Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/129087.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Fall_Out_Boy, Panic_At_The_Disco
  Relationship:
      Ryan_Ross/Pete_Wentz
  Stats:
      Published: 2007-02-14 Words: 6567
****** Take Two Years and Call Me ******
by frogy
Summary
     It makes it impossible for me to resist doing this. . .
Notes
     thanks
     [[info]]
xcarex for beta-ing, thanks [[info]]beingothrwrldly for convincing me this is
the otp
"I hate these fucking things," he mutters as he finally swings the door open,
leaning in to toss the key card on the dresser while holding the door opened
with his foot. "Make yourself comfortable," he says, gesturing at the boy in
the doorway and then to the bed furthest from the door.
Ryan barely looks at Pete as he follows his instruction. They're in your
standard cheap hotel room in peach, punctuated by heavy green curtains and
matching green bedspreads on the two full sized beds, the slight faded
shabbiness hidden by the dark of night. Ryan shuffles into the room with his
hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched in. He perches by the head of the
bed and switches the lamp over the nightstand on with one click, aimlessly
studying the wood laminate top of the nightstand, trying not to look as awkward
as he feels. Now that he's here, he has no idea what he's supposed to be doing.
Pete lets the hotel-room door swing shut. He shucks off his shoes and in a few
steps is at the foot of the bed. Ryan's studiously not looking at him, so Pete
throws himself at the bed, bouncing his way up towards Ryan. This has the
desired effect of pulling Ryan's attention away from his own feet and towards
Pete, who's seated cross-legged leaning back against the headboard. "Hey,
relax, take your shoes off and stay a while," Pete says, patting the bed next
to him.
Ryan toes off his shoes slowly, before swinging his legs onto the bed, straight
out in front of him crossed at the ankles. His rests his hands in his lap,
still leaving a good couple of inches between himself and Pete, which is not at
all what Pete wants.
---
A handful of hours earlier Ryan and Spencer had been waiting for their turn at
the Fall Out Boy merch table to get their stuff signed. Spencer, arms folded,
in the universal pissy stance, pitches his voice over the hustle and bustle of
the milling scene kids "You're lucky it's your birthday or I'd be seriously
bitching at you right now. You must be the only person in the history of shows
who refuses to push their way to the front of anything."
"You say that you're not, but that right there sounds suspiciously like
bitching," Ryan replies. "And, it's not that weird not to want to push at
disgustingly sweaty strangers."
"Double negatives, but whatever," Spencer mutters.
"Besides, we're getting close." It's true. Looking around, Spencer sees that
about three people away from the table, they're the furthest people back, which
means that when the people in front of them move, they'll finally be able to
get to the table, instead of having to deal with Ryan as he lets the people
behind them push past.
A moment later that comes to pass and they all step up to the table.
"Great show," Spencer says.
"Yea, really amazing," Ryan echoes as he passes his cd across the table to
Patrick, who signs it and passes it off to Pete without really looking up.
Pete's looking at him though, and responds. "Thanks, you guys were a great
crowd. What's your name?"
"Ryan. And really, it takes nothing to be in a crowd. Your lyrics are
incredible though. We're in a band, and I only wish I could come up with
something that reaches people like your stuff does. Like, I'll be listening to
Saturday where it says 'and I'm coasting on potential towards a wall/at a
hundred miles an hour' and whatever it's actually about, it's about making it
and getting out of here and..." Ryan abruptly realizes he's rambling, and
stops, biting his lower lip. It's one of his two default modes when faced with
people that intimidate the hell out of him. The other is freezing up, not
saying anything but Pete's open smile leads to the former, not the latter.
Pete doesn't seem to mind or realize when Ryan stops abruptly in the middle of
a sentence, and just asks "What's your band's name?"
"The Summer League. I sing and play guitar. Spencer plays drums," Ryan says
gesturing to Spencer next to him.
Spencer, hearing his name, leans in, resting his chin on Ryan's shoulder. "You
should write something nice to Ryan, it's his birthday."
"Really? What birthday?" Pete asks eyes jumping from Spencer to Ryan.
"Oh yea," Ryan says looking down at the table and not at Pete, embarrassed that
Spencer said anything. "Seventeenth."
Ryan doesn't notice that he's biting his lip again; it's just one of his
nervous habits. But, it draws Pete's gaze to Ryan's mouth. God that mouth, he
thinks, this kid is hot. And seventeen means he might not be jailbait anymore.
If they were in Chicago he wouldn't be but Pete has no idea what the law is in
Nevada. Pete is suddenly irrationally angry at the federal government for
leaving these types of decisions up to the individual states before deciding,
screw it.
Pete puts on his most charming smile before asking, "So, what did you do for
your birthday?" sitting up to lean across the table.
"We came to your show." Ryan answers.
"Really?!?" Pete makes an unbelievably exaggerated face before smirking at
Ryan. "I mean no big party and cake?"
"My dad doesn't really do celebrations," Ryan says, mostly just shrugging it
off, but looking away from Pete nonetheless.
Pete wants Ryan to look at him again, so he says "We're in town for the night.
You should stick around and we'll all have cake for you."
Ryan gaze jumps back to Pete quickly, and trying to hide his surprise he says
the first thing that comes to mind. "Pete Wentz said 'let them eat cake'."
"Damn right I did," Pete says, causing Ryan to break into his first real smile
of the night, eyes lighting up. Pete thinks it's beautiful.
---
They wound up getting donuts, not cake, but Pete figures it's the thought that
counts. For being Las Vegas natives, Spencer and Ryan were surprisingly
unhelpful in knowing any 24-hour place that serves cake. So after finding more
and more nothing they were thrilled to find a Dunkin Donuts on the corner down
the block from the hotel at which the band is staying.
Pete enters first and calls back to everyone piling through the door "I'm
buying, what does everyone want?"
"Chocolate Creme Filled donut," Patrick responds from the back of the pack.
"You can buy your own freaking donut, I meant I'm buying for you guys." Pete
says gesturing to Ryan and Spencer who are now standing huddled together behind
Pete.
"Oh, I'll take one of the pink frosted ones," Ryan says softly, almost
embarrassed that a rock star is buying him a donut.
But Pete doesn't think it's weird. He just leans in close and asks "with or
without sprinkles?"
"With."
"Perfect," Pete says resting his hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Why don't you go
save us a table?" Pete removes his hand to point to the completely deserted
tables off to the side of the store.
The corner of Ryan's mouth quirks up at that. Somehow he doesn't think they
have to worry about getting a seat because the only other person in the place
is the terrified looking employee behind the counter, but he says "okay"
anyway. Ryan picks one of the larger tables with bench style seats, sliding
into the far side so he can watch Pete, who is in a band living Ryan's dream,
who is even better looking in person, especially when he smiles, and who is
currently buying him a donut.
A moment later, Spencer slide in across from him breaking Ryan's reverie. "I
can't believe we're having donuts with Pete and Patrick of Fall Out Boy,"
Spencer hisses across to him, glancing back as if to confirm this is really
happening.
"Dude, I know." Ryan barely whispers back before Pete's sliding in next to him.
"Your Bavarian Creme," Pete says pulling out a donut and passing it to Spencer.
"And your..." Pete draws out his words and makes a flourish with his hand
pulling out the "pink frosted donut with sprinkles."
Ryan reaches out to snatch his donut but Pete pulls it back, right out of
reach. "Uh-uh, not yet," Pete says before breaking into song, "Happy birthday
to you, happy birthday..." Patrick sits down next to Spencer part of the way
through and joins in.
---
"Come here." Pete says slinging his arm around Ryan's shoulders, pulling him in
so Ryan tips over, upper body leaning against Pete awkwardly. Ryan looks off to
the side for a moment, tense before loosening, putting his hand down to push
himself over until he's pressed up against Pete from shoulder on down to ankle.
Ryan turns his head in to speak and is startled. Pete is right there looking
back at him. Ryan's mouth is dry, and he swallows hard before starting "Now
what?"
The hand Pete had around Ryan's shoulder has slid up so that Pete's running his
hand along the side of Ryan's neck. With Ryan's question Pete brings his other
hand up towards Ryan's face, saying "Well, you should stop doing that," running
his thumb across Ryan's bottom lip which is once again caught between Ryan's
teeth.
"It makes it impossible for me to resist doing this."
"Doing what?" Ryan immediately asks, in the split second when he doesn't know
what Pete's talking about, and then he does. Pete (Wentz!) is about to kiss
him, his dark eyes huge, overpowering the black smudge of makeup surrounding
them, and in the second it takes his gaze to flicker to Pete's mouth and back
they've grown even bigger. Ryan can feel his heart pounding, racing,
anticipating, and then their lips meet.
It's soft and surprisingly innocent; a lingering meeting of mouths before Pete
pulls back, opening his mouth to catch Ryan's bottom lip between his teeth.
Pete runs his tongue along Ryan's bottom lip, and Ryan pulls back with a gasp
he can't believe came from him.
"That," Pete says, in what Ryan thinks is a complete non-sequitur.
"Huh?" he asks.
"What I can't resist doing."
"Oh okay." A pause and then, "you can do it again."
Pete hands are warm on his shoulders, thumbs brushing along his collarbones as
his breath ghosts across Ryan's face in a whisper of "Do you want to turn the
light off?"
Ryan stretches up and twists feeling for the light switch behind him. The more
certain he is of the rest of the evening, the more surreal it becomes. And it's
surprisingly easy for him to imagine what he looks like, as if it were an
outer-body experience, and he were watching from the next bed as he slides down
past his original sitting, all the way down so he's lying, sprawled on his
back. Pete's still sitting hunched up on his knees, leaning over, eyes locked
with Ryan's.
Pete breaks the silence when a murmured "God, you're hot" escapes and the
moment is over. Ryan's arm which was splayed above his head reaches up, hand
settling behind Pete's head to pull him down, as Ryan strains his head up,
mouth open and wanting. This time, when they meet it's a clashing of tongues
and the residual sugar-sweet taste of frosting.
Pete's body follows his head's lead, resting on top of Ryan as Ryan's legs
instinctively move out of the way, spreading so Pete can settle between them.
At their tongues duel, wet and hot, Pete's hands slide down Ryan's sides
finding the slip of exposed skin between Ryan's low, low jeans and riding-up t-
shirt. It tickles and a shiver runs through Ryan's body. "Tickles," Ryan says,
voice an exhale in a pause before their mouths come together again. This only
encourages Pete, which is fine with Ryan.
Ryan, after his bout of courageousness, doesn't know what to do but just wants
Pete to keep going. He's at a loss for what to do with his hands past settling
them on Pete's lower back, caught up and completely overwhelmed with everything
happening. Pete's mouth has moved to leaving a trail of wet kisses moving up
Ryan's neck and his hands are all over, nails grazing up Ryan's side. Ryan's
skin feels hypersensitive and he instinctively arches up, rolling his hips and-
"Oh, that's good." The pressure on his cock causes a shiver of heat and desire
to roll through Ryan's body. And, suddenly everything is narrowed down to the
intense need to feel that again. Ryan pushes his hips up again, intentionally
this time and the friction is electric.
Pete must think so too, because he's moving his hands down, skimming his hand
along Ryan's ass to grab the back of Ryan's thighs, hitching Ryan's legs up,
tilting their hips together. As Pete pulls Ryan's legs up and pushes himself
back down, the friction's all the more perfect. And, in a moment of clarity,
Ryan realizes he's feeling Pete's erection hard and hot through two layers of
denim.
Not only is he with Pete (Wentz!), but he's with a guy (and somehow Ryan thinks
his thought process would make more sense in reverse, obviously Pete's a guy, a
brilliant, hot guy). Ryan thinks that it's both exactly as wonderful and
nothing even vaguely like his wildest fantasies before he loses himself in a
haze of sensation. Their hips are thrusting in tandem to their incessant
kissing before Pete wretches his mouth away.
Their breathing is desperate and audible, but in between gasps for air, "Ryan,"
Pete manages to pant out "can I take this off?" tugging on Ryan's shirt to
illustrate what he's talking about. Ryan lifts his arms in acquiesce. Pete's
shirt is quick to follow Ryan's, tossed off to the side. And in a move that
Ryan didn't notice was happening, distracted by bare skin and a hand on his
ass, Pete's flipped them so that Ryan is left straddling Pete's thighs.
Ryan takes this opportunity to look at Pete, laid out below him. His eyes trace
Pete's thorns, his fingers follow, lightly following the line of Pete's tattoo,
causing him to shiver. "Like what you see?" Pete asks, teasing smile clear in
his voice.
"Yes," Ryan answers, eyes meeting Pete's while he leans in for a quick kiss.
Quick becomes not so quick with Ryan finding himself unable to get enough of
Pete's mouth, licking his way in instead of pulling away.
When he does pull away, it's to roll off Pete and inch his way down, so that
he's on his side, head propped up on his hand, elbow nestled underneath Pete's
out sprawled arm, Ryan's other arm across Pete's body, fingers teasing along
the top of Pete's jeans.
Pete hitches his hips up, and an urging "come on." Ryan's ready, he thinks, as
ready as he's ever going to be, so he puts his nerves behind him and fiddles
with the top button of Pete's jeans. Fingers light and delicate pop the button
open, then stroke down Pete's cock over the jeans it's straining to escape.
Even with his fingers barely ghosting along, Ryan can feel the heat pulsing in
Pete's cock. The little twitches in Pete's hips and the way the gasps catch in
his breath make Ryan think Pete's holding back, wanting more.
Ryan's about to give it to him, moving his hand allow for more pressure, when a
comprehensible word escapes Pete's lips, "tease," with the s's a drawn-out,
breathy hiss.
Ryan pulls back. "What did you say?"
"Oh, don't stop." Pete's still breathing heavy, not realizing Ryan's
disengaged.
"No, really?" Ryan's moved so that he's not touching Pete at all, lying on his
stomach, chin in his hands, looking at Pete.
Pete picks up his head, beginning to realize something's wrong, but he can't
figure out what. So, he asks "what's wrong?"
Stupid, Ryan thinks, he was hoping to do this without this conversation, and
now he's managed to bring it up himself, oversensitive and letting his nerves
get the best of him. "I don't mean to be a tease."
"I didn't mean anything by it. I liked what you were doing."
"It's just," and Ryan pauses, hesitant "I've never done this, so-"
Pete cuts him off, disbelief clear in his voice when he asks "Really?"
---
When they're done singing, Pete holds the donut out for Ryan to take. But
instead, Ryan's eyes meets Pete's with a mischievous glint as he leans forward
to take a bite out of it. Pulling back, Ryan makes a show of enjoying it,
exaggerated chewing (with his mouth closed), and tongue darting out to lick his
lips.
"Delicious," Ryan says after swallowing, before finally taking his donut from
Pete.
"Anything for the birthday boy."
There's silence for a moment as they all fall into enjoying their donuts. But
Pete apparently doesn't handle silence very well, launching into a story about
one birthday of his in which he and his friends only narrowly avoided spending
the night in jail. ("Before we met," Patrick clarifies. "I generally try to
stop these things before they get to that point.")
Ryan lets Pete's story wash over him, as he enjoys the pink, gooey
wonderfulness of his donut. It's his birthday, they saw an awesome show, and
now he's out for dessert with two guys from his favorite band. Things like this
don't happen to Ryan Ross. He's not popular, he doesn't have that many friends,
and high school kind of sucks for him. He's entirely too skinny, and more and
more recently his dad can't even be bothered to care about him. So, he's pretty
sure that he's just hallucinating Pete hitting on him.
Pete's turned his body towards Ryan and is leaning in, leaving their knees
pressed together and when Pete waves his hands around to make a point, their
feet bump, calves sliding past each other.
Pete's hands gesture wildly as he reaches the end of his story. "So, six of us
spent half the night hiding in a 7-11 bathroom, until the poor shit who was on
night shift was released from his prison behind the counter by the morning guy
came to take a piss."
There's a lull after Pete concludes, and Ryan gathers his courage. Hell, it's
his birthday, maybe he's actually getting what he wants for once. Besides, if
he's wrong, it's not like he's going to ever see Pete again. And with that in
mind, Ryan moves his hand over, under the cover of the table, to place his hand
on Pete's thigh. Ryan's eyes seek out Pete's, questioning, but Pete just
smiles, giving a tiny nod, and mirroring the action.
Turning in towards Pete, Ryan tries to pick up the conversation, asking "Uhhh,
which birthday was this?"
"Nineteen."
"I guess I have a lot of awesome birthdays to look forward to."
"And this one's not over yet." This is accompanied by Pete sliding his hand
along the inside of Ryan's thigh. Ryan looks down at this.
Pete cannot believe Ryan. Now, not only is he biting his lip, but he's
seriously batting his eyelashes, head tilted down looking up at Pete through
his bangs.
"So, what's living in Vegas like?" Pete asks.
"Believe it or not, it's not that exciting. Everything's ridiculously
overpriced because tourists will pay anything, and they're super strict about
carding. Not just for drinking, because I don't, ever, but just to get in to
see shows and stuff. What's Chicago like?"
"I used to want nothing more than to get out of there, but the longer we're on
tour, the more I miss it. It's home." Pete says quietly, like the truth is a
big secret he's not used to sharing.
"I guess if we ever get out of here, I might think differently," Ryan responds
in a correspondingly quiet voice.
As their conversation continues, their voices get smaller, and the space
between them shrinks down in turn. They talk about music- like any good scene
kids, paying homage to the brilliance of The Smiths and Morrissey- and about
what they do when they can't sleep.
For Ryan, "I walk to Spencer's house."
"His parents don't mind?"
"I just take the walk; I don't actually ring the doorbell or go in," Ryan says.
"And I can't believe I told you that. It makes me sound crazy." Really, Ryan's
amazed at how easy Pete is to talk to. He finds himself telling Pete things he
never tells anyone. Ryan's not surprised that Pete's hot, and he's not
surprised he's talented. But, he's very surprised at how good Pete is at
listening. Pete's interested, and interesting.
And, Pete doesn't think Ryan's crazy at all, quite the opposite actually.
"You're not crazy. Sometimes, fresh air is all you need. But, we're on a bus so
I'm stuck watching the dashed yellow lines rush past the window-" then, like a
lightbulb going off over Pete's head "hey, you know what we forgot?"
"No. What?"
"For you to make a wish on your donut."
"Oh," Ryan says. He thought Pete had remembered something important. A wish for
him isn't that important. "It's okay."
"No it's not," Pete says adamantly. "Make a wish now."
"No," Ryan says, trying to just laugh it off.
"Come on, make a wish. You only get one of these wishes a year."
"You can't just make wishes. There needs to be a wish making agent. I'm not
making a wish."
Pete looks around but he doesn't see anything that could count as a wish making
agent, so he guesses he just has to let it go. "Fine, have it your way," Pete
says, smiling to show that he's more amused than anything else, before dropping
it entirely, moving on to talk about books. Pete likes the classics, like
Hemingway and Fitzgerald, while they just remind Ryan of high school English
class.
Pete and Ryan have entirely forgotten about their best friends sitting across
from them, so it startles them when Spencer leans over the table to shake
Ryan's shoulder. The way Spencer's dragging out "Ryan" when he says it,
indicates he's been trying to get his attention for a while. When Ryan looks at
Spencer, he sees that Spencer's got his phone opened, covering the mouthpiece
when he says "My mom's on the phone. She wants to know when I'm getting home
and if she should set up the air mattress for you."
Before Ryan can answer Pete's tugging at Ryan's arm, turning Ryan's attention
back to him, saying "If you want you can come and hang out with me at the hotel
for a while."
Ryan looks back at Spencer. He wants to go with Pete, but he's not sure.
Spencer must get some of that from his eyes, because he turns to Patrick,
saying "excuse me," and sliding out of the bench when Patrick moves out of the
way. Spencer gestures for Ryan to follow him as puts the phone back up to his
ear to tell his mom, "I'll call you back in a minute and let you know, okay?"
Spencer steps outside without looking back, but when he turns around Ryan is
right there. "You really want to go back to Pete's hotel room?" Spencer ask,
the 'and have sex with him' obvious in his tone.
"Yea, I think I do. He's really cool." Ryan says, not quite meeting Spencer's
eyes, maybe trying to convince himself as much as he is Spencer.
Spencer's not buying it. "He may be cool, but he's a guy in a band. He's
expecting to get laid," he says, giving voice to the heart of the issue.
"You're in a band, and you're not getting laid."
"Ass, that's not the point and you know it."
"Really, I'll be okay." A little under a year ago, late at night, lying on the
air mattress on the floor of Spencer's room, Ryan admitted to Spencer that he
might not be completely straight. Looking back on it that probably was a stupid
time to say anything. If Spencer had flipped out or something, Ryan would've
been stuck with no place to go except home, which is always a bad place to be
on the weekend. But Spencer was cool about it, just asking if there's a guy
somewhere who's the reason Ryan and his last girlfriend broke up. There wasn't.
And Spencer is cool about it now, too. "Give me a call if you need me to pick
you up tomorrow or something." Spencer pauses, looking at the two guys still
sitting at their table through the window, before looking back at Ryan with a
leer, saying "Damn, Pete Wentz."
"I know." Ryan's looking down at his Chucks, voice full of disbelief.
"Next time, we're going to a Britney Spears concert."
"Dude, she sucks."
"Yea, but she's hot."
---
Inside the Dunkin Donuts, Pete's watching Ryan and Spencer through the window.
Patrick is watching Pete.
"I can't believe you invited the kid back to the hotel" Patrick says, drawing
Pete's attention.
"Yes you can," Pete answers, totally ignoring Patrick's point. If Patrick's
stupid enough to give him an out, Pete's going to take it, and Patrick should
know that by this point.
"Okay, I can."
Bullshit out of the way, Pete's willing to address Patrick's main concern.
"Ryan," Pete pauses for emphasis, "is hot."
"Ryan," Patrick pauses to imitate Pete, "is jailbait."
"Oh, come on Patrick. Please?" Pete pouts.
"You owe me big," Patrick says with a well practiced air.
Pete lets out a relieved breath. "First born child, all yours."
"You better be planning on having a lot of first born children, you owe me at
least a dozen of them," Patrick mutters as the bell above the door jingles,
indicating Ryan and Spencer's return.
---
In what seems like an instant, Spencer and Patrick are gone; Spencer headed
home, and Patrick running off ahead, mumbling something about Halo and finding
Joe, leaving Pete and Ryan alone to slowly make there way down the block.
They're not talking, but it's a comfortable quiet. As soon as they stepped
outside Pete had linked arms with Ryan, pulling him in close, and now that
closeness allows Ryan to feel Pete shivering next to him.
"It's colder than I thought it would be out here," Pete says breaking the
silence.
"That's the desert for you, hot as hell during the day, freezing at night,"
Ryan answers as Pete pulls away to rub at his bare arms, trying to get some
warmth into them. Pete's looking around as they walk, and suddenly he runs out
into the middle of the road, throwing his arms out and head up, spinning in a
circle.
Ryan laughs, shouting out to Pete, "What are you doing?"
Pete stops spinning to look at Ryan. "I'm looking for a shooting star so you
can make your wish?"
Still laughing, "Get out of the road, you're gonna get hit."
"Come on, live a little," Pete shouts back, beckoning Ryan to follow him.
"Besides, there's not a car in sight," he says, spinning around as if to prove
his point.
Ryan looks both ways before he shrugs and trudges over to where Pete is. When
he gets there he looks around again. Pete has a manic grin on his face, but
Ryan must be missing something because he is seriously unimpressed with
standing in the middle of the road. He's not unimpressed with Pete though, so
when Pete wraps his arm around Ryan's waist and continues them on their way
down the middle of the street, Ryan has a matching smile on his face.
---
"Yes, really," Ryan says softly, embarrassed at having said anything.
"Oh," Pete pushes himself up to look at Ryan. "Um. If you don't want to..."
Pete trails off.
"No," Ryan is quick to answer. "I do want to. Just, if I'm not doing it right,
tell me."
"Do you want me to go first?"
"No, I'm okay."
"Okay. This isn't really something you can do wrong. So, just like, don't worry
about it."
Eyes locked, Ryan puts his hand back on Pete's hip, thumb sliding under the
waistband of Pete's jeans. Then, very deliberately, Ryan leans over and licks
down the trail of hair from Pete's bellybutton to the top of Pete's very low
rise jeans.
With a thump, Pete falls back. "See, you're a natural," the lightness of the
words offset by the throaty tone they're spoken with.
Ryan doesn't hesitate this time, unzipping Pete's jeans, struggling for a
moment, tugging them down.
Seeing Pete like this is different, not like the glimpses of guys in the locker
room, not like Ryan seeing himself. Pete's thighs are more muscular than his
tiny frame would suggest, and he's hairy, like he's a real adult. Pete's cock
is hard, and Ryan can see the veins, purple, from this close up. When Ryan's
breath ghosts over Pete, causing his hips tremble, it's like Pete's cock is
straining to reach Ryan.
Ryan opens his mouth, taking Pete's cock in his mouth. And the first thing he
notices is that this is harder than it looks. His brain seems to have distanced
itself from what's happening just below it because he's noticing that his lips
are stretched out and his mouth is full and the guys in porn eat up enormous
cocks in a single go, but to Ryan the inches left seem like miles and as he
starts to move, saliva drips out of the sides of his mouth, and really, he
hopes he's doing okay, because this is difficult, and he really needs to stop
his run away thoughts because he has Pete (Wentz!) whimpering under him.
Moving down, Ryan gags and has to pull off, replacing his mouth with his hand,
the saliva left making it easy to move his hand and squeeze with his thumb at
the spot at the base of the head that makes Pete shudder. Ryan's jaw aches, and
he opens and closes his mouth to try and work it out.
And, now that he can, Ryan looks up at Pete. Pete is gorgeous, chest moving in
concert with the heavy breathing from his opened mouth. Pete's eyes closed and
his head's thrown back, completely lost in what Ryan's doing. There's a
wonderful litany of whimpers coming from Pete, and Ryan realizes that what
Pete's saying is "Ry... Ry... Ryan."
Ryan can't believe he's caused this reaction in Pete. It's amazing, and this
time he leaves his hand wrapped around the base of Pete's cock as he takes Pete
back into his mouth, wanting to give Pete more. With nerves (somewhat) out of
the way, Ryan is overwhelmed by Pete- the smooth feeling of his cock on his
tongue, and the slight bitter taste in his mouth- the smell of musk and male
and sweat and sex that overwhelms him- the trembles and shivers of his body
under Ryan's hands- and again- the sound of Pete's murmurs and groans audible
even over the wet, slurping sound of sex. He wants to remember everything,
commit it all to memory, having Pete shaking and coming apart at his actions.
There's this amazing feeling to it all, to be doing this.
Pete's hips thrust up and Ryan instinctively pulls away. He picks up the pace
with his hand, watching intently, suddenly needing to see Pete come. Pete seems
to be in accordance with this, groans no longer coherent and back arching off
the bed as his hips thrust up into Ryan's hand forceful and violent.
Then, Pete's shuddering, coming all over Ryan's hand. Ryan pulls back, looking
at the mess on his hand. Holding it away from his body awkwardly, Ryan leans
over Pete, and wipes his hand on the sheet along the side of the bed before
crawling his way up to lie down on his side, facing Pete, who is sprawled
boneless on his back.
Feeling Ryan settle in next to him, Pete cracks an eye open to look at Ryan,
wiggling the rest of the way out of his pants before speaking. "Thank you."
"Oh... um... uh, my pleasure." Ryan's voice rises at the end as if it's a
question.
"No, this will be your pleasure." Pete's gone from boneless lump to a cat who's
pounced on its mouse in a split second, on his hands and knees, straddling
above Ryan, grinning down the way Ryan once again has his bottom lip trapped
between his teeth. "Relax," Pete says, capturing Ryan's mouth with his own,
tongue slipping in to taste himself in Ryan's mouth, before pulling away to
bite at the hollow of Ryan's neck.
Pete works his way down Ryan's chest with his mouth while working off Ryan's
pants. There's no hesitation, just a drag of Pete's teeth along protruding
hipbones, causing Ryan to buck up and groan. Then Pete's taking Ryan's cock in
his mouth. And, oh god, Ryan thinks, Pete's good at this, really, really good
at this.
Then he's not thinking much of anything, losing himself to the sensation.
Pete's showing off, swallowing Ryan all the way down and humming, although
Ryan's not aware of those details. All he knows is the electric frisson running
down his body like a current, until it leaves him through a shiver in his toes.
He's not going to last long and for a moment he wishes he could savor it, stay
here forever, in this bubble of a hotel room where he is brave, and makes his
move, and gets his wish, and hooks up with Pete (Wentz!), and is attractive and
desirable and everything he's not.
But Pete's tongue is doing this thing to the head of Ryan's cock, Pete's
calloused fingers pushing down in response to his bucking hips. Ryan's standing
at the precipice, shaking, sweating hot, dark. Then he's falling, bright white
behind his eyes, ecstasy and release. Pete doesn't move, swallowing through the
aftershocks, warm and amazing as everything grays out.
---
"Ry~an." It's this whisper, sing-songed with a gust of warm breath into Ryan's
ear that pulls him out.
"Urmhm," Ryan mumbles, not even sure himself what word that was meant to be.
Ryan keeps his eyes closed, not wanting to move from his warm, hazy happiness.
But against his will, consciousness is seeping back in, his senses re-booting.
He notices Pete, lying on his side so his front is pressed along the length of
Ryan's body. Pete's arm is sprawled across Ryan's chest, so that while Pete's
lips and nose and breathe tickle along one side of Ryan's neck, his fingers
stroke up and down the other, stopping to fiddle with the spacer in Ryan's ear
, probably in an attempt to get Ryan to respond.
When it becomes clear that's all Pete's getting from him, Pete repeats his
call, "Ry~an, wake uh~up."
Ryan gives up and with a concerted effort, opens his eyes. Mimicking Pete he
says "Pe~ete," while turning to look at him.
Pete's closer than Ryan realized, and like this their faces line up, touching
forehead to forehead. "I just wanted to make sure I didn't kill you."
"Oh," Ryan says, "well, you didn't." There's a pause before he continues,
unsure of protocol for this type of situation, "can I go to sleep now?" Ryan's
uncertainty manifests itself, and he's once again biting his lip.
It's adorable, and Pete picks his head up to angle in for a lightning fast
kiss. "Sure, but first turn over and look at the clock."
Ryan shifts around in an ungraceful series of shuffles, trying to turn over
without leaving the circle of Pete's arms. Finally he does it, settling on his
side, Pete spooned in behind him. "What am I looking at?"
"It's 3:33. All the same number, that means you can make a wish."
And it is, right in front of him there are three red blocky threes glowing at
him in the dark. "Are you sure it isn't just 11:11."
"I'm sure," Pete says from behind him.
If Ryan were braver, or perhaps just more confidant in his ability to use
cheesy lines, he would say something like "what if my wish already came true
tonight?" But he's not, so he just stays quiet as the bright 3:33 turns into a
3:34 and then 3:35 as Pete's breath slows and deepens behind him into the
unmistakable breathing of sleep. Ryan listens to Pete breathe, feels the
movements of it along his back as he lays happy and amazed, burrowed warm under
Pete's arm. Then, without even realizing he closed his eyes, Ryan's asleep too.
---
Bang. Bang. Bang.
"Pete! Wake up! We leave for the radio interview in half an hour!"
Ryan's eyes spring awake, open, the last night coming back to him in a flash.
Patrick is banging on the door, screaming; Pete's mumbling obscenities next to
him, rolling out of bed. Ryan watches as Pete stands, back to him, and
stretches. Ryan's eyes run down the line of Pete's back and keep going to look
at his butt when Ryan realizes what he's doing. Embarrassed, he turns away,
sitting up to face the opposite direction and look at his toes, careful to keep
the sheet up around his waist.
"Hey, sorry about that. Did you want to grab a shower first?" Pete's talking to
him so Ryan looks up. And apparently, Pete has no problem with nudity.
Ryan can feel himself flushing, as he looks back down. "Uh, no, I'll just...
uh" He trails off gesturing towards the bathroom as he picks up his scattered
clothes, before hurrying off. Ryan keeps his eyes downcast and closes the
bathroom door firmly behind him when he gets there.
When Ryan emerges, he's dressed in yesterday's clothes and Pete's put on a pair
of boxer-briefs, making it possible for Ryan to look in his general direction
again. Pete speaks to apologize again, saying "Sorry this is so rushed, did you
want me to call a cab or come wait with you or something?" making motions
towards the door with his hand.
"That's okay, I'll just call Spencer," Ryan says, taking his cell phone out of
his pocket, flipping it open to make the call.
He's interrupted by "hey, wait," and Pete darting across the room to scribble
something on the hotel stationary. When Pete's done, he tears off the top sheet
and hands it to Ryan. "Here."
"What is this?" Ryan asks, looking down.
"It's my email and livejournal. Let me know how the band works out."
Ryan looks up, for the first time this morning meeting Pete's eyes. Pete's
serious and Ryan smiles at him.
Pete walks over, and it's not a surprise this time when Pete cups a hand on his
face and moves in to kiss him. It's soft and sweet, over before anything's
really started. Pete runs his thumb along Ryan's bottom lip before really
pulling back so that they're standing a normal distance apart when Pete says
"You should check and see if Patrick's made coffee before you leave. His coffee
is amazing."
Ryan quirks his lips, saying "Thanks" lightly as he turns to leave.
"No, thank you." Pete's voice is uncharacteristically serious, before returning
to normal to say "Bye Ryan" as Ryan leaves and shuts the door behind him.
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