the hell just happened.
The first chapter can be found here.
Title: While You're Waiting (2/?; work in progress)
Authors: verapermendacia and padawanhilary
Pairing: Pete Wentz of Fall Out Boy and Christian Bale (of "American Psycho," "Batman Begins," etc.)
Rating: NC-17 for handjobs and oral sex.
Length: 1,773 words ~ 3 pages.
Notes: Takes place roughly around the end of the Honda Civic Tour, dates approximate and possibly effed up. It's fiction, which means we made all of this up.
When Pete wakes up, he has no idea where he is, what the hell he was doing before he fell asleep, or why his body is so fucking sore. He keeps still for a minute as his brain drifts to full consciousness, then realizes abruptly that there's someone in bed with him, and that someone's arm is around his waist, their chest pressed to Pete's back. Pete shifts, trying to turn his head, and as he does so he catches sight of the handle of a flogger peeking out of a bag sitting on a chair across the room. His memory catches up to him then like a slap in the face, and Pete lets out a low groan, rubbing at his eyes for a moment.
Okay, so. Christian Bale is in bed with him, and Bale beat the everloving shit out of him last... Pete squints at the clock, but the lights are out now and he can't make out the numbers since it isn't a digital. Well fuck. Several hours ago, he guesses. Pete slithers carefully out from under Christian's arm and gropes around till he finds his pants, thoughtfully retrieved by Christian sometime after he kicked Pete's ass. That's the only explanation, anyway; Pete sure as fuck didn't bring them in. He fishes his cell phone out of his pants pocket and checks the time. 2 in the fucking morning, Jeeeeeesus.
The question is, now what the fuck should he do? "Awkward," Pete mutters to himself, standing up and peering at Christian's face. Christian is fast asleep, his serene expression a stark contrast to the man Pete became familiar with a few hours ago. Pete doesn't particularly want to have to make small talk in the morning, is the thing; he really wants to go home and crawl into his own bed and sleep with Hemingway, who's probably a pretty sad little bulldog right at this moment, and then lick his wounds alone in the comfort of his own house come, say, 11 am. But... He can't just leave, either, can he? He ought to at least say good-bye.
Now, what's the best way to do that? Pete stares at Christian a few seconds longer before he hits on the perfect idea.
Bale comes awake slowly to something he's felt on many occasions, but there's something about that sensation utterly not meshing with the present situation that drags him out of sleep that much faster: this is Pete, he realizes, and Pete has his mouth wrapped around Bale's cock like it's covered in something sticky. Groaning softly, Bale places one big hand on the back of Pete's head, fingers sliding through Pete's dark hair aimlessly.
Fuck yeah, he didn't get slapped! Pete shuts his eyes and concentrates on not gagging while he congratulates himself privately; not that he really expected Christian to bitch-slap him for waking him up in such a manner, but it has happened to him once. He opens his mouth as wide as he can, shifting as Bale rolls onto his back, taking in the warm, musty scent of Christian's skin, the taste of his dick.
Christian sighs, tipping his head up for just a minute to look at Pete. This is completely outside the realm of what he might have expected, but that seems like a good sign to him. He drops his head back and flexes his hips, letting out a pleased sigh. Pete might not be an utterly green brat after all, or at least there's consideration underneath the sullen exterior.
A blowjob isn't really Pete's normal operating procedure for saying good-bye to his one-night stands, but he's not sorry he's doing it (yet, anyway), and there's just something about the night that makes him reluctant to leave without even a word. And well, Pete figures this will at least be memorable. He sucks down more of Christian's dick, cheeks hollowing around the shaft, eyes shut now because he's the teeniest bit self-conscious for some stupid reason.
Between the nap and the sheer shocking fact of Pete doing this in the first place, it doesn't take long. Christian lets out a sharp noise, probably louder than he has up to this point, and comes hard, cock jerking in Pete's mouth as the pleasure rocks through him. He pulls his hand away from Pete's hair just so he doesn't grab and pull. They aren't scening now, and he's had first-time boys react badly to that kind of rough treatment after the fact.
Pete gags for a moment, taken by surprise, but he keeps right on sucking till Christian goes limp in his mouth, swallowing as much of it down as he can manage. He's kinda messy, and some of Christian's come dribbles down Pete's chin like he's got a hole in his lip, but when he pulls back and wipes at his mouth, he's smiling. "Hi," he says stupidly, settling on top of Christian's stomach, suddenly shy again.
"Hi." Smiling, Christian pets Pete's hair gently. "That was good. Thank you."
That gets a pleased grin from Pete, who gets up again and crawls up the bed till he's on all fours over Christian's chest, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth, messy hair falling all over the fucking place. "You're welcome," he says huskily, wanting, for no reason other than the fact that it's still dark in the room, to keep his voice down.
"Would you like something in return for that little favor?" Christian grins, fingers working in an attempt to get Pete's unruly hair back from his eyes again.
"I-what?" Pete's brain derails for all of 1.63 seconds before he realizing what Christian is offering. "Oh, god, please?" Wow, he's fucking stupid. Christian must've beat what's left of Pete's brain cells right out of his skull. Pete was actually just going to wake Christian up long enough to tell him that he's leaving, but what the fuck, what's a little more time...
Bale grins, dragging Pete up and kissing him. "You want me to use my hand or my mouth?" he offers, sliding his hand downward just in case Pete wants something immediate.
"Hand, hand's fine," Pete babbles, laughing and curling awkwardly onto his side as Christian man-handles him. He's still naked and his back is still fucking raw, from the feel of it, but that doesn't stop him from enjoying some nice making out. Pete's always felt the hand-job was an underappreciated sex act.
Still grinning, Bale wraps his hand around Pete's cock, stroking gently at first, then harder as Pete starts to twist and moan. He really is gorgeous, this boy, all dark-smudged bedroom eyes and the hair, God, the hair that's so fucking unruly. Bale rather likes him, frankly, and his sounds are incredibly hot.
Pete's easy, especially at this time of day. He steals another kiss from Christian even as he twitches against the hand on his dick, his needy little noises getting lost in Christian's mouth.
Christian moans in return, gripping Pete's cock strongly and starting to stroke quick and rough. "Go on," he murmurs into Pete's ear and then biting sharply. "Come for me. Do it."
It's the bite that does it, but the demand on Christian's part certainly doesn't hurt. Pete comes with a sad little gasp, throat closing as his muscles all tighten at once, spilling himself over Christian's hand for the second time in one night. He goes limp them, laid out neatly against Christian's chest with one arm draped over his side, eyes focusing again after a few moments of complete disorientation.
"There." Christian smiles. "Thank you." He'll lean unceremoniously over for his bag later to dig for wipes, but for now, he supposes this is fine.
"You're welcome," Pete responds, wondering why Christian is thanking him for that, but whatever. He reaches for Christian's hand, bringing it up to his face, and without a second thought he licks his quickly-cooling spunk from Christian's fingers, eyes half-lidded for the moment while he works. Pete doesn't even have to think about it; in fact, slows as he finishes up, suddenly wondering if Christian is going to think he's revolting.
Pleased and surprised yet again, Christian strokes his dry hand over Pete's hair. "Very nice," he murmurs, drawing Pete up for another kiss.
Pete squirms, kissing Christian back with evident relief, and wasn't there a bit in here somewhere about him planning to leave? Y'know, head home to his dog and his house and his own fuckin' bed, all that good stuff. "Thanks," he mumbles, pressed snugly against Christian's chest.
Smiling, Christian strokes Pete's hair, then hugs him close. "You don't have to thank me for that," he murmurs.
"No, I have to thank you for what you did to my back," Pete teases, and it has no edge to it now, not tucked against Christian's chest like a rescued puppy. There's nothing more for it, though; either he's going to lay here and cuddle with Christian, or he needs to tell the poor man why Pete woke him up from a perfectly good sleep and then get the hell out. "Look, um... I have to be somewhere in the morning, so I actually have to leave... but I didn't wanna go without telling you."
"Oh." Christian pets Pete's hair back from his eyes -- he can't seem to stop doing that -- and squelches a mild disappointment. "All right."
Pete's face is almost unreadable in the dark, save for a small, rather nervous smile that he usually saves for when he's around people who will mock him shamelessly for it, like a good friend should. People like, say, Patrick and Joe and Andy. He doesn't know what else to say, so instead he does the first thing that comes to mind, which is to kiss Christian again one last time before scrambling awkwardly out of bed, groping again for his pants. Pete hesitates, once he's dressed, feeling like more of an ass than he usually would right now. "Thank you again," he offers, backing towards the door.
Surprised again by Pete's apparent need to get the hell out of Dodge, Christian sits up himself. "You're welcome," he says. He's had partners leave after sex before, he's had subs (and even a dominant) leave after scenes as well, but none of that seems to be the actual issue. He isn't sure what the issue is, and he feels as though he's more in the dark than the brand-new bottom who just shuffled out the door. Once Pete's gone, Bale's left rubbing the back of his neck, wondering what the hell just happened.