Angelfuck

Typically, leaving Pete to his own devices wasn't something Patrick did very often, especially when they weren't at home. However, he'd made an exception this time for the sake of professionalism. He'd been summoned to New York to work on the new Gym Class Heroes record, and as always, Pete decided that he needed to tag along like a toddler wrapped around his dad's leg. After telling him to stop fucking touching buttons for the thousandth time, Patrick sent him back to the hotel with a pointed finger, pinching his temples with his free hand.

Since arriving back at their room, Pete hadn't done much except channelsurf boredly, punishing the 'channel up' button for an hour and a half before he finally settled on a documentary about fish. If he was truthful with himself, he really wanted to dig through Patrick's stuff and try on the eighty fucking hats he'd brought with them. Then again, he'd promised himself that he'd stop doing stuff just to piss Patrick off, so here he was instead.

Somewhere around the time the dry English narrator began discussing the mating habits of sturgeon, his cell phone ran and pulled him out of the pleasant stupor he'd fallen into. The ringtone was "Gin and Juice," which meant that it was Travis on the horn. "Sup, man, you guys almost done?"

"Pete, you gotta come pick up your boy," Trav growled from the other end, the thump of music nearly drowning him out.

"Well OK, but why can't he get himself back? You guys are still at the studio, aren't you?"

"Ehhhhhh.......not exactly......."

Suddenly there was a giddy giggle invading the line, and Pete was disturbed that he recognized it. "Is that Pete? Peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeete, come down here and dance!"

"Travis, where the hell are you guys?"

"We got done- no, Trick, just sit, man. We got done cutting the tracks we were doing today, so we decided to hit the club down the street. And your boy's only had- oh for God's sake, Trick, get off the table!" The giggle sounded again, thoroughly worrying Pete to the full extent. "I swear, dude, he's only had one beer, and he's acting fucking loopy, man. I think someone slipped something into his bottle, I told him not to leave it unattended."

"Wait, what?!"

"Your boy's been drugged, man, come and pick his ass up! He's starting to get weird looks."

Sighing deeply, Pete ran a hand through his hair before reaching for his cardkey. "What's the name of the club?"
-
The club was dark, crowded, noisy, and sweaty. Things that Patrick typically did his damnedest to avoid at all costs. Thusly Pete was confused when he finally got there as to how Travis had convinced him to go. Half dancing his way to the back, he spotted the guys at a booth, a squirmy Patrick firmly sandwiched between Eric and Dishasi. Much to his discomfort, the look on his friend's face was not unlike the one he'd used in Bedussey, his eyes glazed over and trucker cap askew.

"Oh thank God you're here, man," Travis exclaimed when he spotted him, pulling him to the table for more privacy. "Your boy's completely toasted, we only just started to get him to calm down."

"Hiya, boss," Patrick giggled, finally spotting Pete through half-lidded eyes. "What took ya so long, sweetheart?"

"He kept asking when his even Steven was gonna get here," Dishasi stated, raising an eyebrow curiously as he slid out so Patrick could exit. "That make any sense to you?"

Blushing slightly, Pete got a grip on his partner's arm to help him steady himself. "It's an in-joke, you had to be there."

"Let's dance, Pete," Patrick simpered, wrapping his arms clumsily around him and burying his face in his chest. "I wanna dance."

"Dude, your boy is very affectionate when he's high," Travis chuckled into his beer.

"Well thanks so much for looking out for him," Pete grumbled back, trying to pry his way out of the bearhug. "I'll see you guys tomorrow." With that, he led the stumbling, giggly singer out of the club and into a cab headed back to the hotel.

Doubletaking in the rearview mirror, the cab driver cocked his head in recognition. "You... you're the Fall Out Boys, yes?"

"Singular, dude, the name is Fall Out Boy, and yes," Pete replied, trying to get Patrick to hold still long enough to fasten his seatbelt. "Trick, man, work with me here."

"I don't wanna, Pete."

"It's for safety, dude."

"I don't wanna!"

"My driving's excellent, sir, but you should still buckle up for safety. New York drivers are crazy."

"Thank you, uhhhhh-" Pete glanced at the cabbie's nametag hanging from the mirror. "Aziz. You heard the man, Tricky, we gotta strap you in-"

"No." Wriggling free of the belt, Patrick wrapped himself around Pete once more, nuzzling his shouder this time. "I wanna cuddle."

"Ugh, fine, Lunchbox." Smiling slightly, he wrapped an arm around him in turn.

"Where're we goin', Pete?"

"Back to the hotel."

"Can we fuck when we get there-"

"Trick!" Blushing in horror, Pete rushed a hand up to cover his mouth, only to cringe and pull away when he felt his tongue against his palm. "Gross, dude!"

"I wanna fuck, Pete," he giggled again, pressing himself harder against his hip. "I'm feeling... I'm feeling slutty..."

"Aziz doesn't need to know that, dude," Pete whispered, eyeing the rearview mirror in embarrassment. Aziz the cabbie was trying hard not to look, but he'd definitely heard.

"But it's true, baby, it's true, I feel slutty." Patrick leaned up and pressed his mouth against his ear. "I wanna feel you inside me, Pete..."

"Just stop talking, dude-"

Cutting off his response, Patrick threw a leg over Pete's and got situated on his lap, sloppily kissing his neck. "You'll fuck me, wontcha, baby? I want you to ride my ass."

"Oh fuck it..." Unable to take the naughty language spilling from that pretty mouth, Pete forced his chin up and kissed him hard, finally silencing him.

The relative quiet lasted until they came to a stop in front of the hotel. "Here's your stop, Fall Out Boys," Aziz smirked as he put it in park. "That comes to $17.13."

Forcing Patrick's unusually hungry lips off his, Pete dug around in the pocket of his tight jeans for his wallet. "Thank you, Aziz. There's an extra $20 in it for you if you forget this cab ride happened."

"If anyone asks, I drove an investment banker from Tuscon to a tittie bar and back. You have a good night, Fall Out Boys."

"We will, Aziz," Patrick giggled hysterically as he practically rolled out of the vehicle. "That's a funny name, Aziz. Ziz, ziz, zizzy ziz ziz."

Trying to keep his cool, Pete held his friend upright as they moved stealthily through the lobby and into an elevator. "Almost there, angel, we'll get you up to the room and you can just sleep this off."

"B-but I wanna fuck, Pete, I don't wanna sleep."

"Trick, I am not taking advantage of you while you're high. Even if I was that low, you'd kick my ass the next morning for it."

"You suck, Peter."

"Love you too, sugar." Guiding him down the hall, smiling congenially at a disapproving old lady coming in the other direction, he managed to get to their door without incident. However, the tongue that started assaulting his neck distracted him as he dug out their cardkey. "Please stop, Tricky, I'm trying to get us inside."

"You taste yummy."

"That's swell, angel-"

"I wanna lick you all over-"

"TRICK!" Finally throwing the door open, he shoved Patrick inside and slammed it quickly, crisis averted for the time being. His friend stumbled hazily towards the bed, yanking off his t-shirt and knocking off his hat and glasses before flopping onto it cheerily. "Note to self: Patrick loses his shyness real damn quick when he's high."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here and fuck me," he whimpered back, grinding down against the sheets with his eyes closed.

"I'm not taking advantage of you in this state and that's final."

Growling softly, Patrick slowly brought a hand up behind him and slipped it down the back of his jeans. "You're worthless, Wentz," he mumbled before hissing and bucking up against his fingers.

All Pete could do was stand there in shock and watch, his mind threatening to melt into sludge at the sight and never resolidify. "Holy..."

"Mmmmmm, Pete..... I'm horny..... I need you........" Patrick keened, stretching himself slowly. "Don't make me beg, baby......"

"Trick....." Swallowing the dryness in his throat, Pete tripped forward, his feet moving without his permission. "C'mon, babe, stop for just a minute and get some lube at least, don't hurt yourself like that."

"No, I want it now......"

Resigning himself to the task at hand, Pete sighed and climbed on the bed, planting kisses on his shoulders. "Alright, Tricky, I'll do it for you. I don't want you to hurt. C'mon, sugar, I'll do it right."

Smiling in victory, Patrick pulled his hand free and rolled onto his back, yanking the older man down on top of him and connecting their lips messily. "Fuck me," he purred contentedly, sloppily dragging his mouth down his jaw to suck his neck.

"Jesus, have a little patience, angel." Pete smiled and leaned up again to pull off his shirt, moving to undo his jeans as well, only to be unceremoniously shoved back down to the blankets on his back. "Whoa, fuck, Patrick, slow down, baby." The smaller man didn't listen, however, focusing all his attention on getting his fly down, wrapping his mouth around him almost immediately once he was free. "Ohhhh........ oh, oh shit......" Eyes bugging, Pete watched him work, not quite believing it was happening.

Now that was something he'd never done before.

"Fuck, Trick......you can't....mmmmmm.......you can't possibly know how good you look right now......." Patrick groaned around his cock, grinding himself against the mattress once more. "Shit, baby, you're so fucking gorgeous..."

The time had come and he'd finally reached his limit. Shifting off his pants and boxers as he sat up, the singer growled and met his friend's eyes, something dangerous burning behind the drugged glaze. "Stay down..." Patrick crawled up Pete's body, coming to rest when he was straddling his thighs. "I've been wanting this all day..." Shifting forward, he raised himself up, impaling himself roughly on the older man's cock.

It was at that moment when the controls on Pete's brain shortcircuited.

Biting his lip, Patrick grunted and lifted himself slowly, sinking back down. "Pete..."

Christ, to hear nothing else for the rest of my life, Pete thought to himself, sliding his hands up his thighs. "Jesus fuck, angel... you're so incredible..."

"Mmmm, I like it when you call me 'angel,'" Patrick murmured, establishing an easy rhythm. "It makes me feel... special..."

"Oh, Tricky, you're special, so fucking special," Pete panted, moving to hold his hips. "Fuck, baby, I love you so much."

"I love you too... I love how you make me feel... You make me feel sexy..."

Hips bucking of their own accord, Pete moaned and dug his fingers into his lover's flesh. "God, angel, stop talking like that or I'm gonna come."

"Then shut up and come. I wanna feel it." Throwing his head back and thrusting down harder, Patrick took a hold of himself and pumped blindly, knowing full well that he was going to outlast his partner.

Indeed, no sooner did the words finally seep into his head than Pete was arcing and flinching, letting himself go deep into the singer. The aftershocks twitched through his system like he'd been hooked up to jumper cables until he finally went limp, fingers still digging into the skin of his hips.

His goal achieved, Patrick rolled off of him, spreading out on his stomach triumphantly. "You're welcome," he smirked into the pillow, resisting the urge to hump the mattress again.

Eyes on the ceiling, Pete tried to catch his breath. "You... you are gonna be the thing... that officially makes me lose my freaking mind..." A giggle finally boiled to the surface as he smiled and rolled over, wrapping his arms and legs around the other man and dropping kisses wherever he could reach.

"I thought you'd already lost it."

"Nope. I was just quirky before. Now I am mad with love. And it's all for you," Pete grinned, his heart swelling at the shade of pink that tinted Patrick's cheeks from his words. "And if you'll give me, like, five minutes, I can help you lose your mind, too."

"I'm good, Pete, don't worry about me-"

"Oh no you don't, mister." Straddling his lower back with a smirk, Pete began kissing a straight line across his shoulders. "You said in the cab that you wanted me to ride your ass, and technically, your ass was riding me just now. Besides, I can't just leave my angel like this, you need to come."

"Pete..."

"You keep saying my name like that, and it'll be time for round two before you know it."

A shiver skittered up Patrick's spine. Being drugged wasn't all bad.
-
The next morning, Pete was awoken from the most blissful sleep he'd had in years by a fist colliding with his head. Jolted to consciousness, it was quickly apparent that Patrick didn't remember what had happened the night before but was still feeling the side effects. "You're an ass, Peter, what kind of fucker takes advantage of a friend when they're drunk?!"

"Ugh, I knew you'd act like this," Pete grumbled, rubbing his injured skull. "For the record, you weren't drunk, some asshole put something in your beer last night. And when I played the white knight and came to get you, I was rewarded by you trying to molest me."

"...what?"

"You were drugged, then proceeded to become a slut. It was a proventive screw, actually, you were trying to finger yourself dry."

Taken aback, Patrick pulled the sheets around himself tighter, embarrassment beginning to course through him. "Oh my god..."

"Yeah, you were a mess."

"Oh god..."

"Hey, don't feel bad about it, angel, you were stoned-"

"Stop talking, Pete," Patrick groaned, burying his head under the pillow. "I can't believe I actually acted on it. Even if I was drugged."

"Acted on what, exactly?" Pete curiously lifted the pillow, becoming increasingly amused.

"At the studio... I kept... daydreaming... about you..." Grabbing for the pillow back, Patrick blushed against the Egyptian cotton.

Feeling his brain shortcircuit for the umpteenth time in twenty-four hours, Pete stared down at his flushed friend, eventually breaking into a trademarked devious grin. "Oh I have got to hear about this..."