So Sick aka Patrick’s Twofold Revenge (# 1)
Title: So Sick aka Patrick’s Twofold Revenge (# 1)
Author: smugglers_prize
Summary: Patrick feels the burn and uses Pete this time.
Rating: NC-17
Author’s Notes: The long-awaited sequel/flipside, because gamblore is still my muse :)
Mercy Street aka Pete's Really Bad Idea (#365)
There are times when Patrick thinks he really shouldn’t be held accountable for some of his actions. Most of the time, he blames Pete, being his best friend and partner-in-crime, not to mention oh-so-easy to blame. When that doesn’t work, he blames the first person or thing he can think of. In this case, it’s hard to lay blame to anyone but himself. Though he would love to blame Anna, she’s just too…perfect to blame.
So when he got the voicemail from Anna an hour before appearing on BBC radio, he knew he was the one going crazy. After all, Anna would never break up with him. Not via voicemail, at least. So that’s why Patrick, on a whimsical decision, changed his repertoire from a cover of Elliott Smith to Ne-Yo’s “So Sick.” Because, in the end, music was a form of expression, and that song expressed him way too well.
So there Pete was, tuning in to listen to Patrick’s interview and to hear him sing (because as much as he denies it, Pete is head over heels in love with Patrick’s voice). And having expected an excellent rendition of Miss Misery, he was startled, instead, to hear Patrick’s divine voice spurting out “So Sick.” Pete would almost feel all of Patrick’s emotions through that song. And he got the sense that he would most definitely be comforting Patrick that night.
And comfort Pete did. For Patrick came straight to Pete’s apartment as soon as the interview was over and knocked on the door. Pete answered it, pretending to be surprised, but both Patrick and Pete knew that he wasn’t the least bit surprised. After all, Pete wouldn’t let just anyone sing his lyrics.
“Anna left me a message,” Patrick said simply, tears in his eyes, as he had been holding everything in until now. He didn’t need to say anything else, either, for Pete understood just what Anna said in that message, and just how it made Patrick feel.
Pete simply nodded and stepped forward, wrapping his tattooed arms around Patrick, as Patrick began to shake with sobs. It was usually the other way around for them. Pete should be the one hurting. And Patrick should be holding him! Not like this…and yet Pete felt very much at home with Patrick being the broken hearted one for once. It was a nice change of pace.
“What do you want me to do?” Pete whispered, prepared to do anything. After all, Patrick let him fool around when Jeanae rejected him (and, in fact, was much too eager to do so). He would even let those events take place again if need be. Because even if he went back to Jeanae after that, he couldn’t help but actually miss Patrick in that way.
“Make me stop hurting…” Patrick mumbled, squeezing Pete tightly. “I…I only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me.” He placed his lips against Pete’s cheek and hoped Pete would get the not-so-subtle hint.
Pete, of course, did not miss the hint, and nodded, drawing in a deep breath. “For you…anything,” he whispered, pressing their foreheads together. He knew it was wrong to try and dull emotional pain by using sensual overload and physical pain. But he couldn’t deny that he wanted this just as much as Patrick did.
Patrick took a chance by tilting Pete’s head up, and capturing his lips, relishing in the sweet taste he’d longed to drink in again, having only kissed Anna since the last time. Pete kissed back with the same amount of need and desire, and the kiss quickened tremendously, and Pete tugged Patrick, leading him back to his bunk. And so it began again.
Patrick placed himself on top, despite Pete’s pleas to get a chance on top. “I’m the more experienced one,” he breathed out. Pete didn’t seem to mind much after a while, especially when he felt Patrick’s hands slip underneath his shirt. In fact, Pete felt his pants grow tighter at that and whimpered as he pulled Patrick’s shirt up and over his head. Patrick followed suit with Pete’s shirt, peppering kisses on Pete’s chest, pausing to pay homage to Pete’s nipples.
Pete’s moans drove Patrick on, and he smirked as he licked a trail from Pete’s torso to the top of Pete’s jeans. Patrick’s hands trailed with his tongue, but down his sides, not his stomach. Pete’s eyes were clenched shut, and his moans grew quicker and louder. He was sure he never felt this good before. In fact, even if they never reached penetration, Pete would not care. So long as those hands and that tongue continued their dark deeds.
“You gonna do that thing with your teeth again?” Pete didn’t even know how he could still be coherent among Patrick, his hands, and his tongue. Patrick made it his goal to change that.
So when Patrick’s fingernails dragged up and down Pete’s stomach as he tore at the button on Pete’s pants with his teeth, Pete had lost all control over speech. All he could manage now was gibberish.
Pete’s pants were soon removed, followed by Patrick’s jeans. Sadly, Pete was not as skilled with the button teeth thing, but Patrick did not seem to mind. Especially when Pete groped his ass in the midst of tearing Patrick’s jeans off.
Now that both men were stripped to their boxers, Pete arched his hips up, groping Patrick’s ass again so that both their groins crashed together. The friction created from that one meeting of hips was immense as only two thin sheets of material, both their boxers, separated their erections. “Fuck, Pete…” Patrick groaned out at the friction. “This feels so gooood…”
At Patrick’s voice, Pete felt himself grow even harder, and the boxers showed that. Patrick smirked when he glanced down at the tent in Pete’s boxers. Pete rolled his eyes and wrapped his legs around Patrick’s waist to pull him down, closer to him. “Kiss me. Touch me. Fuck me.”
“As you wish,” Patrick breathed out against Pete’s lips, using one hand to prop himself up, and the other to cup Pete’s cheek. He closed the gap between their lips as the hand on Pete’s cheek slid down Pete’s side, and between his legs. As Patrick deepened the kiss, he pressed down hard against Pete’s boxers, rubbing Pete’s erection.
“Please, don’t stop,” Pete moaned against Patrick’s lips. Patrick stopped only to strip Pete of his boxers, and then wrapped his fingers around Pete’s cock. “God, don’t stop,” he repeated now that Patrick was giving him a full out hand job.
“Not for one second,” Patrick moaned back, loving how much pleasure he could give Pete just by touching him and stroking him. When Pete works up the effort, he finally removes Patrick’s boxers and moves his legs apart, silently asking for total release.
Patrick nodded his head as Pete pointed to a nightstand, and fumbled around for a bottle of lube and a box of condoms. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he whispered as Patrick lubed up his fingers and pushed one inside. As Pete relaxed, Patrick stuck the finger in further, and then added another. Pete was getting used to the strangeness of the feeling, despite the fact that this would only be his second time with Patrick, with a guy, with a dick up his ass.
Patrick then removed the fingers and readied himself by putting a condom on and lubing himself up. But instead of silently plunging in like he did last time, he cleared his throat and started singing. Pete was sure that this was the hottest thing ever. Anna be damned, Pete couldn’t believe someone could turn down someone so enwrapped in sex. Gotta change my answering machine, now that I’m alone. Cuz right now it says that we can’t come to the phone.
Thrust. Moan. Pump. Groan. Stroke.
And I’m so sick of love songs, so tired of tears. So done with wishing you were still here. Said I’m so sick of love songs so sad and slow. So why can’t I turn off the radio?
And as Patrick reached the bridge of the song, which he had only heard his friend and possibly secret lover (at this point) sing not too long ago, Pete felt a hand back around his cock, trying to bring him off. And it didn’t even take the completion of the song for that to happen, because by the final verse, Pete was splashing all over their stomachs, and with one more line, Patrick filled the condom and pulled out of Pete. And by the time he finished the song completely, the condom was in the garbage, and Patrick collapsed next to Pete.
The two were way too hyped up on sex to be able to fall asleep now, although Pete was surely getting there. Unlike last time, though, it was Pete who was the first person to speak up.
“I can’t…we can’t do this anymore,” he whispered, his voice shaky and his breath still racing just as quickly as his pulse.
“You’re…you’re not serious are you?” Patrick turned his head so that he was looking deep into Pete’s eyes. “After what we just did…”
“No I mean…we can’t keep pretending,” Pete replied, staring right back. He raised a shaky hand up to Patrick’s cheek and brushed a sweaty strand of hair out of his eyes. “We can’t keep pretending that we don’t enjoy this. It isn’t fair.
“Who says I’m pretending?” Patrick raised an eyebrow, leaning into Pete’s hand on his cheek. “Anna…was just because I couldn’t have you.”
Pete gaped at Patrick because, really, he hadn’t expected that. Patrick and Anna just seemed like the sort of couple that lasted forever. Sugar and sweet and everything nice. It was pretty much everyone and Pete that might lead a guy to want to be with Patrick. But Patrick actually wanting Pete…not just Pete’s body, but Pete’s manic depression and Pete’s heart on his sleeve, and Pete’s talent for writing? No one ever wanted Pete, it was always Pete wanting them. So, yes, Pete was definitely surprised.
But he wasn’t stupid. When someone floors you with a confession like that, you don’t just say that they’re crazy and insist that you’re going to end up alone forever. No, Pete knew just how to handle the situation. “I’m single. You’re single. We’ve both just fucked each other for the second time. And we obviously like each other. Hell, I’ll even go as far as to say that we might even love each other. So, please, tell me I’m not making a huge mistake in asking if you want to try out a relationship.”
Pete closed his eyes and held his breath, because he was still superstitious, and he was still sure that Patrick was pulling his leg. But Patrick’s hand slipping around his waist forced Pete to open his eyes so he could cuddle closer to the younger male. “I’d be honoured to be one of Pete’s famous significant others. Just…don’t write about me?”
“Don’t worry…it’s almost like incest. Singing about yourself, that is. Don’t worry, not gonna happen,” Pete’s grin softened Patrick’s features until the two men’s breathing started evening out. Sleep came quickly for the two musicians, and the morning brought an interesting turn of events.
Both Pete and Patrick received phone calls, both girls oblivious to not only what happened, but also to the fact that they were both calling their exes on the same day, and only twenty minutes after one another. Jeanae called Pete, Anna called Patrick. Both girls begged for their men back, but neither Pete nor Patrick could say anything but no. After all, it was so much easier to be with each other than have to face the facts that every time the other man was going through relationship problems, Pete and Patrick would be shedding clothes with each other. No, it was definitely much easier if they shed clothes all the time.
And that, my friends, is how revenge can be sweet, slick, and full of sex.
Author: smugglers_prize
Summary: Patrick feels the burn and uses Pete this time.
Rating: NC-17
Author’s Notes: The long-awaited sequel/flipside, because gamblore is still my muse :)
Mercy Street aka Pete's Really Bad Idea (#365)
There are times when Patrick thinks he really shouldn’t be held accountable for some of his actions. Most of the time, he blames Pete, being his best friend and partner-in-crime, not to mention oh-so-easy to blame. When that doesn’t work, he blames the first person or thing he can think of. In this case, it’s hard to lay blame to anyone but himself. Though he would love to blame Anna, she’s just too…perfect to blame.
So when he got the voicemail from Anna an hour before appearing on BBC radio, he knew he was the one going crazy. After all, Anna would never break up with him. Not via voicemail, at least. So that’s why Patrick, on a whimsical decision, changed his repertoire from a cover of Elliott Smith to Ne-Yo’s “So Sick.” Because, in the end, music was a form of expression, and that song expressed him way too well.
So there Pete was, tuning in to listen to Patrick’s interview and to hear him sing (because as much as he denies it, Pete is head over heels in love with Patrick’s voice). And having expected an excellent rendition of Miss Misery, he was startled, instead, to hear Patrick’s divine voice spurting out “So Sick.” Pete would almost feel all of Patrick’s emotions through that song. And he got the sense that he would most definitely be comforting Patrick that night.
And comfort Pete did. For Patrick came straight to Pete’s apartment as soon as the interview was over and knocked on the door. Pete answered it, pretending to be surprised, but both Patrick and Pete knew that he wasn’t the least bit surprised. After all, Pete wouldn’t let just anyone sing his lyrics.
“Anna left me a message,” Patrick said simply, tears in his eyes, as he had been holding everything in until now. He didn’t need to say anything else, either, for Pete understood just what Anna said in that message, and just how it made Patrick feel.
Pete simply nodded and stepped forward, wrapping his tattooed arms around Patrick, as Patrick began to shake with sobs. It was usually the other way around for them. Pete should be the one hurting. And Patrick should be holding him! Not like this…and yet Pete felt very much at home with Patrick being the broken hearted one for once. It was a nice change of pace.
“What do you want me to do?” Pete whispered, prepared to do anything. After all, Patrick let him fool around when Jeanae rejected him (and, in fact, was much too eager to do so). He would even let those events take place again if need be. Because even if he went back to Jeanae after that, he couldn’t help but actually miss Patrick in that way.
“Make me stop hurting…” Patrick mumbled, squeezing Pete tightly. “I…I only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me.” He placed his lips against Pete’s cheek and hoped Pete would get the not-so-subtle hint.
Pete, of course, did not miss the hint, and nodded, drawing in a deep breath. “For you…anything,” he whispered, pressing their foreheads together. He knew it was wrong to try and dull emotional pain by using sensual overload and physical pain. But he couldn’t deny that he wanted this just as much as Patrick did.
Patrick took a chance by tilting Pete’s head up, and capturing his lips, relishing in the sweet taste he’d longed to drink in again, having only kissed Anna since the last time. Pete kissed back with the same amount of need and desire, and the kiss quickened tremendously, and Pete tugged Patrick, leading him back to his bunk. And so it began again.
Patrick placed himself on top, despite Pete’s pleas to get a chance on top. “I’m the more experienced one,” he breathed out. Pete didn’t seem to mind much after a while, especially when he felt Patrick’s hands slip underneath his shirt. In fact, Pete felt his pants grow tighter at that and whimpered as he pulled Patrick’s shirt up and over his head. Patrick followed suit with Pete’s shirt, peppering kisses on Pete’s chest, pausing to pay homage to Pete’s nipples.
Pete’s moans drove Patrick on, and he smirked as he licked a trail from Pete’s torso to the top of Pete’s jeans. Patrick’s hands trailed with his tongue, but down his sides, not his stomach. Pete’s eyes were clenched shut, and his moans grew quicker and louder. He was sure he never felt this good before. In fact, even if they never reached penetration, Pete would not care. So long as those hands and that tongue continued their dark deeds.
“You gonna do that thing with your teeth again?” Pete didn’t even know how he could still be coherent among Patrick, his hands, and his tongue. Patrick made it his goal to change that.
So when Patrick’s fingernails dragged up and down Pete’s stomach as he tore at the button on Pete’s pants with his teeth, Pete had lost all control over speech. All he could manage now was gibberish.
Pete’s pants were soon removed, followed by Patrick’s jeans. Sadly, Pete was not as skilled with the button teeth thing, but Patrick did not seem to mind. Especially when Pete groped his ass in the midst of tearing Patrick’s jeans off.
Now that both men were stripped to their boxers, Pete arched his hips up, groping Patrick’s ass again so that both their groins crashed together. The friction created from that one meeting of hips was immense as only two thin sheets of material, both their boxers, separated their erections. “Fuck, Pete…” Patrick groaned out at the friction. “This feels so gooood…”
At Patrick’s voice, Pete felt himself grow even harder, and the boxers showed that. Patrick smirked when he glanced down at the tent in Pete’s boxers. Pete rolled his eyes and wrapped his legs around Patrick’s waist to pull him down, closer to him. “Kiss me. Touch me. Fuck me.”
“As you wish,” Patrick breathed out against Pete’s lips, using one hand to prop himself up, and the other to cup Pete’s cheek. He closed the gap between their lips as the hand on Pete’s cheek slid down Pete’s side, and between his legs. As Patrick deepened the kiss, he pressed down hard against Pete’s boxers, rubbing Pete’s erection.
“Please, don’t stop,” Pete moaned against Patrick’s lips. Patrick stopped only to strip Pete of his boxers, and then wrapped his fingers around Pete’s cock. “God, don’t stop,” he repeated now that Patrick was giving him a full out hand job.
“Not for one second,” Patrick moaned back, loving how much pleasure he could give Pete just by touching him and stroking him. When Pete works up the effort, he finally removes Patrick’s boxers and moves his legs apart, silently asking for total release.
Patrick nodded his head as Pete pointed to a nightstand, and fumbled around for a bottle of lube and a box of condoms. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he whispered as Patrick lubed up his fingers and pushed one inside. As Pete relaxed, Patrick stuck the finger in further, and then added another. Pete was getting used to the strangeness of the feeling, despite the fact that this would only be his second time with Patrick, with a guy, with a dick up his ass.
Patrick then removed the fingers and readied himself by putting a condom on and lubing himself up. But instead of silently plunging in like he did last time, he cleared his throat and started singing. Pete was sure that this was the hottest thing ever. Anna be damned, Pete couldn’t believe someone could turn down someone so enwrapped in sex. Gotta change my answering machine, now that I’m alone. Cuz right now it says that we can’t come to the phone.
Thrust. Moan. Pump. Groan. Stroke.
And I’m so sick of love songs, so tired of tears. So done with wishing you were still here. Said I’m so sick of love songs so sad and slow. So why can’t I turn off the radio?
And as Patrick reached the bridge of the song, which he had only heard his friend and possibly secret lover (at this point) sing not too long ago, Pete felt a hand back around his cock, trying to bring him off. And it didn’t even take the completion of the song for that to happen, because by the final verse, Pete was splashing all over their stomachs, and with one more line, Patrick filled the condom and pulled out of Pete. And by the time he finished the song completely, the condom was in the garbage, and Patrick collapsed next to Pete.
The two were way too hyped up on sex to be able to fall asleep now, although Pete was surely getting there. Unlike last time, though, it was Pete who was the first person to speak up.
“I can’t…we can’t do this anymore,” he whispered, his voice shaky and his breath still racing just as quickly as his pulse.
“You’re…you’re not serious are you?” Patrick turned his head so that he was looking deep into Pete’s eyes. “After what we just did…”
“No I mean…we can’t keep pretending,” Pete replied, staring right back. He raised a shaky hand up to Patrick’s cheek and brushed a sweaty strand of hair out of his eyes. “We can’t keep pretending that we don’t enjoy this. It isn’t fair.
“Who says I’m pretending?” Patrick raised an eyebrow, leaning into Pete’s hand on his cheek. “Anna…was just because I couldn’t have you.”
Pete gaped at Patrick because, really, he hadn’t expected that. Patrick and Anna just seemed like the sort of couple that lasted forever. Sugar and sweet and everything nice. It was pretty much everyone and Pete that might lead a guy to want to be with Patrick. But Patrick actually wanting Pete…not just Pete’s body, but Pete’s manic depression and Pete’s heart on his sleeve, and Pete’s talent for writing? No one ever wanted Pete, it was always Pete wanting them. So, yes, Pete was definitely surprised.
But he wasn’t stupid. When someone floors you with a confession like that, you don’t just say that they’re crazy and insist that you’re going to end up alone forever. No, Pete knew just how to handle the situation. “I’m single. You’re single. We’ve both just fucked each other for the second time. And we obviously like each other. Hell, I’ll even go as far as to say that we might even love each other. So, please, tell me I’m not making a huge mistake in asking if you want to try out a relationship.”
Pete closed his eyes and held his breath, because he was still superstitious, and he was still sure that Patrick was pulling his leg. But Patrick’s hand slipping around his waist forced Pete to open his eyes so he could cuddle closer to the younger male. “I’d be honoured to be one of Pete’s famous significant others. Just…don’t write about me?”
“Don’t worry…it’s almost like incest. Singing about yourself, that is. Don’t worry, not gonna happen,” Pete’s grin softened Patrick’s features until the two men’s breathing started evening out. Sleep came quickly for the two musicians, and the morning brought an interesting turn of events.
Both Pete and Patrick received phone calls, both girls oblivious to not only what happened, but also to the fact that they were both calling their exes on the same day, and only twenty minutes after one another. Jeanae called Pete, Anna called Patrick. Both girls begged for their men back, but neither Pete nor Patrick could say anything but no. After all, it was so much easier to be with each other than have to face the facts that every time the other man was going through relationship problems, Pete and Patrick would be shedding clothes with each other. No, it was definitely much easier if they shed clothes all the time.
And that, my friends, is how revenge can be sweet, slick, and full of sex.