I'd Be Lying If I Said It Didn't Mean A Thing [3/?]

[xxfobxclndstnxx]

Title: I'd Be Lying If I Said It Didn't Mean A Thing
Author: Me
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Patrick/Pete
Warning: Dubious consent
Beta: rainydays05
Summary: Patrick is certain that he's not gay. Pete, on the other hand, can't exactly say the same thing - when he's drunk, that is. Patrick is quick to find this out and soon becomes the target of Pete's drunken sexual energy. Pete takes it one step too far and Patrick ends up having about all he can take.

Part One, Part Two


I tried to keep my distance from Pete for awhile after the little incident that happened in my car. It wasn’t really that I was mad at him, per se; I just simply wanted to keep my distance from him until I decided to stop being childish about it. I mean, sure, he did stupid shit that pissed me off all the time, but this…this was definitely worth the silent treatment. Because, you know, we were so totally in grade school again.

It actually took him a long time to figure out that I just didn’t want to talk to him. Of course, once he finally did, he called me a million times a day, asking what was up. I would usually say, “Nothing,” and that would be the extent of the conversation.

Apparently he didn’t realize that this also meant that I didn’t want to be around him either, especially when he was drunk.

After about a week of avoiding him, he started to take the hint and let me have my space for awhile. He hung out with a lot of the other Decaydance bands, and it seemed as though all they ever did was go out and get wasted. I couldn’t count the number of drunken phone calls I’d gotten from him, describing in perfect detail all the dirty things he’d do to me if he was here, forcing me to blush, stutter out a lame excuse to hang up, and somehow find the willpower not to jerk off to the mental images he’d put in my head; how the fuck I managed that, I have no idea.

But then, one night while he was in Chicago instead of New York or Cali or Vegas or wherever the hell he’d been the past few days, I was invited to a party at Beckett’s house. Naturally, I declined, knowing that there would be drinking and Pete, and I didn’t want to be around when the two were mixed together.

So, instead, I stayed home alone, fooling around on GarageBand until I got bored and went to bed. My sleep was soon cut short by various loud noises coming from downstairs. Or perhaps from outside…

Curious, I slipped out of bed and shuffled sleepily down the stairs until I reached the bottom, treading over to the front door. I stood up on my tip-toes as I tried to look out the peep hole, letting out an irritated groan when I realized that I was just short of reaching it.

Groaning, I swung open the wooden door, only to come face to face with Pete Wentz himself. He was shaking the handle of the screen door violently as he tried to open it, practically trying to yank it out of its hinges. “What the fuck are you doing?” I huffed in irritation.

“’S locked!” he wailed, kicking the door with the toe of his shoe.

“Hey, knock it off!” I screamed at him. “I know you’re drunk, Pete, so just go the fuck home.”

“I can’t, Sisky dropped me off and I don’t want to walk by myself in the dark and I just want to stay with you and…please let me in, Tricky, I promise I’ll be good.”

I stared at him for a good minute or two, actually feeling sympathetic for him as I studied the desperate look on his face. Then I remembered what would happen if I let him in. “No, Wentz, and that’s final. I’ll take you home if you want, but you’re not staying here.”

He nodded his head vigorously, which I assumed meant he was willing to let me drive him home. I opened the door and, right as I was about to step outside, the little bastard flew right past me and into the house, nearly knocking me on my ass.

“Son of a bitch,” I growled under my breath, chasing after him.

He sprinted into the living room, miraculously keeping his balance as he ran around and around the couch with me right on his heels the whole time, before taking off towards the stairs. I snatched his waist as he started up the first one, tugging him back down and slamming him on the floor.

“Listen to me,” I said harshly, pinning his arms above his head as he squirmed beneath me. “I don’t want you here. I don’t want to be around you when you’re like this. You’re obnoxious and you get on my nerves and I never know what the fuck you’re going to do next. So I suggest you stop being an immature little prick and get your fucking ass in the car right now. Got it?”

His expression changed to one of hurt, his glazed-over eyes searching mine, and for a second, I thought he was about to cry. “I can’t leave, Lunchbox, I want to stay here…with you. I love you.” Then he reached his head up and pressed his lips to mine, and oh god, how I’d missed the feel of them against my own, so warm and soft and inviting and…

Wait, what?

“Pete, n-no, don’t…please, don’t start this again. I…I-I just…I can’t. I can’t let you do this.”

“Do what?” he whispered, rubbing his thumb across my cheek before taking my face in his hands, planting another kiss on my lips. “I just want to love you.”

I closed my eyes, slowly letting myself start to give into him he kissed me with as much passion as he could muster while drunk. They opened when I realized what this was going to lead to, what I couldn’t let it lead to, and I scrambled to my feet as fast as possible.

“I, no, we shouldn’t, this would be bad, very bad, so let’s just… Look, I guess you can sleep here, whatever, but you have to sleep on the couch and you’re not allowed to go anywhere near those stairs, understand?”

He nodded weakly and extended a hand for me to help him up. I pulled him to his feet and pointed to the couch, giving him a strict look, and he reluctantly plopped down on the cushions. I then switched off all the lights and, turning back to shoot him one last stern look so as to say ‘stay put,’ climbed up the stairs to my room.

I hadn’t even reached my bedroom when the guilt started to set in. I mean, sure, he was drunk and had just kissed me, yet I still felt bad that I was making him sleep downstairs by himself. Shaking my head, I opened the door to my room and crawled into bed, pulling the blankets over me.

Blankets. Pete doesn’t have any blankets. Or a pillow, besides the couch cushion. I can’t let him sleep without blankets and a pillow.

I rolled right back out of bed and strode across the room towards my closet, taking out an extra blanket and pillow from inside. I tucked the blanket and pillow underneath my arm as I headed down the stairs once more, trailing into the living room where Pete was laying on his side the couch, curled up in a little ball.

I smiled halfheartedly at him as I placed the blanket on top of him, tucking it in around his body, and slipped the pillow underneath his head. His eyes remained shut, and I couldn’t help but to wonder how he was so out of it already, but I didn’t question it, was just glad that he was asleep.

I crossed the room, starting towards the kitchen to get a drink before I went to sleep (for real this time), and took a bottle of water out of the fridge. I had just taken a quick swig and hastily stuck it back in the refrigerator door when I was pounced on from behind, sending me toppling over to the floor.

I knew it was Pete, obviously, and further inspection by cranking my neck up at the attacker verified my assumption. “Pete! What the hell?!” I screeched, flailing my body around in a desperate attempt to escape him.

“You really thought I’d let you get away from me that easily?” he breathed in my ear, using his “sexy voice,” which I sure as hell hoped sounded a lot better when he wasn’t drunk.

I wasn’t exactly sure what to say to that, so I just kept struggling beneath him, kicking my arms and legs as he held me down. I was just about to give up when I finally broke free, causing him to fall backwards onto the kitchen floor.

No sooner had I jumped to my feet than I found myself thrown against the counter of the island, trapped as he shoved his hips into mine and grabbed my waist. “Pete, just let me go,” I whined pitifully, pushing his chest away from me.

He didn’t reply, but began placing rough, sloppy kisses upon my neck, biting my skin a little as he snaked his hands up underneath my shirt. I shuddered at the contact, the feeling of his teeth nipping at my skin, and closed my eyes, feeling all control slipping farther and farther away from me. He had me hooked and he knew it.

But, that was Pete Wentz for you. He always got what he wanted.

And, I knew I shouldn’t let him have his way this time, I shouldn’t stand here without fighting back as he ripped my shirt over my head, I shouldn’t love the way he kissed me and touched me and made me feel so, so good, even though it was so, so wrong.

“P-Pete,” I whimpered as I felt him pop open the button of my jeans and tug down the zipper, opening my eyes to find that he’d also lost his shirt at some point or another.

“Sssshhh,” he attempted to hush me, but mostly just sent spit flying everywhere.

I let out a sharp gasp and allowed my eyes to flutter closed again as he pressed his palm against my crotch, lightly dusting his fingers along my cock through my boxers. A moan of pleasure escaped my lips as he gave my dick a firm squeeze before sliding my boxers down past my hips.

“Pete,” I squeaked out, jerking my hips towards him as he took me in his grasp again, hands hot against my skin. I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth, forcing back a moan as he began stroking me slowly, gradually picking up speed with each movement.

Hands fumbling, he clumsily undid his jeans as well, shoving them away from his waist. I couldn’t help but to blush at the sight of his thick cock, noticing for the first time just how hard he was. He caught me staring and smirked at me, closing the gap between our lips. “Like what you see?” he teased me, digging his erection into my thigh.

My blush deepened as I looked away, shaking my head. “Don’t lie,” he murmured, trailing his lips along the side of my neck. “You know you do.”

I shivered slightly, smashing my lips back into his to get him to just shut up. He pushed back forcefully, thrusting his hips into mine, our hardened flesh rubbing together. “Jesusfuck, Pete,” I panted breathily, pressing back against him with an equal force.

He groaned, taking my bottom lip between his teeth, pressing his fingers into my hips. “H-Hey P-P-Pete,” I gulped, stuttering. “A-Are you, um…are you s-sure we should be d-doing this?”

“Of course,” he said quietly as he ran his thumb across the tip of my cock, causing me to gasp a little at this sudden contact and buck my hips sharply. “You know I love you.”

“I know, I know you do,” I whined, grabbing at the countertop for support. “But just…not in that way.”

“Says who?” He gripped tightly onto my cock and gave me a few rough tugs, and I threw my head back as I let out a loud moan. I swallowed hard, choosing not to keep this small talk going and just letting this thing continue, no matter how much my heart kept telling me to end it. But, my cock was telling me otherwise, and we all know which one is probably going to win in that situation.

And then, Pete was grinding into me, full of assertiveness and aggression, and it was obvious to me that I wouldn’t be able to stop him even if I wanted to. “What the fuck!” I half-screamed, half-squeaked, as he snaked a hand behind me, first finger probing at my entrance.

“Mmm, Trick, you’re so tight and warm, I just want to fuck you so bad,” he growled in my ear as he shoved his finger in deeper.

“P-Pete!” I shrieked, not sure how to handle this sudden intrusion.

The next thing I knew, he had me turned around towards the counter and lined himself up before starting to push into me. “Ahhh! Pete, st-stop, what are you doing?!” I asked in disbelief, elbowing him in the ribs.

He immediately pulled away, giving me a confused look. “Don’t you want this?”

And, wow, I honestly didn’t know how to answer that question. I stared him in the eyes, knowing what he wanted me to say, but I just couldn’t bring myself to come right out and say it. “Sh-Shouldn’t you at least…you know…use some lube or something? And…work me open…or…whatever?”

I was sure I was blushing because, seriously, I was actually about to have sex with my best friend, and I had no idea how this ever even came close to happening. Oh yeah. Because I’m an idiot who can’t say no to the guy.

“Right, right,” he nodded, licking his lips. He glanced around briefly before running over and snatching up a bottle of lotion from the coffee table in the living room, bringing it back over to me in all of about five seconds.

I gnawed on my bottom lip, watching with slight terror as he pumped the lotion into his hand, slicking up his fingers. “…M-Maybe we should use some real lube, Pete,” I warned him cautiously. “Lotion might sting or something.”

He shook his head as he traced a circle around my entrance. “You’ll be fine, trust me.”

I let out a deep breath, nodding, doing my best not to cringe as he pressed a finger inside of me. Instead, I squeaked and jumped up, not even caring how much of an idiot I must look. “Ow, ow, Pete, no, stop, it burns, like really bad.”

“Shhh, it’s ok, it’ll get better,” he assured me, sliding in another finger. I cried out, eyes watering, the stinging sensation nearly too much for me to handle. Then he pushed in yet another, already twisting and curling and scissoring, stretching me open much too fast, and all I could do was sob heavily and hope to god he was right about it getting better.

“P-Please, can’t you just…go a little slower?” I begged him, legs shaking as I leaned on the countertop.

“No, I can’t, I’m so ready for you, Tricky,” he whispered as he withdrew his fingers and grabbed my hips, hard enough to surely leave bruises, pressing the head of his cock against my entrance as he prepared to push in.

“Wait, wait, what about a condom?” I reminded him, desperate to try and slow him down.

“C’mon, Lunchbox, don’t make me wait any longer,” he said gruffly. “It’ll be alright.”

I hung my head, nodding feebly, letting him bend me over the top of the island. The marble was cool against my skin, the sweat from my arms and palms causing me slide a little as he shoved into me none too gently. “Pete!” I keened, tears springing up in my eyes again, my knees going weak.

His cock was hot inside of me and I could feel it every time it pulsated, which felt kind of…strange, but not bad. On the other hand, it was clear to me that he hadn’t done a near good enough job of working me open, and it felt like he was practically ripping me apart with each thrust.

“I-I don’t, Pete, please, not…n-not so hard, I’ve never does this before and it…I’m not used to it yet,” I pleaded, muscles trembling, doing my best to keep from getting slammed into the side of the island as he bottomed out repeatedly.

“Fuck, Patrick, you really need to learn to just stop talking, you know that?” he muttered huskily. “God, you’re so fucking tight, so warm, can’t believe we’ve never done this before.”

He was downright pounding into me now, and I wasn’t even so sure that I wanted this at all anymore. This wasn’t how I thought it would be; he wasn’t being gentle and he wasn’t making sure it was good for me and he wasn’t even worried about what I wanted.

And, really, at that moment, all I wanted was for it to be over.

“Jesus fucking Christ, babe, you feel so good, my god,” he moaned out, letting go of my hips and grasping onto the edge of the countertop to brace himself.

But all I could think was I wish I could say the same and Please, please, tell me it’s almost over, but it didn’t stop. “You know, I really don’t-” I started to say, but it instantly turned to a soft groan when he took hold of my cock, fist pumping me in rhythm with his thrusts.

Normally this would’ve driven me insane and I possibly would’ve lost it, but all I could concentrate on was how bad it hurt every time he so much as moved. My muscles ached, my skin burned around him, my body felt exhausted, and the way he was barreling into me so vigorously wasn’t helping any.

Sweat began drenching my forehead as I clenched tighter around him, caught between urging him to keep going in hopes that I would come soon and forcing him away because it still stung like hell; the latter seemed more reasonable because I was fairly sure it wasn’t going to get any better since he was even more forceful than he’d been when he first started, but I knew I didn’t have it in me to make him stop.

He picked up more speed, movements starting to grow sloppy, but I didn’t mind at this point, just wanted to hurry the hell up and get off. I was hoping it wouldn’t take long since, you know, it was Pete and this was it and his hand did feel so fucking good around me. But at the same time, it was painful and not what I’d wanted at all and as desperate as I was to come and for this to be over and done with, I just…couldn’t. It simply wasn’t enough.

Apparently, that wasn’t the case for Pete.

I knew he was close by the way his thrusts became even more rapid and uneven, his hand jerking me off wildly and out of sync, and it wasn’t much longer before I felt him come deep inside me. “Fuck!” he grunted, hips starting to rock into mine more slowly and shallowly as he rode out his orgasm.

I was left bent over the top of the island, hoping, praying, that I, too, would get to experience that same release soon, or else I’d probably say ‘fuck it’ and give up. It was Pete, though, and I knew he wasn’t going to let that happen - not a chance in hell.

He continued to pump in and out of me as he stroked my cock faster, harder, determined to get me off. I wanted to, I was dying to end this thing, but it really just wasn’t happening for me. He’d pretty much ruined it since the beginning and it really just felt like he was tearing me open, and I wasn’t sure if just jacking me off would be enough when it was this unpleasant.

But, he sure as hell was persistent and obviously not giving up anytime soon, so I knew all I could really do was at least try to somewhat enjoy it. I rested my forehead on the smooth countertop, my body beginning to grow weary, and thrust up fervently in time with his hand, eyes squeezing shut as I nearly cried from how much I wanted this to stop.

Sure enough, I felt the familiar tingling sensation in my cock and was contracting around him a few moments later, the feeling of him inside me and his hand around me finally sending me over the edge. In reality, it wasn’t as pleasurable as I thought it’d be; the pain still wasn’t much better and I couldn’t get over the fact that this wasn’t the way I’d pictured it.

Regardless of whether it was as enjoyable as I’d hoped or not, it was still an orgasm, and I couldn’t keep my eyes from rolling up in the back of my head, my jaw going slack, as I came all over the side of the island. That definitely wasn’t something I was looking forward to cleaning up.

I knew he expected me to moan or scream or say his name or something, but no. I merely whimpered, choking out one last strangled sob of relief that it had finally ended. I winced as he pulled out of me and spun me around, giving me a confused look as I pushed him away while he tried to draw me into a kiss.

I shook my head, tugging my boxers and pants back up and pulling my shirt over my head after locating it on the floor. He did the same, not sure what was going on, and watched with a concerned expression as I wiped away the few stray tears that had escaped my eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, running a hand down the side of my face.

Forcing a smile, I shook my head again, this time letting him kiss me as he pressed his lips to mine. I blinked back tears, unable to bring myself to tell him what was really on my mind. This was what I’d wanted, after all, whether I would ever admit it or not. Plus, you know what they say.

Beggars can’t be choosers.

He laced his fingers with mine, bringing my hand up to his lips and kissing my knuckles before leading me up the stairs. I followed him over to the bed, crawling in behind him as he motioned for me to lie down next to him.

I drew the blankets over me and sank down into the bed, rolling over on my side away from him and shutting my eyes tight. I’d never felt so exposed and vulnerable in my life and god only knows what this mean for our friendship and for what? One night of sex that, once I saw what it was actually like, I wished I could take back?

I jumped when I felt his arm drape over my waist, breaking me out of my thoughts, and allowed him to roll me over onto my other side. He tipped my chin up, making our lips meet, before holding me close to him.

“Hey Patrick,” he murmured in my ear, sending shivers down my spine, “you, um…you…you really did want this, right?”

I sighed, looking up into his eyes as they glimmered with hope. Or maybe that glassy appearance was just a result of the alcohol. “Yeah,” I whispered quietly. “I did…just…just not…not exactly…yeah, I did.”

He grinned and kissed me once more before snuggling up against me, breath warming my chest through my shirt. I hesitantly wrapped my arms around him, still unsure about this whole thing, and ran timid fingers through his jet-black hair.

“But, um…you’re…you’re going to, uh…you’re still going to be here in the morning when I wake up…right?” I asked worriedly.

“Of course,” he mumbled, voice muffled by my chest.

I let out a deep breath, relieved by his answer, and rested my head against his. “Oh, and, um, Pete? I’m still not gay or anything.”

“I know, buddy.”

We both laid there in silence, and I couldn’t help but to feel a bit awkward. I’d always been so sure of my sexuality and knew I was straight, but now I couldn’t help but to wonder…was I gay?

I did just have sex with another dude and, I mean, sure, it wasn’t exactly how I’d expected it to be, but is it ever? Plus, Pete was drunk and maybe he’d only acted this way because of the alcohol. Perhaps next time, when he was sober…

What am I thinking? There can’t be a next time. There won’t be a next time. Pete was just drunk. He doesn’t love you like that and he never will.

It was a little while later when I heard him say, “Tricky?”

“Yeah?” I replied, tone hushed, wondering what it could possibly be.

“I love you.”

I let my eyes drift closed as I tried to think of what to say. I knew what I wanted to say. I knew what I should say.

All that came out, though, was, “I know.”

And, ok, that would do, I suppose, and he was satisfied with it. But it wasn’t what I’d meant to say. Gay, straight, bi, whatever, I knew the way I felt about him.

I love you, too.