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Dec. 8th, 2010 02:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gala_applesTitle: You Woke Me Up For That?
Pairing: Patrick/Joe with voyeurs Andy and Pete, mentions of Pete/Joe and Pete/Ashlee
Rating: nc17
Wordcount: 1520
Warnings: sex pollen of sorts, so dub-con relating to that.
Summary: Patrick gave specific instructions that no one bother him, but as always when Patrick's trying to get more than three hours uninterrupted there's extenuating circumstances
Prompt used: poisoning for hc bingo
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
Author’s notes: Just doing my part to keep the 'sex pollen' oeuvre alive.
“Hey, someone would have told me if Joe was an alien, right?” Patrick is strongly considering throwing his phone against the wall. Yes it’s the middle of the day, but he stayed up most of the night fixing a riff, so it’s the middle of his night. Just before he started drooling with exhausted incoherence Andy woke up and convinced him to go to bed, that he should sleep until they got to the venue. Andy was supposed to pass the message along, with various death threats as deemed appropriate. Waking up to a shrill ring is never nice. Having it be Pete talking nonsense isn’t exactly surprising, but it is highly fucking annoying.
“Trick, you would have said, right?”
Christ. At this point it's destroy the phone or indulge him. Hanging up on him will only get Pete to call him back. Hell, even if he does destroy it, Pete will just call Andy, and Andy will slaughter him if he throws his phone against the wall to make the silence complete. “You knew Joe before I did, isn’t that something you’d know?”
“People don’t tell me secrets, you know that. I’ve got too many blogs for secrets. Can you ask Andy?”
Patrick pauses a second before saying “Andy says no.”
He can practically feel Pete frowning through the phone at him. “In all super-seriousness, ask Andy.”
Patrick sighs and calls out loudly “Andy is Joe an alien?”
Andy shouts back no, unsurprisingly. Andy sounds amused, which is all well and good for him, the fucker has gotten more than three hours of sleep. Patrick sighs again and moves the phone back under the blanket to his face. “Did you hear that?”
“Well shit, um, okay, I guess. Bye?”
His third sigh is enough to ruffle the sheet. He doesn’t want to do this, but knowing Pete the consequences of not figuring what the fuck this is about are probably disastrous. “Wait, what happened.”
“He’s doing that Star Trek thing.”
“What?” It is by far too early in Patrick’s skewed personal timezone to deal with Pete watching sci-fi.
“You know, that parn far thing?”
“What?” If Pete is talking to him in fucking Klingon... Well, Patrick doesn’t know what he’ll do. He’ll think of something bloody enough when he wakes up fully.
Pete sighs at him, like he’s an idiot for not knowing Klingon. Then he explains in the voice of a frustrated teacher “Joe sucked me off three times in the last hour.”
“Really?”
“Am I the kind of guy that jokes about blow jobs?” Patrick wants to say yes, but really Pete’s very honest about sex, see Howard Stern for details. “And it’s starting to chafe. Seriously. And I feel guilty that I don’t want to return the favour, but gay above the waist, remember? Plus hypothetically me and Ash might have a deal where she gets to watch if I do anything. Trick, if it’s not an alien thing what is it?”
“Did he smoke anything?”
“Weed doesn’t make you do stuff with guys when you’re straight as hell. Dude, Joe’s the only fully straight one, it’s not like he’s Gabe, a two beer one line queer. He keeps jerking off in the middle of the freaking lounge Patrick, but he doesn’t come at all, just makes these fucked up whining noises. I don’t know what to do. I’m kinda starting to freak out. So if you could tell me the truth about him being an alien and that this is totally normal for him to do on occasion that would be great.”
Patrick can hear it in his voice. He really is freaking out, and the longer he’s alone with Joe, the worse it’ll get. “Tell your driver to pull over. We’ll figure this out.”
It says something that Pete doesn’t argue, just agrees and hangs up. Patrick sighs into the warm blanket over his head one last time before shoving it to the side and reaching for the nearest pair of jeans to pull on. The driver scowls but doesn’t question him, as the bus in front of them is already switching lanes in order to get to a turn off where there will be a parking lot of some sort.
“Are we out of gas or something?” Andy asks, coming up behind Patrick.
“Joe and Pete are coming over. Joe’s pot was probably laced and Pete’s freaking out.” Andy opens his mouth and Patrick heads him off. “Don’t say anything about drugs being bad because preaching to the choir, okay? Tell Joe he’s an idiot, but Pete needs relief, alright?”
He doesn’t need to wait for an answer because the bus has stopped and the door is opening. Joe is running up the stairs, doing a run and slide that ends with him by Andy and Patrick’s feet. Elapsed time between door opening and kneeling is five seconds at best. Joe doesn’t really take in the sight of either man, just reaches for the nearest body, which happens to be Patrick. He’s got his jeans down before Patrick can react, mouth on his cock without seeming to care that Andy and Pete are both watching.
Patrick cares. He does his best to ignore the way that Joe’s tongue is hot against the underside of his cock, even though it’s the first blowjob he’s gotten in weeks. Patrick puts his hands on Joe’s shoulders trying to push him away, Joe’s response is to grab Patrick’s ass and hold him tight against his face. Yes he’s telling Joe no, stop, dude, and if his voice isn’t especially loud that’s because his throat is always dry when he wakes up, and it’s not like Pete refused at all, Patrick’s not the bad guy here!
Just before Patrick’s about to come, Joe pulls off, one hand unclenching from his ass cheek to curl around his dick. His hand is wet and warm with spit, and Patrick’s orgasm unfurls unabated, even though he tries to tell Joe to move. He either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t care because he stays where he is and Patrick’s come is splattering a line over his cheek and chin.
“Oh shit. He didn’t do that with me.” Pete remarks helpfully.
What Patrick needs is to get some control over the situation. Well, no, what Patrick really needs is to go back in time and tell Pete that it was fine, call Ash and put it on speaker phone and everything would be great. But as he can’t do that, what he needs is to stop blushing, somehow figure out how to fix Joe, and have this be something no member of Fall Out Boy ever talks again. Except Pete, because he’s a dick like that, and he likes to make Patrick uncomfortable.
He shuffles back a few feet while pulling up his jeans and rushing the zipper up, trying to ignore that Joe isn’t moving off his knees, nor wiping the come off his face. The first step for this kind of thing is probably trying to figure out what Joe overdosed on to make him sexually over-stimulated. As far as Patrick knows, he only smokes pot, but Pete’s right, weed isn’t the kind of drug that does this. Still, he asks. It’s hard if not impossible to get a stable dealer on tour, he could have bought bad shit. “Joe did you start a new gram or something?”
Andy snorts, steadfastly unashamed of his bulging jeans, but also not indulging in touching himself, the way Pete is not so subtly grabbing himself. “Since when does Joe buy weed in single grams?”
Joe is marginally more alert, eyeing them all like he’s trying to decide who to touch next. Patrick firmly hopes not him, because he’s too old for double orgasms. Pete’s fine, he’s perpetually an adolescent anyway, it’s not surprising at all to know he came three times since Joe’s problem started. But Patrick doesn’t want it, no matter how much Joe needs it. Although it does give him an angle. “Focus. Sex later, if you answer questions now. Is it new shit?”
“No, I’m almost done the baggie. I had a bunch but I shared with with Josie.”
“Who the fuck is Josie?” It’s not like he knows every crew member and tech guy, but Andy and Pete shrug too.
“A fan, she brought cookies and a new pipe and asked if she could break it in with me? So I said yeah. It was a sweet pipe, man.”
Patrick wants to slam his head through the window. Or even better, Joe’s. “You ate something a fan gave you? Are you insane?”
Andy sighs. “Well, if it was something he ate, that means once he passes it, he should be fine. I guess we just wait it out?”
Patrick shakes his head. “Fuck that. I slept like two hours. You two wait it out, I’m going to the fuck back to bed.”
With that statement firmly said, he goes back to his bunk. It’s impossible to say how long they’ll actually give him before starting to bother him again, but he's going to try.
Pairing: Patrick/Joe with voyeurs Andy and Pete, mentions of Pete/Joe and Pete/Ashlee
Rating: nc17
Wordcount: 1520
Warnings: sex pollen of sorts, so dub-con relating to that.
Summary: Patrick gave specific instructions that no one bother him, but as always when Patrick's trying to get more than three hours uninterrupted there's extenuating circumstances
Prompt used: poisoning for hc bingo
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
Author’s notes: Just doing my part to keep the 'sex pollen' oeuvre alive.
“Hey, someone would have told me if Joe was an alien, right?” Patrick is strongly considering throwing his phone against the wall. Yes it’s the middle of the day, but he stayed up most of the night fixing a riff, so it’s the middle of his night. Just before he started drooling with exhausted incoherence Andy woke up and convinced him to go to bed, that he should sleep until they got to the venue. Andy was supposed to pass the message along, with various death threats as deemed appropriate. Waking up to a shrill ring is never nice. Having it be Pete talking nonsense isn’t exactly surprising, but it is highly fucking annoying.
“Trick, you would have said, right?”
Christ. At this point it's destroy the phone or indulge him. Hanging up on him will only get Pete to call him back. Hell, even if he does destroy it, Pete will just call Andy, and Andy will slaughter him if he throws his phone against the wall to make the silence complete. “You knew Joe before I did, isn’t that something you’d know?”
“People don’t tell me secrets, you know that. I’ve got too many blogs for secrets. Can you ask Andy?”
Patrick pauses a second before saying “Andy says no.”
He can practically feel Pete frowning through the phone at him. “In all super-seriousness, ask Andy.”
Patrick sighs and calls out loudly “Andy is Joe an alien?”
Andy shouts back no, unsurprisingly. Andy sounds amused, which is all well and good for him, the fucker has gotten more than three hours of sleep. Patrick sighs again and moves the phone back under the blanket to his face. “Did you hear that?”
“Well shit, um, okay, I guess. Bye?”
His third sigh is enough to ruffle the sheet. He doesn’t want to do this, but knowing Pete the consequences of not figuring what the fuck this is about are probably disastrous. “Wait, what happened.”
“He’s doing that Star Trek thing.”
“What?” It is by far too early in Patrick’s skewed personal timezone to deal with Pete watching sci-fi.
“You know, that parn far thing?”
“What?” If Pete is talking to him in fucking Klingon... Well, Patrick doesn’t know what he’ll do. He’ll think of something bloody enough when he wakes up fully.
Pete sighs at him, like he’s an idiot for not knowing Klingon. Then he explains in the voice of a frustrated teacher “Joe sucked me off three times in the last hour.”
“Really?”
“Am I the kind of guy that jokes about blow jobs?” Patrick wants to say yes, but really Pete’s very honest about sex, see Howard Stern for details. “And it’s starting to chafe. Seriously. And I feel guilty that I don’t want to return the favour, but gay above the waist, remember? Plus hypothetically me and Ash might have a deal where she gets to watch if I do anything. Trick, if it’s not an alien thing what is it?”
“Did he smoke anything?”
“Weed doesn’t make you do stuff with guys when you’re straight as hell. Dude, Joe’s the only fully straight one, it’s not like he’s Gabe, a two beer one line queer. He keeps jerking off in the middle of the freaking lounge Patrick, but he doesn’t come at all, just makes these fucked up whining noises. I don’t know what to do. I’m kinda starting to freak out. So if you could tell me the truth about him being an alien and that this is totally normal for him to do on occasion that would be great.”
Patrick can hear it in his voice. He really is freaking out, and the longer he’s alone with Joe, the worse it’ll get. “Tell your driver to pull over. We’ll figure this out.”
It says something that Pete doesn’t argue, just agrees and hangs up. Patrick sighs into the warm blanket over his head one last time before shoving it to the side and reaching for the nearest pair of jeans to pull on. The driver scowls but doesn’t question him, as the bus in front of them is already switching lanes in order to get to a turn off where there will be a parking lot of some sort.
“Are we out of gas or something?” Andy asks, coming up behind Patrick.
“Joe and Pete are coming over. Joe’s pot was probably laced and Pete’s freaking out.” Andy opens his mouth and Patrick heads him off. “Don’t say anything about drugs being bad because preaching to the choir, okay? Tell Joe he’s an idiot, but Pete needs relief, alright?”
He doesn’t need to wait for an answer because the bus has stopped and the door is opening. Joe is running up the stairs, doing a run and slide that ends with him by Andy and Patrick’s feet. Elapsed time between door opening and kneeling is five seconds at best. Joe doesn’t really take in the sight of either man, just reaches for the nearest body, which happens to be Patrick. He’s got his jeans down before Patrick can react, mouth on his cock without seeming to care that Andy and Pete are both watching.
Patrick cares. He does his best to ignore the way that Joe’s tongue is hot against the underside of his cock, even though it’s the first blowjob he’s gotten in weeks. Patrick puts his hands on Joe’s shoulders trying to push him away, Joe’s response is to grab Patrick’s ass and hold him tight against his face. Yes he’s telling Joe no, stop, dude, and if his voice isn’t especially loud that’s because his throat is always dry when he wakes up, and it’s not like Pete refused at all, Patrick’s not the bad guy here!
Just before Patrick’s about to come, Joe pulls off, one hand unclenching from his ass cheek to curl around his dick. His hand is wet and warm with spit, and Patrick’s orgasm unfurls unabated, even though he tries to tell Joe to move. He either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t care because he stays where he is and Patrick’s come is splattering a line over his cheek and chin.
“Oh shit. He didn’t do that with me.” Pete remarks helpfully.
What Patrick needs is to get some control over the situation. Well, no, what Patrick really needs is to go back in time and tell Pete that it was fine, call Ash and put it on speaker phone and everything would be great. But as he can’t do that, what he needs is to stop blushing, somehow figure out how to fix Joe, and have this be something no member of Fall Out Boy ever talks again. Except Pete, because he’s a dick like that, and he likes to make Patrick uncomfortable.
He shuffles back a few feet while pulling up his jeans and rushing the zipper up, trying to ignore that Joe isn’t moving off his knees, nor wiping the come off his face. The first step for this kind of thing is probably trying to figure out what Joe overdosed on to make him sexually over-stimulated. As far as Patrick knows, he only smokes pot, but Pete’s right, weed isn’t the kind of drug that does this. Still, he asks. It’s hard if not impossible to get a stable dealer on tour, he could have bought bad shit. “Joe did you start a new gram or something?”
Andy snorts, steadfastly unashamed of his bulging jeans, but also not indulging in touching himself, the way Pete is not so subtly grabbing himself. “Since when does Joe buy weed in single grams?”
Joe is marginally more alert, eyeing them all like he’s trying to decide who to touch next. Patrick firmly hopes not him, because he’s too old for double orgasms. Pete’s fine, he’s perpetually an adolescent anyway, it’s not surprising at all to know he came three times since Joe’s problem started. But Patrick doesn’t want it, no matter how much Joe needs it. Although it does give him an angle. “Focus. Sex later, if you answer questions now. Is it new shit?”
“No, I’m almost done the baggie. I had a bunch but I shared with with Josie.”
“Who the fuck is Josie?” It’s not like he knows every crew member and tech guy, but Andy and Pete shrug too.
“A fan, she brought cookies and a new pipe and asked if she could break it in with me? So I said yeah. It was a sweet pipe, man.”
Patrick wants to slam his head through the window. Or even better, Joe’s. “You ate something a fan gave you? Are you insane?”
Andy sighs. “Well, if it was something he ate, that means once he passes it, he should be fine. I guess we just wait it out?”
Patrick shakes his head. “Fuck that. I slept like two hours. You two wait it out, I’m going to the fuck back to bed.”
With that statement firmly said, he goes back to his bunk. It’s impossible to say how long they’ll actually give him before starting to bother him again, but he's going to try.