Of Masked Vigilantes and Public Fornication [1/1]
Note: This is not new, it is a repost. The original was posted on 5/18/08.
Title: Of Masked Vigilantes and Public Fornication
Author: periculosa
Pairing: Pete/Mikey (MCR/FOB)
Rating: Hard R
Disclaimer: Never happened!
Warnings: Semi-vivid descriptions of sexual acts, ridiculousness, crack, the improbable.
Summary: Mikey orgasms at inopportune moments, and it’s all Pete Wentz’s fault. Revenge is in order. Takes place during Warped ’05, as most things Pete/Mikey did. ~8,000 words.
Notes: This is a work of pure crack. What happened was, illuminatebelow made a post on her journal about something called sexual conditioning, and linked to this page (scroll down for the relevant part). I thought what she was saying was hilarious, and she replied to me by saying, “You know Pete did this to Mikey during Warped.” And I said, “OMG YES THAT’S PERFECT.” So, um, explanation. Basically, it’s operant conditioning in the context of the bedroom. What we’re dealing with in simple terms is a couple spicing up their sex life by using an ordinary word in conjunction with one of them having an orgasm, and having that partner, over time, associate that word with coming, and therefore essentially coming on command. Now, I tried to do some research on the subject, but there wasn’t much available from what I could find. I have no research to back this up, but I’m sure something like this would take months-if not years-to accomplish, but this fic only takes place over a couple months, since that’s what I had to work with. If that irks you, you probably shouldn’t read this, but I hope you can suspend your disbelief of the improbable in the name of amusement! That said, enjoy! Thanks to rawkenr0ll for looking this over for me, and illuminatebelow for inspiring it & encouraging me. :D
Of Masked Vigilantes and Public Fornication
Never in his life did Mikey imagine that his own brother would make him come in his pants some day. Mikey was the type to take things in stride, but this? This he couldn’t just brush off, because when a blood relative inadvertently makes you come in your pants, you know things have gone a bit too far.
And okay, maybe it isn’t entirely fair to start there, because it didn’t just happen like that. It wasn’t like, all of a sudden Mikey became inexplicably attracted to Gerard whilst simultaneously reverting back to his fourteen-year-old self who actually did stuff like that sometimes (only a couple times, okay, he wasn’t totally out of control thank you). In fact, Gerard wasn’t the first person to get such of a reaction out of Mikey. Hell, he wasn’t the first person that week. And it was all Pete Wentz’s fault. As are most things.
In retrospect, Mikey figured that Pete’s evil plan was hatched very early on Warped Tour. It must be noted that this was in fact a plan, and therefore was evil by default, because nobody would do such a thing for any reason other than their own amusement. And possibly their own sexual gratification. Because Pete was one sick fuck.
Mikey had been drawn to Pete from the beginning; there was something intoxicating about the way Mikey felt whenever Pete looked at him. He was a charismatic guy, and commanded attention whenever he so much as entered a room, and Mikey was into that. They hit it off right away.
The first couple weeks of Warped went by in a blur of hands, hips, and lips-when he and Pete weren’t on stage, they were together and usually making out. It was mostly between busses and behind towers of speakers, so they were on edge constantly, waiting to be interrupted so they could spring apart and look nonchalant, Pete fixing his hair and Mikey casually pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Regardless, it was pretty obvious what was going on to their bandmates and friends.
This was probably why the guys looked completely unsurprised the first time Mikey announced he’d be spending the night on the Fall Out Boy bus. Pete had texted him right after they’d finished their set:
hey mikeyway, what do u say we have a sleepovr. we can do eachothrs hair & share secrts xo
Which, Mikey correctly interpreted, was Pete-ese for “We should probably have sex sooner or later.” Which, yes, Mikey emphatically agreed. So he texted back:
Sure thing. Meet u at the fob bus in 10 mins.
Mikey used those ten minutes to find his bandmates, who were all really awful about checking their cell phones for messages. In fact, Mikey strongly doubted that Gerard even knew how to check his messages. He didn’t want anybody to call for a search party or some shit.
He found Bob and Frank by the catering tables, smoking and conversing casually with one of their guitar techs. Both the tech and Frank were in the middle of laughing at something Bob said when Mikey approached them. Bob looked up and blew out the side of his mouth when he heard Mikey approaching. “What’s up, Mikey?”
Mikey shrugged one shoulder. “Nothing really. I uh, just wanted to let you know I’m not coming back to the bus tonight, so don’t worry.”
“Where you going?” Frank dropped his cigarette butt on the floor and ground it out with his toe.
“I’m gonna be hanging out with Pete.” The casual tone of Mikey’s voice was not at all forced, for the record. Not in the least.
Frank promptly burst out laughing, of course. Little fucker.
“What’s so funny!” Mikey protested, firmly telling himself that he wasn’t turning red, regardless of the fact that he felt little hot prickles across his cheeks. Whatever, it was totally dark anyway.
“Nothing!” Frank hiccupped between giggles.
“I’m not allowed to make friends with a fellow bassist?”
“No, it’s fine!” Frank said, still laughing as if Mikey had a sharpied-on moustache. Mikey rubbed his upper lip. Just in case.
“Jeez Frank, leave the poor kid alone,” Bob interjected. “Like you didn’t see this coming from a mile away.”
“You know what? I’m not even going to ask. See you guys later. Oh, and tell Gee and Ray.” Mikey walked away before either of them could take another jab. Regardless of his speedy pace, however, he could still hear Frank’s shouted “Don’t forget to use protection!” God, what a little dickface.
The Fall Out Boy bus wasn’t too far away; the parking lot was pretty big, but the bigger bands were parked closer to the catering tables than the lesser known ones. It was kind of like High School, Mikey mused. Who would’ve thought he’d grow up to be a popular kid.
When Mikey got there, he knocked on the door before trying the handle. He had a fleeting, delirious thought that this felt like prom night, knocking on the chick’s door and waiting to see if she’d answer or if her scary dad would. That was when Mikey decided to ban himself from High School analogies. His brain was a scary place, as it turned out.
Thankfully, Pete answered. This was a good thing, because Mikey wasn’t sure if he was prepared to deal with a cranky, sweaty Patrick, questioning him about his intentions. Shut up, brain, Mikey thought.
Pete’s face broke out into a full eye-reaching grin once he registered that it was Mikey. His teeth were kind of ridiculous, Mikey mused. They’d be less ridiculous if they were biting his earlobe, though (shut up brain, Mikey thought again). He practically launched himself at Mikey once the door was all the way open, and Mikey found himself with an armful of Pete Wentz. Which generally wasn’t unwelcome, but it was kind of hot outside, and if they were going to be that close, he’d prefer it happened in an air-conditioned environment.
“Argh!” Mikey yelped, overcorrecting for his imbalance and very nearly falling over. He caught himself at the last minute, though. Smooth.
“Mikeyway!” Pete crowed simultaneously, essentially trying to climb Mikey like a tree. It wasn’t happening though, and Mikey needed to breathe sometime.
“Shouldn’t we go inside before you get yourself all worked up?” Mikey managed around a mouthful of Pete’s hair. Pete relinquished his death-grip slightly, and Mikey tried to surreptitiously spit out Pete’s hair gel.
“Yeah, let’s go inside,” Pete said quickly, grabbing Mikey by the wrist and yanking him in the direction of the steps. Jesus, Mikey thought, how do his friends handle him?
Mikey was dragged through the bus at hyperspeed, only having enough time to toss a quick “Hey!” over his shoulder at Patrick, Joe, and Andy before Pete was shoving him into a bunk, which Mikey could only assume was his. It was a top bunk (Mikey could have predicted this-Pete was definitely a top bunk kind of guy), so getting into it involved a lot of scrambling and banged elbows. It took only a minute before he was successfully crammed into the corner with Pete squished so close to him that Mikey’s eyes were crossing trying to focus on his face. As an afterthought, Pete turned around and yanked the curtains shut.
“Hi,” Pete said, and Mikey was pretty sure Pete was smiling at him ridiculously again.
“Hi?” Mikey wasn’t quite sure what the protocol was as far as crazed bunk sex went, so he was just following Pete’s lead at this point.
“So, uh, welcome to my humble abode and all that,” Pete said. His voice sounded loud because of their proximity, but Mikey knew that in reality, he was speaking at just above a whisper.
Mikey made a show of examining the bunk. “Sleepover, huh?” he said.
“Hell yeah, it’s what all the cool kids are doing.”
They stared at each other for another minute. It wasn’t awkward at all; they were both sort of just enjoying the fact that they were finally “alone” (in quotes because Pete’s bandmates were just a few yards away, but there was a curtain). Mikey had to take a minute to stagger his breathing with Pete’s, because there wasn’t enough room for them to both breathe in comfortably at the same time.
Pete wriggled around to free his arm from under Mikey’s back and reached up to remove Mikey’s glasses; he placed them on a small shelf situated close to the ceiling of the bunk. Then, he rolled on top of Mikey and they started making out.
It shouldn’t have been different from any other time they did this, but somehow it was. Mikey figured it was because they knew they had time-before, they were always on edge, expecting to have to stop at any moment, and not hoping for anything beyond a quick ass grope. Now, they knew they’d be here all night, and unless someone was feeling very vindictive, they wouldn’t be interrupted.
It took a few minutes, but Mikey finally allowed himself to give into it; when Pete licked into his mouth he let a soft groan out, and when Pete bit at his lower lip and ground their hips together, Mikey actually welcomed the sparks of pleasure igniting in his lower belly.
Pete wormed his hands between their bodies and started working at Mikey’s belt. Once it was open though, he didn’t make any move to open Mikey’s pants the rest of the way, so Mikey did it for him. Pete grinned against Mikey’s lips and maneuvered himself so that his knees were digging into the mattress on either side of Mikey’s hips. He used the leverage to lift himself up so he could open his pants, and Mikey helped him sloppily shove them down. He had a minor freakout at that moment, when he realized that shit, he has a penis, but Mikey quickly reminded himself that he had already talked himself through his sexual identity crisis a couple weeks ago when he realized where his relationship with Pete was headed.
Once Pete had flopped back down on top of him, and Mikey got a taste of the feeling of their skin touching, he pushed up both of their shirts so he could feel more of that. Pete gripped his hips and ground down, and shit, this really wasn’t going to last long. Mikey arched into it, because really, it was all he could remember how to do at this point. Pete was also panting and gasping in his ear, and that really wasn’t helping the situation.
“Fuck, Mikey,” Pete gasped, and tightened his grip on Mikey’s hips. Mikey’s breath hitched in response, and he arched up again, in an attempt to increase the friction.
Pete came first, and he was loud about it too; Mikey was about 90% sure that at least one other person heard it happening, and even through his haze of arousal, he felt a pang of sympathy for the other three fourths of Fall Out Boy. Especially if Pete sounded like this every time he jerked off, they must not get much sleep. Then again, Mikey preferred to believe that Pete was usually quiet as a mouse, and it was Mikey’s presence and Mikey’s presence alone that caused such an outburst.
Pete slumped, boneless and sticky, against Mikey once he was done. Mikey lay still for a minute or so, still painfully turned on, while Pete regained his motor functions. It seemed to take a while for Pete to register that Mikey hadn’t come yet, but when he realized, he flashed Mikey an apologetic smile and squirmed over so he could work his hand between the two of them. Pete kissed Mikey through his orgasm, and when it was over, Mikey felt a strange combination of uncomfortable and thoroughly satisfied. Such is the paradox of bunk sex, Mikey thought.
A few moments later, Pete rolled off of him and groped for a random article of clothing to wipe himself down with, then tossed it at Mikey so he could do the same. Mikey eyed the garment (which was a luridly pink pair of boxers) with mild disgust, but figured it couldn’t have anything worse on it than was already all over his stomach. Pete tossed it to the end of the bunk when he was done (Mikey made a mental note to never touch anything down there, ever), then rolled back on top of Mikey, planting a sloppy kiss on his neck, just under his jaw.
He was warm, but not unpleasantly so. He also smelled like sweat, but the clean, sweet kind. Mikey suspected that Pete had showered for the occasion, and was thoroughly flattered.
“Sleepover, huh?” Mikey repeated groggily.
“Shut up, you adore me.”
[//]
And Mikey did. Everything was great for a while. Several days, actually, but several days could definitely be considered “a while” when the frame of reference is Warped Tour, because Warped Tour is in fact not that long.
It was kind of nice waking up next to Pete, even if it was too hot to be that close to another human being, no matter how attractive he happened to be. It was also nice to be able to shamelessly tumble into Pete’s bunk for a long night of fucking, now that the ice was broken sex-wise. Even if Mikey had to suffer the occasional death glare from Patrick, who definitely had to listen to them screwing. Poor kid.
Also, it was kind of embarrassing to face his friends after the initial night, but Mikey figured it was worth it, because hey, he was totally getting laid. And Frank was pretty easy to ignore. Mikey could definitely crush him with very little effort.
So yes. Everything was great for a while. But then, one night, the sex got a little weird. Not weird in a strictly bad way though; just weird in a deviating-from-the-norm way.
It started out pretty normal. Mundane, even, but Mikey didn’t really like referring to sex as mundane, because hey, it beats a stick in the eye. Anyway, Pete was going down on him, which was nice, and also somewhat new. They had mostly been dry humping and jerking each other off, but last night Pete had crawled down the length of Mikey’s body, his limbs flailing and knocking things off the bed all the way down, and, well, started sucking his dick. It was a surprise, but Mikey wasn’t about to complain. Pete wasn’t the greatest at giving blowjobs, but Mikey was pleasantly surprised considering he was pretty sure Pete hadn’t been with many guys.
Mikey was thoroughly enjoying the blowjob he was receiving. He even allowed himself to make a little noise, mostly for Pete’s benefit. Pete had his eyes closed, and his head was bobbing up and down, and Mikey just had to stare, because wow. That sight coupled with the crazy things Pete was doing with his tongue made quick work of Mikey’s resolve to let this drag out, so after just a few minutes Mikey was tapping urgently at Pete’s shoulder and muttering, “Um, Pete, I’m gonna…”
Pete took the hint and stopped blowing him, then started clumsily crawling up the bed so he could kiss Mikey while he finished him off. Mikey’s dick was throbbing the whole time, aching to be touched again, and Mikey thought he could feel his head swelling up with the frustration of not coming.
Pete’s hand on his dick was more than welcome, and Mikey let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding when Pete started stroking. It just took a few strokes, and Mikey could feel his orgasm building up in his lower stomach. He inadvertently clamped his eyes shut and groaned, and there it was, finally. He could hear Pete saying something to him, but he wasn’t quite registering it because hello, orgasm.
He slumped against the pillow, enjoying the feeling of his heart thumping in his chest. After a minute he replayed what Pete had said to him mid-orgasm.
When he regained control of his muscles, he turned his head to look at Pete. “Wait. Did you just say ’Batman’?”
Pete blinked at him owlishly. “Maybe.”
Mikey blinked back. “Um, okay. Why?”
In response, Pete giggled. “You’ll see.”
Mikey wasn’t really a pushy kind of guy, so he let it go. Sure, it was fucking cryptic and kind of annoying, but how imperative could it possibly be? Pete was a total dork, so Mikey figured it wasn’t too weird that he’d bring up superheroes mid-coitus.
But then, it happened again the next day. This time they were actually on the MCR bus, because he knew he’d have it to himself for a while. Gerard and Frank had gone in search of cigarettes because nobody on the bus seemed to have any, and Bob and Ray were hanging out with the dudes in Avenged Sevenfold. Brian had actually been the one to tip him off, which Mikey found kind of creepy because what the hell, was their tour manager trying to help him get laid?
It totally didn’t matter though, because Mikey was holed up in the back lounge of their bus with a hot guy in his lap. “How long until you guys have to go on?” Pete asked, slipping his hands underneath Mikey’s shirt.
“I dunno, two hours?” Mikey said absently, choosing to focus the majority of his attention on opening Pete’s pants. He was tempted to ask if he had stolen that particular pair from his teenaged ex-girlfriend considering how tight they were, but he figured that might be a sensitive subject.
“Awesome, we can take our time,” Pete said right into his ear.
“Uh huh.” Mikey managed to get his hand down the front of Pete’s pants, but just barely. He knew that once he got it out it would have the seam of the pants pressed into it. If he got it out, oh god. Mikey got visions of having to stagger around the parking lot with his hand shoved down Pete’s pants, asking around for a pair of scissors.
Pete scooted back so he could open Mikey’s pants, and a few moments later they were merrily jerking each other off. Pete bit at Mikey’s neck with his ridiculous teeth, but Mikey was so distracted by what Pete’s hand was doing that he almost didn’t worry about him leaving a mark. Whatever, everybody totally knew anyway.
Ten minutes later, Pete was coming on his hand and Mikey wasn’t far behind. Everything was great: the air-conditioning was on full-blast, he still had a hot guy in his lap, and he was about to have an orgasm. Of course that was the moment Pete chose to be weird.
“Batman. Batman. Batman!” Pete croaked in his ear, and it was too late, Mikey was coming, and Pete was still rambling about masked vigilantes.
Mikey sat still for a moment, caught his breath, and then stared at Pete. “Okay, what the fuck?”
“What!” Pete tried to look innocent. He was actually really bad at that.
“Come on Wentz, you’re going to have to explain that one of these days. Might as well make it sooner rather than later.”
Pete grinned. “Are you sure you wanna know?”
“Yes!”
“Okay, fine.” Pete grinned evilly. At the time, Mikey would have described said grin as “mischievous” or even “playful,” but in retrospect, Mikey would definitely file it under “evil.”
“It’s called ‘sexual conditioning,’” Pete explained. “Basically, if I say a word every time I make you come, you’ll gradually start to associate that word with coming. If it’s done right, I could make it so that you’ll come every time I say that word.” Pete had wriggled away from Mikey slightly, giving him a little space. Presumably, so he could get away quicker if Mikey decided to kick his ass.
“The fuck? How do you come up with this shit?”
Pete shrugged. “I read about it somewhere. But seriously, it could be so much fun. Think about it, Mikeyway.”
Mikey did. He couldn’t picture this being fun, but he decided to give Pete the benefit of the doubt. “Fun like how?”
Pete grinned, seeing that Mikey’s resolve was weakening. “Like, I could say it when we’re hanging out with our friends, and you’d come, and nobody would know what just happened but you and me.”
Wow, that was kind of hot. Pete had a filthy, filthy mind. At the time Mikey loved it. Later, not so much. “Um, wow,” Mikey said. “Okay. You have to promise to use your powers for good and not evil, though.”
Pete smiled toothily again, and launched himself at Mikey, kissing him on the lips. When they broke apart, Mikey leaned back so he could see Pete’s face better. “Why ‘Batman’?”
Another shrug. “Batman’s pretty badass. He’s the only major superhero who doesn’t actually have any crazy powers.” The only reason Mikey accepted this as a valid answer was because he had Gerard as a brother. Basically, he heard shit like that every day of the week. “Also, he was totally gay for Robin.”
[//]
Things were good for a while. Sure, it was a little weird to think of muscular men who wore their underwear outside their clothes while he was coming (Mikey was more into skinny guys, you see), but he wasn’t about to complain because hot guy. It was actually becoming less about hot guy and more about Pete as time wore on; Mikey was pretty sure he was actually getting kind of infatuated. Which was nice, he figured, because didn’t everyone kind of secretly want to have a fling for the summer? Mikey always did.
Nothing changed for quite a few weeks. Every few days Pete would start saying “Batman” earlier during sex, but it didn’t really do anything for Mikey. After two weeks of this, Pete tried saying it when they weren’t in a sexual situation, but all that happened was Mikey’s dick twitched a little. It was progress, but it wasn’t too impressive.
Another week passed, and Pete tried it again. To Mikey’s immense surprise, he immediately got a hard-on. Pete whooped in victory, and blew Mikey in his bunk to celebrate. It was a win-win situation.
Except, Pete started slipping the word into normal conversation while they were in the presence of other people. Mikey knew that Pete totally got off on knowing what he was doing to Mikey, and if Mikey were to be perfectly honest, he’d have to admit that he kind of got off on it, too. After all, he wouldn’t have agreed to it if he didn’t get any pleasure out of it. It was just… kind of embarrassing? Yeah, embarrassing was the right word.
The first time Pete did it, they were sitting in the back lounge of the Fall Out Boy bus. Pete was lying down, his head resting on Mikey’s knees, and they were watching TV with Joe and Patrick.
“Shit, did you see that!” Joe crowed, pointing at the guy on the TV, who probably just did something totally stupid. Mikey wasn’t really paying attention, because Pete’s head was in his lap. He generally couldn’t pay attention when that was the situation.
Patrick shook his head. “They put such weird crap on TV these days.”
“And they didn’t before!” Pete interjected. “Did you-” He stopped abruptly in the middle of his sentence and looked up at Mikey with that evil grin again. “Yo, did you see those old live action Batman shows? That shit was crazy!”
Mikey had lost him at “Batman,” because now he was sporting an obvious hard-on, and everyone was looking at Pete, whose head was in his lap, so he basically felt like everyone was staring at his dick. And maybe they were. Pete probably was hoping they were, because again, he was one sick fuck.
Mikey stood up abruptly, causing Pete to tumble off the couch. “Not cool, Mikeyway!” he yelped, trying to regain his balance. “Is something up?” God, that was totally too corny for Mikey to handle.
“I just, uh.” Mikey thought he was done excusing himself from rooms so he could jerk off when he was in high school. “I think it’s time for me to go back to our bus. Gerard wanted to talk to me about something.”
“I’ll come with you!” Pete stood up and waved goodbye at Joe and Patrick. Patrick rolled his eyes at the display, but Joe wasn’t even paying attention.
Once they were by the bunks, Mikey glared at Pete. “That was kind of evil, Wentz,” he said. There wasn’t much anger in his voice though, because he still pretty much thought Pete was awesome.
“Yeah, but you love me. Besides, I do intend to help you with that.” And he did, and life was good again.
This went on for about a week. Pete did it about once a day, and it was always embarrassing, but once Mikey got over the initial weirdness, it became kind of thrilling, oddly enough.
But one day, Pete invited him to play with them for a song or two during their set. Mikey should have seen what Pete was up to, but Mikey tended to be a pretty unsuspicious kind of guy, so he accepted without a second thought. The bass for the song he was going to play was pretty simple, after all.
Mikey watched several of Fall Out Boy’s sets from the side of the stage anyway, so that’s what he did that night. When it came time for them to play “Saturday,” which was the song he’d be stepping in for, Pete stepped up to the mic.
“Everyone still having a good time?” he asked, and it was pretty much rhetorical, but the crowd screamed anyway. He laughed softly. “Good! Uh, well, my good friend Mikey Way from My Chemical Romance is here, and he’s gonna help us out with this next song.” The crowd screamed even louder, and Mikey was flattered in spite of himself. A tech took Pete’s bass from him and beckoned Mikey forward, handing it to him once he reached the center of the stage. Mikey ducked under the strap and plucked out a few experimental notes.
“He’s a better bass player than I am,” Pete was saying, “but don’t get too used to having him here, because his brother would kill me if we kidnapped him for too long.” Pete turned around and smiled at Mikey. And oh shit, he wasn’t about to do what Mikey thought he was, was he? “He is pretty awesome though. He’s totally the Batman to my Robin.”
Oh fuck, Mikey thought. Oh no he did not. Mikey was quickly panicking, and normally that would drive any sexual thoughts that he had from his head, but it seemed that right now, his dick didn’t care about his emotional shortcomings, because it was quickly sucking all the blood out of his extremities.
Fuck fuck fuck, Mikey thought, and he tried to mentally will Pete’s head to explode, but Pete was still talking to the crowd because he was a huge dumbass and also a microphone hog. Also, an attention whore, but that was a given.
Mikey was pretty sure that he’d have to play the song with a hard-on, and okay, he guessed he could pretty much deal with that. After all, Pete’s bass was covering it, so it wasn’t like anybody could tell. And sure, it was uncomfortable, but Pete would blow him later and everything would be fine.
But right before the band started the song, Pete backed up a few paces and rested his hand on the small of Mikey’s back, then leaned in and said, “Take it away, Batman.”
And that’s what did it. Mikey’s dick started to throb, and Mikey bit his lip, but he had no choice but to start the song. His hands fumbled over the frets, and Patrick’s voice was reduced to a loud buzz in his ears as he felt himself coming in his pants. Like a fourteen-year-old. On stage. In front of thousands of people.
He was going to fucking kill Pete Wentz.
[//]
That song was possibly the longest song of Mikey’s life. Pete kept shooting him suggestive glances throughout, and that didn’t make things any easier. When it was over, Mikey practically threw Pete’s bass at him, then scrambled off the stage faster than you could say “humiliation.” He managed to get back to the MCR bus without being stopped, and once he changed his pants, he went to the Fall Out Boy bus and waited out front for Pete to get back.
He didn’t have to wait long-they only played one more song after “Saturday,” and then their set was over. When Pete saw him, he launched himself in Mikey’s direction. “Hey!” he said, the post-show high leading him to kiss Mikey’s cheek. Mikey could see Joe make a face over Pete’s shoulder. “What’s up?”
“You’re an evil, evil man,” Mikey said slowly, “and you do terrible things to me.”
Pete looked confused and lowered his voice considerably. “What are you talking about? I’ve been doing this all week, and you didn’t get mad then. Besides, it’s not like anyone could tell.”
Mikey narrowed his eyes. “Well, it went a bit further this time. I actually… you know…”
Something strange happened then: Mikey could actually see Pete’s thought process on his face. First his eyes widened, which signified the is-he-saying-what-I-think-he’s-saying stage; then they narrowed again, which was the part where he wondered if Mikey was kidding or not. Then, he burst out laughing, which was when he realized that he wasn’t.
“Pete!”
Pete was doubled over and clutching his stomach. He was pulling all the stops. This was pure, unadulterated amusement. “Wha…!” Pete couldn’t even stop long enough to form a full word. That’s how bad it was.
“Pete!”
More laughter, of course. Mikey was actually half-expecting some of Pete’s insides to leak out of his face.
“Pete, it’s not fucking funny!”
“I’m… I’m…!” He was stomping his feet now, squirming in the way that meant his brain was actually not getting enough oxygen.
Mikey would have cried out in anguish if he was that type of guy, but he wasn’t, so instead he just turned around and started walking away.
“Wait!” Pete managed through his unruly laughter. “I’m… I’m sorry!” Mikey stopped because okay, he kind of sounded like he meant it. Even if he was about to pass out from a combination of lack of oxygen and diaphragm cramps.
He turned back around and walked up to Pete, crossing his arms and waiting for him to finish laughing so they could Talk About It.
Pete’s laughter finally died down. He wiped his eyes hastily, smudging his eyeliner a little. Mikey wanted to fix it for him, but you generally don’t make loving gestures like that when you’re royally pissed off at someone. Plus, he didn’t think Pete would let any part of Mikey’s body near his eye (or any other vital body parts) while he was so visibly peeved.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t expect that to happen.”
“Neither did I,” Mikey said scornfully.
“I really didn’t mean to embarrass you!” Pete insisted, flapping his arms a little to emphasize his point. “Plus, I seriously don’t think anybody noticed. I didn’t even know what happened, and I was the one who caused it!”
Mikey began to cool off a little. “That’s true. But still. Remember what I told you when I agreed to do this! Well you’re using your powers for evil!”
“I didn’t mean to!” Pete looked so earnest that Mikey really couldn’t be mad at him anymore.
“Fine,” Mikey said, sounding a little exhausted. “But you better not do that again. Ever.”
“Ever!”
“Not while I’m on stage,” Mikey clarified.
“Fine, you’ve got my word.” Pete held up his hand like he was swearing on something. Mikey nodded. “Good!” Pete said. “Am I forgiven?”
“I guess so,” Mikey said disdainfully. Pete grinned and launched himself at him again, almost knocking him over. They made out against the side of the tour bus, and Mikey figured he wasn’t that mad after all.
A couple minutes later, they heard the door to the bus open, and Mikey could see Patrick peering outside, probably to make sure that Pete’s limbs were all attached to their rightful joints. When he caught sight of what they were doing, he said “Argh!” and went back inside, quickly slamming the door. Mikey would have laughed if Pete’s tongue wasn’t in his mouth, but it just wasn’t happening.
[//]
Pete was true to his word-he only used his powers for good from then on. He would use the word every once in a while, but only very quietly in Mikey’s ear, and he’d only do it to initiate sex. Mikey had to give him credit for that, because it was probably tempting to do when they were in a crowded room, with lots of people watching. Especially because, again, Pete was one sick motherfucker.
At that point, Mikey pretty much thought he had the situation under control. Things were going pretty well; Warped was almost over, his band was ready to set out on their first headlining tour, and he had a good, sex-filled relationship with his (evil) boyfriend-ish thing. But then one day, Gerard decided to talk comics.
Mikey was on his own bus for once, mostly because he couldn’t find Pete and it was too hot outside to go looking for him, so he was sitting at the small table drinking the iced coffee his brother had so graciously procured for him. The rest of the band was sprawled out on the two sofas in the front; Mikey was only half-listening to their conversation, but he could hear them pretty well if he wanted to.
“No way dude, Wolverine was so much cooler,” Gerard was saying, gesticulating lazily with one of his hands. “I mean, those fucking claws.” He curled up his fingers and motioned feebly, letting his hand drop back to his stomach. It was too hot for movement.
“Those claws are pretty badass,” Frank conceded. “You know who’s really lame though?”
“Who?”
“Fucking Batman.” Mikey’s eyes shot open. No way this was happening now. Fuck. “I mean, he didn’t even have any powers. He was just some ordinary dude. What makes him so special?”
“Batman!” Gerard exclaimed, and fuck no, that was not supposed to happen. Mikey was under the impression that would only happen when Pete said it. “But he’s so fucking cool! He’s all about revenge!”
“Oh please,” Ray chimed in, “lots of superheroes are all about revenge. This dude just-“
Mikey stood up abruptly, deciding he couldn’t sit there and listen to their conversation, considering the possible outcomes. However, his sudden movement seemed to have interrupted Ray’s train of thought, because he shut up.
“What’s wrong?” Bob asked.
“Nothing, I just um. I just remembered something.”
“Dude, you look so freaked out right now, you don’t even know,” Frank said, looking mildly concerned but mostly amused. “Oh! I know what it is! He doesn’t want us making fun of Batman, because that’s what Wentz calls him!” Mikey winced again, and shit, this really wasn’t looking good. Meanwhile, the other four were cracking up at his expense.
“Whatever Mikes, don’t be insulted,” Gerard was saying. “Batman’s totally awesome.”
That last one did it, and now he definitely needed to change his pants. And that was the last straw. Mikey officially decided that things had gone Too Far, because ew, and also what the fuck, his brother just (indirectly) made him come in his pants.
Pete was going to fucking pay.
[//]
Mikey was on a mission, and he knew that in order for said mission to be a success, he had to tell no one. That was the first rule of revenge. The second rule was “have no mercy.” And Mikey didn’t. None whatsoever.
There was no third rule of revenge.
Sure, Mikey still made out with Pete, and gave him blowjobs, and received blowjobs, but Mikey liked to believe that Pete could on some level sense his inner rage. And okay, maybe Mikey wasn’t totally furious with Pete, because who could stay mad at that face? But this didn’t make Mikey want to get back at him any less.
So Mikey took his time. He didn’t do anything rash, and he wasn’t too proactive. He had plenty of opportunities: he could have unplugged Pete’s bass while he was on stage; he could have stolen his favorite pair of jeans; he could have drawn on his face while he was asleep. But no-these were all very amusing possibilities, but Mikey preferred to exact his revenge in a way that would leave Pete with no shadow of a doubt as far as what he had done wrong was. The punishment had to fit the crime. So when Mikey overheard Patrick discussing a signing with Andy, he practically cackled with evil glee.
The signing was to take place the day before the last day of Warped. Mikey knew that there were a lot of things that could potentially go wrong, so he casually dropped by the signing table an hour before the band was scheduled to arrive. Some crazy kids were already there waiting, and one of them seemed to recognize Mikey, but he didn’t do anything and for that Mikey was grateful, because he was on a mission. He was in the zone, if you will, and nothing was going to stop him.
Mikey crossed in front of the tent a couple times, observing the setup. The table was long, which was good. Also, it had a huge tablecloth draped over it, which reached all the way down to the floor on both sides, which was perfect. Mikey smirked to himself and went back to the bus.
When it was almost time for Fall Out Boy to show up to the signing, Mikey crept back to the tent, incognito. It was way too hot to be wearing a hoodie, but Mikey didn’t care, because again, he was on a mission. He went all the way to the inside corner of the tent, where the kids on line couldn’t see him, and then quickly dropped down to the floor and crawled under the table, making sure that the table cloth was concealing him completely.
It was fucking stuffy under the table, so Mikey opened his hoodie and tried to get his face near an opening. It wasn’t really happening but he didn’t care because this was going to be worth it. If he didn’t pass out from heat exhaustion before he could do anything.
He sat there, perfectly still, for just under ten minutes. Then he heard voices approaching, and he recognized Pete’s nasal whining among them. The voices got louder, and then there was some rustling, and Mikey could vaguely see shoes. Now was the tough part: figuring out which pair was Pete’s.
Mikey’s first instinct was to go for the most horribly neon-colored ones, the ones that looked like a five-year-old designed them, but then he remembered that Pete and Andy were the same size, and therefore probably stole each other’s shoes a lot (he was able to predict this because Frank and Gerard were constantly doing it). It was a good call apparently, because all the noise was coming from the owner of a pair of subdued-looking black and gray checkered vans. That was a close one, Mikey thought.
He crawled over to the right side of the table, careful not to disturb Joe’s converse or Patrick’s sensible yet stylish sneakers, and settled by Pete’s feet. The tablecloth was blocking most of his access to Pete’s body, but that could be fixed. It was all about timing, Mikey reminded himself. He listened carefully; the signing seemed to be in progress already, because there were a lot of breathy teenage-girl voices coming from the other side of the table. Perfect.
Mikey sneaked his hand under the tablecloth and slowly tightened his grip around Pete’s ankle. The moment Pete felt it was obvious because he twitched visibly, but he didn’t make any noise. Mikey kept his hand there for a minute, then slowly withdrew it.
A moment later, he could see Pete’s hand lifting the cloth, then his face peering suspiciously at Mikey. When Pete caught sight of him, his eyes widened; clearly he had some idea of what Mikey was planning, because he looked anxious yet excited. Pete was definitely one sick fuck. As if Mikey didn’t know that already.
“What was that about?” Mikey could hear Patrick mutter under his breath.
“Nothing. I thought I felt something crawling up my leg is all.”
Mikey snickered to himself, but quickly moved to Phase Two of his mission: maneuvering the tablecloth so he had access to Pete’s lap. He did it slowly, so that no sudden movements would catch any wandering eyes. First he lifted up one side and draped it over Pete’s knee, then the other. Pete was trying to squirm away, perhaps thinking better of his original enthusiasm, but Mikey wouldn’t let him. He pinched his calf, and Pete took the hint and pulled his folding chair forward. Mikey noted with relish the hesitation in his movements. This was going to be hilarious.
Some crazed fan on the other side of the table was squealing, “I love you, Pete!” and this just made Mikey’s amusement grow. This situation was so inappropriate, and he was loving every minute of it.
Once the tablecloth was arranged to Mikey’s satisfaction, he began to work on Pete’s jeans. He got up on his knees and leaned forward so he’d be able to see what he was doing better, but he hit his head on the table and accidentally let slip a “fuck!” Pete quickly coughed to cover up the noise, then kicked at him but missed, and Mikey patted his knee reassuringly, as if to say, “it won’t happen again.” Pete’s muscles were still delightfully tense, probably because he didn’t know what to expect. Mikey didn’t blame him in the least.
Finally, Mikey got into a somewhat comfortable position, which was pretty miraculous considering the circumstances, and got to work. Unbuttoning Pete’s fly from this angle wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but Mikey somehow managed. Pete was still squirming, probably trying to cover up the strange movements of the tablecloth, but it was making Mikey’s job harder so he pinched his lower stomach, right where his bartskull tattoo ended, and Pete stilled. Mostly.
Mikey began fighting his way into the strange enclosure that was Pete Wentz’s pants. Like most days, they were particularly tight, but unlike most days, he wasn’t wearing any underwear. This made things much simpler. Mikey was somehow able to pull Pete’s cock out without harming it, through a combination of pushing and pulling the fabric surrounding it. Pete made a few questionable noises throughout the process, but he was generally able to cover them up by coughing or stretching. Mikey obviously couldn’t see what was going on in the outside world, but he figured it involved a lot of raised eyebrows on the part of the fans, and a lot of sheepish grins from Pete.
Mikey was amazed to discover that Pete was already half-hard. It was shocking that Pete was able to think about sex when he was with fourteen-year-old girls. Wait, Mikey thought, that came out really wrong.
So, naturally, Mikey started jerking him off. At first, even Mikey felt weird about the situation-he was crushed under a table, surrounded by people, and he had his hand on another dude’s cock. However, it didn’t take too long for Mikey to get into it. He could hear Pete’s voice straining as he was talking to the fans, and yeah, it was pretty wrong, but it also kind of turned Mikey on.
“Thanks!” Mikey heard a girl say.
“No p-problem!” Pete said, fumbling over his words as Mikey squeezed a little harder.
“Thanks Pete, looking forward to your set later!” another girl quipped.
“It’s gonna be lots of fun!” Pete said, but his voice squeaked a little towards the end of his sentence. Mikey was willing to bet the girl gave him a really funny look.
Ten minutes or so passed like that, and after a while, Mikey had to bite on his free fist to keep himself from laughing. The whole situation was pretty comical. For him, at least. Whatever, Pete totally deserved it.
“Hey Pete?” Patrick said a few minutes later, his voice lowered to a suspicious tone.
“Hmm?” Pete said distractedly. Apparently he couldn’t really sign things, get a hand job, and talk at the same time. At least, not efficiently.
“Have you seen Mikey today?”
“What!” Pete sounded totally panicked, and for good reason.
Mikey chose this moment to take things to the next level. He quickly leaned forward and slid his mouth over Pete’s dick. Pete made an unattractive strangled noise, and Mikey laughed around his mouthful.
“Why do you ask?” Pete finally said, in a somewhat normal, if not restrained, voice.
“No reason,” said Patrick’s voice. “I was just wondering.”
Pete aimed another kick at Mikey, but missed again.
Another minute or so went by, and Pete was bouncing his leg up and down at an annoyingly rapid pace, and Mikey was afraid he was going to choke. He also knew that this probably meant that Pete was close. Now, the thing about Pete was, he was terrible at being discreet about such things, and Mikey knew this. That was why this was such a perfect revenge. It was going to be embarrassing.
As time wore on, Pete’s replies to the fans’ questions and compliments got more and more strained. Mikey knew that if they were in bed he’d be moaning and groaning and crying out Mikey’s name by now, but he was obviously trying very hard to maintain some semblance of composure. Mikey was kind of proud of him, in an obscure way.
“Here you g-uhhhhhn. Shit! Oh, uh, sorry. Paper cut,” Pete was rambling.
“Man, those suck,” the boy said sympathetically.
Mikey was positive that Pete was moments away from coming. His squirming was worse than ever, and whatever volume control he had over his voice seemed to be dissipating. His replies were turning into shouts. And it was hilarious.
“Have a nice day!” he bellowed, still bouncing his leg incessantly.
“Thanks Pete! Take care,” another girl was saying.
“No!” Pete hollered. “Thank you for coming!”
And with that, plus an added little groan, Pete came in Mikey’s mouth. Mikey almost gagged, partly because it was a lot to swallow, but mostly because he was trying not to burst out laughing.
Pete aimed yet another kick at him once he caught his breath, but Mikey didn’t even care, because he had finally gotten his revenge. He tucked Pete back into his pants and even did up the fly for him, then retreated to the other side of the table where Pete couldn’t kick the shit out of him.
[//]
Mikey somehow managed to get out from under the table unnoticed. He did have to wait until the signing was over, but it was still miraculous that nobody saw him-a guy who was almost six feet tall-creeping out from under a fucking tablecloth.
Regardless, he did manage to escape, and in one piece at that. Pete texted him later that day:
i dont know if yr evil or my new favorte prson
Mikey quickly typed back:
Shut up u totally deserved it. u can take that any way u want.
Thirty seconds later, Mikey’s phone buzzed again.
whatever u say batman
Mikey smiled.
THE END.
I am so ridiculous. D:
Title: Of Masked Vigilantes and Public Fornication
Author: periculosa
Pairing: Pete/Mikey (MCR/FOB)
Rating: Hard R
Disclaimer: Never happened!
Warnings: Semi-vivid descriptions of sexual acts, ridiculousness, crack, the improbable.
Summary: Mikey orgasms at inopportune moments, and it’s all Pete Wentz’s fault. Revenge is in order. Takes place during Warped ’05, as most things Pete/Mikey did. ~8,000 words.
Notes: This is a work of pure crack. What happened was, illuminatebelow made a post on her journal about something called sexual conditioning, and linked to this page (scroll down for the relevant part). I thought what she was saying was hilarious, and she replied to me by saying, “You know Pete did this to Mikey during Warped.” And I said, “OMG YES THAT’S PERFECT.” So, um, explanation. Basically, it’s operant conditioning in the context of the bedroom. What we’re dealing with in simple terms is a couple spicing up their sex life by using an ordinary word in conjunction with one of them having an orgasm, and having that partner, over time, associate that word with coming, and therefore essentially coming on command. Now, I tried to do some research on the subject, but there wasn’t much available from what I could find. I have no research to back this up, but I’m sure something like this would take months-if not years-to accomplish, but this fic only takes place over a couple months, since that’s what I had to work with. If that irks you, you probably shouldn’t read this, but I hope you can suspend your disbelief of the improbable in the name of amusement! That said, enjoy! Thanks to rawkenr0ll for looking this over for me, and illuminatebelow for inspiring it & encouraging me. :D
Of Masked Vigilantes and Public Fornication
Never in his life did Mikey imagine that his own brother would make him come in his pants some day. Mikey was the type to take things in stride, but this? This he couldn’t just brush off, because when a blood relative inadvertently makes you come in your pants, you know things have gone a bit too far.
And okay, maybe it isn’t entirely fair to start there, because it didn’t just happen like that. It wasn’t like, all of a sudden Mikey became inexplicably attracted to Gerard whilst simultaneously reverting back to his fourteen-year-old self who actually did stuff like that sometimes (only a couple times, okay, he wasn’t totally out of control thank you). In fact, Gerard wasn’t the first person to get such of a reaction out of Mikey. Hell, he wasn’t the first person that week. And it was all Pete Wentz’s fault. As are most things.
In retrospect, Mikey figured that Pete’s evil plan was hatched very early on Warped Tour. It must be noted that this was in fact a plan, and therefore was evil by default, because nobody would do such a thing for any reason other than their own amusement. And possibly their own sexual gratification. Because Pete was one sick fuck.
Mikey had been drawn to Pete from the beginning; there was something intoxicating about the way Mikey felt whenever Pete looked at him. He was a charismatic guy, and commanded attention whenever he so much as entered a room, and Mikey was into that. They hit it off right away.
The first couple weeks of Warped went by in a blur of hands, hips, and lips-when he and Pete weren’t on stage, they were together and usually making out. It was mostly between busses and behind towers of speakers, so they were on edge constantly, waiting to be interrupted so they could spring apart and look nonchalant, Pete fixing his hair and Mikey casually pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Regardless, it was pretty obvious what was going on to their bandmates and friends.
This was probably why the guys looked completely unsurprised the first time Mikey announced he’d be spending the night on the Fall Out Boy bus. Pete had texted him right after they’d finished their set:
hey mikeyway, what do u say we have a sleepovr. we can do eachothrs hair & share secrts xo
Which, Mikey correctly interpreted, was Pete-ese for “We should probably have sex sooner or later.” Which, yes, Mikey emphatically agreed. So he texted back:
Sure thing. Meet u at the fob bus in 10 mins.
Mikey used those ten minutes to find his bandmates, who were all really awful about checking their cell phones for messages. In fact, Mikey strongly doubted that Gerard even knew how to check his messages. He didn’t want anybody to call for a search party or some shit.
He found Bob and Frank by the catering tables, smoking and conversing casually with one of their guitar techs. Both the tech and Frank were in the middle of laughing at something Bob said when Mikey approached them. Bob looked up and blew out the side of his mouth when he heard Mikey approaching. “What’s up, Mikey?”
Mikey shrugged one shoulder. “Nothing really. I uh, just wanted to let you know I’m not coming back to the bus tonight, so don’t worry.”
“Where you going?” Frank dropped his cigarette butt on the floor and ground it out with his toe.
“I’m gonna be hanging out with Pete.” The casual tone of Mikey’s voice was not at all forced, for the record. Not in the least.
Frank promptly burst out laughing, of course. Little fucker.
“What’s so funny!” Mikey protested, firmly telling himself that he wasn’t turning red, regardless of the fact that he felt little hot prickles across his cheeks. Whatever, it was totally dark anyway.
“Nothing!” Frank hiccupped between giggles.
“I’m not allowed to make friends with a fellow bassist?”
“No, it’s fine!” Frank said, still laughing as if Mikey had a sharpied-on moustache. Mikey rubbed his upper lip. Just in case.
“Jeez Frank, leave the poor kid alone,” Bob interjected. “Like you didn’t see this coming from a mile away.”
“You know what? I’m not even going to ask. See you guys later. Oh, and tell Gee and Ray.” Mikey walked away before either of them could take another jab. Regardless of his speedy pace, however, he could still hear Frank’s shouted “Don’t forget to use protection!” God, what a little dickface.
The Fall Out Boy bus wasn’t too far away; the parking lot was pretty big, but the bigger bands were parked closer to the catering tables than the lesser known ones. It was kind of like High School, Mikey mused. Who would’ve thought he’d grow up to be a popular kid.
When Mikey got there, he knocked on the door before trying the handle. He had a fleeting, delirious thought that this felt like prom night, knocking on the chick’s door and waiting to see if she’d answer or if her scary dad would. That was when Mikey decided to ban himself from High School analogies. His brain was a scary place, as it turned out.
Thankfully, Pete answered. This was a good thing, because Mikey wasn’t sure if he was prepared to deal with a cranky, sweaty Patrick, questioning him about his intentions. Shut up, brain, Mikey thought.
Pete’s face broke out into a full eye-reaching grin once he registered that it was Mikey. His teeth were kind of ridiculous, Mikey mused. They’d be less ridiculous if they were biting his earlobe, though (shut up brain, Mikey thought again). He practically launched himself at Mikey once the door was all the way open, and Mikey found himself with an armful of Pete Wentz. Which generally wasn’t unwelcome, but it was kind of hot outside, and if they were going to be that close, he’d prefer it happened in an air-conditioned environment.
“Argh!” Mikey yelped, overcorrecting for his imbalance and very nearly falling over. He caught himself at the last minute, though. Smooth.
“Mikeyway!” Pete crowed simultaneously, essentially trying to climb Mikey like a tree. It wasn’t happening though, and Mikey needed to breathe sometime.
“Shouldn’t we go inside before you get yourself all worked up?” Mikey managed around a mouthful of Pete’s hair. Pete relinquished his death-grip slightly, and Mikey tried to surreptitiously spit out Pete’s hair gel.
“Yeah, let’s go inside,” Pete said quickly, grabbing Mikey by the wrist and yanking him in the direction of the steps. Jesus, Mikey thought, how do his friends handle him?
Mikey was dragged through the bus at hyperspeed, only having enough time to toss a quick “Hey!” over his shoulder at Patrick, Joe, and Andy before Pete was shoving him into a bunk, which Mikey could only assume was his. It was a top bunk (Mikey could have predicted this-Pete was definitely a top bunk kind of guy), so getting into it involved a lot of scrambling and banged elbows. It took only a minute before he was successfully crammed into the corner with Pete squished so close to him that Mikey’s eyes were crossing trying to focus on his face. As an afterthought, Pete turned around and yanked the curtains shut.
“Hi,” Pete said, and Mikey was pretty sure Pete was smiling at him ridiculously again.
“Hi?” Mikey wasn’t quite sure what the protocol was as far as crazed bunk sex went, so he was just following Pete’s lead at this point.
“So, uh, welcome to my humble abode and all that,” Pete said. His voice sounded loud because of their proximity, but Mikey knew that in reality, he was speaking at just above a whisper.
Mikey made a show of examining the bunk. “Sleepover, huh?” he said.
“Hell yeah, it’s what all the cool kids are doing.”
They stared at each other for another minute. It wasn’t awkward at all; they were both sort of just enjoying the fact that they were finally “alone” (in quotes because Pete’s bandmates were just a few yards away, but there was a curtain). Mikey had to take a minute to stagger his breathing with Pete’s, because there wasn’t enough room for them to both breathe in comfortably at the same time.
Pete wriggled around to free his arm from under Mikey’s back and reached up to remove Mikey’s glasses; he placed them on a small shelf situated close to the ceiling of the bunk. Then, he rolled on top of Mikey and they started making out.
It shouldn’t have been different from any other time they did this, but somehow it was. Mikey figured it was because they knew they had time-before, they were always on edge, expecting to have to stop at any moment, and not hoping for anything beyond a quick ass grope. Now, they knew they’d be here all night, and unless someone was feeling very vindictive, they wouldn’t be interrupted.
It took a few minutes, but Mikey finally allowed himself to give into it; when Pete licked into his mouth he let a soft groan out, and when Pete bit at his lower lip and ground their hips together, Mikey actually welcomed the sparks of pleasure igniting in his lower belly.
Pete wormed his hands between their bodies and started working at Mikey’s belt. Once it was open though, he didn’t make any move to open Mikey’s pants the rest of the way, so Mikey did it for him. Pete grinned against Mikey’s lips and maneuvered himself so that his knees were digging into the mattress on either side of Mikey’s hips. He used the leverage to lift himself up so he could open his pants, and Mikey helped him sloppily shove them down. He had a minor freakout at that moment, when he realized that shit, he has a penis, but Mikey quickly reminded himself that he had already talked himself through his sexual identity crisis a couple weeks ago when he realized where his relationship with Pete was headed.
Once Pete had flopped back down on top of him, and Mikey got a taste of the feeling of their skin touching, he pushed up both of their shirts so he could feel more of that. Pete gripped his hips and ground down, and shit, this really wasn’t going to last long. Mikey arched into it, because really, it was all he could remember how to do at this point. Pete was also panting and gasping in his ear, and that really wasn’t helping the situation.
“Fuck, Mikey,” Pete gasped, and tightened his grip on Mikey’s hips. Mikey’s breath hitched in response, and he arched up again, in an attempt to increase the friction.
Pete came first, and he was loud about it too; Mikey was about 90% sure that at least one other person heard it happening, and even through his haze of arousal, he felt a pang of sympathy for the other three fourths of Fall Out Boy. Especially if Pete sounded like this every time he jerked off, they must not get much sleep. Then again, Mikey preferred to believe that Pete was usually quiet as a mouse, and it was Mikey’s presence and Mikey’s presence alone that caused such an outburst.
Pete slumped, boneless and sticky, against Mikey once he was done. Mikey lay still for a minute or so, still painfully turned on, while Pete regained his motor functions. It seemed to take a while for Pete to register that Mikey hadn’t come yet, but when he realized, he flashed Mikey an apologetic smile and squirmed over so he could work his hand between the two of them. Pete kissed Mikey through his orgasm, and when it was over, Mikey felt a strange combination of uncomfortable and thoroughly satisfied. Such is the paradox of bunk sex, Mikey thought.
A few moments later, Pete rolled off of him and groped for a random article of clothing to wipe himself down with, then tossed it at Mikey so he could do the same. Mikey eyed the garment (which was a luridly pink pair of boxers) with mild disgust, but figured it couldn’t have anything worse on it than was already all over his stomach. Pete tossed it to the end of the bunk when he was done (Mikey made a mental note to never touch anything down there, ever), then rolled back on top of Mikey, planting a sloppy kiss on his neck, just under his jaw.
He was warm, but not unpleasantly so. He also smelled like sweat, but the clean, sweet kind. Mikey suspected that Pete had showered for the occasion, and was thoroughly flattered.
“Sleepover, huh?” Mikey repeated groggily.
“Shut up, you adore me.”
[//]
And Mikey did. Everything was great for a while. Several days, actually, but several days could definitely be considered “a while” when the frame of reference is Warped Tour, because Warped Tour is in fact not that long.
It was kind of nice waking up next to Pete, even if it was too hot to be that close to another human being, no matter how attractive he happened to be. It was also nice to be able to shamelessly tumble into Pete’s bunk for a long night of fucking, now that the ice was broken sex-wise. Even if Mikey had to suffer the occasional death glare from Patrick, who definitely had to listen to them screwing. Poor kid.
Also, it was kind of embarrassing to face his friends after the initial night, but Mikey figured it was worth it, because hey, he was totally getting laid. And Frank was pretty easy to ignore. Mikey could definitely crush him with very little effort.
So yes. Everything was great for a while. But then, one night, the sex got a little weird. Not weird in a strictly bad way though; just weird in a deviating-from-the-norm way.
It started out pretty normal. Mundane, even, but Mikey didn’t really like referring to sex as mundane, because hey, it beats a stick in the eye. Anyway, Pete was going down on him, which was nice, and also somewhat new. They had mostly been dry humping and jerking each other off, but last night Pete had crawled down the length of Mikey’s body, his limbs flailing and knocking things off the bed all the way down, and, well, started sucking his dick. It was a surprise, but Mikey wasn’t about to complain. Pete wasn’t the greatest at giving blowjobs, but Mikey was pleasantly surprised considering he was pretty sure Pete hadn’t been with many guys.
Mikey was thoroughly enjoying the blowjob he was receiving. He even allowed himself to make a little noise, mostly for Pete’s benefit. Pete had his eyes closed, and his head was bobbing up and down, and Mikey just had to stare, because wow. That sight coupled with the crazy things Pete was doing with his tongue made quick work of Mikey’s resolve to let this drag out, so after just a few minutes Mikey was tapping urgently at Pete’s shoulder and muttering, “Um, Pete, I’m gonna…”
Pete took the hint and stopped blowing him, then started clumsily crawling up the bed so he could kiss Mikey while he finished him off. Mikey’s dick was throbbing the whole time, aching to be touched again, and Mikey thought he could feel his head swelling up with the frustration of not coming.
Pete’s hand on his dick was more than welcome, and Mikey let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding when Pete started stroking. It just took a few strokes, and Mikey could feel his orgasm building up in his lower stomach. He inadvertently clamped his eyes shut and groaned, and there it was, finally. He could hear Pete saying something to him, but he wasn’t quite registering it because hello, orgasm.
He slumped against the pillow, enjoying the feeling of his heart thumping in his chest. After a minute he replayed what Pete had said to him mid-orgasm.
When he regained control of his muscles, he turned his head to look at Pete. “Wait. Did you just say ’Batman’?”
Pete blinked at him owlishly. “Maybe.”
Mikey blinked back. “Um, okay. Why?”
In response, Pete giggled. “You’ll see.”
Mikey wasn’t really a pushy kind of guy, so he let it go. Sure, it was fucking cryptic and kind of annoying, but how imperative could it possibly be? Pete was a total dork, so Mikey figured it wasn’t too weird that he’d bring up superheroes mid-coitus.
But then, it happened again the next day. This time they were actually on the MCR bus, because he knew he’d have it to himself for a while. Gerard and Frank had gone in search of cigarettes because nobody on the bus seemed to have any, and Bob and Ray were hanging out with the dudes in Avenged Sevenfold. Brian had actually been the one to tip him off, which Mikey found kind of creepy because what the hell, was their tour manager trying to help him get laid?
It totally didn’t matter though, because Mikey was holed up in the back lounge of their bus with a hot guy in his lap. “How long until you guys have to go on?” Pete asked, slipping his hands underneath Mikey’s shirt.
“I dunno, two hours?” Mikey said absently, choosing to focus the majority of his attention on opening Pete’s pants. He was tempted to ask if he had stolen that particular pair from his teenaged ex-girlfriend considering how tight they were, but he figured that might be a sensitive subject.
“Awesome, we can take our time,” Pete said right into his ear.
“Uh huh.” Mikey managed to get his hand down the front of Pete’s pants, but just barely. He knew that once he got it out it would have the seam of the pants pressed into it. If he got it out, oh god. Mikey got visions of having to stagger around the parking lot with his hand shoved down Pete’s pants, asking around for a pair of scissors.
Pete scooted back so he could open Mikey’s pants, and a few moments later they were merrily jerking each other off. Pete bit at Mikey’s neck with his ridiculous teeth, but Mikey was so distracted by what Pete’s hand was doing that he almost didn’t worry about him leaving a mark. Whatever, everybody totally knew anyway.
Ten minutes later, Pete was coming on his hand and Mikey wasn’t far behind. Everything was great: the air-conditioning was on full-blast, he still had a hot guy in his lap, and he was about to have an orgasm. Of course that was the moment Pete chose to be weird.
“Batman. Batman. Batman!” Pete croaked in his ear, and it was too late, Mikey was coming, and Pete was still rambling about masked vigilantes.
Mikey sat still for a moment, caught his breath, and then stared at Pete. “Okay, what the fuck?”
“What!” Pete tried to look innocent. He was actually really bad at that.
“Come on Wentz, you’re going to have to explain that one of these days. Might as well make it sooner rather than later.”
Pete grinned. “Are you sure you wanna know?”
“Yes!”
“Okay, fine.” Pete grinned evilly. At the time, Mikey would have described said grin as “mischievous” or even “playful,” but in retrospect, Mikey would definitely file it under “evil.”
“It’s called ‘sexual conditioning,’” Pete explained. “Basically, if I say a word every time I make you come, you’ll gradually start to associate that word with coming. If it’s done right, I could make it so that you’ll come every time I say that word.” Pete had wriggled away from Mikey slightly, giving him a little space. Presumably, so he could get away quicker if Mikey decided to kick his ass.
“The fuck? How do you come up with this shit?”
Pete shrugged. “I read about it somewhere. But seriously, it could be so much fun. Think about it, Mikeyway.”
Mikey did. He couldn’t picture this being fun, but he decided to give Pete the benefit of the doubt. “Fun like how?”
Pete grinned, seeing that Mikey’s resolve was weakening. “Like, I could say it when we’re hanging out with our friends, and you’d come, and nobody would know what just happened but you and me.”
Wow, that was kind of hot. Pete had a filthy, filthy mind. At the time Mikey loved it. Later, not so much. “Um, wow,” Mikey said. “Okay. You have to promise to use your powers for good and not evil, though.”
Pete smiled toothily again, and launched himself at Mikey, kissing him on the lips. When they broke apart, Mikey leaned back so he could see Pete’s face better. “Why ‘Batman’?”
Another shrug. “Batman’s pretty badass. He’s the only major superhero who doesn’t actually have any crazy powers.” The only reason Mikey accepted this as a valid answer was because he had Gerard as a brother. Basically, he heard shit like that every day of the week. “Also, he was totally gay for Robin.”
[//]
Things were good for a while. Sure, it was a little weird to think of muscular men who wore their underwear outside their clothes while he was coming (Mikey was more into skinny guys, you see), but he wasn’t about to complain because hot guy. It was actually becoming less about hot guy and more about Pete as time wore on; Mikey was pretty sure he was actually getting kind of infatuated. Which was nice, he figured, because didn’t everyone kind of secretly want to have a fling for the summer? Mikey always did.
Nothing changed for quite a few weeks. Every few days Pete would start saying “Batman” earlier during sex, but it didn’t really do anything for Mikey. After two weeks of this, Pete tried saying it when they weren’t in a sexual situation, but all that happened was Mikey’s dick twitched a little. It was progress, but it wasn’t too impressive.
Another week passed, and Pete tried it again. To Mikey’s immense surprise, he immediately got a hard-on. Pete whooped in victory, and blew Mikey in his bunk to celebrate. It was a win-win situation.
Except, Pete started slipping the word into normal conversation while they were in the presence of other people. Mikey knew that Pete totally got off on knowing what he was doing to Mikey, and if Mikey were to be perfectly honest, he’d have to admit that he kind of got off on it, too. After all, he wouldn’t have agreed to it if he didn’t get any pleasure out of it. It was just… kind of embarrassing? Yeah, embarrassing was the right word.
The first time Pete did it, they were sitting in the back lounge of the Fall Out Boy bus. Pete was lying down, his head resting on Mikey’s knees, and they were watching TV with Joe and Patrick.
“Shit, did you see that!” Joe crowed, pointing at the guy on the TV, who probably just did something totally stupid. Mikey wasn’t really paying attention, because Pete’s head was in his lap. He generally couldn’t pay attention when that was the situation.
Patrick shook his head. “They put such weird crap on TV these days.”
“And they didn’t before!” Pete interjected. “Did you-” He stopped abruptly in the middle of his sentence and looked up at Mikey with that evil grin again. “Yo, did you see those old live action Batman shows? That shit was crazy!”
Mikey had lost him at “Batman,” because now he was sporting an obvious hard-on, and everyone was looking at Pete, whose head was in his lap, so he basically felt like everyone was staring at his dick. And maybe they were. Pete probably was hoping they were, because again, he was one sick fuck.
Mikey stood up abruptly, causing Pete to tumble off the couch. “Not cool, Mikeyway!” he yelped, trying to regain his balance. “Is something up?” God, that was totally too corny for Mikey to handle.
“I just, uh.” Mikey thought he was done excusing himself from rooms so he could jerk off when he was in high school. “I think it’s time for me to go back to our bus. Gerard wanted to talk to me about something.”
“I’ll come with you!” Pete stood up and waved goodbye at Joe and Patrick. Patrick rolled his eyes at the display, but Joe wasn’t even paying attention.
Once they were by the bunks, Mikey glared at Pete. “That was kind of evil, Wentz,” he said. There wasn’t much anger in his voice though, because he still pretty much thought Pete was awesome.
“Yeah, but you love me. Besides, I do intend to help you with that.” And he did, and life was good again.
This went on for about a week. Pete did it about once a day, and it was always embarrassing, but once Mikey got over the initial weirdness, it became kind of thrilling, oddly enough.
But one day, Pete invited him to play with them for a song or two during their set. Mikey should have seen what Pete was up to, but Mikey tended to be a pretty unsuspicious kind of guy, so he accepted without a second thought. The bass for the song he was going to play was pretty simple, after all.
Mikey watched several of Fall Out Boy’s sets from the side of the stage anyway, so that’s what he did that night. When it came time for them to play “Saturday,” which was the song he’d be stepping in for, Pete stepped up to the mic.
“Everyone still having a good time?” he asked, and it was pretty much rhetorical, but the crowd screamed anyway. He laughed softly. “Good! Uh, well, my good friend Mikey Way from My Chemical Romance is here, and he’s gonna help us out with this next song.” The crowd screamed even louder, and Mikey was flattered in spite of himself. A tech took Pete’s bass from him and beckoned Mikey forward, handing it to him once he reached the center of the stage. Mikey ducked under the strap and plucked out a few experimental notes.
“He’s a better bass player than I am,” Pete was saying, “but don’t get too used to having him here, because his brother would kill me if we kidnapped him for too long.” Pete turned around and smiled at Mikey. And oh shit, he wasn’t about to do what Mikey thought he was, was he? “He is pretty awesome though. He’s totally the Batman to my Robin.”
Oh fuck, Mikey thought. Oh no he did not. Mikey was quickly panicking, and normally that would drive any sexual thoughts that he had from his head, but it seemed that right now, his dick didn’t care about his emotional shortcomings, because it was quickly sucking all the blood out of his extremities.
Fuck fuck fuck, Mikey thought, and he tried to mentally will Pete’s head to explode, but Pete was still talking to the crowd because he was a huge dumbass and also a microphone hog. Also, an attention whore, but that was a given.
Mikey was pretty sure that he’d have to play the song with a hard-on, and okay, he guessed he could pretty much deal with that. After all, Pete’s bass was covering it, so it wasn’t like anybody could tell. And sure, it was uncomfortable, but Pete would blow him later and everything would be fine.
But right before the band started the song, Pete backed up a few paces and rested his hand on the small of Mikey’s back, then leaned in and said, “Take it away, Batman.”
And that’s what did it. Mikey’s dick started to throb, and Mikey bit his lip, but he had no choice but to start the song. His hands fumbled over the frets, and Patrick’s voice was reduced to a loud buzz in his ears as he felt himself coming in his pants. Like a fourteen-year-old. On stage. In front of thousands of people.
He was going to fucking kill Pete Wentz.
[//]
That song was possibly the longest song of Mikey’s life. Pete kept shooting him suggestive glances throughout, and that didn’t make things any easier. When it was over, Mikey practically threw Pete’s bass at him, then scrambled off the stage faster than you could say “humiliation.” He managed to get back to the MCR bus without being stopped, and once he changed his pants, he went to the Fall Out Boy bus and waited out front for Pete to get back.
He didn’t have to wait long-they only played one more song after “Saturday,” and then their set was over. When Pete saw him, he launched himself in Mikey’s direction. “Hey!” he said, the post-show high leading him to kiss Mikey’s cheek. Mikey could see Joe make a face over Pete’s shoulder. “What’s up?”
“You’re an evil, evil man,” Mikey said slowly, “and you do terrible things to me.”
Pete looked confused and lowered his voice considerably. “What are you talking about? I’ve been doing this all week, and you didn’t get mad then. Besides, it’s not like anyone could tell.”
Mikey narrowed his eyes. “Well, it went a bit further this time. I actually… you know…”
Something strange happened then: Mikey could actually see Pete’s thought process on his face. First his eyes widened, which signified the is-he-saying-what-I-think-he’s-saying stage; then they narrowed again, which was the part where he wondered if Mikey was kidding or not. Then, he burst out laughing, which was when he realized that he wasn’t.
“Pete!”
Pete was doubled over and clutching his stomach. He was pulling all the stops. This was pure, unadulterated amusement. “Wha…!” Pete couldn’t even stop long enough to form a full word. That’s how bad it was.
“Pete!”
More laughter, of course. Mikey was actually half-expecting some of Pete’s insides to leak out of his face.
“Pete, it’s not fucking funny!”
“I’m… I’m…!” He was stomping his feet now, squirming in the way that meant his brain was actually not getting enough oxygen.
Mikey would have cried out in anguish if he was that type of guy, but he wasn’t, so instead he just turned around and started walking away.
“Wait!” Pete managed through his unruly laughter. “I’m… I’m sorry!” Mikey stopped because okay, he kind of sounded like he meant it. Even if he was about to pass out from a combination of lack of oxygen and diaphragm cramps.
He turned back around and walked up to Pete, crossing his arms and waiting for him to finish laughing so they could Talk About It.
Pete’s laughter finally died down. He wiped his eyes hastily, smudging his eyeliner a little. Mikey wanted to fix it for him, but you generally don’t make loving gestures like that when you’re royally pissed off at someone. Plus, he didn’t think Pete would let any part of Mikey’s body near his eye (or any other vital body parts) while he was so visibly peeved.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t expect that to happen.”
“Neither did I,” Mikey said scornfully.
“I really didn’t mean to embarrass you!” Pete insisted, flapping his arms a little to emphasize his point. “Plus, I seriously don’t think anybody noticed. I didn’t even know what happened, and I was the one who caused it!”
Mikey began to cool off a little. “That’s true. But still. Remember what I told you when I agreed to do this! Well you’re using your powers for evil!”
“I didn’t mean to!” Pete looked so earnest that Mikey really couldn’t be mad at him anymore.
“Fine,” Mikey said, sounding a little exhausted. “But you better not do that again. Ever.”
“Ever!”
“Not while I’m on stage,” Mikey clarified.
“Fine, you’ve got my word.” Pete held up his hand like he was swearing on something. Mikey nodded. “Good!” Pete said. “Am I forgiven?”
“I guess so,” Mikey said disdainfully. Pete grinned and launched himself at him again, almost knocking him over. They made out against the side of the tour bus, and Mikey figured he wasn’t that mad after all.
A couple minutes later, they heard the door to the bus open, and Mikey could see Patrick peering outside, probably to make sure that Pete’s limbs were all attached to their rightful joints. When he caught sight of what they were doing, he said “Argh!” and went back inside, quickly slamming the door. Mikey would have laughed if Pete’s tongue wasn’t in his mouth, but it just wasn’t happening.
[//]
Pete was true to his word-he only used his powers for good from then on. He would use the word every once in a while, but only very quietly in Mikey’s ear, and he’d only do it to initiate sex. Mikey had to give him credit for that, because it was probably tempting to do when they were in a crowded room, with lots of people watching. Especially because, again, Pete was one sick motherfucker.
At that point, Mikey pretty much thought he had the situation under control. Things were going pretty well; Warped was almost over, his band was ready to set out on their first headlining tour, and he had a good, sex-filled relationship with his (evil) boyfriend-ish thing. But then one day, Gerard decided to talk comics.
Mikey was on his own bus for once, mostly because he couldn’t find Pete and it was too hot outside to go looking for him, so he was sitting at the small table drinking the iced coffee his brother had so graciously procured for him. The rest of the band was sprawled out on the two sofas in the front; Mikey was only half-listening to their conversation, but he could hear them pretty well if he wanted to.
“No way dude, Wolverine was so much cooler,” Gerard was saying, gesticulating lazily with one of his hands. “I mean, those fucking claws.” He curled up his fingers and motioned feebly, letting his hand drop back to his stomach. It was too hot for movement.
“Those claws are pretty badass,” Frank conceded. “You know who’s really lame though?”
“Who?”
“Fucking Batman.” Mikey’s eyes shot open. No way this was happening now. Fuck. “I mean, he didn’t even have any powers. He was just some ordinary dude. What makes him so special?”
“Batman!” Gerard exclaimed, and fuck no, that was not supposed to happen. Mikey was under the impression that would only happen when Pete said it. “But he’s so fucking cool! He’s all about revenge!”
“Oh please,” Ray chimed in, “lots of superheroes are all about revenge. This dude just-“
Mikey stood up abruptly, deciding he couldn’t sit there and listen to their conversation, considering the possible outcomes. However, his sudden movement seemed to have interrupted Ray’s train of thought, because he shut up.
“What’s wrong?” Bob asked.
“Nothing, I just um. I just remembered something.”
“Dude, you look so freaked out right now, you don’t even know,” Frank said, looking mildly concerned but mostly amused. “Oh! I know what it is! He doesn’t want us making fun of Batman, because that’s what Wentz calls him!” Mikey winced again, and shit, this really wasn’t looking good. Meanwhile, the other four were cracking up at his expense.
“Whatever Mikes, don’t be insulted,” Gerard was saying. “Batman’s totally awesome.”
That last one did it, and now he definitely needed to change his pants. And that was the last straw. Mikey officially decided that things had gone Too Far, because ew, and also what the fuck, his brother just (indirectly) made him come in his pants.
Pete was going to fucking pay.
[//]
Mikey was on a mission, and he knew that in order for said mission to be a success, he had to tell no one. That was the first rule of revenge. The second rule was “have no mercy.” And Mikey didn’t. None whatsoever.
There was no third rule of revenge.
Sure, Mikey still made out with Pete, and gave him blowjobs, and received blowjobs, but Mikey liked to believe that Pete could on some level sense his inner rage. And okay, maybe Mikey wasn’t totally furious with Pete, because who could stay mad at that face? But this didn’t make Mikey want to get back at him any less.
So Mikey took his time. He didn’t do anything rash, and he wasn’t too proactive. He had plenty of opportunities: he could have unplugged Pete’s bass while he was on stage; he could have stolen his favorite pair of jeans; he could have drawn on his face while he was asleep. But no-these were all very amusing possibilities, but Mikey preferred to exact his revenge in a way that would leave Pete with no shadow of a doubt as far as what he had done wrong was. The punishment had to fit the crime. So when Mikey overheard Patrick discussing a signing with Andy, he practically cackled with evil glee.
The signing was to take place the day before the last day of Warped. Mikey knew that there were a lot of things that could potentially go wrong, so he casually dropped by the signing table an hour before the band was scheduled to arrive. Some crazy kids were already there waiting, and one of them seemed to recognize Mikey, but he didn’t do anything and for that Mikey was grateful, because he was on a mission. He was in the zone, if you will, and nothing was going to stop him.
Mikey crossed in front of the tent a couple times, observing the setup. The table was long, which was good. Also, it had a huge tablecloth draped over it, which reached all the way down to the floor on both sides, which was perfect. Mikey smirked to himself and went back to the bus.
When it was almost time for Fall Out Boy to show up to the signing, Mikey crept back to the tent, incognito. It was way too hot to be wearing a hoodie, but Mikey didn’t care, because again, he was on a mission. He went all the way to the inside corner of the tent, where the kids on line couldn’t see him, and then quickly dropped down to the floor and crawled under the table, making sure that the table cloth was concealing him completely.
It was fucking stuffy under the table, so Mikey opened his hoodie and tried to get his face near an opening. It wasn’t really happening but he didn’t care because this was going to be worth it. If he didn’t pass out from heat exhaustion before he could do anything.
He sat there, perfectly still, for just under ten minutes. Then he heard voices approaching, and he recognized Pete’s nasal whining among them. The voices got louder, and then there was some rustling, and Mikey could vaguely see shoes. Now was the tough part: figuring out which pair was Pete’s.
Mikey’s first instinct was to go for the most horribly neon-colored ones, the ones that looked like a five-year-old designed them, but then he remembered that Pete and Andy were the same size, and therefore probably stole each other’s shoes a lot (he was able to predict this because Frank and Gerard were constantly doing it). It was a good call apparently, because all the noise was coming from the owner of a pair of subdued-looking black and gray checkered vans. That was a close one, Mikey thought.
He crawled over to the right side of the table, careful not to disturb Joe’s converse or Patrick’s sensible yet stylish sneakers, and settled by Pete’s feet. The tablecloth was blocking most of his access to Pete’s body, but that could be fixed. It was all about timing, Mikey reminded himself. He listened carefully; the signing seemed to be in progress already, because there were a lot of breathy teenage-girl voices coming from the other side of the table. Perfect.
Mikey sneaked his hand under the tablecloth and slowly tightened his grip around Pete’s ankle. The moment Pete felt it was obvious because he twitched visibly, but he didn’t make any noise. Mikey kept his hand there for a minute, then slowly withdrew it.
A moment later, he could see Pete’s hand lifting the cloth, then his face peering suspiciously at Mikey. When Pete caught sight of him, his eyes widened; clearly he had some idea of what Mikey was planning, because he looked anxious yet excited. Pete was definitely one sick fuck. As if Mikey didn’t know that already.
“What was that about?” Mikey could hear Patrick mutter under his breath.
“Nothing. I thought I felt something crawling up my leg is all.”
Mikey snickered to himself, but quickly moved to Phase Two of his mission: maneuvering the tablecloth so he had access to Pete’s lap. He did it slowly, so that no sudden movements would catch any wandering eyes. First he lifted up one side and draped it over Pete’s knee, then the other. Pete was trying to squirm away, perhaps thinking better of his original enthusiasm, but Mikey wouldn’t let him. He pinched his calf, and Pete took the hint and pulled his folding chair forward. Mikey noted with relish the hesitation in his movements. This was going to be hilarious.
Some crazed fan on the other side of the table was squealing, “I love you, Pete!” and this just made Mikey’s amusement grow. This situation was so inappropriate, and he was loving every minute of it.
Once the tablecloth was arranged to Mikey’s satisfaction, he began to work on Pete’s jeans. He got up on his knees and leaned forward so he’d be able to see what he was doing better, but he hit his head on the table and accidentally let slip a “fuck!” Pete quickly coughed to cover up the noise, then kicked at him but missed, and Mikey patted his knee reassuringly, as if to say, “it won’t happen again.” Pete’s muscles were still delightfully tense, probably because he didn’t know what to expect. Mikey didn’t blame him in the least.
Finally, Mikey got into a somewhat comfortable position, which was pretty miraculous considering the circumstances, and got to work. Unbuttoning Pete’s fly from this angle wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but Mikey somehow managed. Pete was still squirming, probably trying to cover up the strange movements of the tablecloth, but it was making Mikey’s job harder so he pinched his lower stomach, right where his bartskull tattoo ended, and Pete stilled. Mostly.
Mikey began fighting his way into the strange enclosure that was Pete Wentz’s pants. Like most days, they were particularly tight, but unlike most days, he wasn’t wearing any underwear. This made things much simpler. Mikey was somehow able to pull Pete’s cock out without harming it, through a combination of pushing and pulling the fabric surrounding it. Pete made a few questionable noises throughout the process, but he was generally able to cover them up by coughing or stretching. Mikey obviously couldn’t see what was going on in the outside world, but he figured it involved a lot of raised eyebrows on the part of the fans, and a lot of sheepish grins from Pete.
Mikey was amazed to discover that Pete was already half-hard. It was shocking that Pete was able to think about sex when he was with fourteen-year-old girls. Wait, Mikey thought, that came out really wrong.
So, naturally, Mikey started jerking him off. At first, even Mikey felt weird about the situation-he was crushed under a table, surrounded by people, and he had his hand on another dude’s cock. However, it didn’t take too long for Mikey to get into it. He could hear Pete’s voice straining as he was talking to the fans, and yeah, it was pretty wrong, but it also kind of turned Mikey on.
“Thanks!” Mikey heard a girl say.
“No p-problem!” Pete said, fumbling over his words as Mikey squeezed a little harder.
“Thanks Pete, looking forward to your set later!” another girl quipped.
“It’s gonna be lots of fun!” Pete said, but his voice squeaked a little towards the end of his sentence. Mikey was willing to bet the girl gave him a really funny look.
Ten minutes or so passed like that, and after a while, Mikey had to bite on his free fist to keep himself from laughing. The whole situation was pretty comical. For him, at least. Whatever, Pete totally deserved it.
“Hey Pete?” Patrick said a few minutes later, his voice lowered to a suspicious tone.
“Hmm?” Pete said distractedly. Apparently he couldn’t really sign things, get a hand job, and talk at the same time. At least, not efficiently.
“Have you seen Mikey today?”
“What!” Pete sounded totally panicked, and for good reason.
Mikey chose this moment to take things to the next level. He quickly leaned forward and slid his mouth over Pete’s dick. Pete made an unattractive strangled noise, and Mikey laughed around his mouthful.
“Why do you ask?” Pete finally said, in a somewhat normal, if not restrained, voice.
“No reason,” said Patrick’s voice. “I was just wondering.”
Pete aimed another kick at Mikey, but missed again.
Another minute or so went by, and Pete was bouncing his leg up and down at an annoyingly rapid pace, and Mikey was afraid he was going to choke. He also knew that this probably meant that Pete was close. Now, the thing about Pete was, he was terrible at being discreet about such things, and Mikey knew this. That was why this was such a perfect revenge. It was going to be embarrassing.
As time wore on, Pete’s replies to the fans’ questions and compliments got more and more strained. Mikey knew that if they were in bed he’d be moaning and groaning and crying out Mikey’s name by now, but he was obviously trying very hard to maintain some semblance of composure. Mikey was kind of proud of him, in an obscure way.
“Here you g-uhhhhhn. Shit! Oh, uh, sorry. Paper cut,” Pete was rambling.
“Man, those suck,” the boy said sympathetically.
Mikey was positive that Pete was moments away from coming. His squirming was worse than ever, and whatever volume control he had over his voice seemed to be dissipating. His replies were turning into shouts. And it was hilarious.
“Have a nice day!” he bellowed, still bouncing his leg incessantly.
“Thanks Pete! Take care,” another girl was saying.
“No!” Pete hollered. “Thank you for coming!”
And with that, plus an added little groan, Pete came in Mikey’s mouth. Mikey almost gagged, partly because it was a lot to swallow, but mostly because he was trying not to burst out laughing.
Pete aimed yet another kick at him once he caught his breath, but Mikey didn’t even care, because he had finally gotten his revenge. He tucked Pete back into his pants and even did up the fly for him, then retreated to the other side of the table where Pete couldn’t kick the shit out of him.
[//]
Mikey somehow managed to get out from under the table unnoticed. He did have to wait until the signing was over, but it was still miraculous that nobody saw him-a guy who was almost six feet tall-creeping out from under a fucking tablecloth.
Regardless, he did manage to escape, and in one piece at that. Pete texted him later that day:
i dont know if yr evil or my new favorte prson
Mikey quickly typed back:
Shut up u totally deserved it. u can take that any way u want.
Thirty seconds later, Mikey’s phone buzzed again.
whatever u say batman
Mikey smiled.
THE END.
I am so ridiculous. D: