I'd Be Lying If I Said It Didn't Mean A Thing [1/(?)]
Title: I'd Be Lying If I Said It Didn't Mean A Thing
Author: Me
Rating: R
Pairing: Patrick/Pete
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.
Lots of love to my beta, rainydays05.
I've never written anything like this before, so I hope it's not too terrible. I would really appreciate comments and constructive criticism.
Everyone knew that Pete Wentz was cocky.
It was just so obvious by the glint in his eyes when a cute girl smiled at him that he just assumed that she wanted him. He would roll with it, too, flirting back just to see how far she would take it. Not just girls, though - no, the whole media was well aware of his “above the belt” rule. It was just a joke, really, some of his off the wall antics to get as much attention as possible.
They all had their suspicions that he and I actually had something going on, but it simply wasn’t true. Sure, he kissed me plenty of times on stage, but always on the neck or cheek. It’s not like it meant a thing, we were just being stupid. I would pretend to be pissed about it, he would crack some joke, and then we would laugh it all off like it was nothing.
And, yes, Pete was cocky, but his real friends knew that it was all an act. Beneath his thick skin was a shy and self-conscious guy that the rest of the world knew nothing about. Even after all the years I’d known him, I was positive that he wouldn’t ever have enough courage to come onto me even if he wanted to; he wasn’t that cocky.
Until that night when I was pretty sure that he was coming onto me.
The day had started out like any other: Pete called me that afternoon and told me to come over to his house to hang, we watched a movie and played some video games, and he showed me a few lyrics. We headed on over to A&K that night and shared a few drinks with our friends, and I sang a bit of karaoke.
I stopped drinking when I was slightly buzzed, but Pete downed drink after drink until he was as rowdy and obnoxious as the rest of the wasted people in the club. The loud, thumping music soon became too much for me to handle, making my head light and dizzy, so I found Pete and told him that I was going back on home. I knew he shouldn’t be driving and therefore offered him a ride, but he just looked at me through glazed eyes and told me he could handle it. His slurred voice wasn’t all that convincing, but he was Pete Wentz, and Pete Wentz was stubborn and would always get his way.
And, so, I weaved my way through the people until I stepped outside into the cool, crisp evening, shoving my hands in my pockets as I found the way to my car. I was glad that Pete and I had driven separate, so I wouldn’t have to wait all night until he was ready to leave. I’m sure they all considered me the wet blanket for wanting to go home early, but I was hot and sweaty and had had about all of the excitement I could handle for one night; really, I just wanted to take a cold shower and go to bed.
I jiggled my key around in the lock of my house until it was open and flicked on the lights as I entered the foyer. I sighed as I ventured farther into the house, noting how quiet and empty it was. You’d think that I’d be used to being alone all the time, my home much too big for just one person, but I still wasn’t okay with sleeping by myself every night. I was lonely and wanted nothing more than somebody to love, somebody to making me happy and keep me company. But, that seemed a bit far off at this point.
After taking a quick shower and running a towel over my wet body, I slipped into a pair of checkered boxers and a plain grey t-shirt before crawling into bed. I pulled the blankets up to my chin, curling up in a little ball, and gently closed my eyes.
I was ripped away from sleep a few hours later when I heard a loud clattering sound coming from across the room. My eyes instantly shot open and I slowly rose up in my bed, rubbing my eyes as I gazed at the dark outline of the figure coming towards me. I was too shocked to scream when they suddenly dove onto the bed, but I let out a sigh of both relief and irritation when I saw that it was just Pete.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I huffed in annoyance as he kicked off his shoes, nearly tripping in the process, and climbed into the bed beside me.
“Mmm, I missed you, Tricky,” he mumbled, voice slurring a little, and planted a sloppy kiss on my cheek as he cuddled up against me. “I had Gabe drop me off here.”
“Oh. Well, whatever, just-” I stopped when he rolled over on top of me, straddling my hips, and looked at me with glassy eyes. And, ok, this wasn’t really all that normal when he wasn’t just goofing around on stage because he was on top of me, but I didn’t know what to say and it was totally obvious that he was still pretty much trashed. “Pete, can you get off of me, you’re kind of-”
He cut me off by smashing his lips onto mine, the taste of alcohol instantly filling my mouth. He forced my lips open so he could shove his tongue in, exploring my whole mouth as he started to lift up my shirt. “What the fuck are you doing?!” I hissed, swatting his hands away and pushing him off of me slightly.
He stared at me again with those empty brown eyes and dug his hips down into mine. “I want you, Trick. God, you’re so pretty, I want you to fuck me so bad,” he murmured and reached down to trail a line of wet kisses across my neck.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not gay!” I objected persistently, trying to be stern, but I just couldn’t bring myself to make him get off of me. “Y-You just…you don’t know what you’re doing…you’re drunk. This would be wrong. Just…just sleep it off or something. I can take you home, if you want.”
“No, I just want to stay here with you,” he argued and attacked my lips with his again. I knew it was wrong because he was drunk and not in the right state of mind for this, but god, the feeling of his lips against mine felt so good. What am I saying? I’m not gay! Especially not with Pete. He’s my best friend. I couldn’t help it, though, it was Pete and I’d always known him and he’d been my best friend forever; I was safe with him. Besides, kissing a guy didn’t make me gay…it was just…an experiment. That’s right, an experiment, that’s all it was. It’s not like we would ever do it again.
So, I kissed him back, and I must admit, if I was going to experiment with a guy, I was glad that it was Pete. I wasn’t sure why we’d never tried this before, but I was quick to accept the fact that I was damn happy that we finally were because, fuck, even when he was drunk, he still knew how to do spectacular things with those lips.
He moaned into my mouth as I placed my hands on his hips, rubbing the tan skin underneath his shirt with the pads of my thumbs before gradually moving my hands over to run my fingers down his abs. I gasped when he started rocking our hips together, his bulge digging into my thigh, and thrust my hips up to meet his. He dusted his fingers across my thighs, his skin hot against mine, and inched them up a little ways until he reached the leg of my boxers.
I knew that this was getting way out of hand when he undid his jeans and slid them from his hips before throwing them on the floor, but I was way too far gone to stop him. He started to grind down into me once again, the beginnings of our erections rubbing together and - wait, when did I get hard for my best friend? That definitely wasn’t normal for a straight guy. But I let it carry on, grabbing onto his hair as he kissed me roughly, the friction absolutely killing me.
“Nnnnggghhh, Patrick, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered in my ear, sending shivers down my spine. I tried to convince myself that he didn’t mean it, it was just the alcohol talking, but I still couldn’t hide my blush. My body jerked as he slid a hand down in between us, taking a firm hold of me. I let out a loud groan as he began to stroke me through the thin fabric and bucked my hips up into his hand.
“Pete,” I whimpered needily, pulling his lips back to mine in an urgent kiss. I wasn’t even sure what I needed; just more heat, more contact, more Pete. Maybe I was enjoying this more than anyone should, but when the only person who’s touched your dick in months is yourself, you tend to get a little desperate.
Not quite this desperate though.
“Pete,” I said harshly, grabbing his hands as he fumbled with the waistband of my boxers, attempting to tug them from my hips. “Not…not so fast.”
“Don’t you trust me, Tricky?” he pouted.
I gulped, nodding slightly. “I do, honestly…I just…I’m not ready for that. I don’t think…I don’t think we should take it that far.” I made my voice as sure and confident as possible, but there was no doubt that I was confused as hell about this entire thing. Pete was my best friend, practically my brother, and this was all just so wrong. None of it really made sense to me, but I knew that I wasn’t going to let this happen again or even become some sort of thing.
He didn’t answer for a long time, just kept looking at me with a completely blank face. “Please don’t hate me,” I begged him quietly.
His eyes grew more compassionate as he smiled and placed a kiss on my lips. “I could never hate you,” he replied, voice soft and gentle. I smiled back as he pressed his lips to my temple and rolled off of me, wrapping me up in his arms.
I let out a deep breath as he nuzzled his face in my neck and hugged my body to his, running my fingers through his greasy, jet-black hair. I couldn’t help but to worry about what the hell would happen to our friendship after this. What if he had actual feelings for me and it wasn’t just the booze? What if he wanted a real, intimate relationship with me? What if he assumed that, since I let it go this far, we already had one?
There was still one problem with all of that.
“Hey Pete,” I murmured, poking him in the side. He stirred a little and glanced up at me lazily. “I don’t know if I mentioned this, but I’m not gay.”
“I know, buddy.”
-
I could hear the birds chirping outside my window when I awoke the next morning and yawned, stretching a bit. I flipped over onto my side and smiled at…the empty space in the bed beside me. My smile instantly faded to a frown when I realized that Pete was no longer next to me.
I pulled back the covers and slid my feet onto the floor, wandering around the house until I came to the conclusion that he must’ve called a cab or something. I guess, really, I should’ve expected this of him, but for some reason, I figured he would still be asleep in my bed when I woke up. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I knew what was going on, but he left without waking me up or leaving a note or anything. He fucking kissed me the night before - practically dry fucked me, for Christ's sake - and couldn’t even say goodbye, let alone apologize.
It’s not like it mattered anyway, because I was straight and none of this was going anywhere. I should’ve been happy about the fact that he probably realized how pointless it was and decided to take it back. The previous night was nothing but a big mistake and shouldn’t have happened. As I recalled, it had been just an experiment, and, as it turned out, even Pete Wentz wasn’t enough to turn me gay.
But, I must admit, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t mean a thing.
Author: Me
Rating: R
Pairing: Patrick/Pete
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.
Lots of love to my beta, rainydays05.
I've never written anything like this before, so I hope it's not too terrible. I would really appreciate comments and constructive criticism.
Everyone knew that Pete Wentz was cocky.
It was just so obvious by the glint in his eyes when a cute girl smiled at him that he just assumed that she wanted him. He would roll with it, too, flirting back just to see how far she would take it. Not just girls, though - no, the whole media was well aware of his “above the belt” rule. It was just a joke, really, some of his off the wall antics to get as much attention as possible.
They all had their suspicions that he and I actually had something going on, but it simply wasn’t true. Sure, he kissed me plenty of times on stage, but always on the neck or cheek. It’s not like it meant a thing, we were just being stupid. I would pretend to be pissed about it, he would crack some joke, and then we would laugh it all off like it was nothing.
And, yes, Pete was cocky, but his real friends knew that it was all an act. Beneath his thick skin was a shy and self-conscious guy that the rest of the world knew nothing about. Even after all the years I’d known him, I was positive that he wouldn’t ever have enough courage to come onto me even if he wanted to; he wasn’t that cocky.
Until that night when I was pretty sure that he was coming onto me.
The day had started out like any other: Pete called me that afternoon and told me to come over to his house to hang, we watched a movie and played some video games, and he showed me a few lyrics. We headed on over to A&K that night and shared a few drinks with our friends, and I sang a bit of karaoke.
I stopped drinking when I was slightly buzzed, but Pete downed drink after drink until he was as rowdy and obnoxious as the rest of the wasted people in the club. The loud, thumping music soon became too much for me to handle, making my head light and dizzy, so I found Pete and told him that I was going back on home. I knew he shouldn’t be driving and therefore offered him a ride, but he just looked at me through glazed eyes and told me he could handle it. His slurred voice wasn’t all that convincing, but he was Pete Wentz, and Pete Wentz was stubborn and would always get his way.
And, so, I weaved my way through the people until I stepped outside into the cool, crisp evening, shoving my hands in my pockets as I found the way to my car. I was glad that Pete and I had driven separate, so I wouldn’t have to wait all night until he was ready to leave. I’m sure they all considered me the wet blanket for wanting to go home early, but I was hot and sweaty and had had about all of the excitement I could handle for one night; really, I just wanted to take a cold shower and go to bed.
I jiggled my key around in the lock of my house until it was open and flicked on the lights as I entered the foyer. I sighed as I ventured farther into the house, noting how quiet and empty it was. You’d think that I’d be used to being alone all the time, my home much too big for just one person, but I still wasn’t okay with sleeping by myself every night. I was lonely and wanted nothing more than somebody to love, somebody to making me happy and keep me company. But, that seemed a bit far off at this point.
After taking a quick shower and running a towel over my wet body, I slipped into a pair of checkered boxers and a plain grey t-shirt before crawling into bed. I pulled the blankets up to my chin, curling up in a little ball, and gently closed my eyes.
I was ripped away from sleep a few hours later when I heard a loud clattering sound coming from across the room. My eyes instantly shot open and I slowly rose up in my bed, rubbing my eyes as I gazed at the dark outline of the figure coming towards me. I was too shocked to scream when they suddenly dove onto the bed, but I let out a sigh of both relief and irritation when I saw that it was just Pete.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I huffed in annoyance as he kicked off his shoes, nearly tripping in the process, and climbed into the bed beside me.
“Mmm, I missed you, Tricky,” he mumbled, voice slurring a little, and planted a sloppy kiss on my cheek as he cuddled up against me. “I had Gabe drop me off here.”
“Oh. Well, whatever, just-” I stopped when he rolled over on top of me, straddling my hips, and looked at me with glassy eyes. And, ok, this wasn’t really all that normal when he wasn’t just goofing around on stage because he was on top of me, but I didn’t know what to say and it was totally obvious that he was still pretty much trashed. “Pete, can you get off of me, you’re kind of-”
He cut me off by smashing his lips onto mine, the taste of alcohol instantly filling my mouth. He forced my lips open so he could shove his tongue in, exploring my whole mouth as he started to lift up my shirt. “What the fuck are you doing?!” I hissed, swatting his hands away and pushing him off of me slightly.
He stared at me again with those empty brown eyes and dug his hips down into mine. “I want you, Trick. God, you’re so pretty, I want you to fuck me so bad,” he murmured and reached down to trail a line of wet kisses across my neck.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not gay!” I objected persistently, trying to be stern, but I just couldn’t bring myself to make him get off of me. “Y-You just…you don’t know what you’re doing…you’re drunk. This would be wrong. Just…just sleep it off or something. I can take you home, if you want.”
“No, I just want to stay here with you,” he argued and attacked my lips with his again. I knew it was wrong because he was drunk and not in the right state of mind for this, but god, the feeling of his lips against mine felt so good. What am I saying? I’m not gay! Especially not with Pete. He’s my best friend. I couldn’t help it, though, it was Pete and I’d always known him and he’d been my best friend forever; I was safe with him. Besides, kissing a guy didn’t make me gay…it was just…an experiment. That’s right, an experiment, that’s all it was. It’s not like we would ever do it again.
So, I kissed him back, and I must admit, if I was going to experiment with a guy, I was glad that it was Pete. I wasn’t sure why we’d never tried this before, but I was quick to accept the fact that I was damn happy that we finally were because, fuck, even when he was drunk, he still knew how to do spectacular things with those lips.
He moaned into my mouth as I placed my hands on his hips, rubbing the tan skin underneath his shirt with the pads of my thumbs before gradually moving my hands over to run my fingers down his abs. I gasped when he started rocking our hips together, his bulge digging into my thigh, and thrust my hips up to meet his. He dusted his fingers across my thighs, his skin hot against mine, and inched them up a little ways until he reached the leg of my boxers.
I knew that this was getting way out of hand when he undid his jeans and slid them from his hips before throwing them on the floor, but I was way too far gone to stop him. He started to grind down into me once again, the beginnings of our erections rubbing together and - wait, when did I get hard for my best friend? That definitely wasn’t normal for a straight guy. But I let it carry on, grabbing onto his hair as he kissed me roughly, the friction absolutely killing me.
“Nnnnggghhh, Patrick, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered in my ear, sending shivers down my spine. I tried to convince myself that he didn’t mean it, it was just the alcohol talking, but I still couldn’t hide my blush. My body jerked as he slid a hand down in between us, taking a firm hold of me. I let out a loud groan as he began to stroke me through the thin fabric and bucked my hips up into his hand.
“Pete,” I whimpered needily, pulling his lips back to mine in an urgent kiss. I wasn’t even sure what I needed; just more heat, more contact, more Pete. Maybe I was enjoying this more than anyone should, but when the only person who’s touched your dick in months is yourself, you tend to get a little desperate.
Not quite this desperate though.
“Pete,” I said harshly, grabbing his hands as he fumbled with the waistband of my boxers, attempting to tug them from my hips. “Not…not so fast.”
“Don’t you trust me, Tricky?” he pouted.
I gulped, nodding slightly. “I do, honestly…I just…I’m not ready for that. I don’t think…I don’t think we should take it that far.” I made my voice as sure and confident as possible, but there was no doubt that I was confused as hell about this entire thing. Pete was my best friend, practically my brother, and this was all just so wrong. None of it really made sense to me, but I knew that I wasn’t going to let this happen again or even become some sort of thing.
He didn’t answer for a long time, just kept looking at me with a completely blank face. “Please don’t hate me,” I begged him quietly.
His eyes grew more compassionate as he smiled and placed a kiss on my lips. “I could never hate you,” he replied, voice soft and gentle. I smiled back as he pressed his lips to my temple and rolled off of me, wrapping me up in his arms.
I let out a deep breath as he nuzzled his face in my neck and hugged my body to his, running my fingers through his greasy, jet-black hair. I couldn’t help but to worry about what the hell would happen to our friendship after this. What if he had actual feelings for me and it wasn’t just the booze? What if he wanted a real, intimate relationship with me? What if he assumed that, since I let it go this far, we already had one?
There was still one problem with all of that.
“Hey Pete,” I murmured, poking him in the side. He stirred a little and glanced up at me lazily. “I don’t know if I mentioned this, but I’m not gay.”
“I know, buddy.”
-
I could hear the birds chirping outside my window when I awoke the next morning and yawned, stretching a bit. I flipped over onto my side and smiled at…the empty space in the bed beside me. My smile instantly faded to a frown when I realized that Pete was no longer next to me.
I pulled back the covers and slid my feet onto the floor, wandering around the house until I came to the conclusion that he must’ve called a cab or something. I guess, really, I should’ve expected this of him, but for some reason, I figured he would still be asleep in my bed when I woke up. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I knew what was going on, but he left without waking me up or leaving a note or anything. He fucking kissed me the night before - practically dry fucked me, for Christ's sake - and couldn’t even say goodbye, let alone apologize.
It’s not like it mattered anyway, because I was straight and none of this was going anywhere. I should’ve been happy about the fact that he probably realized how pointless it was and decided to take it back. The previous night was nothing but a big mistake and shouldn’t have happened. As I recalled, it had been just an experiment, and, as it turned out, even Pete Wentz wasn’t enough to turn me gay.
But, I must admit, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t mean a thing.