firmament | Show you how to grind - Bandom (FOB), NC-17, Pete/Patrick.

Title: Show you how to grind
Fandom: Bandom (FOB)
Rating: NC-17.
Length: About 1800 words.
Characters/Pairings: Pete/Patrick.
Disclaimer: Although Pete Wentz is somehow a person that exists, this story is fiction.

Summary: Patrick expected a lot of weird things from Pete. That he'd never been touched below the waist wasn't one of them.

Notes: I blame Pete. The title comes from Prince's Darling Nikki.

(Also on AO3 and LJ.)

Show you how to grind

The number of times Patrick hooked up with guys in his bedroom was turning out to be kind of a high number. To be fair, it wasn't really his fault; he usually did mean it when he asked the dudes checking him out in the record store if they wanted to see his collection. It just ended up being a good pickup line on top of it, and if he got to bone while listening to Elvis Costello, well. He wasn't complaining, basically.

So he probably should've seen adding Pete to that number as inevitable. Pete didn't know what personal space was, and he didn't know what quiet time was, and that all equaled sex in Patrick's brain. When Pete bounced on Patrick's bed and sang all the wrong words to Darling Nikki against Patrick's throat, Patrick just had to tilt his head a little bit, and they were making out.

He'd be lying if he hadn't thought about it before. Sometimes, during practice, he'd catch himself staring at Pete's mouth and wondering what it would be like. And it was pretty much exactly what he expected: sloppy and enthusiastic and needy. But this wasn't Patrick's first kiss, and it certainly wasn't his first time trying to calm Pete down, so after sitting back and basically letting Pete lick his face, Pete settled into smaller kisses.

That's when Patrick took over.

He grabbed Pete's hips and held him down as he slipped his tongue in Pete's mouth, and Pete...squeaked a little? Really? But he also wasn't stopping, and he was pushing back, so maybe he was just surprised. Still.

Patrick drew back and asked, "Is this okay?" quietly. The low voice kept him from sounding as young as he felt.

Pete gave him his dazzlingly bright smile and ran his hands up Patrick's arms. "It's okay."

Patrick snorted.

"But you know what'd be better?"

"Hmm?"

Pete leaned up and whispered, "If you stuck your hand down my pants." Nothing about that sentence should be hot, particularly in the snotty way Pete said it, but if he didn't think Pete's...Peteness was kind of a turn-on, Patrick wouldn't be half-humping him on his bed while his parents were out at the store.

So even though Patrick rolled his eyes while he adjusted his jeans to compensate for his boner, he did slide his hand over the corresponding bulge in Pete's pants. And Pete arched into it. But he also made that squeaking noise again.

"Okay, what's up with that," Patrick said, pulling back.

Pete grabbed his wrist. "Come on, keep going."

"Pete--"

"It's...it's surprising, okay?"

Patrick raised an eyebrow. "Because it's so different than when a girl does it?"

"Probably not. I've just...I've never..."

Patrick sat up quickly. "You've never. With anyone?"

Pete laughed shaky. "Is it that weird?"

Was it that weird that the king of the scene really didn't have anyone groping him below the waist? Maybe it wasn't. It wasn't like Patrick lived at the basement shows that Pete was so fond of.

But. If it was so easy for Patrick, it had to be twice as easy for a guy like Pete. Didn't it?

"What if I said this wasn't my first time?" Patrick said. He was starting to get a little lightheaded.

Pete waved a hand. "Then I'd say people aren't totally clueless. You're you."

Patrick shook his head. "No. Don't do that."

"What?"

Patrick grabbed Pete's wrists and shoved them by his head. Pete's eyes grew wide and dark as Patrick knelt over him, straddling Pete's waist.

"Saying I'm great like you don't matter," Patrick said. He hadn't known Pete for a really long time in reality, but living with his lyrics like he had, Patrick really did know who Pete was. Or who he thought he was, anyway. "You know how much bull that is."

Pete shrugged as best he could without his shoulders, but it also brought his hard-on against Patrick's leg, and his eyelids fluttered.

"God, Pete," Patrick said, half-breathless and half-annoyed. "It is bull. It's...just don't, okay? Because it makes me feel like a jackass to think you're amazing when you won't believe me."

Pete opened his mouth, but he didn't say anything when Patrick shook his head.

"Will you..." Patrick cleared his throat a little. "Will you let me show you?"

It wouldn't fix anything, not in the long run, but maybe, for a second, Pete would get it.

"Patrick," Pete whispered, face serious. "Please."

Patrick couldn't resist a needy Pete. He wasn't sure he ever would.

He started by kissing him again, propping himself on his elbows so he wouldn't pin his entire weight on Pete. Pete groaned into Patrick's mouth, slipping his hands onto Patrick's back when Patrick let go of his wrists to hold his waist down again. But when Pete started to push Patrick's shirt up, Patrick pulled back long enough to murmur, "Don't. This is about you."

Pete frowned, but Pete knew Patrick just as much as it was the other way around, so he let it drop and didn't push. Which was the reason Patrick was doing this, really. Pete liked to pretend he had no limits, but he usually respected the ones Patrick set. And this time, clothes were a limit.

Patrick sucked on the skin in Pete's neck. Giving him a hickie would be kind of awesome, but if his parents came back before Pete left, it would be kind of awkward if it happened where anyone could see. So he slipped Pete's Smiths shirt up and nibbled his way down, and when he reached Pete's waist, he bit down. Pete moaned, and his skin had goosebumps all over. No shock there. Some of the stupid crap he liked to do left him with bruises from head to toe, so Patrick figured he wouldn't be opposed to a little pain.

He undid Pete's fly and mouthed at his boxer briefs for a second, listening with a small smirk as Pete's noises grew higher and more frequent. There was a theory he'd been mulling for a while about how human bodies were like musical instruments. It sounded a little stupid in his head - Pete could probably make it sound better - but basically, he knew instruments. And he knew sex, too.

But Pete didn't. And he trusted Patrick to show him.

A thrill shot through Patrick, and he shifted so he could press his dick against Pete's leg. He wasn't going to rub himself off with both their jeans in the way, but it made him that much more eager to suck Pete until he came in Patrick's mouth. God. The thought.

He looked up at Pete. "I'm gonna give you a blow job, okay?"

Pete laughed and threw his arm over his eyes. If only he knew how he looked. "Like I'd say no."

Patrick slipped Pete's underwear down, nuzzled at the dark shock of hair around his dick, and then licked his hand. He carefully wrapped it around the base of Pete's cock, giving him a chance to adjust. It turned out to be a good idea because Pete's hips jerked into the air hard, and Patrick had to move back before Pete poked his eye out.

"No," he said, pushing Pete back down with one hand. "I don't have the gag reflex for that crap. And I know you can stay still."

Pete moved the arm away from his face and looked down at Patrick. He licked his lips and nodded, relaxing under Patrick's hand, and Patrick pressed against him just a little harder, rolling his hips. Man, it'd be embarrassing if he came in his jeans. Especially if Pete lasted longer.

So Patrick started licking the head of Pete's dick, dragging under the head. Pete full-on whimpered, throwing his head back. He dug his fingers into the sheets, which was awesome because it meant he wouldn't pull Patrick's hair out. He really was a nice guy when he wanted to be.

Patrick licked a couple more times around the parts of Pete's cock not covered by Patrick's hand - enough for some movement, not enough to make Pete blow - before slipped his mouth over the top.

And it really didn't take long after that. Patrick was only really in a rhythm for a few seconds before Pete interrupted his chanting to say, "I...I'm about to...", so Patrick hummed and dragged his tongue under Pete's dick, and that was it. He'd worked it out so only the tip of Pete's dick was in his mouth when it happened, and he swallowed his come without too much effort. He licked off the rest when Pete was softening, although Patrick was willing to bet it wouldn't take long for him to go again, if that's what he wanted.

Pete was looking at him like he was the second coming or something when he finally pulled off, and the shock deepened when Patrick unzipped his jeans and pushed them down a little. "Here...let me..."

Patrick let Pete tangle his fingers along with his own, and god, that was something else. He'd never hooked up with a playing musician before, so he'd never felt rough fingertips that weren't his on his dick before. He had to use his free hand to brace himself on the bed instead of touching Pete like he wanted, but Pete was really touching him more than enough.

"You...you're just..." And then, five seconds later, he was spurting onto their hands, twitching with each part of his orgasm. Not the greatest thing he'd ever said, but judging by the reverent expression on Pete's face, it got the general idea across.

Pete drew back his hand when Patrick sagged on the bed, looking at the come with a slightly dubious expression. He licked at it a little, and when Patrick laughed at his scowl, he sneered back and grabbed a tissue from the side of Patrick's bed.

"It's an acquired taste," Patrick said.

"Just like me, huh?" Self-deprecating, but at least Pete sounded like he was joking this time. It wasn't much, but Patrick would take it.

Once Pete had mopped up most of the mess on him, he yawned and tossed the tissue near Patrick's garbage. "We can nap for a second, right?"

Patrick felt his eyebrows go up to his hairline - Pete? Willingly sleeping on his own? - but he nodded and slipped up next to Pete on the bed. Pete laid his shoulder on Patrick's shoulder, snuggling until they both passed out.

And they never said another word about it. Until years later when Patrick's phone buzzed with a Twitter update.

"happy birthday patrick. still glad i lost my virginity to you."

Patrick grinned and pulled up Pete's number for a reply - off Twitter, of course.

"Anytime," he wrote, and he sent it off.