Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1069202.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Fall_Out_Boy, Bandom
  Relationship:
      Patrick_Stump/Pete_Wentz
  Character:
      Pete_Wentz, Patrick_Stump
  Additional Tags:
      Mildly_Dubious_Consent, Rough_Sex, Bathroom_Sex, Public_Sex, Verbal
      Humiliation, Possessive_Behavior, Van_Days, Rimming, Fingerfucking
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-12-04 Words: 2440
****** A Minute is Too Long ******
by likeasugarcube
Notes
     I wrote this three years ago and just found it in the depths of my
     email. Enjoy!
They're playing a bar in Philly and before the show they grab dinner at the
bar. It's the first non-rest stop food they've had in too long and they're all
glad for it. Half way through the meal, a couple of kids come up and ask for
autographs. Patrick tugs his hat down after they leave and tries to fight the
blush rising in his cheeks.
Pete laughs at him.
"Fuck off," he says. "It's weird, okay?"
Pete just laughs more.
"Get used to it, you're a rock star now."
Underneath the table, his hand slides up the inside of Patrick's thigh, and
when Patrick tries to push him away, he digs his blunt fingernails into
Patrick's flesh.
When Andy and Joe aren't paying attention he leans over and whispers, "Not
gonna let you ignore me, Rick."
Their waitress finally comes back around after an eternity and Patrick asks for
refill on his water. Pete takes the opportunity to flirt shamelessly. Patrick
knows he's doing it on purpose to piss him off, but he can't help the pang of
jealousy he feels.
During the first opening band Pete drags Patrick up the small staircase to the
even smaller balcony. They watch the set leaning against the rail, huddled in
the far corner, hidden by the darkness. Two songs in, Pete slides an arm around
his waist and pulls him in until they're touching shoulder to shoulder.
In between songs he leans over and drags his teeth over Patrick's earlobe and
asks quietly, "Are you still hard for me?"
Patrick mostly isn't at this point, and he's a little worried about what Pete
might do if he gives a straight answer.
"Dude, fuck off. This band is actually good."
Pete laughs in his ear. As the next song starts, Pete shoves his hand down the
front of Patrick's jeans. Patrick clenches his teeth and tries not to moan.
Pete strokes him just long enough to get him totally hard. He pulls his hand
out and folds his arms over the railing of the balcony. Patrick shifts
uncomfortably and tries to adjust himself without the people a few feet away
seeing him.
"Are you thinking about me fucking you?" Pete asks a minute later.
"No," Patrick hisses. He crosses his arms over his chest and doesn't look at
Pete. Doesn't think about how hard he is or how badly he wants to get off.
"Liar," Pete smirks.
He slips a hand into the back pocket of Patrick's jeans and Patrick tenses.
They're in public for fuck's sake. Pete squeezes his ass.
"I really hate you right now," Patrick mumbles, still refusing to look at him.
Pete just laughs again, and continues to grope him through the end of the set.
Patrick closes his eyes and hopes they're far enough in the corner that no one
can see.
When the set ends, Pete takes his hand back and says, "You're right, they were
good."
Patrick scowls at him and turns away, watches as the band breaks down. Pete's
fingers wrap tightly around his wrist and he tugs Patrick into a tiny hallway.
Next, he pushes him through the door marked "men's".
"You know I don't like it when you ignore me," Pete says.
"You know I don't like it when you're an asshole," Patrick responds.
Pete laughs.
"You're such a liar." He grabs Patrick by the collar of his shirt and pulls him
in. "You fucking love it," he says, manic grin on his face before he kisses
Patrick, hard and wet and dirty.
Patrick groans, grabbing for Pete's waist, rubbing against him as hard as he
can. Pete pulls back, still grinning.
"You think I'm going to let you get off that easy?"
Patrick sighs and looks around Pete, double checks to make sure the door is
locked. It isn't. Patrick reaches out to pull the chain across and then Pete's
hands are at his shoulders.
"I want you on your knees," he says.
Patrick hits the floor hard. Pete's undoing his jeans as Patrick stares up at
him. He shoves them down over his hips and pulls his dick out, already hard.
"Pete," Patrick pleads. "Come on, you can't do this. I have to sing in like,
half an hour."
He loves doing this for Pete, even loves the way Pete pushes his head down,
makes Patrick choke as Pete fucks his throat. But he needs at least a few hours
of recovery time before he sings.
Pete smiles down at him. Runs a finger down his jaw and rubs his dick along
Patrick's cheek, smearing precome against his skin.
"I can do anything I want," Pete says, and there's a darkness to his voice. It
scares Patrick a little, but it also makes his dick twitch in his jeans.
"That's what you always say isn't it?"
Pete rubs the head of his dick against Patrick's lips. When he pushes forward,
Patrick opens his mouth willingly.
"That's a good boy," Pete grins. His voice softens when he says, "I won't be as
rough as usual. I know you worry about your pretty voice."
Patrick wraps a hand the base and takes the rest into his mouth, sucking hard.
Pete groans, "Mmm, yeah."
Patrick moves his hand away and takes him a little deeper, makes sure he
doesn't get too carried away.
Pete's hands come to rest at the back of his head. "Fuck, Patrick. Do you have
any idea how fucking hot you look like this?"
Patrick moans around his cock in response. Pete's hips jerk forward, he pushes
Patrick down until his gag reflex catches and he starts to choke. Pete lets him
go and he pulls off coughing.
"Asshole," Patrick mumbles, his voice rough.
"Sorry," Pete says, not sounding terribly sorry at all. "I didn't mean to. It's
your fault for being so good."
Patrick glares at him.
"Get up here already," Pete says.
He helps Patrick up off his knees and Patrick can hear the 2nd band just
starting their set. Pete's fingers tug at the button of his jeans and shove
them down until they're in a heap at his ankles.
"Bend over the sink," he says.
Patrick does as he's told. He shivers a little when Pete runs a finger down his
spine and rubs at his hole, through his boxers.
"You can't wait, can you?" Pete teases. "I bet you've been thinking about this
since I started touching you at dinner."
"Stop talking and fucking do something," Patrick grumbles.
Pete laughs and presses a kiss to the back of his neck. He yanks Patrick's
boxers down and spreads him open. He rubs his thumb over Patrick's hole, and a
moment later Patrick feels Pete's tongue, hot and wet against him. Patrick
doesn't understand Pete sometimes. He won't suck Patrick's dick, but he'll do
this any day of the week. Patrick's not going to complain. Pete licks him open
and Patrick arches back against his mouth. Pete presses a finger inside of him,
still licking around it and Patrick grips the sink so hard his knuckles are
white.
"You want to come now, don't you?" Pete asks, stretching him open with two
fingers now. Patrick barely manages to moan out a response. "I don't know if
that's fair. You'll probably come again when I'm fucking you."
Pete crooks his fingers just so and Patrick is so very close.
"Please," he begs. "Please, I'll make it up to you."
Pete laughs. He pushes in a third finger and Patrick clenches his jaw through
the burn. And then Pete wraps his other hand tight around his cock, pumping him
quickly and Patrick is gone. He clenches down hard around Pete's fingers as he
comes. Patrick whines as Pete eases his fingers out. Pete helps him to stand
and then moves him out of the way so he can wash his hands. He presses Patrick
up against the door and kisses him slowly.

 "So fucking hot," Pete murmurs. He
tips Patrick's head up and sucks at his pulse. Patrick closes his eyes and
tries to catch his breath. Pete's jerking him off slowly and Patrick's already
half hard again.
"Bend over for me," Pete says. 

 Patrick opens his eyes and nods
automatically. He takes a couple careful steps away from the door, making sure
he doesn't trip over his jeans and bends over, bracing his palms against his
thighs. Pete runs his hands over his back, pushing his t-shirt up. He rubs the
head of his dick down between Patrick's ass cheeks, thrusts against him without
pushing into him
. "I'm going to fuck you so hard," Pete growls, "So hard you
feel it when you're on stage tomorrow night."

 If Patrick had any doubts about
being able to get hard again so soon, they're gone now. He wants to reach up
and touch himself, but he's almost certain Pete will stop him if he even tries
it. He hears Pete open the condom and when he looks back, Pete's rolling it on
and shoving his jeans and underwear down to his thighs. Pete grips him by the
shoulder and lines up his dick. Patrick turns back around and stares at the
wall in front of him. He squeezes his eyes shut as Pete pushes all the way into
him in one hard shove. He tries not to think about how sore he's going to be on
stage. 


"Fuck," Pete groans as his hips snap forward. "Fuck. I fucking love you, you
know that?"
 
Patrick moans out a response. He feels something twist in the pit
of his stomach when he hears those words. Pete only ever says it when he's
balls deep in Patrick's ass and Patrick doesn't know what to think. Never knows
if he should believe him or not.
"Sure you don't just love fucking me?" he chokes out. Pete laughs.


"Put your hands behind your back," he says. 

 Patrick tries to keep his
balance as he complies, doesn't let himself think about Pete's lack of
response. Pete pushes him down until he's bent in half. His fingers wrap
tightly around Patrick's wrists. Pete pulls back on Patrick's arms as his hips
slam forward. Patrick bites down on his lip and tries not to groan too loudly
every time Pete pushes back into him.

"You like it like this, don't you?" Pete asks, and Patrick can hear the grin
in his voice. "It's always the quiet ones." Pete laughs. 


Patrick feels his face getting hot. He feels embarrassed at how much he likes
it. Pete makes him feel like a slut for wanting it as much as he does, but he
can't help himself. Pete pushes all his buttons in just the right ways.


"Pete," he moans. He needs to get off desperately and he knows Pete loves
hearing him beg. "Harder. Please."

 Pete lets go of his hands and bends down
to kiss the back of his neck. 


"Anything you want," he whispers softly in Patrick's ear.
He grips Patrick's hips tightly as he fucks him and Patrick wishes he could
spread his legs wider, get him deeper.


"Fuck," he groans deep in the back of his throat. "Fuck me, fuck me," he
whispers over and over again.

Pete reaches around to jerk him off and Patrick comes the second Pete rubs his
thumb teasingly over the head. Pete's the only thing keeping him standing
afterward and it's not long after that Pete's hips slam into him one final time
before his body goes tense and still. 

Pete pulls out and Patrick hisses. He's
already sore. Having to play tonight is going to suck. Pete helps him stand and
turns him around. He cups Patrick's face in his hands and kisses him softly.
Patrick sighs.
Sometimes, when Pete is tender with him, it's so much worse than when he's
rough. 

Neither of them say anything afterward. They clean up quickly and head
back downstairs with just enough time to spare.

"You're lucky soundcheck took longer than it was supposed to," Joe says. "I
thought Andy was going to blow a fuse."
Picking up his guitar hurts. Moving hurts. Singing hurts. Patrick plays the
show anyway and doesn't complain. He shakes hands and smiles at fans as they
leave. He's never been happier to get back to the van in his life.
"But it's your turn to navigate," Joe says weakly as Patrick climbs into the
back and crawls into his sleeping bag.
"Fuck off and die," Patrick shouts and pulls his sleeping bag up over his head.
He wakes up hours later, Pete wrapped around him like some kind of parasite.
He's got his arm around Patrick's waist and his face buried in the space
between Patrick's neck and shoulder. He's mumbling something Patrick's can't
make out into Patrick's skin.
"Pete?" he blinks sleepily and tries wiggle out from underneath Pete's grip.
"Please don't hate me," Pete says, his voice tight.
"What?" Patrick gropes around in the dark for his glasses. When Pete's face
comes into focus again, Patrick can see genuine fear on his face.
"I mean it okay? Every time I say it." Pete sounds a little hysterical. "I'm
sorry it's fucked up. I'm sorry I'm fucked up."
Patrick pushes his glasses up and rubs at the bridge of his nose. Up front,
Andy's listening to some kind of talk radio, and he thinks he hears Joe
snoring. This isn't exactly the time or place for this conversation. It doesn't
seem like Patrick's got much of a choice in the matter.
"Pete, you know -- " Patrick feels himself blush but forces himself to keep
going. "You know I like it right?"
Pete doesn't say anything, but Patrick can see the uncertainty on his face.
"Dude. We've been doing this for a month. I know how to say no, okay? They
teach us that shit in school these days."
"Fuck you," Pete spits out, "I'm trying to be serious."
"So am I," Patrick says, frustrated. "But for real, if you want this to be more
than just fucking around, maybe you could have said something. Like, at any
point."
Pete slides a hand around back of his neck and pulls him in. Pete kisses him
hard, bites at his mouth. Patrick tries not to groan.
"But you're mine," Pete says almost angrily. "You were just supposed to know."
Patrick sighs.
"You're an idiot," Patrick says. He unzips his sleeping bag and straddles
Pete's waist. "But I love you anyway."
Pete faces softens as Patrick bends down to kiss him.
"Mine," he whispers when Patrick leans back.
Patrick nods as he curls up next to him.
"Yours."
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