why_me_why_not (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
why_me_why_not) wrote2009-08-09 11:27 pm
why_me_why_not) wrote2009-08-09 11:27 pm
Fic Recs and Fic Dump
Fic Recs and Fic Dump :)
BUT FIRST! The![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
usedfic Exchange needs a pinch hitter for a story!
ANYONE? You don't have to be part of the challenge already to pinch hit, and the minimum is only 1000 words.
So, speaking of The Used, here's where I got my crack-ration to start my week off right:
California Son by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
valerie_z
Tim (Rancid)/Bert (The Used) || NC-17 (but just barely) || Warning for incest
He didn't know why Bert bothered him so much. Something about the guy just got under his skin. He could talk for an hour with the intern at Machete who thought 9/11 was an inside job, but one smirk from Bert McCracken and he was ready to start swinging. He just needed to keep his distance.
And a Harry Potter rec. Now, I'm not actually so much into Snarry, I only read it when certain people write it. Andmimiheart is one of those people.
Finding Peace bymimiheart
Genre(s): Genderbender/Crosdressing
Prompt(s):Secrets and Lies, Sanctuary
Harry/Snape || R, please read posted warnings || ~17,000 words
It takes a great hero to defeat the Dark Lord. Sometimes it takes a greater one to face oneself.
One of my long overdue drabbles. This one is foririsgirl12000, who asked for Dean/Castiel with a prompt of fallen, wings. It's also not exactly Dean/Castiel, b/c I can't wrap my mind around that, but it's close enough. 100 words.
Castiel hated to admit it, but he missed the snarky, cocky Dean Winchester who would just as soon spit in the face of a demon as demand an angel show their wings. Since Lily had been killed, Sam found, and Lucifer set free with his league of fallen angels, that Dean was missing. Castiel worried he might not return even after Lucifer was defeated once more. Not that Castiel would be there to see it if he did, since Castiel had a lot to answer for when the Battles were over. Still, the world wasn’t right without the old Dean.
And this is something related to my Big Bang Fic. If I ever do attempt to write porn, I inevitably get it halfway written and then stop. And then it never gets finished, lol. And we all know I have the attention span of a small butterfly, so. Anyway, this kinda stops in the middle of everything, and it's technically unbeta'd even though it's been read by several people. But I'm dumping it so I don't have to keep thinking about it sitting here unfinished.
Untitled Pete/Patrick/Ashlee
Obviously NC-17 || ~2800 words
Set the day Bob leaves for Chicago in Basement Romantic
Patrick hoped Pete would be gone by the time he made it back from the airport, but it didn't work that way. Pete was happily kicked back on Patrick's couch – feet up on the coffee table like he knew Patrick hated – looking quite proud of himself and talking on the phone.
He smiled when he saw Patrick. “Hey, Trick! Ash wants to know what you want for dessert tonight.”
Patrick tried very hard to resist throwing something at Pete's head. “Pete, you just sent my roommate halfway across the country, I'm not really happy with you right now.”
Pete shrugged. “Now you can come live with me and my wife. Who is currently cooking dinner for us; what do you want for dessert?”
Patrick glared at Pete. “Brownies. I want double fudge brownies with chocolate icing. And ice cream.” He knew it didn't matter what he said he wanted, Pete was still going to go with whatever he thought was a healthier alternative.
Sure enough, Pete rolled his eyes at Patrick and turned back to the phone. “We still have enough of those fresh peaches left to make cobbler, right? Patrick wants peach cobbler and ice cream.”
Patrick sighed, pushing Pete's feet off the coffee table. At least he was getting the ice cream.
Patrick thought he'd be used to Pete and Ashlee's displays of affection after nearly four years. Then again, he can't believe they've been together for four years, married for three, and they're still like they are. Granted, they've calmed down a lot, but he's still pretty sure they're holding hands under the table, and sneaking bites off of each other's plates.
When it comes time for dessert – Patrick was promised ice cream, dammit! – Pete insists they move to the living room. It’s a little unnerving that it’s so easy for Patrick to find his place in Pete and Ashlee’s routine – he doesn’t even think twice before he’s clearing away the dinner plates and loading the dishwasher while Ashlee portions out three bowls of cobbler and ice cream and Pete takes off into the living room to load a movie in the DVD player and probably claim the most comfortable corner of the couch.
Sure enough, when Ashlee and Patrick carry the bowls out to the living room, Pete is curled up on the far side of the couch, remote in hand and the dvd menu for Empire Records playing on the screen. Patrick spares a moment to give a silent thanks to the movie gods because he had noticed The Breakfast Club sitting out earlier and he really wasn’t in the mood for one of Pete’s Molly Ringwald marathons. (Last week, Patrick had been forced to sit through an entire discussion about how Molly Ringwald was still hot and a recap of everything that had happened in the first season of The Secret Life of the American Teenager. He was really, really hoping to put off being forced to sit through the show itself.)
Ashlee shares a look with Patrick and rolls her eyes affectionately at Pete as she hands him his bowl. “Hey, what if I wanted to sit there?”
Pete flashes her a smile. “You can sit in my lap.”
“Nah,” she says as she settles in beside him. “This way I get Patrick all to myself.”
Pete apparently hadn’t thought of that. “No, wait, how about we put Patrick in the middle? It’ll be like a Patrick-sandwich!”
“Nope.” Ashlee pats the cushion beside her and looks at Patrick expectantly until he sits down. “All mine. Plus, I don’t think he needs you getting all handsy with him while he’s eating his ice cream.”
“Just don’t think this means you get to get all handsy with him,” Pete grumbles as he hit the “play” button on the remote.
“Not while he’s eating his ice cream.” Ashlee winks at Patrick and picks up her spoon.
Even though he could probably quote this entire movie, Patrick tries to pretend like he’s focused on Corey and Gina and not on the way Pete is turning dessert into a sex-olympics event. Ashlee isn’t that much better, even though Patrick thinks hers might be unintentional. He usually doesn’t have any problem with them, with the flirting and the touching and the innuendo that hangs heavy in the air around them, but he also usually gets to escape. He could leave now but the prospect of going home to an empty apartment makes his stomach turn. Even though Bob’s been gone for less than a day, there’s still that empty space.
Pete hadn’t moved out of the apartment he and Patrick shared until the day before his wedding to Ashlee, into a house that was a wedding present. (Ashlee came from money; her parents weren’t the least bit excited when she had fallen for Pete. Patrick can’t help but think the house was an insult, their way of saying they didn’t believe Pete could provide for Ashlee, but it didn’t seem to bother Pete and Ash so he never brought it up.) It was pure coincidence that Patrick ran into Bob just as he was starting to stress about having to find a new roommate and possibly adjust to living with a stranger. Pete was on his (stupid, month-long, in-law-paid-for) honeymoon when Bob moved in, and he didn’t seem all that happy when he came home to find he’d been replaced.
Patrick is distracted from the intra-store dynamics on screen when Ashlee giggles beside him and twists around on the couch so she’s leaning against Patrick, trying to keep her bowl away from Pete. Pete scooches closer and dips his spoon into her bowl anyway, licking the fruit and ice cream off of it with an exaggerated flick of his tongue.
“You have your own, fucker!” Ashlee smacks the back of Pete’s hand with the spoon.
“Yeah, but yours tastes better.” Pete grins and starts to go back for another scoop. At the last minute, he hesitates and sets his bowl on the coffee table before grabbing Ashlee’s and doing the same.
Patrick isn’t surprised when Pete leans across the couch to kiss Ashlee, but he is surprised that the movement practically pushes her into his lap. He’s a little wide-eyed as he holds his bowl above their heads and tries to figure out how he ended up with his best friends making out in his lap and how he can get them to stop. Pete reaches up to brush his hand over Ashlee’s cheek, run his fingers through her hair, and then brings his hand down behind her, resting on Patrick’s thigh and rubbing restlessly against the denim there.
“Pete!” Patrick smacks Pete in the shoulder. “Fucker, get off of me!”
Pete pulls out of the kiss slowly, not moving his hand from Patrick’s thigh and looking a little dazed when he looks up at Patrick. “Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all, and he’s still not moving.
“Ashlee?”
“Sorry,” she says, smiling apologetically at Patrick and pushing at Pete. “C’mon, Pete, move. We’re making Patrick uncomfortable.”
Pete sits up with obvious reluctance and helps Ashlee pull herself off Patrick.
Patrick shifts forward, goes to grab the other bowls and stack them together. “Uh, I should go.”
“No!” Pete and Ashlee say at the same time.
“No,” Ashlee repeats, quieter, taking the bowls from Patrick and passing them to Pete. “Stay.” She kneels on the couch and moves to settle herself over Patrick’s lap, hands on the back of the couch behind his head. Patrick glances at Pete, who just smiles as he takes the bowls back to the kitchen. Patrick’s maybe freaking out a little.
“Uh, Ash?”
“Patrick?” Her voice is teasing, and she’s wiggling just enough to make him uncomfortable.
He slides his hands around her back to steady her, hold her still, and reminds himself she’s his best friend’s wife. He shouldn’t be thinking about pulling her closer, shouldn’t be wondering what it would feel like to slide his hands under her shirt, shouldn’t be mesmerized by her mouth. Her lips are slick and shiny even before she licks them, and he knows that if he kisses her she’ll taste like ice cream and peaches and Pete, and it’s so fucking wrong to want that.
“You wanna know my favorite thing about ice cream, Patrick?” She’s whispering, leaning in like she’s going to kiss him but stopping just far enough to keep from brushing her lips against his. Still, he can feel her breath when she continues, “Pete’s kind of a whore for kissing, and he likes the way ice cream kisses are all slick and sweet and sugary.”
She presses her lips against Patrick’s lightly, her tongue darting out to lick along his lower lip. Patrick licks his lips, thinking he shouldn’t be letting her do this.
“He’ll keep it up forever, just lay here on the couch kissing me like it’s the only thing in the world that matters, until I’m so far gone he barely has to touch me to get me off.”
She kisses him for real then, sliding her tongue against his and making a pleased whimpering sound when he pushes back. When Patrick finally pulls away, he can only think of Pete, standing behind her, watching them. Patrick can’t read the expression in his eyes, and he’s used to taking his clues from Pete.
Ashlee glances over her shoulder at Pete, then leans forward to whisper in Patrick’s ear. “He’s just jealous because I got the first kiss. He wants you. We want you to stay.”
Patrick doesn’t know what to say to that. “Pete?”
Pete’s shaking his head, looking a little dazed, and Patrick slides his hands down to Ashlee’s hips, pushing her away. Christ, this is fucked up.
Ashlee makes a frustrated noise and stands up, hands on her hips as she glares at Pete. “Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz, what the fuck are you shaking your head for?”
Patrick doesn’t wait for an answer, just stands up and steps around Ashlee, heading for the door. “I’m just gonna go, guys. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
There’s silence behind him as he starts to pull on his jacket and he can only assume they’re having one of those creepy-silent conversations they have sometimes. He’s got a hand on the door when he hears Pete’s, “Patrick?” Patrick barely has time to turn around and Pete’s got him pressed against the door, kissing him hot and dirty.
It’s easier than he expects to melt into the kiss, to follow Pete’s lead. He’s not usually a fan of messy kisses, not usually a fan of too much spit and tongue, but with Pete … well it’s exactly what he would have expected from Pete. Pete’s hands are sliding over Patrick like he can’t decide where to touch, and Patrick can feel the underlying edge of desperateness to all of it. He slides his hands into the back pockets of Pete’s jeans, just holding still and holding on while Pete works whatever it is out of his system.
“Stay,” Pete’s voice is low and rough when he finally pulls away, hands twisted in the Patrick’s t-shirt. “Please stay.”
They’ve already crossed a line, but Patrick still has to ask, “You sure?”
Pete nods quickly, “Fuck yeah, I’m sure.”
Ashlee comes up behind Pete, smiles at Patrick as she wraps her arms around Pete’s middle. “Why don’t we move this into the bedroom?”
“Yeah,” Patrick says, nodding. If they’re going to do this, they need to do it. “Yeah,” he kisses Ashlee, “yeah” and Pete, “bedroom,” and pulls his hands out of Pete’s pockets.
Pete pulls away and starts pulling his shirt over his head as he heads for the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes for Patrick and Ashlee to follow. Ashlee takes Patrick’s hand and leads him down the hallway, past the guest bedroom he usually sleeps in, into the master bedroom where Pete is kneeling on the bed, waiting. Patrick shrugs out of his jacket and drops it on the floor. Ashlee pushes him to sit down on the edge of the bed and Pete pushes him the rest of the way down, straddling his hips and picking up their kiss where they left off, only now Pete is naked, nothing but hot skin under Patrick’s hands when they skim across the muscle of Pete’s back.
Patrick is vaguely aware of Ashlee sliding his shoes off, but he’s mostly aware of Pete. Pete’s hands on the bed beside his head, Pete’s tongue sliding against his, Pete’s skin pressing over top of his body and sliding under his hands, Pete’s teeth scraping against the side of his jaw when he turns his head, Pete’s name slipping from his mouth like a plea.
The bed dips beside them and Patrick feels a hand slip between their bodies, touching at the button of his jeans, and opens his eyes as Pete pulls away just a little and then rolls to the side.
“I think Patrick needs to be a little less clothed,” Ashlee says, popping the button of Patrick’s jeans and leaning in to kiss Pete as she slides the zipper down with one hand. Patrick knows he could help – things would probably go a lot faster if he did – but he’s mesmerized by the two of them kissing above him, by the flash of tongue between their lips, the wet sound when they pull apart.
“Shit, you two…”
They turn matching smiles in his direction and then Ashlee’s bending down to kiss him, rucking up his shirt with her hands as she slides down, pressing sloppy kisses to his stomach as she kneels on the floor between his legs. She slides her fingers under the waistband of his briefs and tugs lightly. “Lift up.”
Patrick does, pushing his feet flat against the floor and lifting his ass off the mattress so Ashlee can slide his jeans and underwear down and then off. Pete tugs at his shirt and Patrick sits up a little to help pull it over his head. Pete slides over behind him, kneeling behind him and biting his shoulder lightly. “Fuck, Patrick.”
Patrick doesn’t understand how Pete can be thinking about him when Ashlee’s right there, looking up at them, her hands on Patrick’s thighs. Patrick leans against Pete, bracing his hands on the mattress. Pete holds a hand in front of Ashlee and Patrick holds his breath as she licks his palm, sucks his fingers into her mouth one by one. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, letting his head fall back against Pete and closing his eyes when Pete wraps his spit-slick hand around his cock.
Pete squeezes, just this side of too tight, and then loosens his grip to run his hand smoothly up Patrick’s dick then back down. Patrick has to open his eyes again when Ashlee swipes her tongue over the head of his cock, watches as she works her tongue over and around Pete’s hand, teasing little licks that draw little whimpery noises from Pete to match Patrick’s own. She finally shifts up, tightening her grip on his thighs and sliding her mouth over his cock, going down to meet Pete’s hand.
The two of them effortlessly set a rhythm that makes Patrick think they’ve practiced this – and the idea of the two of them bringing someone other than Patrick into their relationship, into their bed, will make him irrationally jealous when he has time to think about it later – and Pete nuzzles the side of Patrick’s neck, licks the sweat there before biting down, hard, and Patrick jerks.
“Jesus, fuck, Pete,” he hisses, but Pete’s only response is to worry the skin between his teeth. He releases it and runs his tongue over the spot, and Patrick would fuss at him about it if he wasn’t so distracted by the hot wet slide of Ashlee’s mouth and the smooth glide of Pete’s hand. Pete’s breath is loud and ragged in his ear when Patrick stutters out Ashlee’s name, trying to warn her that he’s close.
Ashlee doesn’t pull off, though, just pulls back a little, enough that she doesn’t choke when he comes. She’s got a smear of come at the corner of her mouth when she pulls off and Patrick reaches out to wipe it off with a shaky swipe of his thumb. His eyes go wide when he realizes her cheeks aren’t empty, she didn’t swallow. She uses her hands on his thighs as leverage as she shifts herself up to meet Pete in a kiss over Patrick’s shoulder, and fuck if that’s not the hottest thing Patrick’s ever seen. There’s a dribble of come that escapes from the corners of their mouths when Ashlee pushes her tongue into Pete’s mouth, but Pete’s quick to take what she’s offering, holding her head with both hands as he licks inside her mouth.
BUT FIRST! The
usedfic Exchange needs a pinch hitter for a story!ANYONE? You don't have to be part of the challenge already to pinch hit, and the minimum is only 1000 words.
So, speaking of The Used, here's where I got my crack-ration to start my week off right:
California Son by
valerie_zTim (Rancid)/Bert (The Used) || NC-17 (but just barely) || Warning for incest
He didn't know why Bert bothered him so much. Something about the guy just got under his skin. He could talk for an hour with the intern at Machete who thought 9/11 was an inside job, but one smirk from Bert McCracken and he was ready to start swinging. He just needed to keep his distance.
And a Harry Potter rec. Now, I'm not actually so much into Snarry, I only read it when certain people write it. And
mimiheart is one of those people. Finding Peace by
mimiheartGenre(s): Genderbender/Crosdressing
Prompt(s):Secrets and Lies, Sanctuary
Harry/Snape || R, please read posted warnings || ~17,000 words
It takes a great hero to defeat the Dark Lord. Sometimes it takes a greater one to face oneself.
One of my long overdue drabbles. This one is for
irisgirl12000, who asked for Dean/Castiel with a prompt of fallen, wings. It's also not exactly Dean/Castiel, b/c I can't wrap my mind around that, but it's close enough. 100 words. Castiel hated to admit it, but he missed the snarky, cocky Dean Winchester who would just as soon spit in the face of a demon as demand an angel show their wings. Since Lily had been killed, Sam found, and Lucifer set free with his league of fallen angels, that Dean was missing. Castiel worried he might not return even after Lucifer was defeated once more. Not that Castiel would be there to see it if he did, since Castiel had a lot to answer for when the Battles were over. Still, the world wasn’t right without the old Dean.
And this is something related to my Big Bang Fic. If I ever do attempt to write porn, I inevitably get it halfway written and then stop. And then it never gets finished, lol. And we all know I have the attention span of a small butterfly, so. Anyway, this kinda stops in the middle of everything, and it's technically unbeta'd even though it's been read by several people. But I'm dumping it so I don't have to keep thinking about it sitting here unfinished.
Untitled Pete/Patrick/Ashlee
Obviously NC-17 || ~2800 words
Set the day Bob leaves for Chicago in Basement Romantic
Patrick hoped Pete would be gone by the time he made it back from the airport, but it didn't work that way. Pete was happily kicked back on Patrick's couch – feet up on the coffee table like he knew Patrick hated – looking quite proud of himself and talking on the phone.
He smiled when he saw Patrick. “Hey, Trick! Ash wants to know what you want for dessert tonight.”
Patrick tried very hard to resist throwing something at Pete's head. “Pete, you just sent my roommate halfway across the country, I'm not really happy with you right now.”
Pete shrugged. “Now you can come live with me and my wife. Who is currently cooking dinner for us; what do you want for dessert?”
Patrick glared at Pete. “Brownies. I want double fudge brownies with chocolate icing. And ice cream.” He knew it didn't matter what he said he wanted, Pete was still going to go with whatever he thought was a healthier alternative.
Sure enough, Pete rolled his eyes at Patrick and turned back to the phone. “We still have enough of those fresh peaches left to make cobbler, right? Patrick wants peach cobbler and ice cream.”
Patrick sighed, pushing Pete's feet off the coffee table. At least he was getting the ice cream.
Patrick thought he'd be used to Pete and Ashlee's displays of affection after nearly four years. Then again, he can't believe they've been together for four years, married for three, and they're still like they are. Granted, they've calmed down a lot, but he's still pretty sure they're holding hands under the table, and sneaking bites off of each other's plates.
When it comes time for dessert – Patrick was promised ice cream, dammit! – Pete insists they move to the living room. It’s a little unnerving that it’s so easy for Patrick to find his place in Pete and Ashlee’s routine – he doesn’t even think twice before he’s clearing away the dinner plates and loading the dishwasher while Ashlee portions out three bowls of cobbler and ice cream and Pete takes off into the living room to load a movie in the DVD player and probably claim the most comfortable corner of the couch.
Sure enough, when Ashlee and Patrick carry the bowls out to the living room, Pete is curled up on the far side of the couch, remote in hand and the dvd menu for Empire Records playing on the screen. Patrick spares a moment to give a silent thanks to the movie gods because he had noticed The Breakfast Club sitting out earlier and he really wasn’t in the mood for one of Pete’s Molly Ringwald marathons. (Last week, Patrick had been forced to sit through an entire discussion about how Molly Ringwald was still hot and a recap of everything that had happened in the first season of The Secret Life of the American Teenager. He was really, really hoping to put off being forced to sit through the show itself.)
Ashlee shares a look with Patrick and rolls her eyes affectionately at Pete as she hands him his bowl. “Hey, what if I wanted to sit there?”
Pete flashes her a smile. “You can sit in my lap.”
“Nah,” she says as she settles in beside him. “This way I get Patrick all to myself.”
Pete apparently hadn’t thought of that. “No, wait, how about we put Patrick in the middle? It’ll be like a Patrick-sandwich!”
“Nope.” Ashlee pats the cushion beside her and looks at Patrick expectantly until he sits down. “All mine. Plus, I don’t think he needs you getting all handsy with him while he’s eating his ice cream.”
“Just don’t think this means you get to get all handsy with him,” Pete grumbles as he hit the “play” button on the remote.
“Not while he’s eating his ice cream.” Ashlee winks at Patrick and picks up her spoon.
Even though he could probably quote this entire movie, Patrick tries to pretend like he’s focused on Corey and Gina and not on the way Pete is turning dessert into a sex-olympics event. Ashlee isn’t that much better, even though Patrick thinks hers might be unintentional. He usually doesn’t have any problem with them, with the flirting and the touching and the innuendo that hangs heavy in the air around them, but he also usually gets to escape. He could leave now but the prospect of going home to an empty apartment makes his stomach turn. Even though Bob’s been gone for less than a day, there’s still that empty space.
Pete hadn’t moved out of the apartment he and Patrick shared until the day before his wedding to Ashlee, into a house that was a wedding present. (Ashlee came from money; her parents weren’t the least bit excited when she had fallen for Pete. Patrick can’t help but think the house was an insult, their way of saying they didn’t believe Pete could provide for Ashlee, but it didn’t seem to bother Pete and Ash so he never brought it up.) It was pure coincidence that Patrick ran into Bob just as he was starting to stress about having to find a new roommate and possibly adjust to living with a stranger. Pete was on his (stupid, month-long, in-law-paid-for) honeymoon when Bob moved in, and he didn’t seem all that happy when he came home to find he’d been replaced.
Patrick is distracted from the intra-store dynamics on screen when Ashlee giggles beside him and twists around on the couch so she’s leaning against Patrick, trying to keep her bowl away from Pete. Pete scooches closer and dips his spoon into her bowl anyway, licking the fruit and ice cream off of it with an exaggerated flick of his tongue.
“You have your own, fucker!” Ashlee smacks the back of Pete’s hand with the spoon.
“Yeah, but yours tastes better.” Pete grins and starts to go back for another scoop. At the last minute, he hesitates and sets his bowl on the coffee table before grabbing Ashlee’s and doing the same.
Patrick isn’t surprised when Pete leans across the couch to kiss Ashlee, but he is surprised that the movement practically pushes her into his lap. He’s a little wide-eyed as he holds his bowl above their heads and tries to figure out how he ended up with his best friends making out in his lap and how he can get them to stop. Pete reaches up to brush his hand over Ashlee’s cheek, run his fingers through her hair, and then brings his hand down behind her, resting on Patrick’s thigh and rubbing restlessly against the denim there.
“Pete!” Patrick smacks Pete in the shoulder. “Fucker, get off of me!”
Pete pulls out of the kiss slowly, not moving his hand from Patrick’s thigh and looking a little dazed when he looks up at Patrick. “Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all, and he’s still not moving.
“Ashlee?”
“Sorry,” she says, smiling apologetically at Patrick and pushing at Pete. “C’mon, Pete, move. We’re making Patrick uncomfortable.”
Pete sits up with obvious reluctance and helps Ashlee pull herself off Patrick.
Patrick shifts forward, goes to grab the other bowls and stack them together. “Uh, I should go.”
“No!” Pete and Ashlee say at the same time.
“No,” Ashlee repeats, quieter, taking the bowls from Patrick and passing them to Pete. “Stay.” She kneels on the couch and moves to settle herself over Patrick’s lap, hands on the back of the couch behind his head. Patrick glances at Pete, who just smiles as he takes the bowls back to the kitchen. Patrick’s maybe freaking out a little.
“Uh, Ash?”
“Patrick?” Her voice is teasing, and she’s wiggling just enough to make him uncomfortable.
He slides his hands around her back to steady her, hold her still, and reminds himself she’s his best friend’s wife. He shouldn’t be thinking about pulling her closer, shouldn’t be wondering what it would feel like to slide his hands under her shirt, shouldn’t be mesmerized by her mouth. Her lips are slick and shiny even before she licks them, and he knows that if he kisses her she’ll taste like ice cream and peaches and Pete, and it’s so fucking wrong to want that.
“You wanna know my favorite thing about ice cream, Patrick?” She’s whispering, leaning in like she’s going to kiss him but stopping just far enough to keep from brushing her lips against his. Still, he can feel her breath when she continues, “Pete’s kind of a whore for kissing, and he likes the way ice cream kisses are all slick and sweet and sugary.”
She presses her lips against Patrick’s lightly, her tongue darting out to lick along his lower lip. Patrick licks his lips, thinking he shouldn’t be letting her do this.
“He’ll keep it up forever, just lay here on the couch kissing me like it’s the only thing in the world that matters, until I’m so far gone he barely has to touch me to get me off.”
She kisses him for real then, sliding her tongue against his and making a pleased whimpering sound when he pushes back. When Patrick finally pulls away, he can only think of Pete, standing behind her, watching them. Patrick can’t read the expression in his eyes, and he’s used to taking his clues from Pete.
Ashlee glances over her shoulder at Pete, then leans forward to whisper in Patrick’s ear. “He’s just jealous because I got the first kiss. He wants you. We want you to stay.”
Patrick doesn’t know what to say to that. “Pete?”
Pete’s shaking his head, looking a little dazed, and Patrick slides his hands down to Ashlee’s hips, pushing her away. Christ, this is fucked up.
Ashlee makes a frustrated noise and stands up, hands on her hips as she glares at Pete. “Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz, what the fuck are you shaking your head for?”
Patrick doesn’t wait for an answer, just stands up and steps around Ashlee, heading for the door. “I’m just gonna go, guys. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
There’s silence behind him as he starts to pull on his jacket and he can only assume they’re having one of those creepy-silent conversations they have sometimes. He’s got a hand on the door when he hears Pete’s, “Patrick?” Patrick barely has time to turn around and Pete’s got him pressed against the door, kissing him hot and dirty.
It’s easier than he expects to melt into the kiss, to follow Pete’s lead. He’s not usually a fan of messy kisses, not usually a fan of too much spit and tongue, but with Pete … well it’s exactly what he would have expected from Pete. Pete’s hands are sliding over Patrick like he can’t decide where to touch, and Patrick can feel the underlying edge of desperateness to all of it. He slides his hands into the back pockets of Pete’s jeans, just holding still and holding on while Pete works whatever it is out of his system.
“Stay,” Pete’s voice is low and rough when he finally pulls away, hands twisted in the Patrick’s t-shirt. “Please stay.”
They’ve already crossed a line, but Patrick still has to ask, “You sure?”
Pete nods quickly, “Fuck yeah, I’m sure.”
Ashlee comes up behind Pete, smiles at Patrick as she wraps her arms around Pete’s middle. “Why don’t we move this into the bedroom?”
“Yeah,” Patrick says, nodding. If they’re going to do this, they need to do it. “Yeah,” he kisses Ashlee, “yeah” and Pete, “bedroom,” and pulls his hands out of Pete’s pockets.
Pete pulls away and starts pulling his shirt over his head as he heads for the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes for Patrick and Ashlee to follow. Ashlee takes Patrick’s hand and leads him down the hallway, past the guest bedroom he usually sleeps in, into the master bedroom where Pete is kneeling on the bed, waiting. Patrick shrugs out of his jacket and drops it on the floor. Ashlee pushes him to sit down on the edge of the bed and Pete pushes him the rest of the way down, straddling his hips and picking up their kiss where they left off, only now Pete is naked, nothing but hot skin under Patrick’s hands when they skim across the muscle of Pete’s back.
Patrick is vaguely aware of Ashlee sliding his shoes off, but he’s mostly aware of Pete. Pete’s hands on the bed beside his head, Pete’s tongue sliding against his, Pete’s skin pressing over top of his body and sliding under his hands, Pete’s teeth scraping against the side of his jaw when he turns his head, Pete’s name slipping from his mouth like a plea.
The bed dips beside them and Patrick feels a hand slip between their bodies, touching at the button of his jeans, and opens his eyes as Pete pulls away just a little and then rolls to the side.
“I think Patrick needs to be a little less clothed,” Ashlee says, popping the button of Patrick’s jeans and leaning in to kiss Pete as she slides the zipper down with one hand. Patrick knows he could help – things would probably go a lot faster if he did – but he’s mesmerized by the two of them kissing above him, by the flash of tongue between their lips, the wet sound when they pull apart.
“Shit, you two…”
They turn matching smiles in his direction and then Ashlee’s bending down to kiss him, rucking up his shirt with her hands as she slides down, pressing sloppy kisses to his stomach as she kneels on the floor between his legs. She slides her fingers under the waistband of his briefs and tugs lightly. “Lift up.”
Patrick does, pushing his feet flat against the floor and lifting his ass off the mattress so Ashlee can slide his jeans and underwear down and then off. Pete tugs at his shirt and Patrick sits up a little to help pull it over his head. Pete slides over behind him, kneeling behind him and biting his shoulder lightly. “Fuck, Patrick.”
Patrick doesn’t understand how Pete can be thinking about him when Ashlee’s right there, looking up at them, her hands on Patrick’s thighs. Patrick leans against Pete, bracing his hands on the mattress. Pete holds a hand in front of Ashlee and Patrick holds his breath as she licks his palm, sucks his fingers into her mouth one by one. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, letting his head fall back against Pete and closing his eyes when Pete wraps his spit-slick hand around his cock.
Pete squeezes, just this side of too tight, and then loosens his grip to run his hand smoothly up Patrick’s dick then back down. Patrick has to open his eyes again when Ashlee swipes her tongue over the head of his cock, watches as she works her tongue over and around Pete’s hand, teasing little licks that draw little whimpery noises from Pete to match Patrick’s own. She finally shifts up, tightening her grip on his thighs and sliding her mouth over his cock, going down to meet Pete’s hand.
The two of them effortlessly set a rhythm that makes Patrick think they’ve practiced this – and the idea of the two of them bringing someone other than Patrick into their relationship, into their bed, will make him irrationally jealous when he has time to think about it later – and Pete nuzzles the side of Patrick’s neck, licks the sweat there before biting down, hard, and Patrick jerks.
“Jesus, fuck, Pete,” he hisses, but Pete’s only response is to worry the skin between his teeth. He releases it and runs his tongue over the spot, and Patrick would fuss at him about it if he wasn’t so distracted by the hot wet slide of Ashlee’s mouth and the smooth glide of Pete’s hand. Pete’s breath is loud and ragged in his ear when Patrick stutters out Ashlee’s name, trying to warn her that he’s close.
Ashlee doesn’t pull off, though, just pulls back a little, enough that she doesn’t choke when he comes. She’s got a smear of come at the corner of her mouth when she pulls off and Patrick reaches out to wipe it off with a shaky swipe of his thumb. His eyes go wide when he realizes her cheeks aren’t empty, she didn’t swallow. She uses her hands on his thighs as leverage as she shifts herself up to meet Pete in a kiss over Patrick’s shoulder, and fuck if that’s not the hottest thing Patrick’s ever seen. There’s a dribble of come that escapes from the corners of their mouths when Ashlee pushes her tongue into Pete’s mouth, but Pete’s quick to take what she’s offering, holding her head with both hands as he licks inside her mouth.
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