Fic: The One Where Bob is Beside Himself
THE ONE WHERE BOB IS BESIDE HIMSELF
by thesamefire
Bob Bryar/Bob Bryar/Patrick Stump, NC-17
Word Count: 3804
Summary: Summer '06, at Chez Bryar/Stump. Complete, total, utter, unutterable crack: So when Patrick got back to the apartment he was sharing with Bob, he didn't immediately register the fact that Bob was lying on the couch, making out with himself.
Notes: So I started writing this the day of the VMAs (so, you know, it's been a while... *headdesk*) after this comment discussion happened. So, calathea, here you finally go! Beta work by the ever-patient ignazwisdom, as always. I love you, ignawizard, U R TEH BEST.
Patrick had had what could only be considered a monumentally shitty day at the studio. It had taken both Joe and Andy to physically restrain him from beating Pete's face in with his own Sidekick over something admittedly unimportant in the grand scheme of things, and things had pretty much gotten worse from there.
So when Patrick got back to the apartment he was sharing with Bob, he didn't immediately register the fact that Bob was lying on the couch, making out with himself. He'd been working too hard, right, spending too much time in the studio and not enough time asleep. It was doing strange things to his brain. So it maybe made sense to him, at first glance, that he'd be seeing things that didn't actually exist and/or weren't actually happening.
Except when he looked again a few minutes later, after he'd kicked off his shoes and hung up his jacket and turned off his iPod and poured himself a glass of water, Bob was definitely making out with himself. And not the wrap-your-arms-around-yourself-so-from-behind-it-looks-like-you're-making-out-with-someone making out with himself. He was actually making out with himself: there were two Bobs on the couch.
"Errrr, hi? Bob?" Patrick offered tentatively.
"Hey, Patrick," came the response. In stereo. Patrick knew it had been a long day but he also knew multi-tracked vocals when he heard them, and this sounded suspiciously like that.
"How was your day?" asked the Bob who was on top at the moment.
"It was... it kind of sucked? I could kill Pete sometimes, I really could, but we're done for the day and tomorrow will bring its own trials so I would really rather just not talk about it, if that's okay. How was, uh, yours?" Patrick was very glad at that moment for the fact that English was the sort of language where he could ask such a question without having to specify if he was talking to one person or two; he still wasn't entirely sure he wasn't hallucinating the second Bob.
"My day?" asked the Bob who hadn't spoken yet, the one underneath the other Bob. "Oh, it was so awesome, I'm just completely beside myself," he deadpanned.
Patrick blinked. "Wait, what?"
"You might have noticed?" He gestured expansively at the other Bob. Patrick nodded. It hadn't escaped his notice, and he wasn't sure if it was in any way reassuring to learn he wasn't seeing imaginary things when the thing he was actually seeing was a second fucking Bob. What the fuck.
Patrick closed his eyes and opened them again. Still two Bobs. He tried again and got the same results. He tried squinting, and the two Bobs suddenly multiplied into four. He hastily changed tack and opened his eyes as wide as they could go, and when his lids settled back down into place, he was still staring at the matched set of Bobs sitting on the couch. Bob was just kind of watching him back. Both of them were. It was really, really disconcerting.
Goddammit, Patrick thought. He wondered if it would go away faster if he played along, and decided that giving it a shot wasn't going to hurt anything except maybe his sanity, and that was really on its last legs these days anyway.
"So which one of you is the real Bob? I mean, I know you're both Bob, I've got that, but which one of you was the only one who existed yesterday?"
The Bobs looked at each other and kind of shrugged. "I remember yesterday, do you?" one asked of the other.
The second Bob nodded. "Yeah, I do too. This is weird, right? How I suddenly just, I don't know, split into two? Because seriously, what the fuck."
The Bobs turned to Patrick, who still looked pretty dumbfounded, but at least he'd managed to close his mouth at some point during the proceedings.
"Right," Patrick said, because he felt like he should probably say something. "So, uh..." He trailed off. He didn't know how to finish that thought. He didn't know how to deal with the fact that there were two Bobs, and he had clearly interrupted them making out with each other, which was weird, but you know what, if he was as hot as Bob? He'd probably take the chance to make out with himself, too. It's not like he didn't already sort of want to make out with Bob as it was.
There was an awkward silence. A long one. Patrick could hear the clock in the other room ticking, that's how silent and awkward it was.
"I'm, uh, just going to go watch a movie in my room, I guess," Patrick offered, rubbing his nose and adjusting the brim of his hat in one nervous tic of a motion, already starting to back out of the living room into the hallway towards the bedrooms. "I'll leave you two to, uh, whatever, you know, I'll just be going--"
"Wait!" Bob--both Bobs--called after him. He stopped. "Don't--" "Why don't--" The Bobs spoke over each other, and then the one on top shrugged and the one on the bottom went on. "You walked in on this and didn't ask if you could join in? I'm really kind of disappointed in you, Patrick."
Patrick's mouth was hanging open again, wider than before. He wondered if the Bobs could see his tonsils, and then that particular train of thought completely derailed itself when he realized that it sounded like Bob wanted to find said tonsils with his tongue. What the fuck.
One of the Bobs started drumming his fingers on the other's thigh.
Patrick gulped.
The other Bob started humming the thinking music from Jeopardy!.
Patrick's mouth went dry.
"Jesus, Patrick, just come sit down, okay?"
Patrick nodded. He could at least sit down. He concentrated really hard for a moment until his feet finally started moving, bringing him towards the couch to sit in the space the Bobs had just created between them. They smiled welcomingly as he approached, the dim light from the lamp on the side table gleaming golden on matching lip rings. Patrick's stomach flipped sideways, but he settled into the space as delicately as he could.
The space wasn't very big. Each of Patrick's thighs was pressed to the thigh of the Bob next to him. And then--Patrick wasn't entirely sure how this was possible--the space he was sitting in got even smaller as the Bobs leaned in. He could feel their breath against the sides of his neck. And then he felt their lips. He just kind of sat there as they kissed their way up, biting his lip as they pressed wet mouths to the hollows where neck and ear and jaw all met. He might have maybe made a high-pitched noise when he felt the sharp edges of teeth, but he'd deny it if asked.
One of the Bobs pressed himself up against Patrick, then, and used his body weight to tip Patrick over sideways into the other Bob's waiting lap. The latter Bob lifted both hands to Patrick's shoulders and pulled him in tight, kissing him soundly on the lips. Patrick moaned softly into the kiss, one of his hands lightly skimming Bob's bare forearm, the other twisting around itself, its fingers alternately wiggling and clenching.
Patrick was tense, nervous; he wasn't sure why Bob wanted to make out with him, or even touch him, and he wasn't even sure if he was kissing the real Bob or just his clone, or if it was some sort of evil twin effect where the clone was trying to ruin the original's life--except that scenario maybe didn't work, Patrick admitted to himself as he parted his lips to let Bob's tongue in; both copies of Bob seemed more than happy with the situation. But maybe they were evil triplets, and the original Bob was tied up in a closet somewhere while his two evil impostors went about ruining his life by making everyone think he was gay. For Patrick.
Patrick was okay with this scenario. His dick sure didn't seem to mind, either.
The Bob now located behind Patrick leaned in against Patrick's back, catching the fidgeting hand up in one of his own and gently prying the clenched fingers apart before lacing them through his own. Patrick felt Bob's weight settle against him, felt the warmth of his skin even through two layers of t-shirt, and reluctantly decided that maybe, maybe there were no evil Bobs, just regular old Bob and his regular old duplicate, and they had no ulterior motive for wanting to jump his bones other than regular old attraction. (Strong supporting evidence for this latest hypothesis came from the unmistakable feel of both Bobs' erections pressing against his hip and the back of his thigh, respectively.) What the fuck. This was awesome.
Patrick finally let himself relax against the Bob beneath him, pressing his mouth a little more firmly into Bob's and slowly touching his tongue to the one moving cautiously around his mouth. Bob groaned softly; Patrick could feel it against his chest. He huffed out through his nose and pressed his tongue against Bob's, then pulled back and bit at Bob's lower lip. Bob, for his part, seemed perfectly pleased by this turn of events, pressing his dick harder against Patrick's hip to show his approval.
The Bob behind Patrick, meanwhile, continued to press into Patrick, his dick grinding against Patrick's thigh as he reached the hand not tangled in Patrick's around Patrick's body to slip under the front of his shirt, rucking it up as his hand slid as far as it could up his body. Rough fingertips brushed a nipple and Patrick gasped into the mouth of the Bob he was kissing, jerking his hips forward. Bob moaned and thrust back.
Patrick ran his hand up Bob's arm and let his fingers brush against Bob's jaw. Bob's beard was coarse beneath his fingers but also somehow soft, and Patrick kissed his way across the side of Bob's mouth and then down to his jaw near his own fingertips. The stubble rasped against his lips, made them tingle and throb in time with his racing heartbeat. Bob shuddered beneath him, exhaled heavily, and Patrick smiled against Bob's skin as he left the next kiss behind.
The other Bob brushed aside long wisps of Patrick's hair to clear the way to press his lips to the back of his neck. Patrick moaned softly, and then again more loudly as Bob's tongue ran along the outer edge of Patrick's ear. Bob nipped at Patrick's earlobe, and Patrick gasped. Patrick pulled his hand free from Bob's and awkwardly hooked it behind himself to wrap around the Bob behind him and hold him around the waist. Bob pressed himself in closer to accommodate, and Patrick pressed back against the hard cock that was up against his ass. The Bob beneath Patrick thrust up to maintain contact, and Patrick was sure that both Bobs could feel the shiver that ran through him at that.
The ticking of the clock in the other room slowed to a standstill as Patrick lost himself in the feel of Bob's lips (ring and all) against his, Bob's stubble rubbing his cheeks and chin a little raw, and Bob's dick pressing against him. In two places. Patrick had left his what-the-fucks well and truly behind, his mind too occupied with the tangible to contemplate the improbable. He ground his crotch against Bob's thigh and sighed contently against Bob's lips as he felt it returned from both sides.
Then a thought struck.
"Hey," Patrick said, interrupting everything. "Can you guys read each others' minds?"
The Bobs looked at each other over Patrick's shoulder.
"What am I thinking right now?" asked the Bob in front of Patrick.
"That Patrick has the kind of mouth that would look really great wrapped around your dick?"
Patrick's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline--or rather, towards the brim of his hat, which was somehow still on; he preferred not to make any reference to his hairline, thankyouverymuch.
"Fuck, that's exactly what I was thinking, maybe we--"
"But to be fair, I think that was a lucky guess. I mean, I've--you've--we've--thought that for weeks. Since he moved in."
"Okay, that's true."
Patrick looked distressed--that is to say, more distressed than he'd been ten seconds earlier.
"What am I thinking now?"
The Bobs furrowed their brows in in concentration, and eventually the Bob behind Patrick shrugged. "Sorry, Patrick, I don't think there's a psychic connection. I can probably make good guesses, but there's no Miss Cleo voodoo shit going down." The other Bob nodded, and then reached around Patrick to run a hand through his doppelganger's hair.
Patrick found himself very much caught in the middle as the Bobs' arms reached around him on either side to resume feeling each other up, much as they'd been when Patrick had originally interrupted. They pressed close against his front and back, and Patrick thought he maybe should have found the pressing closeness claustrophobic, but really, he just found it unbearably hot. His dick agreed.
This was really not how Patrick imagined his first gay threesome unfolding--or first threesome, full-stop. Pete was never going to believe this. If Patrick ever told him, that is. Patrick wasn't sure he really felt like talking to Pete for a while, after the afternoon they'd had.
"No, but seriously," one of the Bobs said as they broke apart and settled back into sitting on either side of Patrick on the couch. "About that blowjob I--we--were talking about before. Would you? Pretty please?" And he started to unbuckle his belt before Patrick could even open his mouth to respond. The other Bob joined in, hurriedly getting his own pants off, and Patrick's mouth fell open. He had a pretty impressive view. He couldn't even bring himself to think that it was everything he'd imagined and more--because that would entail admitting that he'd thought about it in the first place, and Patrick was still trying to catch up with the fact that this was happening, and that it apparently actually wasn't creepy that he'd been having such thoughts about his roommate, who clearly had been having them about Patrick in return.
One of the Bobs started pulling his own shirt over his head while the other turned to face Patrick, running a hand up his arm and then leaning in to press his lips to Patrick's ear.
"I've had dreams about your mouth," he breathed. Patrick's cock twitched. This was unbelievable, except it was definitely actually happening. Seriously, he must have earned some amazing fucking karma by not killing Pete today. And if this was the reward for narrowly avoiding homicide? He'd be a lot more willing to put up with Pete's shit in the future, that was for sure.
Even before Bob's tongue, which was tracing around the edge of Patrick's ear again, found the exact spot that sent jolts straight to his cock, Patrick was pretty sold on the idea of blowing Bob. Blowing both Bobs, even, if it came to that. Maybe even at the same time. It's not like he hadn't thought about it--which was apparently mutual, what the fuck--and he wasn't sure that another opportunity quite like this one would ever present itself again.
Patrick slid off the couch onto his knees on the floor, twisting to face the couch. By the time he looked up, both Bobs were naked. They had moved closer to each other, filling in the space Patrick had left behind, and their knees were touching right near Patrick's nose.
Patrick put his hand on their knees and looked up. "Um," he said, biting his lip, "who first?"
The Bobs looked at each other. "Me," said the Bob on the left, about half a second before the Bob on the right also said, "Me."
"Ha!" the first Bob shouted. "Me first, I won that." The second Bob pouted, so the first Bob leaned over to kiss him wetly on the lips. Patrick watched them for a few moments, then licked his lips and gently pushed Bob's knees--the Bob on the left--apart.
"Hey," Bob said, looking down at Patrick. He reached out as if to lift Patrick's hat off, but Patrick's hand shot out with reflexes honed by years of fending off Pete and Bill and Brendon and other assorted annoyances. Then Patrick frowned, realizing that the brim of the hat was definitely going to get in the way. He settled on turning it around so it was backwards. Best of both worlds, almost.
Bob gasped as Patrick's hand closed around the base of his dick, jerking up roughly. Patrick dragged his fingertips through the pre-come pooling at the head of Bob's dick, smearing it around. And then, finally, finally, he leaned in to taste Bob, dropping his face down and licking his way back up before closing his lips around the head. And then--
"Holy shit," the other Bob breathed, "that is way hotter than I imagined. Look at his mouth."
Patrick smiled around Bob's dick, and then reached out with his free hand to grasp the other Bob's dick. He was strangely pleased to notice the way their respective moans harmonized so well. He tightened his hand and loosened his lips a little, letting his tongue do more work, and the noises got even better. Yeah, this was pretty awesome.
He was pretty sure he'd seen a porno like this before, and he was pretty sure that that was Pete's doing, and he was really pretty sure that he had not found such things nearly so hot when he was not directly involved. Patrick was definitely sure, though, that in his wildest dreams, he'd never thought to find himself with his smoking hot roommate's dick in his mouth. Or his smoking hot roommate's smoking hot clone's dick in his right hand. At the same time. He could think of worse ways to spend the evening. He smiled to himself and kept at it, trying various things with his tongue, changing up the speed he was pumping his right fist, and keeping a very close eye on the amazing sight of two naked Bob Bryars on the couch in front of him.
The first Bob, the Bob on the left, the Bob with his dick in Patrick's mouth, gave a strangled moan as his fingers clamped down on Patrick's shoulder, and the other Bob sort of whimpered and thrust his hips upward and wrapped the hand Patrick had on his dick with his own. The two Bobs came at the same time, literally the exact same moment; Patrick tasted it on his tongue and felt it on his cheek pretty much simultaneously.
Patrick wasn't surprised by the synchronization--he guessed it made sense, really, since the Bobs were somehow maybe still the same person. What was surprising was that one of the Bobs now seemed to have completely disappeared. What the fuck.
Patrick sat back on his heels and looked up at the one remaining Bob on the couch, who was somewhat red in the face and looking decidedly glazed. "C'mere, Patrick," Bob mumbled, patting the couch beside him where the other Bob had just been. The empty space was on the left side of the couch, so the missing Bob was the one he'd blown.
Which meant the remaining Bob was the one who'd come on his face.
Patrick wasn't sure how he wanted to feel about the fact he would be spending another three weeks living with a dude he'd let come on his face. Was it okay to be cool with it, or was he supposed to be embarrassed or something? This was the sort of thing that Pete might have an answer to, except for how Patrick was very quickly deciding that Pete was never, ever, ever going to know about this. Ever.
Patrick clambered back up onto the couch and settled next to Bob. Bob twisted his body toward Patrick, pressed his face into the side of Patrick's neck. His breath was hot on Patrick's skin, and it sent a shiver straight through Patrick's nerves and down into his dick. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering what was going to happen next and if it was going to involve him having an orgasm at any point in the near future. Because Bob did seem pretty wiped, and Patrick understood, he really did--Patrick wasn't sure if it just was the fact that Bob'd just come, which he knew always made him sleepy, or if having your mysterious, magical clone arrive and then disappear in the course of a single day was especially tiring, which he could totally understand, too--but Jesus, Patrick needed to come soon, and he'd rather not have to do it himself.
Problem was, he wasn't sure how to ask Bob about it without sounding like a total dick.
Bob's clone might have just disappeared, but the remaining Bob seemed to have suddenly gained the ability to read minds, if the look he pinned Patrick with just then was any indication. He licked his lips and leaned towards Patrick, reaching for the button of his jeans.
Patrick grinned, the smile almost reaching his eyes before Bob stopped dead and said, "Wait a sec." The grin disappeared and Patrick looked down at Bob, confused and aroused and seriously, what the fuck.
But Bob apparently was not done talking: "Do we really have to do this here? I'm thinking there's a lot more space in my bed than this couch, yeah?" He was getting to his feet as he spoke, and once he was upright, he reached a hand out to Patrick.
Patrick nodded his head in vehement agreement, taking Bob's hand, feeling the warmth settle into his skin. Bob's bed really was much bigger than Bob's couch, and Patrick intended to make full use of the space, especially now that there was even more space to go around, what with there now being only one Bob.
One Bob was enough for Patrick, anyway.
by thesamefire
Bob Bryar/Bob Bryar/Patrick Stump, NC-17
Word Count: 3804
Summary: Summer '06, at Chez Bryar/Stump. Complete, total, utter, unutterable crack: So when Patrick got back to the apartment he was sharing with Bob, he didn't immediately register the fact that Bob was lying on the couch, making out with himself.
Notes: So I started writing this the day of the VMAs (so, you know, it's been a while... *headdesk*) after this comment discussion happened. So, calathea, here you finally go! Beta work by the ever-patient ignazwisdom, as always. I love you, ignawizard, U R TEH BEST.
Patrick had had what could only be considered a monumentally shitty day at the studio. It had taken both Joe and Andy to physically restrain him from beating Pete's face in with his own Sidekick over something admittedly unimportant in the grand scheme of things, and things had pretty much gotten worse from there.
So when Patrick got back to the apartment he was sharing with Bob, he didn't immediately register the fact that Bob was lying on the couch, making out with himself. He'd been working too hard, right, spending too much time in the studio and not enough time asleep. It was doing strange things to his brain. So it maybe made sense to him, at first glance, that he'd be seeing things that didn't actually exist and/or weren't actually happening.
Except when he looked again a few minutes later, after he'd kicked off his shoes and hung up his jacket and turned off his iPod and poured himself a glass of water, Bob was definitely making out with himself. And not the wrap-your-arms-around-yourself-so-from-behind-it-looks-like-you're-making-out-with-someone making out with himself. He was actually making out with himself: there were two Bobs on the couch.
"Errrr, hi? Bob?" Patrick offered tentatively.
"Hey, Patrick," came the response. In stereo. Patrick knew it had been a long day but he also knew multi-tracked vocals when he heard them, and this sounded suspiciously like that.
"How was your day?" asked the Bob who was on top at the moment.
"It was... it kind of sucked? I could kill Pete sometimes, I really could, but we're done for the day and tomorrow will bring its own trials so I would really rather just not talk about it, if that's okay. How was, uh, yours?" Patrick was very glad at that moment for the fact that English was the sort of language where he could ask such a question without having to specify if he was talking to one person or two; he still wasn't entirely sure he wasn't hallucinating the second Bob.
"My day?" asked the Bob who hadn't spoken yet, the one underneath the other Bob. "Oh, it was so awesome, I'm just completely beside myself," he deadpanned.
Patrick blinked. "Wait, what?"
"You might have noticed?" He gestured expansively at the other Bob. Patrick nodded. It hadn't escaped his notice, and he wasn't sure if it was in any way reassuring to learn he wasn't seeing imaginary things when the thing he was actually seeing was a second fucking Bob. What the fuck.
Patrick closed his eyes and opened them again. Still two Bobs. He tried again and got the same results. He tried squinting, and the two Bobs suddenly multiplied into four. He hastily changed tack and opened his eyes as wide as they could go, and when his lids settled back down into place, he was still staring at the matched set of Bobs sitting on the couch. Bob was just kind of watching him back. Both of them were. It was really, really disconcerting.
Goddammit, Patrick thought. He wondered if it would go away faster if he played along, and decided that giving it a shot wasn't going to hurt anything except maybe his sanity, and that was really on its last legs these days anyway.
"So which one of you is the real Bob? I mean, I know you're both Bob, I've got that, but which one of you was the only one who existed yesterday?"
The Bobs looked at each other and kind of shrugged. "I remember yesterday, do you?" one asked of the other.
The second Bob nodded. "Yeah, I do too. This is weird, right? How I suddenly just, I don't know, split into two? Because seriously, what the fuck."
The Bobs turned to Patrick, who still looked pretty dumbfounded, but at least he'd managed to close his mouth at some point during the proceedings.
"Right," Patrick said, because he felt like he should probably say something. "So, uh..." He trailed off. He didn't know how to finish that thought. He didn't know how to deal with the fact that there were two Bobs, and he had clearly interrupted them making out with each other, which was weird, but you know what, if he was as hot as Bob? He'd probably take the chance to make out with himself, too. It's not like he didn't already sort of want to make out with Bob as it was.
There was an awkward silence. A long one. Patrick could hear the clock in the other room ticking, that's how silent and awkward it was.
"I'm, uh, just going to go watch a movie in my room, I guess," Patrick offered, rubbing his nose and adjusting the brim of his hat in one nervous tic of a motion, already starting to back out of the living room into the hallway towards the bedrooms. "I'll leave you two to, uh, whatever, you know, I'll just be going--"
"Wait!" Bob--both Bobs--called after him. He stopped. "Don't--" "Why don't--" The Bobs spoke over each other, and then the one on top shrugged and the one on the bottom went on. "You walked in on this and didn't ask if you could join in? I'm really kind of disappointed in you, Patrick."
Patrick's mouth was hanging open again, wider than before. He wondered if the Bobs could see his tonsils, and then that particular train of thought completely derailed itself when he realized that it sounded like Bob wanted to find said tonsils with his tongue. What the fuck.
One of the Bobs started drumming his fingers on the other's thigh.
Patrick gulped.
The other Bob started humming the thinking music from Jeopardy!.
Patrick's mouth went dry.
"Jesus, Patrick, just come sit down, okay?"
Patrick nodded. He could at least sit down. He concentrated really hard for a moment until his feet finally started moving, bringing him towards the couch to sit in the space the Bobs had just created between them. They smiled welcomingly as he approached, the dim light from the lamp on the side table gleaming golden on matching lip rings. Patrick's stomach flipped sideways, but he settled into the space as delicately as he could.
The space wasn't very big. Each of Patrick's thighs was pressed to the thigh of the Bob next to him. And then--Patrick wasn't entirely sure how this was possible--the space he was sitting in got even smaller as the Bobs leaned in. He could feel their breath against the sides of his neck. And then he felt their lips. He just kind of sat there as they kissed their way up, biting his lip as they pressed wet mouths to the hollows where neck and ear and jaw all met. He might have maybe made a high-pitched noise when he felt the sharp edges of teeth, but he'd deny it if asked.
One of the Bobs pressed himself up against Patrick, then, and used his body weight to tip Patrick over sideways into the other Bob's waiting lap. The latter Bob lifted both hands to Patrick's shoulders and pulled him in tight, kissing him soundly on the lips. Patrick moaned softly into the kiss, one of his hands lightly skimming Bob's bare forearm, the other twisting around itself, its fingers alternately wiggling and clenching.
Patrick was tense, nervous; he wasn't sure why Bob wanted to make out with him, or even touch him, and he wasn't even sure if he was kissing the real Bob or just his clone, or if it was some sort of evil twin effect where the clone was trying to ruin the original's life--except that scenario maybe didn't work, Patrick admitted to himself as he parted his lips to let Bob's tongue in; both copies of Bob seemed more than happy with the situation. But maybe they were evil triplets, and the original Bob was tied up in a closet somewhere while his two evil impostors went about ruining his life by making everyone think he was gay. For Patrick.
Patrick was okay with this scenario. His dick sure didn't seem to mind, either.
The Bob now located behind Patrick leaned in against Patrick's back, catching the fidgeting hand up in one of his own and gently prying the clenched fingers apart before lacing them through his own. Patrick felt Bob's weight settle against him, felt the warmth of his skin even through two layers of t-shirt, and reluctantly decided that maybe, maybe there were no evil Bobs, just regular old Bob and his regular old duplicate, and they had no ulterior motive for wanting to jump his bones other than regular old attraction. (Strong supporting evidence for this latest hypothesis came from the unmistakable feel of both Bobs' erections pressing against his hip and the back of his thigh, respectively.) What the fuck. This was awesome.
Patrick finally let himself relax against the Bob beneath him, pressing his mouth a little more firmly into Bob's and slowly touching his tongue to the one moving cautiously around his mouth. Bob groaned softly; Patrick could feel it against his chest. He huffed out through his nose and pressed his tongue against Bob's, then pulled back and bit at Bob's lower lip. Bob, for his part, seemed perfectly pleased by this turn of events, pressing his dick harder against Patrick's hip to show his approval.
The Bob behind Patrick, meanwhile, continued to press into Patrick, his dick grinding against Patrick's thigh as he reached the hand not tangled in Patrick's around Patrick's body to slip under the front of his shirt, rucking it up as his hand slid as far as it could up his body. Rough fingertips brushed a nipple and Patrick gasped into the mouth of the Bob he was kissing, jerking his hips forward. Bob moaned and thrust back.
Patrick ran his hand up Bob's arm and let his fingers brush against Bob's jaw. Bob's beard was coarse beneath his fingers but also somehow soft, and Patrick kissed his way across the side of Bob's mouth and then down to his jaw near his own fingertips. The stubble rasped against his lips, made them tingle and throb in time with his racing heartbeat. Bob shuddered beneath him, exhaled heavily, and Patrick smiled against Bob's skin as he left the next kiss behind.
The other Bob brushed aside long wisps of Patrick's hair to clear the way to press his lips to the back of his neck. Patrick moaned softly, and then again more loudly as Bob's tongue ran along the outer edge of Patrick's ear. Bob nipped at Patrick's earlobe, and Patrick gasped. Patrick pulled his hand free from Bob's and awkwardly hooked it behind himself to wrap around the Bob behind him and hold him around the waist. Bob pressed himself in closer to accommodate, and Patrick pressed back against the hard cock that was up against his ass. The Bob beneath Patrick thrust up to maintain contact, and Patrick was sure that both Bobs could feel the shiver that ran through him at that.
The ticking of the clock in the other room slowed to a standstill as Patrick lost himself in the feel of Bob's lips (ring and all) against his, Bob's stubble rubbing his cheeks and chin a little raw, and Bob's dick pressing against him. In two places. Patrick had left his what-the-fucks well and truly behind, his mind too occupied with the tangible to contemplate the improbable. He ground his crotch against Bob's thigh and sighed contently against Bob's lips as he felt it returned from both sides.
Then a thought struck.
"Hey," Patrick said, interrupting everything. "Can you guys read each others' minds?"
The Bobs looked at each other over Patrick's shoulder.
"What am I thinking right now?" asked the Bob in front of Patrick.
"That Patrick has the kind of mouth that would look really great wrapped around your dick?"
Patrick's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline--or rather, towards the brim of his hat, which was somehow still on; he preferred not to make any reference to his hairline, thankyouverymuch.
"Fuck, that's exactly what I was thinking, maybe we--"
"But to be fair, I think that was a lucky guess. I mean, I've--you've--we've--thought that for weeks. Since he moved in."
"Okay, that's true."
Patrick looked distressed--that is to say, more distressed than he'd been ten seconds earlier.
"What am I thinking now?"
The Bobs furrowed their brows in in concentration, and eventually the Bob behind Patrick shrugged. "Sorry, Patrick, I don't think there's a psychic connection. I can probably make good guesses, but there's no Miss Cleo voodoo shit going down." The other Bob nodded, and then reached around Patrick to run a hand through his doppelganger's hair.
Patrick found himself very much caught in the middle as the Bobs' arms reached around him on either side to resume feeling each other up, much as they'd been when Patrick had originally interrupted. They pressed close against his front and back, and Patrick thought he maybe should have found the pressing closeness claustrophobic, but really, he just found it unbearably hot. His dick agreed.
This was really not how Patrick imagined his first gay threesome unfolding--or first threesome, full-stop. Pete was never going to believe this. If Patrick ever told him, that is. Patrick wasn't sure he really felt like talking to Pete for a while, after the afternoon they'd had.
"No, but seriously," one of the Bobs said as they broke apart and settled back into sitting on either side of Patrick on the couch. "About that blowjob I--we--were talking about before. Would you? Pretty please?" And he started to unbuckle his belt before Patrick could even open his mouth to respond. The other Bob joined in, hurriedly getting his own pants off, and Patrick's mouth fell open. He had a pretty impressive view. He couldn't even bring himself to think that it was everything he'd imagined and more--because that would entail admitting that he'd thought about it in the first place, and Patrick was still trying to catch up with the fact that this was happening, and that it apparently actually wasn't creepy that he'd been having such thoughts about his roommate, who clearly had been having them about Patrick in return.
One of the Bobs started pulling his own shirt over his head while the other turned to face Patrick, running a hand up his arm and then leaning in to press his lips to Patrick's ear.
"I've had dreams about your mouth," he breathed. Patrick's cock twitched. This was unbelievable, except it was definitely actually happening. Seriously, he must have earned some amazing fucking karma by not killing Pete today. And if this was the reward for narrowly avoiding homicide? He'd be a lot more willing to put up with Pete's shit in the future, that was for sure.
Even before Bob's tongue, which was tracing around the edge of Patrick's ear again, found the exact spot that sent jolts straight to his cock, Patrick was pretty sold on the idea of blowing Bob. Blowing both Bobs, even, if it came to that. Maybe even at the same time. It's not like he hadn't thought about it--which was apparently mutual, what the fuck--and he wasn't sure that another opportunity quite like this one would ever present itself again.
Patrick slid off the couch onto his knees on the floor, twisting to face the couch. By the time he looked up, both Bobs were naked. They had moved closer to each other, filling in the space Patrick had left behind, and their knees were touching right near Patrick's nose.
Patrick put his hand on their knees and looked up. "Um," he said, biting his lip, "who first?"
The Bobs looked at each other. "Me," said the Bob on the left, about half a second before the Bob on the right also said, "Me."
"Ha!" the first Bob shouted. "Me first, I won that." The second Bob pouted, so the first Bob leaned over to kiss him wetly on the lips. Patrick watched them for a few moments, then licked his lips and gently pushed Bob's knees--the Bob on the left--apart.
"Hey," Bob said, looking down at Patrick. He reached out as if to lift Patrick's hat off, but Patrick's hand shot out with reflexes honed by years of fending off Pete and Bill and Brendon and other assorted annoyances. Then Patrick frowned, realizing that the brim of the hat was definitely going to get in the way. He settled on turning it around so it was backwards. Best of both worlds, almost.
Bob gasped as Patrick's hand closed around the base of his dick, jerking up roughly. Patrick dragged his fingertips through the pre-come pooling at the head of Bob's dick, smearing it around. And then, finally, finally, he leaned in to taste Bob, dropping his face down and licking his way back up before closing his lips around the head. And then--
"Holy shit," the other Bob breathed, "that is way hotter than I imagined. Look at his mouth."
Patrick smiled around Bob's dick, and then reached out with his free hand to grasp the other Bob's dick. He was strangely pleased to notice the way their respective moans harmonized so well. He tightened his hand and loosened his lips a little, letting his tongue do more work, and the noises got even better. Yeah, this was pretty awesome.
He was pretty sure he'd seen a porno like this before, and he was pretty sure that that was Pete's doing, and he was really pretty sure that he had not found such things nearly so hot when he was not directly involved. Patrick was definitely sure, though, that in his wildest dreams, he'd never thought to find himself with his smoking hot roommate's dick in his mouth. Or his smoking hot roommate's smoking hot clone's dick in his right hand. At the same time. He could think of worse ways to spend the evening. He smiled to himself and kept at it, trying various things with his tongue, changing up the speed he was pumping his right fist, and keeping a very close eye on the amazing sight of two naked Bob Bryars on the couch in front of him.
The first Bob, the Bob on the left, the Bob with his dick in Patrick's mouth, gave a strangled moan as his fingers clamped down on Patrick's shoulder, and the other Bob sort of whimpered and thrust his hips upward and wrapped the hand Patrick had on his dick with his own. The two Bobs came at the same time, literally the exact same moment; Patrick tasted it on his tongue and felt it on his cheek pretty much simultaneously.
Patrick wasn't surprised by the synchronization--he guessed it made sense, really, since the Bobs were somehow maybe still the same person. What was surprising was that one of the Bobs now seemed to have completely disappeared. What the fuck.
Patrick sat back on his heels and looked up at the one remaining Bob on the couch, who was somewhat red in the face and looking decidedly glazed. "C'mere, Patrick," Bob mumbled, patting the couch beside him where the other Bob had just been. The empty space was on the left side of the couch, so the missing Bob was the one he'd blown.
Which meant the remaining Bob was the one who'd come on his face.
Patrick wasn't sure how he wanted to feel about the fact he would be spending another three weeks living with a dude he'd let come on his face. Was it okay to be cool with it, or was he supposed to be embarrassed or something? This was the sort of thing that Pete might have an answer to, except for how Patrick was very quickly deciding that Pete was never, ever, ever going to know about this. Ever.
Patrick clambered back up onto the couch and settled next to Bob. Bob twisted his body toward Patrick, pressed his face into the side of Patrick's neck. His breath was hot on Patrick's skin, and it sent a shiver straight through Patrick's nerves and down into his dick. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering what was going to happen next and if it was going to involve him having an orgasm at any point in the near future. Because Bob did seem pretty wiped, and Patrick understood, he really did--Patrick wasn't sure if it just was the fact that Bob'd just come, which he knew always made him sleepy, or if having your mysterious, magical clone arrive and then disappear in the course of a single day was especially tiring, which he could totally understand, too--but Jesus, Patrick needed to come soon, and he'd rather not have to do it himself.
Problem was, he wasn't sure how to ask Bob about it without sounding like a total dick.
Bob's clone might have just disappeared, but the remaining Bob seemed to have suddenly gained the ability to read minds, if the look he pinned Patrick with just then was any indication. He licked his lips and leaned towards Patrick, reaching for the button of his jeans.
Patrick grinned, the smile almost reaching his eyes before Bob stopped dead and said, "Wait a sec." The grin disappeared and Patrick looked down at Bob, confused and aroused and seriously, what the fuck.
But Bob apparently was not done talking: "Do we really have to do this here? I'm thinking there's a lot more space in my bed than this couch, yeah?" He was getting to his feet as he spoke, and once he was upright, he reached a hand out to Patrick.
Patrick nodded his head in vehement agreement, taking Bob's hand, feeling the warmth settle into his skin. Bob's bed really was much bigger than Bob's couch, and Patrick intended to make full use of the space, especially now that there was even more space to go around, what with there now being only one Bob.
One Bob was enough for Patrick, anyway.