Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5236268.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Fall_Out_Boy
  Relationship:
      Pete_Wentz/Patrick_Stump, Patrick_Stump/Pete_Wentz
  Character:
      Pete_Wentz, Patrick_Stump, Various_Pokemon
  Additional Tags:
      patrick_is_17_so_i_guess_this_is_technically_underage, Omorashi,
      Watersports, Anal_Sex, unprotected_sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-11-18 Words: 2211
****** My Fire Beats Your Water ******
by peachwentz
Summary
     patrick actually thinks he can beat pete in pokemon
Notes
     this was written for ashby (joshlerporn.tumblr.com) and it was a
     little rushed bc of my homework but!! enjoy. it's cute. and sinful.
Based on the theory of infinite alternate universes, somehow, somewhere, there
is, in fact, a universe in which Patrick Stump, 17 year old Patrick Stump,
fucks Pete Wentz. Not in the sense of just sex, of course, because, well, the
two of them had been a couple for what seemed like forever, even if 'forever'
was Pete's creepy, old man talk for 'a year'.
In Pete's defense, he couldn't exactly control that he was a creepy old man who
had been having fantasies about a boy five years his junior since the second
they met, mostly because of that mouth, that ridiculously sinful mouth.
Patrick's lips were the color of something you'd see in someone's art gallery.
A French pink, and not to mention, they were ridiculously heart shaped, and as
soft as a peach. In fact, all of Patrick was smooth as a peach – fuzz and all,
and Pete, aka The Creepy Old Man, could not control the fact that he was
staring at the squishy drummer from the spot next to him. Sure, they were
squished in a twin bed in Pete's somewhat lair-reminiscent attic, and the space
between their bodies wasn't more than a few inches, but watching Patrick hold
his Nintendo controller up near his face, watching him crook his neck in such a
way that he could see the TV while lying down, it felt like a canyon.
Pete could hear the little beeps and generic music from the TV, generated from
uncovering a Pokemon in the grass. "What kind is it?" Patrick said nothing, and
instead drove one of his elbows into Pete's ribs. The bassist winced, and sat
up to look at the TV. The Pokemon his boyfriend had uncovered was just a stupid
Eevee, worthless and abundant, and yet Patrick was still trying to catch it.
The sight was pitiful.
Pete let out a theatrical moan of distress before collapsing back on the bed.
"Trick, an Eevee? Really? Of all the wild Pokemon you could stumble upon, and
of the ones you could catch, the useful ones at least, you choose an Eevee?"
The little grunt Patrick gave was evidence that he was either annoyed, or
didn't care, and Pete could not live with either possibility.
Like a cat, or a child needing attention, the bassist wriggled his body between
Patrick's legs so his head was on his tummy. He angled himself in such a way
that Patrick would have a hard time seeing the screen over him, and of course,
Pete smirked when he heard the whine of defeat. The Nintendo controller dropped
on the bed next to them, cord strewn haphazardly over Pete's back.
"What the fuck? Is it physically impossible for you to go five minutes without
being touched? You won't die, Peter."
The older boy huffed at Patrick, and squirmed around to intentionally rub up
against his crotch. "And what if I did?" He challenged.
Patrick rolled his eyes, and tried to ignore the friction on his cock through
his jeans. Truth be told, he had been thinking of Pete the whole time he was
playing. The game just distracted him and kept him from popping a completely
unable-to-be-concealed boner. "Good. Stay dead."
"I'm gonna fuck the sass right out of you if you don't shut up."
Patrick smirked. It was always funny to see Pete get so worked up so easily, so
funny to see how he thought he was menacing and whatnot, how he genuinely
thought his threats held any merit.
"Winner gets to top," The younger boy declared. Pete popped his head up,
bearing a quizzical expression.
"Winner?"
"I challenge you to a Pokemon battle. Right here, right now. Winner fucks the
loser," Patrick said with a deviant, onyx smirk. The whole thing seemed easy
enough, and a smirk very much reminiscent of the Grinch unfurled on Pete's
face.
"Deal."
Poor Patrick. So, so ignorant. The buzz of the old, cheap TV monitor was mildly
amusing, and so was the game's theme music in the background as Patrick hooked
up the second controller and set up the battle. He hadn't set any rules to the
battle, just that the winner got to top, and there was absolutely no way in
hell that Pete was going to allow a reverse of the usual to take place. He knew
for a fact the best Pokemon Patrick had up his sleeve was a level 100 Gyarados
that he was so ridiculously proud of. Pete had a level 202 Chimchar, and even
against a water Pokemon, there was no way it could be taken down by a creature
at half its skill set. "Pick your poison," Patrick chirped, of course fully
expecting that Gyarados to win, and for Pete to experience real, bitter defeat.
He set his Pokeballs, and then it was Pete's turn. He locked in his Chimchar,
Gengar, and a Dodrio, then watched the scene lay out.
Their trainer characters were adjacent to each other, Pokemon poised to strike,
and if Pete had a camera at that moment, he would've been a millionaire. Poor
Patrick thought he was so smooth, so superior with his water type. Chimchar
scorched the thing in three hits, and Pete was left smacking his lips, soaking
up his victory.
"Grab the lube, Pretty Boy," The bassist cackled, sitting up and doing a very
dramatic rendition of Michael Jackson's "Thriller" dance, using only his arms.
Patrick had a bewildered look plastered to his face, and knew he had to succumb
to it. Not that he really minded deep down, of course. Pete could already feel
his stomach swirling in anticipation, a cauldron of lust and desire for that
soft skin, that deliciously sinful mouth. It was pretty obvious that Patrick
was half hard in his jeans, and that thought alone made Pete's cock twitch.
Then, their mouths were touching. It was sudden, but the kiss itself was soft,
even welcoming. One of Pete's hands carded through Patrick's hair, so
delicately it was as if he were afraid to break the younger boy. Pete's other
hand was resting comfortably on his boyfriend's hip, and he pulled Patrick into
his lap to let their clothed crotches rub together.
"I bet you were already thinking about this, weren't you, slut?"
Patrick's cheeks were already starting to turn pink, and he nodded.
"Answer me!" Pete demanded, tucking two fingers under the vocalist's chin to
bring his head straight and upright. Patrick's reply came in the form of a
choked, "Y-Yes!", and Pete smirked, watching his boyfriend's chest rise and
fall under his rather tacky D.A.R.E shirt.
Like any good man would, Pete removed Patrick's glasses and set them carefully
on the nightstand next to the bed, then pulled his t-shirt from his soft, pale
body. Patrick only seemed to increase in beauty every time he was naked. It was
miraculous. Pete groaned, and leaned in to suck earnestly on one of the supple,
pink buds. They were sensitive as hell, and Pete loved it. He made sure to let
his tongue lave over the pink skin before flicking it around in quick, hungry
circles, and the simple gesture aroused a decent groan out of Patrick.
"M-More."
The older boy smirked, and wedged a hand in the waistband of Patrick's jeans at
the very front, touching the bulge in his underwear. "What was that?" He
teased.
Patrick wriggled out of his jeans, then stripped Pete down to his underwear as
well, until every article of clothing was in a jumbled pile at the foot of the
bed. Patrick's cock was thick and heavy, average length, with a deliciously
pink tip. It weighed against his thigh, and Pete closed a hand around the hard
extremity. His own cock was a bit longer, not as thick, but well endowed with a
darker tip and a prominent vein along the left side.
"P-Please," Patrick gasped, reaching one of his hands down to stroke Pete. "N-
Need, need. Fuck me, please fuck me." The sinful little words elicited a moan
from Pete's throat, low and hoarse.
"Yeah? You want me to fuck you? Show you who's the boss?"
In any situation outside of a sexual context, Patrick would've eaten Pete
alive, but in bed, he was putty, completely at the bassist's mercy. Patrick
nodded, and Pete just smirked, giving his cock a squeeze. The noise Patrick
emitted was so sinful it shouldn't be heard by human ears, and it prompted the
other boy to lean in and start kissing at his neck.
Pete's mouth fumbled over the hot, slightly sweaty skin, sucking on the taut,
pale flesh. "S-Stop teasing!" The squishy boy squealed, and because of it, Pete
squeezed his cock even harder.
The way his body quivered, the noises he was emitting, it was almost looking
like Patrick was going to keel over and come all over himself, even barely
being touched. His lower belly was swollen, obvious that he had to pee, but
Pete wasn't planning on stopping.
"P-Pete, hold on."
The bassist smirked and squeezed the squishy boy's cock. "You gotta piss? Hm?"
Immediately, Patrick's cheeks flushed bright red, and he tried to wriggle away.
They hadn't ever done anything like that, Pete hadn't ever peaked interest in
it before. "Pete!" The squishy boy choked.
"What would Joe say, hm? If he could see you? Begging to go piss, whimpering
with your dick in my hand." The filthy, brazen words wracked Patrick's spine
with a shiver, and Pete smirked.
"P-Please, I'll be r-right back, just g-gotta pee," He sobbed dryly, which
didn't help, because the older boy's smirk didn't so much as falter.
"Please!"
Pete smirked and gnawed on his lip, pushing his palm down with more pressure.
Small tears rolled from Patrick's cerulean eyes down his red cheeks, and that's
when the bassist felt the first small leak of hot, wet fluid on his hand. The
feeling of piss on his bare palm against Patrick's bare cock was completely
new, but absolutely welcomed.
"Look at you /shaking/, little /slut/."
Pete's words elicited another sob from the squishy boy, and the stream picked
up until it was pouring down his legs, all over Pete's hand, all over the
bassist's belly. It was scorching, and the smell was intoxicating, but Pete
leaned down and licked a bead of the pale liquid from his boyfriend's thigh.
Patrick was still crying, and by that time, the older boy squeezed his prick
and started to jerk. The sound of the skin and piss together made Pete groan,
and he crawled down between the squishy boy's legs to again lap up a bit of the
fluid soaking Patrick's thighs.
"Maybe you'll think twice about being a little /shit/, won't you?" Pete spat,
and Patrick choked out a blubbering, incoherent response.
The bassist reached over and grabbed the tube of clear lubricant, cold and
sticky, then squeezed it out onto his cock. Pete gave Patrick no prep, but he
knew the squishy boy wouldn't speak against it.
"Spread your legs," He hissed, and immediately, Patrick parted his thighs to
make room for Patrick to settle between them. Their bodies were wet and
sticking together, but at least Patrick had stopped crying.
"P-Please," He managed. It was evident he needed it, too. The younger boy's
cock was throbbing, almost standing straight against his belly. Pete's erection
was dripping in lubricant, the head pulsing, and slowly, he forced Patrick's
gorgeous pale, sticky cheeks apart and pressed his cock against his boyfriend's
hole.
"For being only seventeen, you are a fucking slut," The bassist cackled,
pushing about an inch into Patrick, which made the squishy boy mewl.
Patrick's abdomen tightened visibly, and Pete cried out at how hot and tight
and ridiculously euphoric his boyfriend felt. The squishy boy clenched his ass,
and the bassist yelled louder than he had all night.
"L-Little shit," He gasped, slamming into Patrick, which made him yelp. "G-
Gonna fuck you until you behave."
Patrick's cheeks and chest were the color of fresh, Lincoln rose petals, and
already Pete was being pushed dangerously close to an orgasm. The world around
him seemed to be underwater; and he almost felt numb because it felt so good.
The sheets were decently soaked, and the smell was going to Pete's head in
fumes of pleasure and in readiness to faint.
"Fuck!" The twenty year old howled, fucking steadily into the squishy boy,
relishing in the sound of slapping, damp skin.
"C-Can I come?" Patrick whimpered out, and suddenly, the bassist hit his orgasm
without even providing prior warning. Usually it was Pete that could hold off,
that could resist the urge to come for far longer than Patrick could. Then,
even though Pete hadn't actually told him it was okay to climax, Patrick let
out a sob and spurted his orgasm in hot, thick ropes, all over his stomach, and
Pete's chest.
For the few proceeding moments, the bassist continued to drill into his
boyfriend, slow, but hard. When he pulled out, drops of sticky, white semen
dribbled onto Patrick's thighs, and Pete swiped a two fingers through the mess,
collecting some piss in the process. He stuffed the digits into his boyfriend's
mouth and smirked. "Next time, don't use a Gyarados against a Chimchar."
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