Fic: Exactly What You're Thinking (FOB, Patrick/Dirty, NC-17)
Title: Exactly What You're Thinking
Author: wilde_stallyn
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1450
Pairing: Patrick/Dirty
Prompt:: Sounding, for sosodirty
Author's Note: Last spring I got hit between the eyes with the idea for an epic Patrick/Dirty story set around the footage from Release the Bats. This is not that story nor can I promise that that story will ever be written. This is a little day-in-the-life sequel to that story set a couple of years down the line around the HCT tour videos. If you feel like you're missing any of the references in this, go watch the **** Live DVD, particularly the bits from Kansas City and Council Bluffs. It's all from there, except the bit about the flatiron, which is from here.
Summary:
"Are these what I think they are?"
"If what you think they are is sounds, then yeah."
"And you want to stick them in my dick?"
"Uh huh."
Patrick sat down on the couch in their dressing room in an arena somewhere in Iowa and opened his laptop. He heard Dirty scream from down the hall, then laughter as the MacBook booted, followed by, "Stop! Stop, seriously, that could really hurt me! Stop it!" and more screaming.
Patrick sighed, put his headphones firmly over his ears and opened GarageBand. He was going to get this Cobra album started today if it fucking killed him.
* * *
Patrick was shutting everything down to head to sound check when Pete came in and draped himself over Patrick's shoulders. "So, how goes it on the Gay Sex Bus?"
Pete and Joe were insisting that Patrick and Andy had their own bus not because Patrick didn't want to deal with Hemmy and Andy refused to put up with Joe's pot smoke, but so that they, Pete and Joe, didn't have to listen to Patrick and Dirty and Andy and Matt have sex this tour.
Patrick looked at him with a raised eyebrow and smirked. "It's going to be going very well in the near future if you didn't damage any important bits this time."
Pete gave him his best "Who, me?" face. No, Patrick was never going to forgive him for the testicles-in-the-flatiron incident.
Patrick rolled his eyes, grabbed Pete and dragged him off the couch. "Come on, sound check."
* * *
Patrick collapsed onto the bed in the back of the bus after the show that night and closed his eyes for a few moments until he heard someone else on the bus stairs. Dirty closed the door as he came into the back room and crawled on top of Patrick, letting all of his weight drop onto Patrick's chest. Patrick said, "Oof," but kissed him when he raised his chin.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"Good show."
"Yeah, thanks."
They kissed for a while more, a lazy drag of lips and tongues. Then Patrick pulled back and said, "I got a package today."
Dirty grinned. "Another microphone?"
Patrick smacked him lightly on the back of the thigh and was startled when he winced and made a pain sound. "What did you do this time?"
"Sparta," Dirty groaned.
Patrick looked puzzled. "What?"
"Pete. With a skipping rope."
"Is Sparta?"
"Never mind," Dirty said and buried his face in Patrick's neck. "What did you get?"
"Get up and take your cloths off, and I'll show you."
Dirty's head shot up. "Oh, it's that kind of package." He leered, but followed instructions.
Patrick dug the slim wooden case out of the bottom of his dirty laundry bag while Dirty stripped. They needed to stop buying sex toys while on tour; he was running out of places where Pete wouldn't find them. He handed Dirty the box and turned him around to inspect the loop-shaped welts decorating his back and thigh. He ran his hands over the purpling marks, pressing his fingertips into the worst of the bruising, and Dirty hissed and fumbled the clasp on the case. He got it open and stared at the set of slim, j-shaped metal rods. "Are these what I think they are?"
"If what you think they are is sounds, then yeah."
"And you want to stick them in my dick?"
"Uh huh."
Dirty flashed him a grin over his shoulder. "Can we try them now?"
"That was kinda the plan, yeah. If you want to."
"Fuck yeah." Patrick pinched the welt on his thigh. "Ow!"
"Alright, give me those and turn around."
Patrick went to his knees as Dirty turned and handed him the sounds, and he noticed the welt wrapping around the front of Dirty's right thigh for the fist time. He took his hat off to lean in and licked it, then bit down hard. Dirty cried out and his cock, which had been hovering at half-mast, came to full attention. Patrick still felt guilty, at times, about eroticising some of the stupid shit Pete did, but fuck, that was hot. He wrapped his hand around Dirty's cock and ran his tongue up the underside to swirl around the head.
"Fuck, Patrick," Dirty gasped. "What about--? Aren't you going to--?" He waved vaguely in the direction of the spot on the floor where Patrick had put down the case of sounds.
"Yes, but I can't do it while you're hard," Patrick said and closed his mouth around Dirty's cock. His tongue traced the familiar flair of the head and he felt Dirty's fingers run over his bald spot to tangle in the hair at the back of his head. He shivered and reached down with one hand to adjust the hard-on in his jeans while the other pumped Dirty's cock in time with the slide of his lips.
He took Dirty deeper into his mouth and moved the hand from Dirty's cock down to fondle his balls. His thumb caressed the burn scar there and Dirty hissed, his head falling back. He rocked forwards and Patrick let him fuck his mouth for a few strokes before grabbing his hips to hold him still. He hummed a couple bars of Thnks fr th Mmrs, just to be mean, and Dirty came down his throat with a choked-off curse.
After a minute Dirty tried to glare down at Patrick but the post-orgasmic glow was working against him. "I hate you a lot sometimes."
Patrick smirked up at him. "I know."
He kissed Dirty's belly, then stood and pushed him back onto the bed. He picked up the case of sounds and sat down beside him. He took the thinnest sound from the set and traced the head of Dirty's spent cock with it, teasing at the opening. He bit his lip and started to insert the sound.
Dirty whimpered. "Oh, oh fuck."
Patrick froze and looked up. "Did that hurt? It's not supposed to hurt."
"No, no, just-- still sensitive."
"You'll tell me if your not ok."
Dirty nodded frantically. "Keep going."
Patrick turned his attention back to the cock in his hand. He slid the sound a little further in and, oh wow, he could see the bulge on the underside where it was opening up the channel. He put his thumb along the ridge there and, god, he could feel the hard steel through the flesh of Dirty's cock, could feel it moving inside as he pulled it out a bit and pushed it back in deeper. There was a bit of resistance when he reached the body wall, and then it was in, the end curving up to nestle inside Dirty's body. He moved the sound gently back and forth and Dirty shuddered as the metal stimulated his prostate from the inside.
Supporting the sound with one hand, Patrick grabbed the lube from under the pillow. Dirty laughed at him a little breathlessly as he tried to get the fingers of his free hand lubed up one-handed, but quickly shut up when Patrick wiggled the sound.
Dirty spread his legs as Patrick reached behind his balls to stroke his entrance. He slid one finger in, then a second, feeling around for-there. Dirty chanted "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" as Patrick's fingers found his prostate from that side, pushing it gently against the rigid metal of the sound. He added a third finger, stretching him as he continued the dual assault, massaging his prostate between fingers and sound. Dirty's ass clenched around his fingers and Patrick's cock twitched in response, reminding him that he'd been hard for a really long fucking time and was wearing really restricting pants. Suddenly he had to get inside Dirty's ass as soon as possible.
Dirty moaned as Patrick pulled his fingers out and moved between his legs. It seemed to take an eternity of torture to slowly and carefully remove the sound from Dirty's cock, but then it was out and Patrick could use both hands to yank his jeans open and slick up his cock. He held Dirty's ass open and thrust inside. Dirty arched beneath him, legs coming up to wrap around his waist, hands clutching at his t-shirt. He tugged Patrick's shirt up over his head and tossed it across the room. Then Patrick was moving, thrusting hard. There was no way he was going to last much longer at this point, but thankfully, Dirty was right there with him. Dirty's ass clenched down hard around Patrick and he cried out as cum shot through his sensitized cock. Patrick's own orgasm quickly followed and he collapsed on top of Dirty, panting.
They stayed like that until Dirty made a complaining sound and batted at the jeans Patrick was still mostly wearing. Patrick wiggled out of his pants and used his underwear to wipe them clean, then pulled the covers up over them both. Just as he was falling asleep he heard the bus engine start up and they were moving again, heading east.
Author: wilde_stallyn
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1450
Pairing: Patrick/Dirty
Prompt:: Sounding, for sosodirty
Author's Note: Last spring I got hit between the eyes with the idea for an epic Patrick/Dirty story set around the footage from Release the Bats. This is not that story nor can I promise that that story will ever be written. This is a little day-in-the-life sequel to that story set a couple of years down the line around the HCT tour videos. If you feel like you're missing any of the references in this, go watch the **** Live DVD, particularly the bits from Kansas City and Council Bluffs. It's all from there, except the bit about the flatiron, which is from here.
Summary:
"Are these what I think they are?"
"If what you think they are is sounds, then yeah."
"And you want to stick them in my dick?"
"Uh huh."
Patrick sat down on the couch in their dressing room in an arena somewhere in Iowa and opened his laptop. He heard Dirty scream from down the hall, then laughter as the MacBook booted, followed by, "Stop! Stop, seriously, that could really hurt me! Stop it!" and more screaming.
Patrick sighed, put his headphones firmly over his ears and opened GarageBand. He was going to get this Cobra album started today if it fucking killed him.
* * *
Patrick was shutting everything down to head to sound check when Pete came in and draped himself over Patrick's shoulders. "So, how goes it on the Gay Sex Bus?"
Pete and Joe were insisting that Patrick and Andy had their own bus not because Patrick didn't want to deal with Hemmy and Andy refused to put up with Joe's pot smoke, but so that they, Pete and Joe, didn't have to listen to Patrick and Dirty and Andy and Matt have sex this tour.
Patrick looked at him with a raised eyebrow and smirked. "It's going to be going very well in the near future if you didn't damage any important bits this time."
Pete gave him his best "Who, me?" face. No, Patrick was never going to forgive him for the testicles-in-the-flatiron incident.
Patrick rolled his eyes, grabbed Pete and dragged him off the couch. "Come on, sound check."
* * *
Patrick collapsed onto the bed in the back of the bus after the show that night and closed his eyes for a few moments until he heard someone else on the bus stairs. Dirty closed the door as he came into the back room and crawled on top of Patrick, letting all of his weight drop onto Patrick's chest. Patrick said, "Oof," but kissed him when he raised his chin.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"Good show."
"Yeah, thanks."
They kissed for a while more, a lazy drag of lips and tongues. Then Patrick pulled back and said, "I got a package today."
Dirty grinned. "Another microphone?"
Patrick smacked him lightly on the back of the thigh and was startled when he winced and made a pain sound. "What did you do this time?"
"Sparta," Dirty groaned.
Patrick looked puzzled. "What?"
"Pete. With a skipping rope."
"Is Sparta?"
"Never mind," Dirty said and buried his face in Patrick's neck. "What did you get?"
"Get up and take your cloths off, and I'll show you."
Dirty's head shot up. "Oh, it's that kind of package." He leered, but followed instructions.
Patrick dug the slim wooden case out of the bottom of his dirty laundry bag while Dirty stripped. They needed to stop buying sex toys while on tour; he was running out of places where Pete wouldn't find them. He handed Dirty the box and turned him around to inspect the loop-shaped welts decorating his back and thigh. He ran his hands over the purpling marks, pressing his fingertips into the worst of the bruising, and Dirty hissed and fumbled the clasp on the case. He got it open and stared at the set of slim, j-shaped metal rods. "Are these what I think they are?"
"If what you think they are is sounds, then yeah."
"And you want to stick them in my dick?"
"Uh huh."
Dirty flashed him a grin over his shoulder. "Can we try them now?"
"That was kinda the plan, yeah. If you want to."
"Fuck yeah." Patrick pinched the welt on his thigh. "Ow!"
"Alright, give me those and turn around."
Patrick went to his knees as Dirty turned and handed him the sounds, and he noticed the welt wrapping around the front of Dirty's right thigh for the fist time. He took his hat off to lean in and licked it, then bit down hard. Dirty cried out and his cock, which had been hovering at half-mast, came to full attention. Patrick still felt guilty, at times, about eroticising some of the stupid shit Pete did, but fuck, that was hot. He wrapped his hand around Dirty's cock and ran his tongue up the underside to swirl around the head.
"Fuck, Patrick," Dirty gasped. "What about--? Aren't you going to--?" He waved vaguely in the direction of the spot on the floor where Patrick had put down the case of sounds.
"Yes, but I can't do it while you're hard," Patrick said and closed his mouth around Dirty's cock. His tongue traced the familiar flair of the head and he felt Dirty's fingers run over his bald spot to tangle in the hair at the back of his head. He shivered and reached down with one hand to adjust the hard-on in his jeans while the other pumped Dirty's cock in time with the slide of his lips.
He took Dirty deeper into his mouth and moved the hand from Dirty's cock down to fondle his balls. His thumb caressed the burn scar there and Dirty hissed, his head falling back. He rocked forwards and Patrick let him fuck his mouth for a few strokes before grabbing his hips to hold him still. He hummed a couple bars of Thnks fr th Mmrs, just to be mean, and Dirty came down his throat with a choked-off curse.
After a minute Dirty tried to glare down at Patrick but the post-orgasmic glow was working against him. "I hate you a lot sometimes."
Patrick smirked up at him. "I know."
He kissed Dirty's belly, then stood and pushed him back onto the bed. He picked up the case of sounds and sat down beside him. He took the thinnest sound from the set and traced the head of Dirty's spent cock with it, teasing at the opening. He bit his lip and started to insert the sound.
Dirty whimpered. "Oh, oh fuck."
Patrick froze and looked up. "Did that hurt? It's not supposed to hurt."
"No, no, just-- still sensitive."
"You'll tell me if your not ok."
Dirty nodded frantically. "Keep going."
Patrick turned his attention back to the cock in his hand. He slid the sound a little further in and, oh wow, he could see the bulge on the underside where it was opening up the channel. He put his thumb along the ridge there and, god, he could feel the hard steel through the flesh of Dirty's cock, could feel it moving inside as he pulled it out a bit and pushed it back in deeper. There was a bit of resistance when he reached the body wall, and then it was in, the end curving up to nestle inside Dirty's body. He moved the sound gently back and forth and Dirty shuddered as the metal stimulated his prostate from the inside.
Supporting the sound with one hand, Patrick grabbed the lube from under the pillow. Dirty laughed at him a little breathlessly as he tried to get the fingers of his free hand lubed up one-handed, but quickly shut up when Patrick wiggled the sound.
Dirty spread his legs as Patrick reached behind his balls to stroke his entrance. He slid one finger in, then a second, feeling around for-there. Dirty chanted "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" as Patrick's fingers found his prostate from that side, pushing it gently against the rigid metal of the sound. He added a third finger, stretching him as he continued the dual assault, massaging his prostate between fingers and sound. Dirty's ass clenched around his fingers and Patrick's cock twitched in response, reminding him that he'd been hard for a really long fucking time and was wearing really restricting pants. Suddenly he had to get inside Dirty's ass as soon as possible.
Dirty moaned as Patrick pulled his fingers out and moved between his legs. It seemed to take an eternity of torture to slowly and carefully remove the sound from Dirty's cock, but then it was out and Patrick could use both hands to yank his jeans open and slick up his cock. He held Dirty's ass open and thrust inside. Dirty arched beneath him, legs coming up to wrap around his waist, hands clutching at his t-shirt. He tugged Patrick's shirt up over his head and tossed it across the room. Then Patrick was moving, thrusting hard. There was no way he was going to last much longer at this point, but thankfully, Dirty was right there with him. Dirty's ass clenched down hard around Patrick and he cried out as cum shot through his sensitized cock. Patrick's own orgasm quickly followed and he collapsed on top of Dirty, panting.
They stayed like that until Dirty made a complaining sound and batted at the jeans Patrick was still mostly wearing. Patrick wiggled out of his pants and used his underwear to wipe them clean, then pulled the covers up over them both. Just as he was falling asleep he heard the bus engine start up and they were moving again, heading east.