(no subject)
Title: One Rule Overseas (No Common Sense) [2/2]
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Peter/Patrick
Summary: Fall Out Boy have to cancel their Paris show because Patrick's lost his passport. How will Pete help him out?
Dedications: forgetfulone for two reasons. What she wanted in a story let me use a plotbunny that's been in my head for a while and
because this was written just for her.
Author's Notes: this is the second part and it is not necessary to read, but there's some boysex, followed by some loverly fluff at the end...
Point Of View: Patrick's
*So, I'm an idiot. I didn't keep my passport on me, it got stolen and now we're stuck in England, waiting to go home, instead of flying to France. Everyone currently hates me and I can't really blame them. Everyone that is, except for one person.
Pete, my boyfriend. The greatest guy on the planet right now. Ever since he came in and found me crying, he's been nothing but sympathetic, letting me cry on his shoulder and reassuring me that things will turn out fine.
We moved from the couch in one of the venue's dressing rooms to a hotel room about two hours ago and I'm feeling a whole lot better. In fact, it's been more cuddling and soft kisses since we got here than actual comforting. Now I'm wanting something more.
When Pete catches my lips for another soft kiss, I slip my hand up behind his head and hold him in place, gradually deepening the kiss. He seems a little hesitant at first, before he realizes that this is really what I'm wanting.
Pete goes along with it, slipping his tounge into my mouth for exploration and running his hands teasingly over my sides. It's at a point where I can't take anymore and I slip my leg in between his, pressing closer insistently, but he's not gonna give in.
After a few minutes, he's pushing me away and I'm wondering what the hell is going on.
Suddenly, I find myself on my back and he's straddling my thighs. He hands run up to my hips and begin to slowly push my shirt up. It seems to take forever, but it's only a few minutes and I'm reaching up so he can pull my shirt off. He tosses it to the side, leaning down to place a kiss on my lips. His kisses trail off of my lips and down my throat, heading for my bare torso.
Pete begins tracing nonsensical designs on my chest all around my nipples, before taking one into his mouth and bathing it with his tounge. By the time he begins working on the other one, I'm writhing beneath him. I try futilely to grab his head and pull it up to mine, but he's not having it. He seems intent on tortureing me with an insane amount of pleasure.
Before long, his touches and tounge start moving lower again. His tounge traces a circle around my tummy button while his nimble fingers work my belt off and throw it somewhere across the room. Slowly, they moved down to pop the button on my jeans and drag my zipper down almost teasingly over my aching need.
"Someone's a bit anxious, are they?" Pete whispered, a hint of teasing in his voice.
"God, yes," I moaned out, unable to come up with a more complete sentence, but that got the job done well enough. He quickly stood up, pulling my pants off, before climbing back onto the bed.
I was about to ask why I was naked and he was still fully clothed when his mouth closed around me. I moaned, unable to hold back any longer. He kept a steady pace, alternating between deepthroating me and paying particular attention to the head and tounging the slit. He brought me to the edge before he pulled off, elicting a groan of protest from me.
That was silenced as he slithered back up to my face, kissing me firmly. I slipped my tounge out, exploring his mouth, tasting myself. As our lips stayed fused together, I began to work off his shirt and minutes later it hit the floor, along with his belt.
When Pete took a second to pull back for a breath, I whispered, "I need you. Now."
It didn't take any more coaxing than that and he had his pants off and he was rifling through his bag for the bottle of lube. He rejoined me on the bed, quickly slicking up a couple of fingers. He pressed one to my opening, working it steadily past the ring of muscle.
He kept working me, eventually adding a second and then a third finger until I was pushing down on them, practically fucking his fingers.
Peter leaned down to kiss me, "You ready, baby?"
Coherency had left me long ago, but I let him know well enough with a nod just before I captured his lips once again with my own.
His hand slipped between us, positioning himself at my entrance. I winced the tiniest bit as he pushed himself into me up to the hilt. He gave me a moment to adjust before he pulled out and thrust in again slowly.
He kept it slow and steady, finding my spot by the fifth thrust, making me scream, but he didn't speed up. Pete continued to take his time. He made every second count, made it feel like the first time all over again.
This wasn't fucking, we were making love.
After what felt like a glorious eternity, I could feel myself getting dangerously close and felt a familiar tightening, tingling sensation in my stomach.
Pete's hand slithered down between us once again and this time he took my throbbing member into his hand, stroking it in time with his thrusts. Minutes later I came, screaming his name and clenching my muscles around him. He followed soon after, my name falling like a mantra from his lips.
He pulled out and laid down beside me, pulling me into his embrace. Kissing my lips, he smiled contentedly.
I kissed him once again, giggling. "If this is what I get for losing my passport, I might have to do it more often."
Pete just looked at me, rolled his eyes, and said, "Don't you dare."
Then he kissed my lips a final time and closed his eyes. I watched him for a few moments, before following him into dreamland.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Peter/Patrick
Summary: Fall Out Boy have to cancel their Paris show because Patrick's lost his passport. How will Pete help him out?
Dedications: forgetfulone for two reasons. What she wanted in a story let me use a plotbunny that's been in my head for a while and
because this was written just for her.
Author's Notes: this is the second part and it is not necessary to read, but there's some boysex, followed by some loverly fluff at the end...
Point Of View: Patrick's
*So, I'm an idiot. I didn't keep my passport on me, it got stolen and now we're stuck in England, waiting to go home, instead of flying to France. Everyone currently hates me and I can't really blame them. Everyone that is, except for one person.
Pete, my boyfriend. The greatest guy on the planet right now. Ever since he came in and found me crying, he's been nothing but sympathetic, letting me cry on his shoulder and reassuring me that things will turn out fine.
We moved from the couch in one of the venue's dressing rooms to a hotel room about two hours ago and I'm feeling a whole lot better. In fact, it's been more cuddling and soft kisses since we got here than actual comforting. Now I'm wanting something more.
When Pete catches my lips for another soft kiss, I slip my hand up behind his head and hold him in place, gradually deepening the kiss. He seems a little hesitant at first, before he realizes that this is really what I'm wanting.
Pete goes along with it, slipping his tounge into my mouth for exploration and running his hands teasingly over my sides. It's at a point where I can't take anymore and I slip my leg in between his, pressing closer insistently, but he's not gonna give in.
After a few minutes, he's pushing me away and I'm wondering what the hell is going on.
Suddenly, I find myself on my back and he's straddling my thighs. He hands run up to my hips and begin to slowly push my shirt up. It seems to take forever, but it's only a few minutes and I'm reaching up so he can pull my shirt off. He tosses it to the side, leaning down to place a kiss on my lips. His kisses trail off of my lips and down my throat, heading for my bare torso.
Pete begins tracing nonsensical designs on my chest all around my nipples, before taking one into his mouth and bathing it with his tounge. By the time he begins working on the other one, I'm writhing beneath him. I try futilely to grab his head and pull it up to mine, but he's not having it. He seems intent on tortureing me with an insane amount of pleasure.
Before long, his touches and tounge start moving lower again. His tounge traces a circle around my tummy button while his nimble fingers work my belt off and throw it somewhere across the room. Slowly, they moved down to pop the button on my jeans and drag my zipper down almost teasingly over my aching need.
"Someone's a bit anxious, are they?" Pete whispered, a hint of teasing in his voice.
"God, yes," I moaned out, unable to come up with a more complete sentence, but that got the job done well enough. He quickly stood up, pulling my pants off, before climbing back onto the bed.
I was about to ask why I was naked and he was still fully clothed when his mouth closed around me. I moaned, unable to hold back any longer. He kept a steady pace, alternating between deepthroating me and paying particular attention to the head and tounging the slit. He brought me to the edge before he pulled off, elicting a groan of protest from me.
That was silenced as he slithered back up to my face, kissing me firmly. I slipped my tounge out, exploring his mouth, tasting myself. As our lips stayed fused together, I began to work off his shirt and minutes later it hit the floor, along with his belt.
When Pete took a second to pull back for a breath, I whispered, "I need you. Now."
It didn't take any more coaxing than that and he had his pants off and he was rifling through his bag for the bottle of lube. He rejoined me on the bed, quickly slicking up a couple of fingers. He pressed one to my opening, working it steadily past the ring of muscle.
He kept working me, eventually adding a second and then a third finger until I was pushing down on them, practically fucking his fingers.
Peter leaned down to kiss me, "You ready, baby?"
Coherency had left me long ago, but I let him know well enough with a nod just before I captured his lips once again with my own.
His hand slipped between us, positioning himself at my entrance. I winced the tiniest bit as he pushed himself into me up to the hilt. He gave me a moment to adjust before he pulled out and thrust in again slowly.
He kept it slow and steady, finding my spot by the fifth thrust, making me scream, but he didn't speed up. Pete continued to take his time. He made every second count, made it feel like the first time all over again.
This wasn't fucking, we were making love.
After what felt like a glorious eternity, I could feel myself getting dangerously close and felt a familiar tightening, tingling sensation in my stomach.
Pete's hand slithered down between us once again and this time he took my throbbing member into his hand, stroking it in time with his thrusts. Minutes later I came, screaming his name and clenching my muscles around him. He followed soon after, my name falling like a mantra from his lips.
He pulled out and laid down beside me, pulling me into his embrace. Kissing my lips, he smiled contentedly.
I kissed him once again, giggling. "If this is what I get for losing my passport, I might have to do it more often."
Pete just looked at me, rolled his eyes, and said, "Don't you dare."
Then he kissed my lips a final time and closed his eyes. I watched him for a few moments, before following him into dreamland.