Chapter 1: Andy Hurley/Rules
To: Travie McCoy, William Beckett, Gabe Saporta, Pete Wentz, and 15 others...
Pink flesh turned white is trapped between Patrick's teeth as his index finger presses down on the mouse and all 19 contacts are dropped down.
To: Travie McCoy, William Beckett, Gabe Saporta, Pete Wentz, Joe Trohman, Brendon Urie, Ryan Ross, Spencer Smith, Job Walker, Dallon Weekes, Gerard Way, Frank Iero, Mikey Way, Ray Toro, Tyler Joseph, Josh Dun, Hayley Williams, Ashley Frangipane, Patrick Stump, and Lindsey Way.
From: Elisa Stumph
Subject: Upcoming Warped Tour
This upcoming Warped Tour is just under a month away and due to it, I have an announcement.
Patrick and I's relationship has been growing stronger over the years, but that doesn't mean we've completely polished the rough edges.
I am asexual, and Patrick is pansexual, and because of this, we've run through some issues with our sex life. So, I've given Patrick permission to... engage in these activities with other people instead. If you received this email, you are one of those people.
He doesn't have many limits, but that doesn't mean he's limitless. We've discussed then thoroughly and we've developed a few rules.
1. If Patrick safewords, you have to stop what you're doing and make sure he's okay.
2. Check with Andy before scening with Patrick. He will be Patrick's caregiver because I won't be able to be there for him.
3. If you do anything to upset Patrick in any way, you will not be allowed to scene and Andy will make sure of that.
4. He can do almost any kink besides scat of any kind.
5. Marking him is okay, BDSM is okay, but please check with Andy before trying something new.
His safeword is "roses." Don't abuse this and make sure you know it.
If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please email me at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Thanks for reading.
Andy and Patrick talked on the first day of Warped Tour.
Andy wasn't really into the whole BDSM dynamic, but he did play as a caregiver role for Patrick. His job was to make sure Patrick is okay. Making sure everything was alright with him mentally, physically, and emotionally because the thing about Patrick was, he would get on his knees for pretty much anyone. He was a desperate cockslut, (but he wouldn't care if he found pussy down there, either) and it got hard at home when he suggested doing more in the bedroom. More so when Elisa told him the truth about her sexuality, and he immediately respected it. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable at all.
Asexual or not, though, Patrick knows he needs some kind of stimulation. He needs to be dominated, which comes with some risks, and that's what Andy was there for. To make sure he was still healthy after everything he'd be put through in the next 3 months. Sex came with emotions and Patrick knew none of it would mean anything to anyone, they were all just friends with benefits but if something did arise, Andy would be there for him.
So it's day one.
Andy is sitting across from Patrick, his arms crossed in front of him on the table, tattoos contrasting from the white marble and dark sunglasses lifted from his eyes. Patrick, on the other hand, has his arms off of the table, sitting with a shrunken posture, hands clenched awkwardly and eyes darting around the room awkwardly. Anywhere but Andy's bright green eyes.
"So... you're a cockslut." The first sentence sends blood rushing to Patrick's cheeks almost immediately. He absolutely loves the fact that Andy calls him that. That that label applies to him despite the fact he's so much more. The simple words sends chills up his spine and his shoulders rolling back until he just has to take a deep breath and suck it up.
"Y-yeah," Patrick replies, pulling his lips between his canines and eventually letting go.
Andy lets out a long breath of air and finally just gets to the point, "What do you need from me?" Both of them know they just need to get this over with. Patrick is currently too busy craving cock to deal with this.
"What did Elisa tell you?" Patrick asks, straightening his posture the slightest and exhaling.
"Elisa told me that I can't have sex with you. We're supposed to stay on the friend boundaries. I need to make sure you're comfortable with the scenes beforehand, and I'll check in with you once a week to make sure you're doing okay mentally, physically, and emotionally. Y'know, no emotional attachments or anything," Andy nods to the blond. Patrick trusts him. He knows Andy is Joe's dom even though they don't talk about it much. He heard they were taking a break for a while, though.
"Yeah, of course," Patrick nods. He looks away from Andy's eyes to his hands instead, fumbling around nervously, "There is... There's one thing I wanted to ask you about if it would be alright. And... like... only if you're... y'know... comfortable with it." He's fumbling over his words. He knows it and it's horrible on his nerves.
"Anything," Andy replies simply.
Patrick swallows, "W-Would you be okay with... with sending me into subspace...? I mean it's not that hard. Just a spanking or something."
Andy nods, "I can do that." Patrick perks up at that, eyebrows raising as he finally begins to feel a little less nervous. The corners of his lips twitch up just the slightest. It's not quite a smile, though, just an emotion of safety and thankfulness. God knows he'll need the time to just rethink everything for a while. Just to melt away to nothing.
Patrick leaves his seat, heading to the front of the bus where he grabs the tea that's been brewing and pouring himself a cup before returning to Andy. The warmth in the cup seems to take in his cold hands, trading it out for the near boiling temperature and Patrick is extremely thankful for that.
"But uh... yeah anything you need, I'll be here," Andy smiles softly, reassuring him.
Patrick sighs and walks forward, immediately embracing him tightly and squeezing him close. Andy feels so much bigger than him, muscles tight around his thin body and it just feels so goddamn comforting.
He's excited, though. It's only a matter of time before he'll be on his knees for some guy.
God, he really is a cockslut, isn't he?
Chapter 2: Brendon Urie
Italics/Bold/Underline won't work for this, so if it looks/sounds weird that's why. Sorry :P
The next day is spent where Patrick is walking around after a show. They'd already packed his guitar and mic in the back of the bus while they waited for the other bands to finish up. The show was short, as are most of their shows, but Patrick was happy that it at least happened. He still has adrenaline rushing through his blood from singing so loud, Pete leaning into his neck and licking a long strip up to his ear. He hadn't said a word, just drove the crowd crazy as they continued playing. Some shouting out, "Peterick is real!" and others just screaming and probably getting the wet equivalent of how hard Patrick was from that.
It's true, he's been into Pete for a long while now. The toned muscles and the tattoos shades darker that contrast beautifully with his skin. The one between his hips that he's been dreaming of licking since he first saw it. Pete drives him absolutely crazy but he knows damn well his bassist would never reciprocate the feelings. It would mean nothing and Patrick would want it to mean something. All the more of a reason not to be with him but he can't help it. He needs it. He needs to be under Pete.
Maybe he just needs to be under someone else instead. He's feeling energetic and despite the fact that he can barely keep still, he's sitting on a bench laid out beside one of the buses. He doesn't know which band, he just knows that one of the members is most likely on the list...
Maybe it's Lindsey. He would be completely fine with being dominated by her or Ashley or Hayley... Thighs wrapped around his head as he's forced to just take them in...
"Mind if I sit here?"
Patrick's eyes dart up almost as soon as it escapes the other singers lips, a little startled but who wouldn't be?
Imagining some of the hottest girls he knows forcing his tongue between their legs, riding him into submission. Patrick quickly clears the image from his head, instead turning his gaze up to the man in front of him. Bushier eyebrows, brown hair pressed down awkwardly, brown eyes looking right back into his, He's wearing a tie without a suit, and his hair a little bit of a mess. Patrick immediately licks his lips and desperately tries to get the image of Brendon pinning him down out of his mind.
"No, not at all," Patrick replies in a little bit of a whisper. Brendon complies and that's when Patrick sees the joint in the man's hand. He quickly suppresses the whine from leaving his lips. Brendon forcing it between his lips as he straddles him and tugs of his jeans, then pulling it out and blowing the scent of weed in his face.
"So uh..." Brendon swallows nervously, "I talked to Andy, and Andy said it would be okay and I'm not really sure how the hell you expect me to initiate this."
Patrick swears he nearly moans because thank god someone's finally gonna take care of his problem, "Do you wanna go back to my bus? I think everyone's out right now..."
Brendon quickly nods, cheeks the slightest bit red as they rise to their feet. Nerves are running through Patrick but he knows Andy approved, so it should be alright. No danger or anything. He's just hoping it won't be a complete failure either. Patrick swallows as they walk back to the bus, hands in their pockets but Patrick's obviously much less nervous about this than Brendon is. All he really cares about is knowing exactly what he wants to do.
As soon as they're in the bus, with a quick scan to make sure nobody will interrupt them and Brendon throwing away the blunt, Patrick locks the door and turns to Brendon with a bitten lip, "So what did you want to do, exactly?"
The brunette licks his dry lips, quickly avoiding Patrick's eyes and finally parting them to speak, "I-I was thinking something like a... uh... roleplay? Teacher/student? I-I mean if you'd be okay with that..."
Patrick chuckles slightly and finally nods, "I can do that, Mr. Urie..."
Brendon's eyes widen as Patrick pulls him forward by his tie and connects their lips hard. Brendon inhales sharply and after a fast moment he finally gets a hold of himself and lets his dominant side take over. He shoves Patrick back against the wall of the bus, pinning his hands above his head and kissing him harder, tongue immediately taking the dominant side as he reaches in his pocket and pulls out a pair of handcuffs, slowly cuffing one around Patrick's wrist as they continue to kiss. As soon as Brendon pulls away, Patrick trails kisses down the man's neck but the brunette pushes him away, instead onto the nearest bunk.
Brendon weaves the chain around the bedpost and cuffs the second one to Patrick's other wrist, tight but not too tight that Patrick would lose circulation. The sub shudders a full body shudder at that, Patrick can't move, is incapable of fighting back. He's at Brendon's mercy, just as Andy had known he would be. And god it's hot.
"Have you been a bad boy, Patrick?" Brendon whispers in the boy's ear. In any other situation, this would be extremely awkward, but coming from Brendon with his deep voice and the hands slowly easing his pants off his waist, he finds himself breathless and needing more. He blinks up at Brendon, eyes wide with lust and need.
"Yes, Sir, I-I've been so bad," Patrick internally cringes but quickly gets over it, "Punish me, Mr. Urie."
He hears the slight hitch of Brendon's voice, then a deep breath, something resembling a small "holy shit'' coming with it. The man quickly tugs down Patrick's underwear, along with his jeans, down to his knees and then all the way off with his shoes. Patrick habitually spreads his legs but the "teacher" only presses them together, knees hitting and Patrick winces.
Patrick feels his ass on fire and yelps into the sheets, moaning not long after with a desperate, slutty moan.
"You're a little whore," Brendon chuckles, "Nothing but a no good stupid whore. A slut. You like taking cock, Stump?
"Y-yes, Sir. I-I love it," Patrick replies without much thought.
Brendon spanks him again, harder this time and that there makes Patrick cry out, arching his back against Brendon's palm and whining.
"You ever been eaten out?"
"Y-yes, Mr. Urie," Patrick replies even though he's pretty sure he's supposed to say "no."
Brendon chuckles, pulling his ass back and he can feel Brendon's breath at his entrance. So, so close, "You like it?"
"I love it, Sir," Patrick breathes, spreading his legs again as Brendon begins kneading the soft skin and pulling him apart before shutting him again. The brunette bites his lip and finally after a long moment, replies, "You gonna beg for it like a good little whore? Gonna beg for my tongue?"
"Yes, Sir, please. I need your tongue in me so bad, eat m-me out, I'll do anything for you. P-please, Mr. Urie, teacher, S-Sir. I n-need you so bad!" Patrick cries, pushing his ass back and clutching the bedpost even with the handcuffs on.
He hears Brendon shuffling around for a moment then his tie is around Patrick's mouth, acting as a makeshift gag as he slaps the boy's ass and finally shoves his tongue into his entrance.
Patrick makes a whiny noise of pleasure almost as soon as Brendon's tongue is in. He feels him swirl inside his ass, tasting him and while it may not be the most pleasant taste, Brendon seems to enjoy it.
"If you need to safeword, knock against the wall," Brendon informs him, pulling back. His breathing is already labored but his mind is clear enough for him not to be stupid.
Patrick nods and just raises his ass higher. Brendon chuckles, then presses his tongue in, delving as deep as he can. He slaps Patrick's ass just for the sensation, then continues, swirling and licking and diving his tongue in as deep as it'll get. Patrick sobs through the gag as the sensations continue to grow and the tip of the dom's tongue brushes over that rough bump.
"Mr. Urie, Sir!" He yells through the gag, bucking his hips back against Brendon's face. The man immediately puts it to a stop, though, squeezing Patrick's ass and pressing him back forward. Patrick whines, begging for more and looking back at the brunette with tears in his eyes. He needs to cum, the feeling in his stomach is so bad and it's building up fast and at the same time slowly ebbing away.
"What, Slut?" Brendon chuckles darkly, "You wanna cum?"
Patrick nods frantically, considering just bucking into the sheets to get more friction but he knows Brendon will only get mad at him. The other man quickly unbuttons and unzips his jeans but not before grabbing the belt and buckling it around Patrick's eyes in three swift movements.
"If I hear another word from that slut mouth of yours, I'm not gonna let you cum. Andy said you can take it."
Patrick stiffens up as Brendon searches his pillowcase and, as expected, finds lube. The man chuckles slightly at that, even more so when Patrick blushes furiously. He's blind and has to listen closely as he hears Brendon open the cap and slick up something. Fingers? His length? Patrick finds out soon enough when his eyes widen through the makeshift blindfold and he arches his back at the feeling of Brendon pressing his lubed up member inside of him.
"Andy said your limits are pretty low," Brendon breathes, "You think you can take my cock, Whore?"
Patrick immediately nods, arching his back and suppressing a whine through the gag. Brendon chuckles, his voice deep and low and so fucking sexy. Patrick feels his stomach lurch at the sound and his cock becomes harder somehow.
The blond grits his teeth when Brendon bottoms out, rubbing his head into the mattress and panting and whining. The brunette only chuckles and holds Patrick's neck into the mattress, keeping him still as he clenches and unclenches around his length.
"Are you gonna be a good boy for me? Keep still and let me fuck that pretty ass?" Brendon growls into Patrick's ear. Patrick tries and fails to suppress another full body shudder. The man whispers into the singer's ear, "You gotta respond to me, Patrick."
Patrick nods furiously, pressing back against Brendon's cock and whimpering out a muffled, "Yes, Mr. Urie!"
Brendon pulls back and thrusts back into Patrick experimentally, grunting at the feeling of his tightness because goddamn he's tight for a cockslut.
"God, you're so tight," Brendon voices, squeezing Patrick's ass and parting it as he starts a rhythm, "Gonna make me cum so hard."
Patrick whines and clenches again, exhaling long and labored into the mattress as Brendon starts to fuck him harder. His thrusts are jagged and fast in the best kind of way, hips pressing all the way to the hilt and then back out to the tip and god Patrick feels full. So full that's tears begin to rise at his eyes and he can see stars on the inside of his eyelids.
Brendon's thrusts don't change except for the small moments where he finds the energy to pound into Patrick as hard and fast as he can, then eases up a little. Patrick knows damn well nobody would have the stamina to keep it up for a whole session.
Brendon grunts behind him, gripping his hips with both hands and slamming into him at a made up tempo, his hands squeezing and spreading and pressing his ass and sweat beginning to form under their clothes. Neither have taken their shirts or pants off. Their jeans are down to the knees and the only two articles of clothing that have been discarded are the tie around Patrick's mouth and the belt around his eyes.
Brendon slaps Patrick's ass swiftly before reaching down where their balls meet and sliding up to just under where his cock is slamming into the other's entrance. The singer sucks on a finger quickly, then holds it into the entrance and begins to press in. Patrick inhales sharply in pain, the burn a little much but after a some swirling, he relaxes into the touch and lets Brendon press in a little further.
The man continues, pushing the finger in, a little fascinated with the feeling of his cock in the boy's ass. He presses down once he feels that walnut sized bump and begins to rake down it.
Patrick absolutely collapses, crying out through the gag and shaking and sobbing out in pleasure. Tears fall from his perfect eyes to his flawless cheeks and Brendon finally pays the boy some mercy, unbuckling the belt with his free hand and the gag not long after.
Patrick yelps out almost immediately, taking deep, fast breaths and clenching hard around Brendon as his prostate is abused. The pleasure keeps growing, sending him closer and closer to the edge as the rope around his stomach grows tighter and tighter.
"You about ready to cum, Mr. Stump?" Brendon growls into Patrick's ear.
The boy finds it hard to form coherent words but something resembling a small "please" doesn't go unheard.
"Yeah? That little cock so ready to just cum all over these sheets?" It's something out of a cheesy porn video, but with the way Brendon growls it so deep into Patrick's ear has the best effect on him.
Patrick clenches in reply, handcuffs clinking as his hands shake violently and Brendon takes especially hard against his prostate making his hips buck forward hard.
"You're gonna cum untouched on the count of three. You ready?"
Patrick's never been so ready in his life.
He tenses up, holding back his orgasm as best he can, muscles clenching and unclenching. His mind is a numb mess, his physical self much worse. Everything is focused on Brendon, nothing else enters his mind but the number coming from between the man's lips.
Patrick readies himself, unable to calm himself. He doesn't want to calm himself. This is too good.
He lets out a broken cry—a scream almost. He feels like he can't stop as his cock twitches violently and spills, spreading white into the bedsheets along with the sweat already accumulated. His whole body shakes and everything clenches: back, shoulders, thighs, arms, toes, ass, hands. Everything. It feels like he can't stop.
Brendon on the other hand, goes through most of the same thing, the only difference is he paints the condom, not the sheets. He lets out a mere grunt, dominant and gruff.
As soon as they've both finished, Brendon collapses, laying all his weight on the other boy. Patrick doesn't mind, though, he's so out of it. Far too gone to care.
Nothing fills the room but their labored pants and the shaking of their bodies. Patrick's legs are still shaking and Brendon's fingers are still digging bruises into Patrick's hips.
It takes at least a full minute before Brendon works up the will to to pull out, get off of Patrick, roll beside him, and squeeze his eyes shut. That was intense. One of the best fucks Brendon's had. He knows that full well.
He realizes not long after, though, that Patrick's still handcuffed to the bedpost. He quickly grabs the cuffs and unlocks them checking Patrick's wrists to make sure they're okay. There are red marks but otherwise, he's happy to know that it didn't cause any injury. He puts the tie back on and pulls up his jeans for he belt, then turns Patrick over and helps him with his own clothing.
"That was fucking intense." Those are the first words that escape Patrick's lips, echoing Brendon's thoughts. Brendon nods in agreement before he quickly leaves to grab a bottle of water from the fridge and returning soon after. Patrick takes a long swig of it, but he pulls it out soon after, watching Brendon.
"Uh... thanks for that," The brunette blushes slightly and scratches the back of his head, "I wasn't sure how okay you'd be with... y'know... teacher/student."
"It was hot," Patrick chimes simply, "Really hot."
Brendon chuckles and looks up into the baby blue eyes, "I should probably go. Ryan's probably worried about me."
Patrick nods as he takes another swig of the water, "Yeah, of course. Talk to you later?"
Chapter 3: Ray Toro
It's no secret that Patrick has always been an experimentalist.
His mind open with next to no limits, if it's suggested, he'll almost always try it. No matter how strange it may sound. He'll want to do it. Who knows, maybe it'll be his next biggest kink. So when Gerard delivered a message that suggested something he hadn't tried before, he was completely up to trying it.
When Patrick got the news that Ray had gotten into a huge accident which landed him in the hospital for two weeks and at home for another month, his heart dropped. He had never really talked to Ray much, but he knew he was a good man, someone to rely on when you needed it most. But what really worried Patrick was the fact that he had hoped to scene with him.
Apparently Ray had hoped the same thing. It's about three days into the tour when Gerard handed him an envelope addressed from Raymond Toro. The handwriting was kind of hard to read, sloppy and Patrick guessed that's because Ray was in a hospital hundreds of miles away with very little hard surface to write on. He pulled the paper from between Gerard's fingers and began to open it, but Gerard quickly stopped him with a rough grip of his hand.
"You should probably wait," He says, brown eyes delivering a message that Patrick quickly catches onto.
Gerard smiles and pats his shoulder softly, "Stay safe, Man."
Patrick hardly thinks it'll be difficult with Andy constantly on his back. Patrick only thanks the singer and turns to head back to his bus to find some private space and maybe Andy soon after. Depends on what exactly is in the letter.
The man heads to his bunk, finding Joe across from him on his own mattress, asleep. Eyes shut and gentle snores escaping those lips. Patrick judges it good enough for privacy and begins opening the letter, tearing the seal delicately and pulling out the paper inside.
It's Ray, I'm sorry I couldn't be there for warped tour, I wish I could have, but my little accident has been a pain in my ass. I hope you're doing okay, and I didn't give this to Gerard to just chit-chat even though that would be nice and you seem like a good person to do that with. I sent this to address the email that Elisa sent out, and I'd totally be up to doing something long distance with you. Maybe I could get your number, or we could skype. Whatever you want to do, but I do want to scene with you.
My number is here along with my skype. Have Andy call me so we can talk because I'm not doing this without him being involved. I really want you, hope you do, too.
Anyways, hope warped is going good for you. Play hard, fuck harder.
Patrick chuckles slightly at the last few words, but it soon passes when he reads over the first part again. He feels his pulse begin to pick up as he thinks about Ray, about how Ray wants this. He lets out a deep breath, his lungs constricting. After a short moment of thought, he grabs his phone from his pocket and quickly dials in Ray's number as a contact. He's not gonna do anything without Andy's consent, that could ruin the entire warped tour for him, but he does want to do this with Ray.
The singer gets up from the bunk, letter in hand and phone back in his pocket before he heads outside, the door creaking open as he presses it. He needs to find Andy, he wants to text Ray. Needs to text Ray. It's not a secret to him that he's had a small crush on the guitarist for a while. The large, calloused hands, the wavy brown hair, dark eyes, and those goddamned lips.
"Andy!" Patrick begins running forward as soon as he sees the man in just a pair of gym shorts, talking with Pete and Gerard. He blushes the slightest when he sees Gerard. He knows Gerard knows what he has in hand and exactly what he's about to ask Andy about and the thought both turns him on and embarrasses the fuck out of him.
The drummer turns from his conversation to see Patrick blushing a dark red, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. He notices Gerard stand a little straighter and his lip twitch up the slightest into a smirk. Holy fuck.
"I... uh..." Patrick blushes impossibly darker and lowers his eyes, feeling extremely intimidated with the way Gerard's looking at him and the fact that Pete's right there. He should've thought this through. Fuck, "T-talk to me when you get a chance later."
"No, it's fine, go ahead," Gerard pipes up. He feels his heart drop lower and looks up with wide, shrunken eyes. The dominant tone is basically radiating off of the man, it makes Patrick's stomach flip and he has to shift a little so his hoodie falls lower on his jeans.
"I got a letter from Ray you should read... I-I mean just to make sure you're okay with it and everything," Patrick mumbles, even more embarrassed when Pete clears his throat and steps back a little.
Andy grabs the letter, skimming it quickly. His gray eyes flicker across the page. The general mood between the four of them is so mixed. Andy just doesn't care about it much, finding it completely normal that Fall Out Boy's lead singer is asked his drummer if he can sext My Chemical Romance's lead guitarist. Pete is shifting uncomfortably, giving off the general body language of awkward and tense. Gerard, on the other hand, is just giving off a cocky, dominant vibe, wanting to thoroughly embarrass the other singer. God, it's working, too, and Patrick both loves it, and hates it. It's humiliating, so humiliating but hot and he makes a mental note to tell him to talk to Andy later or something.
"That's fine, vanilla or not. Make sure the government doesn't find out," Andy sighs, handing the letter back over. Patrick's eyes widen, and he swallows, his throat parched dry like someone drained him of all the fluid in his body. He's happy that Andy said yes, but fucking embarrassed as hell.
"Thanks, Man," Patrick mumbles, then turns with bright cheeks and heads back to the bus as quick as he can, head down as he grabs his phone and shoves his hands in his pockets. His strides are long and fast, shoulders hunched, showing everything to say, "Leave me the fuck alone."
He gets back in the bus, seeing Joe still asleep and deciding he'll just have to stick to texting Ray for now. He would rather his bandmate not wake up to the sight and sound of Patrick with a hand down his pants and yelling, "I want your cock, Sir" at his computer. The embarrassment might be a bit much even for him.
He opens Ray's contact info, then sends a new message,
Patrick: Hey, it's Patrick. I got your letter from Gerard and I talked with Andy, he said it's totally fine.
He doubts Ray will text back right away so instead he grabs his laptop and opens it to GarageBand, plugging in his earbuds to go over a couple songs they've been working on. Ten long treacherous minutes pass where Patrick is completely bored out of his mind waiting for Ray to reply when his phone finally, finally buzzes beside him.
Ray: Awesome, can u skype or do u just want 2 do this thru txt?
Patrick immediately replies, typing as fast as his little thumbs will let him. Anticipation has been building up in his system ever since he first got the letter and now with Ray finally here, he finds his breaths picking up and his jeans begin to strain.
Patrick: We can use the messenger on Skype but Joe is currently sleeping in the bunk next to me so no video/calling.
He opens Skype on his computer, quickly logging in, then adding Ray as a contact after a quick reference to the letter. The guitarist responds almost immediately, and he's the first to type a message.
Toro77: Hey there
RealPatrickStump: I've never done this through text so sorry if I'm a little awkward
Toro77: It's all good, I'm th same way
RealPatrickStump: You wanna start?
Patrick tries not to internally cringe at how awkward it is and neither of them have even gotten their pants off yet. He makes a quick glance at Joe and decides if he's quiet enough, he might be able to rub one out and keep him asleep.
Toro77: I wanna be there.
RealPatrickStump: What would you do?
Toro77: Pin u to the closest wall, leave bites on that pale neck.
Patrick shuts one eye and grits his teeth as he slowly unbuckles and unzips his jeans, slipping the cool leather to the side and easing down his boxers just enough for his cock to come out, semi-hard, but enough for Patrick to work with. He tries to imagine Ray's voice, the lighter pitched, silvery voice with a breathy undertone. The way he would whisper it right in Patrick's ear, all the things he'd do to him if only he had the chance.
Toro77: Does that sound good? My tongue tracing those ears and one hand creeping up your shirt?
It does. In fact he begins crawling a hand up his shirt and tracing the delicate skin, despite the fact he's blushing like hell.
RealPatrickStump: That sounds so good
Toro77: What if I had you call me daddy?
Patrick raises his eyebrows. He's not against it, but he sure as hell wasn't expecting that from Toro. Then again, he is that kind of caring type, the one that'll make sure his friends are okay before himself. Patrick wonders if he's ever been in a relationship like that before. How many girls or boys he's pinned to the closest wall and made scream with just his fingers. That thought turns him harder in his hand.
RealPatrickStump: That would be so hot. Could I suck you off? Be a good boy for you?
It takes a minute longer for him to reply after this one but Patrick doesn't blame him, imagines how Ray is taking all this. How his palm is moving up his length.
Toro77: Fuck yea babyboy
RealPatrickStump: Can I touch myself, Daddy? Please?
He imagines the breathy moans that Ray must be letting out. The way his head tilts back but goes right back forward whenever a notification appears on that computer screen.
Toro77: Imagine me there, prepping you and fucking you and making the bed squeak
Toro77: Imagine my hands on your skin, maybe around your throat. My breaths in your ear everything
Toro77: Fuck, Ima cum
Patrick realizes that Ray's probably been fucking himself this whole time and immediately gets to work to catch up, not even bothering to lick his hand and spreading his precum.
RealPatrickStump: Talk to me, plz wait to cum
Toro77: I'll cum when I damn want to, tell me when you're close
RealPatrickStump: Yes daddy
Toro77: Imagine all the pretty things I'd say into your ear as I fuck you, gripping those hips and smacking that pretty little ass
Patrick stifles a groan as his chest heaves and he squeezes his eyes shut in pleasure, feeling his balls draw up and his legs start to shake. He knows he won't be able to last long, especially with the chance of being caught by Joe. When he finally looks back down, he realizes he's been at it for two or so minutes and should probably text back.
Ray takes a moment to respond.
Toro77: Come in 3
Patrick can't stifle the soft whine that comes not long after, hand rubbing furiously against himself.
He thumbs his slit and squeezes his tip between two fingers.
Toro77: Come, babyboy
He releases with a soft, muffled cry, eyes squeezing shut and hips stuttering. It's not too powerful, he's never been all that great with masturbation, but he doesn't mind. He just enjoys what he can get and comes down panting and sweating harshly. His heart is pounding and his hands shaking.
He sees a notification when he parts his eyelids again and sighs as soon as the messages come in.
Toro77: Sht I actually have 2 go bc hospital staff
Toro77: I want 2 vid call next time tho
Toro77: Thx tho, bye
Those are the messages Patrick sees when his eyelids part again, he doesn't mind, though, just leans back and shuts his eyes as he regains his breath. As soon as his lungs begin to work well again and his heart rate slows, he pulls off his shirt and wipes up his climax lazily, then tucks his cock away.
"Dude, what the hell?"
He jumps in his seat with a sharp squeak. To his right with a dark eyes and an aggressive frown, he sees Joe. Patrick blushes a bright red, then grins with the most innocent look he can muster, "Oops."
The guitarist just rolls his eyes and tugs his blanket up over his eyes, "Don't talk to me ever again, Stump."
Chapter 4: Jon Walker
It's the next night after his messages with Ray Toro when someone else pulls Patrick aside and forces him to his knees, the other's back against the tour bus, while his fingers weave into the singer's hair.
"Talked to Andy. I just need to get off, suck my fucking cock. Make it worth my fucking time, Whore," The man immediately orders. Patrick hears the pitch and the texture of it. It's Jon, and Patrick thinks he's been in Panic! At the Disco but left for The Young Veins with Ryan (and Ryan happens to be at this tour, too. They invited a lot of bands to this place).
Either way, Patrick wastes no time in tugging down Jon's jeans and boxers, taking him in his mouth almost immediately. He's short, but Patrick doesn't judge, it's not like it was his choice, but the 3 or 4 inches that he does take in his mouth is pretty laughable. It's just enough to satisfy him, though, so he doesn't have to work too hard to deepthroat or anything.
Jon just guides his head down on his cock, the tip of it tickling his uvula, "I'm sorry, dude, I just really need to get off, and my girlfriend is a giant bitch and shit lately."
Patrick only shrugs, swallowing around Jon, then bobbing softly, and looking up through the blond's eyelashes and innocent eyes. Jon moans out, bucking his hips up, but keeping Patrick's head close. He exhales shakily, and finally begins to fuck Patrick's mouth roughly. He may be kind of small, but his thrusts are fast and jagged and the fact that he acts as if Patrick is nothing more than a toy kinda turns Patrick on.
Jon pulls him off and spits right in Patrick's mouth, "Swallow. I needed to ask you something."
Patrick immediately does so, swallowing down the taste of weed before taking a deep breath and mouthing Jon's cock without actually taking it in his mouth.
"Would it be okay if I maybe pissed on you?" Jon breathes, biting his lip hesitantly. Patrick lets those words sink in and the fact that he has that kink and the fact that he wants to piss on him. It sounds a little disgusting, true, but the concept of it makes him squirm a little.
"That would be fucking hot as hell," Patrick groans, "Fuck, please?"
"Yeah, suck me off first, though, want you to make it as good as you can." Jon shuts his eyes as he says it, fisting Patrick's hair before bringing him back down on him. Patrick can easily put as much suction as he can into it, bobbing his head at the same time and dragging his teeth against the sensitive skin.
"There we go," Jon breathes, "Good boy."
Patrick looks back up, not taking his eyes off of the man as he bobs his head, saliva dripping from his swollen red lips. Jon throws his head back, eyes shutting, but he immediately looks back down, not wanting to miss the sight of it. Patrick with his eyes blown wide, dark and round pupils on a green iris. Jon inhales sharply and begins fucking the boy's mouth roughly, a strangled moan passing his lips.
"You look so pretty, I swear to god, your mouth was made for sucking cock," Jon groans, "Gonna cum."
Patrick immediately bobs faster, as fast as he can muster. His jaw is burning and aching, but he doesn't mind, just keeps going like if he doesn't, the world will end. He loves cock, Jesus Christ, he loves cock. No matter the size, small cocks are cute, big cocks are hot. Does it really matter?
Jon pulls out and begins jerking himself so fast and desperate it almost looks painful. Patrick gets the cue, though, and holds out his tongue, opening his eyes wide and innocent. The sight alone sends Jon's dick twitching and his balls drawing up. He groans out, releasing all over Patrick's face. A spurt across his eyebrow, another across his tongue and mouth, and the last one on his cheek.
Patrick doesn't move a muscle as Jon pulls him up the slightest and kisses him roughly, all teeth and tongue. When he pulls back, the blond just lets out a small, "piss on me," and all of Jon's self control ebbs away.
Patrick shuts his mouth for this part, but keeps his eyes open, deciding that it may be a bit much for his first time with watersports.
Jon smirks a little as he strokes himself a few times, easing the need forward and eventually gasping as it comes. Patrick gasps when the first few seconds of warmth pour in his face.
He grits his teeth at the stench and the feeling but deals with it. It's kinda hot, and... yeah. Holy shit. He's actually really hard.
Jon inhales deeply, watching Patrick take it all, eyes wide open and nose inhaling and exhaling. Jon groans as the last few droplets escape his cock and he lets out a sound at the sight in front of him.
His piss is slick across Patrick's back and face and chest, his shirt ruined and mixing with the cum already on his face. His pants are tight, a few traces of piss else leaking down to the denim but for the most part it's clear. His mouth is open slightly, his eyes glazed over with lust. His hair is a matted mess on his head, and everything is completely drenched.
"Fuck," Jon breaths, "Fuck."
Patrick smiles weakly, then pulls back and stands up, "Anything else?"
Jon dizzily shakes his head, "D-Do you need help cleaning up or something...?"
Patrick shrugs and shakes his head, "We've got a shower on our bus, it'll be fine."
"What if someone sees you?"
"Then they'll know I'm a slut," Patrick shrugs, "Maybe I'll get fucked more. Who knows? I really don't care."
Jon bites his lip and after a long moment, he nods, relaxing slightly, "Uh... see you around I guess, then..."
Patrick nods, grinning cheekily before heading away and making his way to the bus. Nobody's out, it's late at night. They have a show tomorrow and Patrick probably shouldn't have given that blowjob but who even cares. The fans can deal with a groggy voice.
As soon as he's on the bus, Joe gives him a long, concerned look. Blue eyes trace his frame, his phone sits in his hand now abandoned, and Patrick swears he spots porn of some sort on it.
"What the actual fuck, Dude?" Joe comments, "Is that piss?"
"And cum," Patrick replies, shutting the door, "You wanna taste?"
"Dude, gross!" Joe whines, turning away, "Pete and Andy are already asleep, but I think Andy might be awake if you need to talk to him about your freaky sex shit."
"I love my freaky sex shit, thank you very much," Patrick argues, kicking off his shoes and heading to the bathroom, "You'll give in sooner or later, man."
"Fuck that, I got Andy."
"You'd love it."
Chapter 5: Travie McCoy
Patrick feels his hands on his hips even before he notices he's there. He knows who it is, though, almost immediately, from the dark skin contrasting against his to the rough grip. The way he looms over him and the way his breaths echo in his ear. From the way he leans into Patrick, pressing him flat against the bus to the way his stubble drags against the lighter's neck. He's so much bigger, stronger. The size difference is wonderful, but scary and it turns him on, makes his pants tight and his hips jerk forward painfully against the bus.
"Tonight, I want you in my bus, on my bunk, it's the farthest from the door. You're gonna pull out the box I have under my bunk and you're gonna kneel like an obedient lil' bitch until I come and take care of that pretty ass."
Patrick moans a butterfly moan, raspy and shaky, his mind is so blank he almost forgets something, but it reaches his grasp eventually.
"Andy?" Patrick breathes, "Did you talk to him?"
Travie presses two fingers into his mouth, his middle and index, and uses the other to grip his ass through his clothing, leaning against him to keep him from moving with his legs braced on either side of Patrick's, "Talked to him a few nights ago, right before Brendon. But lemme tell you something, 'Tricky."
Patrick chokes around Travie's fingers as he turns his head enough to be able to thrust in and out and fuck his mouth. They're long enough to reach to the top of his throat and—fuck—it's kinda hot.
"This ass? That cock? It's mine. All. Fuckin'. Mine. You're mine this tour and I don't care who else fucks you but you belong to me 'til you go back home to 'Lisa."
Patrick slumps against the bus, going weak with his eyes slipping back in his head as he chokes and gags.
Travie slips his hand out and with one swift bite to Patrick's neck, he's off, leaving the back of The Brobecks' bus and walking about as if nothing had just happened. Patrick swallows and with a deep breath, he runs his fingers through his hair and slowly stumbles along.
It takes him a moment to remember what he was doing, but when he finally does, he takes a deep breath and continues, trying to get Travie out of his mind.
The vocalist heads to his bus, quickly opening it with the code (38828). As soon as the door's swung open, he heads through to find Andy. He needs to ask him something and maybe fix a problem. He's had the worry for the past few days and he doubts anyone would abuse it but he wants to make sure nobody already has.
He shuts the door softly, twisting his head around the corner to see the bus nearly empty. He swallows, and with nimble movements, he makes his way down the bus, frowning slightly. He swears he can hear something in the big room at the—
He peers in the open door with wide eyes he can't peel away.
In front of him on the large bed, Andy's pinned Joe to the bed and kissing him hard, hips grinding down on the other and while they're both almost fully clothed, it's still dirty as hell. Joe's moaning into Andy's mouth, whining and bucking up and frowning. He wants more, it's easy to see, but Andy isn't giving him anything. Just keeps teasing him, second base with his shirt off and Joe's riding up to under his nipples. Neither notice Patrick at the door and Patrick knows this has to be violating one of Elisa's rules but no matter what, he just can't leave.
He gasps soundlessly, squeezing himself through his jeans, and feeling his cheeks turn to fire when Andy wraps a hand around Joe's throat and begins sliding up his shirt, biting at the nipples that slowly come into sight and Patrick has to look away. That's it. He swears he'll come in his pants if he doesn't. So casually, he slowly backs away, careful not to be seen and heads to the front door.
He doesn't leave, though, because he really does need to talk to Andy. Instead, he wraps his fingers around the handle and opens the door, then slams it shut, hoping, praying it's enough to alert Andy and Joe.
Sure enough, they emerge from the back not long after, Joe's hair a proper mess and Andy smooth with the way he leaves the room. Patrick's got his phone out, playing it off as well as he can, but he wouldn't be surprised if one of them saw him.
"Hey, Patrick," Joe says, clearing his throat with a wildfire on his cheeks.
Patrick only nods, then looks to Andy and clears his throat, "I, uh, wanted to talk to you about the arrangement and everything."
Andy raises his eyebrows and shifts his gaze to Joe who returns to him a skeptical look, "Fuckin' hell Andy."
Andy just shrugs and takes Patrick's hand, "C'mon."
Patrick blinks but follows, leaving Joe behind as they go to the back of the bus and Andy shuts the door. Obviously, Patrick thinks, the privacy of he and Elisa and Andy's relationship means more than the privacy of the Trohley going on. He isn't sure how to feel about that.
"Okay, so, what's up?" Andy asks.
"How do I know people have really talked to you?" Patrick replies, "I mean I know that everyone up to Jon has talked to me, but how do I know they've really talked to you before they do anything? Travie came up to me and I mean I'm sure he did talk to you, but I don't know. It's just kind of worried me these past few days, y'know."
Andy nods, licking his lips and looking up at the ceiling, "I can tell you as soon as they talk to me if you want?"
"And if I don't have enough time?" Patrick replies.
"Uh..." Patrick bites his lip, "Okay. That might work."
Andy rubs his knee softly, "Anything you need to talk about?"
Patrick bites his lip, eyes lowered, and after a long moment, he sighs and looks up at the drummer, swallowing, "Who has already talked to you?"
Andy's gaze flickers to the ceiling as he thinks, "Brendon, Ray, Jon, and Travie, of course. Dallon, Mikey, and Frank, otherwise."
"So... no Pete?" Patrick asks, sadness thick in his voice.
Andy sighs, "Not yet. I'm sorry, Trick."
Patrick shrugs, "It's... uh... fine I guess."
Andy presses his lips to Patrick's forehead, "We gotta get going for sound check soon. Want me to talk to him?"
Patrick shakes his head, "It's fine."
Andy gives a sideways smile and with a rub to his shoulder, he stands up, grabbing his drumsticks and twirling them in his hands. The singer can't help but watch as he goes over to Joe who's pouting on the bed. They kiss, soft and sweet and that seems to lighten the guitarist's mood. They leave the bus together.
Patrick just hopes his throat isn't too sore from Jon.
The Gym Class Heroes bus, Patrick notices, is completely empty and unlocked. The door is wide open, a screen separating the outside from the inside. Patrick swallows nervously as he opens it, the sign reading Gym Class Heroes fluttering in the wind and gluing to door before he shuts it and clears his throat, heading to the back of the bus.
The show went well, his voice only cracked once, and he drank lots of water through it. Andy even made him some tea with honey afterwards on the small stove in their bus. He had thanked him with a smile, then with a gentle nod, he'd left the man and headed promptly to Travie's bus.
Joe had patted him on the back after the show, but Pete had left almost immediately, avoiding Patrick's eyes. His heart almost broke, and he decided that he needed to talk to their bassist. He may be looking for sex but he really doesn't want to ruin their friendship along the way. He'll talk to him when he gets back tonight or tomorrow morning. They'll be traveling onto Seattle early tomorrow morning, and he doesn't want to be left behind or stuck with Travie the whole way. It would be pretty awkward.
He continues, walking to the back of the bus where he crouches down and searches through the underside of the bed to find—
He licks his lips, eyes wide as he pulls up the tote, setting aside the lid, and seeing everything inside. A flogger, a pair of handcuffs, a butt plug, a whip, a riding crop, a cockring, a vibe...
He subconsciously thumbs at the lace panties that poke out of the top of his jeans, biting his lip and thinking about everything Travie's probably done with these. How long he's had them, who else he's used them on.
He hears the front door slam shut and jumps, whipping his gaze to see Travie standing there, eyes dark in lust and his hands at his sides. Patrick blinks, then moves slightly, kneeling on the mattress and setting the tote beside him, lowering his eyes.
Footsteps approach him and a strong hand grips his jaw, forcing his head up from the floor. A strong, accented voice echoes through the room and into his ears and that's when he realizes Travie wants much more than a simple fuck. He wants domination.
"I told you to fuckin' kneel when I got here, and I didn't tell you to open the fuckin' box."
"I-I'm sorry, Travie, it won't happen again," Patrick replies instinctively. The rapper licks his lips and presses his thumb into Patrick's mouth, circling his tongue with the padding.
"Damn well it won't happen again," Travie growls, yanking Patrick's head back by his hair, "No sub of mine is gonna be disobedient."
He pulls out to watch Patrick bite his lip and nod, taking note to be disobedient later, maybe even today. He wonders how rough Travie's punishments were, wonders if he really does like brats.
"Call me Daddy, Bitch," Travie spits, letting go of Patrick's chin and immediately getting to pressing him back, unzipping and unrestraining Patrick's tight jeans. Patrick lifts his legs so he can tug them off, then watches as the dom turns him, arms braced on either side of his body while Travie admires his lace panties.
They're taut against Patrick's skin, hugging his cock to his stomach and supporting everything besides the tip which pokes out of the top of the baby blue lace. Precum drips from his slit, running down his shining wet length and beginning to stain the underwear. Travie wastes no time in licking it up, then manhandling Patrick so his head is on the pillow and his legs are braced and spread. Travie smirks.
"Daddy?" Patrick whispers, cheeks flushed and body squirming slightly under Travie's gaze.
"Talked to Andy," Travie says, "He said we can go bareback."
"He got your STD results?" Patrick asks before he can stop himself. Travie doesn't seem to mind, though.
"Yeah, gave 'em to him when I talked to him 'cause I got the results back just a couple weeks ago. Showed them to 'Lisa and she said they were legit. So I'm gonna go bareback, and I'm gonna keep my cum in your fuckin' ass and plug that lil' hole up and the next person to open you up is gonna see all that fucking cum and see what a fuckin' slut you are."
Patrick gasps, bucking up slightly as Travie searches through the tote, then pulls out a flogger, a pair of handcuffs, a bottle of lube, and a buttplug, "You gonna be a good little whore for Daddy? Tell me what a slutty boy you've been?"
Patrick moans, eyes half lidded and legs shaking as Travie turns him over, then tugs down the fragile material, "You gotta lotta stamina?"
Patrick exhales, "Y-yes, Daddy."
Travie smacks his ass, "Good. If you feel like you're gonna cum and I'm not ready, I'll put a ring on that pretty little cock."
Patrick nods almost immediately, pushing back when Travie cuffs his hand behind his back and tightens them, "Talk to me, tell me what a slut you are. Who's used you already? Wrecked that lil' hole of yours."
Patrick arches his back, trying to clear his mind as well as he can when there's tassels brushing down his back, but he manages to regain his voice after he first slap.
"Brendon was the first one, Daddy," Patrick whispers, recalling the way he had spanked him and rimmed him and fucked him, "He made me call him Mr. Urie and I was his student."
Travie's flogging him through this, adding color across his back and ass, and eventually down his thighs, "What did he do to you?"
"He spanked me, told me I was a bad boy and punished me. It hurt so much but I loved it, Daddy. A-and he—fuck!" Patrick bites his tongue when Travie smacks his ass especially hard.
"No swearing or I'll have to punish you, too," Travie threatens, "What else did he do, did he fuck that pretty ass?"
Patrick groans into the bunk and nods, "So hard, Daddy. He had a tie around my eyes and his belt in my mouth and he was fucking me as hard as he could. It was so good."
"Who else?" Travie grunts, sending the tassels down to Patrick's knees.
"Ray was next. He had me call him Daddy, t-too," Patrick breathes, "He texted me dirty things about how he was gonna fuck me and use me," he blushes slightly, feeling humiliated as he tells Travie.
"Yeah? We're you a good boy for him?"
Travie aims the tassels back across his ass, reddening the skin and eventually stopping to tug Patrick's shirt down to his wrists, "Who else?"
"Jon," Patrick licks his lips, blushing a dark red, "He had me suck him off behind a bus."
Travie finished with Patrick's shirt, getting to his own not long after, "What else did he do?"
"He..." Patrick blushes, "I can't..."
Travie frowns, "You can't? What the fuck did he do to you?"
"I..." Patrick blushes a dark red, "He..."
Travie smacks his ass, shoving his face into the mattress and letting the soft moan pass through his ears, "You gonna tell me or do I have to do this the hard way, Baby Boy?"
Patrick blushes impossibly darker, "I... He..."
Travie waits for at least a full minute, but Patrick can say it, can't get those words out.
"Three," Patrick scrambles but nothing, he's far too humiliated, embarrassed, "two."
Patrick squeezes his eyes shut and before he can apologize, Travie's jerking him off fast and rough, grabbing something from the tote at the same time (Patrick sees a glimpse of the wand, though, and struggles against the handcuffs with wide eyes). Travie only smacks him and turns it on, letting the round end make contact with Patrick's tip and rest there.
Almost immediately, Patrick pulls away, crying at the feeling and blabbing into the pillow over and over, "Too much, too much, Daddy, please."
"Are you gonna fucking tell me what Jon did to you?" Travie growls, "And you know damn well you have a safe word."
"I can't, D-Daddy, it's embarrassing," Patrick whimpers, "P-Please."
Travie turns up the vibrations on the wand, sending Patrick's hips stuttering and a scream to pass his lips into the pillow.
"Now, are you gonna tell me what Jon did to you or am I gonna have to leave you here until you learn to behave? You know damn well just about anyone can come on this bus and see you a fucking whimpering mess. They'd laugh, they'd have to hide their boners and pretend they're not wet from how pretty you look. A little fucking slut," Travie teases, "So what the fuck did he do to you?"
Patrick squeezes his eyes shut, trying to pull away from the wand, but eventually he takes a deep breath and parts his lips, mumbling a few words.
"What was that?" Travie asks.
"He..." Patrick swallows and replies a little louder, "He pissed on me."
Travie chuckles, "He pissed on you? Did you like it?"
"Daddy, please," Patrick whimpers as Travie throws the wand back in the tote.
Travie smacks his ass, pronouncing each word with spank, "Did. You. Fucking. Like. It."
Patrick cries out into the mattress when Travie's large hand goes down on him over and over. This is so hot and he's leaking but he's so embarrassed and humiliated, not to mention the whole size kink thing and he feels vulnerable and small.
"Y-Yes, Daddy, I-I liked it, p-please!" Patrick sobs, tears rising to his eyes. Travie smacks his ass one last time, then finally pulls him up and off the bunk so he's on his knees, hands still restrained behind his back and looking up at Travie with an used, afraid expression.
"So not only are you a cockslut but a pisswhore, too," Travie smirks, "I'm gonna have some fun with that."
The bigger man shoves Patrick into his crotch where an obvious bulge is prodding against the material uncomfortably, "Get my jeans off. Your hands are staying behind your back."
Patrick bites his lip, but nods, getting to work on the singer's belt with his teeth while Travie continues to talk, "I bet you like me being so much bigger than you, don't you? Like that I could overpower you so good and you can't do shit about it. You're so fucking pathetic, so tiny. I'm gonna shove my cock down that tiny throat of yours and choke you until you're begging for air."
Patrick finds his face flushing and wastes no time in getting off the other's belt with just his teeth. In a muffled voice he replies, "Please, Daddy, choke me, please. Wanna take your cock."
He struggles with the zipper but eventually gets there, using his chin to pull the fabric down the rest of the way until Travie's jeans are down to his ankles.
Patrick's eyes widen when he sees what was being restrained.
Travie isn't wearing boxers, so Patrick gets a full view without missing anything. It's long and thick and just overall big. Patrick actually whimpers back at the sight, hands shaking and jaw trembling. It's gotta be at least 9 inches, probably more and he knows it's gonna hurt when he's bent over again. He'll be limping tomorrow.
The dom smirks, jerking himself slightly with precum dripping down his length. Patrick opens his mouth and delves forward, trying to take it in but Travie only shoves him back, heels digging into his thighs.
"You sure you really deserve it?" Travie teases, "I dunno if that tiny lil' mouth'll be able to take it all."
Neither does Patrick.
"D-Daddy, pwease," Patrick whimpers, mouth watering and hoping to god the whole Baby Boy act will work, "Pwease, I want your cock so bad, I'll do anything."
"Shut your mouth," Travie orders.
Patrick immediately does, looking up and waiting for his next command but nothing comes. Travie strokes himself a couple more times, then presses his tip to Patrick's lips, spreading the salty fluids across his skin and eventually around his lips.
"Gonna make you all messy for me, "Travie breathes, "How does Gerard always do his writing during shows? He writes on his neck, right?"
Patrick nods, unsure if he's allowed to part his lips. Travie turns and after a moment of searching, grabs a sharpie from a drawer beside the other two bunks. He turns back around, falling to his knees and yanking Patrick's head to the side so his neck is exposed. His breathing hitches and his eyes widen when he realizes what Travie's doing and whines from the bottom of his throat. The dom pays him no mind.
The felt tip starts just under his jaw in a giant curve, Patrick immediately recognizes the letter and doesn't have to see it to know what Travie's writing. Sure enough, as he continues, he can feel each letter. It's hard to keep track but with his assumptions it becomes easier.
He can't help the moan that escapes his mouth when Travie slaps his right after and throws the marker back where he found it.
"Fuck," He growls, "Look at you, a desperate little slut. You ready for Daddy to fuck your pretty lil' throat?"
"Yes, Daddy!" Patrick sobs, "Please!"
Travie slaps him again and after licking up his precum from across Patrick's mouth, he takes his hair in his hands and pushes him down on his cock.
He's barely taken two thirds of it before he's already choking. He tugs back to get a breath, realizing this really isn't gonna work well.
"Need a way to safeword," Patrick pants, "So I don't choke to death."
Travie bites his lip and nods, grabbing the key to the handcuffs from his pocket and unlocking one, "Put your hand on my thigh. If you need to stop, tap it."
Patrick nods, watching as Travie locks the other handcuff to the bed and puts the key on the mattress, "Fucking slut."
Patrick parts his drying lips again, pressing his tongue out and looking up at Travie with wide eyed blues. The dom tugs him back down on his length, pressing him down, down, down until his nose is tickling his trimmed skin. Patrick shuts his eyes in ecstasy and bliss, breathing in and out through his nose, and trying to relax his gag reflex despite the fact his cock is past his fucking Adam's apple.
"Fuck, that feels good, don't it?" Travie chuckles, "You like being put in your fucking place? Like taking cock all the way down that whore throat of yours?"
Patrick nods around Travie, unable to do much as he knocks off his hat and pulls him off, letting him catch a breath, and a rather long one at that.
"Might invite Gabe and Will to come help me out with you, huh? They'd love that. Having you on your knees between the three of us and fucking you until you're a fucking mess and you're all plugged up with cum? Fuck. That'd be so good."
Patrick's eyes are wide, blown with lust and his mouth waters as Travie grabs his long, strawberry blond hair and shoves him back down, pounding into his throat and fucking him. Patrick sobs and chokes around his length, immediately moving his free hand to Travie's thigh and squeezing. Travie pays it no mind.
"You have such a tight, pretty throat, just begging to be put in your cockslut place," Travie pants, "You're so fucking pretty."
Patrick chokes, feel himself dry heave and taps Travie's thigh a few times. He immediately pulls Patrick off and lets him catch his breath and cough, eyes watering and hands shaking.
"I'm gonna go for a little longer then I'll fuck your ass, sound good?" Travie asks, "Bet you'll already be all stretched for me, huh?"
Patrick nods, taking a deep breath and opening his mouth again. Travie presses himself in, and after a moment where Patrick puts his hand back on Travie's thigh, the dom grabs his hair again and begins thrusting.
His hips go fast, they don't stop. They fuck his throat and really fuck it, there is no sweetness, not a tinge of gentleness or chaste. Just rough, kinky fucking. Patrick lets his eyes roll back in his head and tilts his head forward. Drool drips from his red, swollen lips, and his blue eyes look so innocent and horny.
Travie spreads his legs to give himself a better balance then thrusts Patrick down as hard and fast as he can. Patrick squeezes his eyes shut but keeps his mouth wide open, squeezing Travie's cock just right. The dom pulls him all the way down to his base again and leaves him there, whispering out a command, "Swallow."
Patrick does it but coughs immediately after. Travie doesn't let him up.
The sub continues to just squeeze Travie's leg, coughing and going a little light headed but refusing to tap until he can't take it anymore. This is for Travie even though he isn't really his dom. He still likes to impress people.
He just keeps it down his throat, unable to breathe with how thick Travie is. He swallows again and that's when he really begins struggling. He squeezes his eyes shut, pulling back, tapping frantically at Travie's thigh.
He takes a deep breath of fresh air, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes and rubbing the place just beneath his Adam's apple. He squeezes his eyes shut as he catches his breath and listens to Travie undoing his handcuffs and pulling his hands back together to cuff them.
He just lets the dom press him back into the bed, legs spread and his ass perfect for him. Travie exhales shakily as he looks across the perfect skin and smacks it, hard. Patrick yelps into the bed, eyes squeezes shut and legs shaking.
"You're so pretty, your cute little ass on display," Travie leans forward and bites into the flesh, taking joy in Patrick's pained moans. He loves how the boy always reacts, how he's just so perfect in the way he's so responsive. He licks at the wound, sucking dark marks into the skin and listening to Patrick whine.
"D-Daddy?" Patrick croaks, throat sore.
"What d'ya want, Baby Boy?" Travie asks, groping Patrick's ass.
"Can... can you fuck me already? I want you..." Patrick mumbles, then in a clearer voice he adds, "Please..."
Travie licks a strip right up his entrance, smirking at Patrick's soft moan and the goosebumps that appear, "Sure thing."
He grabs the lube from beside them and shoves the handcuff key onto the bedside table for afterwards. He also makes a quick note to find the washcloths for aftercare. He talked to Elisa and she said he didn't have to have it but he likes to be safe. It's the dom instinct, he guesses.
"Tell me your safeword," Travie says. He got it in the email but he likes to be safe. Always needs to be safe with Will and Gabe.
Patrick exhales as Travie drenches his fingers in lube and starts with two, feeling the rough pads of his fingers rub down his entrance to the rough bump just barely in reach.
"Roses, Daddy," Patrick replies, shutting his eyes and exhaling long and drawn out through his nose.
"Okay," Travie whispers, then in a louder voice he adds, "I know you've taken a lot of cock in your life and other things but you need to say it if this becomes too much. I'll stretch you out as much as I can but I'm long and thick. I'm not just bragging, Baby."
Patrick nods in understanding, heart fluttering a little at how gentle he's being in contrast to his roughness just minutes before. Travie continues with three, his fingers parting and coming back together, twisting and doing anything to open 'Trick. Eventually, he just holds Patrick's hips with one hand and begins fucking him hard with the other, drawing from the long, sultry moans. Patrick squeezes the covers, cheek pressed into the sheets harshly.
"Look how open you are, Baby Boy," Travie says even though he's not planning on showing Patrick or stopping, "Bet I could put my whole fist in you."
Patrick whines, eyes meeting Travie's and that only makes his three fingers go a hell of a lot faster, sending Patrick gasping and groaning into the bed, hands struggling against the handcuffs and hips bucking back.
Travie doesn't pay him any mercy. He just continues to fuck Patrick with his fingers until the sub begins to pull away and begs in a whiny, loud voice, "Gonna cum, p-please."
Travie smacks his ass and tugs the cockring from beside him, sliding it swiftly into Patrick's cock, then lubes his own cock generously, "Gonna fuck you so hard."
He lines himself up, waiting a moment where Patrick takes a deep breath and exhales, shutting his eyes not long after.
"Need you to take deep breaths, if you need a moment, that's okay. Just tell me," Travie soothes, "don't wanna hurt you."
He finally begins sliding in, groaning at how tight the boy is, despite the fact he gets so much cock so often. Travie presses his forehead to the small of Patrick's back as he goes, soaking in the feeling and it's taking all his self control not to slam into Patrick all at once, but he knows damn well it would be pushing a limit, and they wouldn't be able to scene again. He really does like Patrick as a sub, the way he's so obedient and hot. It could never compare to Will or Gabe, but still.
"Daddy," Patrick warns, breathless. Travie immediately stops, moving his hands against Patrick's shoulders, rubbing into the tense muscle to calm him. He can't help but notice how his hands seem so giant compared to Patrick's shoulders and how even though he's just a foot taller, he feels bigger. He loves how he can just reduce Patrick to a tiny, moaning mess and he can go as rough as he can. It's different than it would be if they were the same size, because you'd think someone bigger has to go gentler, but he doesn't. It's kinda complicated in the way it turns him on, but it works. He guesses it's because he has much more power over Patrick than if they weren't like this.
He's so caught up in his thoughts, he almost doesn't realize that Patrick's bucking back against him. He grabs the lube, adding more before sliding in again, smoothing it out as best as he can.
Patrick cries out almost immediately, though, clenching painfully hard around Travie and taking fast breaths.
"Fuck, fuck, t-too much, Trav, I..." he clenches his jaw and Travie watches tears rise to his eyes from where he's stopped, rubbing the other's hips.
"Do you need to stop?" Travie asks, "We don't have to do this if you can't—"
"I'm fine," Patrick exhales, "I've just never taken this much before."
Travie nods in understanding but it's not long before he's pulling out and flipping Patrick over only to begin to sink back in. Patrick shuts his eyes, immediately pulling his legs up to wrap around Travie's hips. The dom unlocks Patrick's handcuffs as he gets to where he was before and stops, waiting for Patrick to adjust.
"What are you doing?" Patrick whispers, confused.
"I'm making you more comfortable so it doesn't hurt as much, baby," Travie replies, pressing a chaste kiss to Patrick's forehead, "You're so beautiful."
Patrick blushes a dark red, looking away as Travie pins him down, weaving their fingers together and comparing how small Patrick is beside him.
"I swear, someday you'll believe it," Travie breathes before kissing Patrick on the lips, the first time that night.
The sub inhales sharply, letting Travie just do whatever he wants, and as he thinks about it, he realizes he's only the second person out of four that he's kissed. He can't even remember if he kissed Brendon.
Patrick doesn't fight, just lets Travie own him and moans when he presses in further, whining as the dom bottoms out finally. Patrick pulls away, gasping and regaining his breath and moaning when Travie kisses his neck, those sloppy lips quickly turning into suction and teeth.
The blond bucks his hips up, squeezing Travie's hands and pulling back just enough to nuzzle his face into Travie's throat. The dom blinks but doesn't protest.
"You feelin' okay there, Tricky?"
He nods and after a long moment of silence he pulls back, "Fuck me, Daddy. Hard. Want you to mark me up and make me limp after this. I'm gonna cum so hard once you get the ring off."
Travie's eyes widen but the last thing on his mind is protesting, so he pulls out and presses back in, watching Patrick's face carefully for any signs of pain. Thankfully, he takes it well. Travie doesn't think he can hold off much longer, his stamina maybe good but never that good.
Finally, the bigger realizes that he really does need to get going, and he wastes no time in doing so.
He pulls out and thrusts back in, starting a fast, jagged pace that sends the bed creaking under them and Patrick's back arching beautifully. Travie whimpers at the sight, pressing both of the sub's hands into one of his own and holding them above his head.
Patrick moans, pushing down against Travie's hips when a pleading command slips past those used lips.
"Choke me, Daddy..."
Travie nearly chokes on his own spit at that and he realizes that—yeah. Wow. He's really out of it and he needs to get himself straightened out.
"You sure, Baby Boy? Think you could take it?" Travie tries, thrusting a little harder and twisting one of Patrick's nipples with his free hand.
"Oh god, yes, yes, yes, pwease!" Patrick sobs. Travie shoves them both up the bed a little more and pushes Patrick's hands to wrap around the bars on each corner of the bed.
"You fucking move those and you won't cum, got that, Babyslut?" Travie growls.
"Yes, Daddy!" Patrick whines, "p-pwease!"
Travie wraps a hand around Patrick's throat, pulling one of the sub's hands off to rest on his hip and Patrick gets it right away.
The lack of oxygen sends Patrick's head spinning, his eyes rolling back and a croaky moan vibrating Travie's hand. He tries to get a breath but he's stopped and his chest rises a little. The dom smirks, tugging off his beanie and grabbing as much as his own hair as he can. He hates to admit it but he severely hates his short hair. Especially when all he wants to do is tug it.
He feels a rapping of fingers on his hip and immediately lets go, instead placing his hands on Patrick's hips positioning the sub's legs so they're braced against the bed and not just wrapped around Travie's waist.
Patrick moans feverishly at the new angle, grinding back against the other's thrusts. Travie has only hit his prostate once but he doesn't blame him. He's way too long to hit it, but Travie does manage to rub against it lightly. It's just enough stimulation for him.
"D-Daddy," Patrick whimpers, his hands above his head and his fingernails digging into the sheets, "Can we change positions?"
"How do you want it, Baby Boy?" Travie asks, stopping his thrusts, even though neither of them really want that.
"Wanna be on my stomach," Patrick whimpers, "P-Pwease?"
Travie bites down on his bottom lip like Patrick's seen him do hundreds of times before and he smiles through it.
"Fuck yea, turn over," Travie moans as he pulls out and lets Patrick do so. He's on his hands and knees when Travie enters again, immediately falling down so his hands are hanging off the bed.
"Oh shit, Daddy, Daddy," Patrick gasps, "Fuck please, that feels so good."
"Yeah?" Travie teases, "You like feeling so full? My cock so far up your add you can't even fucking think, can you?"
"Oh n-no, Daddy... please, oh fuck," Patrick blabs, slowly crescendoing until he just bites into the blankets and sobs out at how fucking amazing it feels. Travie continues to pound into him, rocking the bed again, causing the mattress squeak loudly under them. Travie grabs a handful of Patrick's hair and twists it, tugging it experimentally. Patrick immediately clenches around Travie and makes the other moan loudly.
"That feels good, don't it?" Travie smirks.
"Yes, yes, yes," Patrick sobs and chokes, pressing his forehead into the mattress and crying out when Travie hits his prostate straight on.
The dom tugs him up, chest to back and slowly jerks the sub off, feeling his hips buck forward into his hand despite the fact he still has the cockring on, "Oh god, Daddy I'm gonna cum please, t-take it off, pwease, pwease it hurts."
Travie bites down hard on his neck and after a moment of thought, finally pulls off the cockring, letting it fall to the floor.
Patrick cums almost immediately with a fucking scream. Travie catches it all on his hand, riding out his orgasm while still holding his own back. When Patrick's done clenching and spamming, when all that white has faded, he collapses forward, ass still in the air, completely spent.
"I'm gonna fill you up and put the plug in you and then we can wash off that ink and work on cleaning you up, alright?" Travie asks.
"Yeah..." Patrick whispers, eyes shut and dazed. Travie can tell he's not in subspace though, he's still pretty interactive, just tired.
He cums about a half dozen thrusts later, grabbing the plug before any of it can leak out. As soon as he's emptied and milked, he presses it in and watches Patrick just suck it up, his softened cock twitching at the sight.
"Daddy?" He whispers. Travie turns him over and kisses him, murmuring into his neck not long after.
"You did so good," he says, "I'm so proud of you."
Patrick hugs him close, shutting his eyes and slowly calming his racing heart.
"I gotta go," he replies, "I'm sorry."
Travie raises his head, "Are you sure? There's nothing I can do? I don't want you to leave without aftercare..."
Patrick smiles, "It's okay, I really don't need it. I've talked about it with Elisa and Andy and stuff. I get it at the end of the week which is just the day after tomorrow."
Travie bites his lip and nods, pressing one more chaste kiss to Patrick's forehead.
"Just... be safe okay? I'll scene with you again and you can return the plug then," Travie says.
Patrick creeps out from under Travie and begins to stand up. He immediately yelps and clings to the mattress, though, eyes wide in pain.
"Aw, Baby Boy," Travie chuckles.
"Fuck you," Patrick hisses.
Travie acts like he didn't hear, though, and just pulls Patrick in beside him, covering the other with blankets and hugging him, "Shut up and sleep. It's 10 at night. We're not leaving 'til 8 tomorrow."
Patrick swallows hesitantly but eventually nods, nuzzling into Travie's chest.
Chapter 6: Hayley Williams
Knock, knock, knock
Patrick stirs from his sleep, turning over and squeezing the blankets but doesn't get up. He's far too tired. Aches far too much and everything from the waist down is unbearable. He needs painkiller. So much painkiller.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"I'm comin' hold on," Travie groans from beside him, sitting up and crawling over Patrick to head to the front door.
Patrick can tell he's at least getting his boxers and jeans on before answering the door.
"Is Patrick here?"
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I shoulda told you. He had to stay the night 'cause he hurt too much to walk. What time is it?"
"It's 8:20. We were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago."
"Shit!" Patrick yelps, immediately yanking his panties from the floor now wide awake, "I'll be right out, hold on!"
Travie looks back to see the blond struggling with his clothes, tugging on his shirt and a pair of jeans over the buttplug along with his shoes and socks, but all the while he refuses to actually stand up.
Andy enters the bus and sighs with his arms crossed as he watches Patrick struggle to get up, whining and wincing.
"Jesus Christ, Trick. Just get on my back. We have painkiller on the bus," Andy chuckles, kneeling down in front of him.
"Thanks, Man," Patrick replies, sleepily. With a quick wave to Trav, they're off, Andy carrying Patrick through the buses and onto their own.
Patrick sits down at the table beside the bunks, Pete in his bunk and Joe across from him. Andy sighs, heading to the front of the bus to tell the driver it's okay to leave, then heading right back to start brewing a cup of green tea with honey. Patrick only lowers his eyes and swallows, wincing when the saliva runs down his throat.
"We can talk tomorrow," Andy says to Patrick as he sits back against the counter, "There's gonna be a party tonight. Acoustic stuff and a bonfire and drinks and everything. Don't run off with anyone without my permission."
Patrick nods in understanding and takes the cup of tea and some painkiller from Andy, "Joe and I are gonna hang out in the backroom feel free to join if you want."
"Fuck that!" Joe exclaims from where he lays in his bunk, throwing his phone at Andy.
"Oh my god," Pete groans.
Andy just takes Joe's wrist and pulls him up, dragging him along to the bedroom eagerly. Patrick only blushes and looks away as the door shuts, taking a sip of his honeyed tea and swallowing the Advil down with it.
A few minutes pass where Patrick just stares out the moving window and Pete continues to lay in bed, phone in hand. He knows he has to talk to him. He's nervous. What the hell is Pete even gonna say? Is he mad? Depressed? They haven't talked in a few days, when he heard about Patrick and Brendon, he kinda just went quiet around Trick despite his usual, energetic self.
Patrick's about to part his lips, about to say something. But Pete is the first to confront him, pulling up from his bunk and taking a seat across from Patrick, looking him right in the eye.
"Yeah," Patrick clears his throat awkwardly as Pete thinks up a reply.
"And you're pan."
"Basically, but more on the gay side."
Pete chews the inside of his cheek, "This is kinda weird, Man."
Patrick winces, "I'm sorry? It's just... it's weird. But I just..."
"No, it's okay. I'm not... y'know... judging. But I don't want this to fuck up anything between us. It shouldn't. You're being fucked by... y'know... other people but still," he licks his lips, "There's a reason why Andy brought you in via piggy back ride."
Patrick nods, all of a sudden feeling extremely guilty. Pete doesn't like this. Why didn't he think about Pete? He's still a huge part of his life and he doesn't want to lose him. He can't lose him.
Pete sighs, "See you at the bonfire tonight, I guess."
Patrick gnaws on his bottom lip for a moment, staring at his tea and frantically working up the courage to say something—anything.
Pete stops, lifting his eyes from the floor.
Patrick licks his lips, gazing at Pete with flushed cheeks, "What... what if you just tried it? It doesn't have to mean anything. Just talk to Andy. O-or... y'know..."
Pete bites his lip, lifting Patrick's hopes the slightest.
"I'll think about it."
"Yeah?" Patrick smiles.
"You want a drink, Trick?"
Patrick's eyes raise, from where they were glued to the fire. Ryan stands there with Brendon right behind, his brunette locks lit by the fire and a sexual demeanor about him.
"What is it?" Patrick asks before he can think twice. He knows the answers. Knows that it's just something they whipped up. God, for all Patrick knows, it could be contaminated with Ryan's piss.
"It's just a lil' something Brendon's thought you might enjoy," Ryan smirks.
Patrick rolls his eyes but takes the red solo cup from the guitarist, examining the dark liquid. It's the color of beer, the shitty kind that you pick up at gas stations. He bites his lip when Ryan holds out a fucking pill with it. And damn, he knows he really, really shouldn't but he also knows exactly what that pill will do to him and it's so goddamn tempting.
"I heard Hayley Williams got some of this from Taylor earlier. Might want to talk to her in a bit," Ryan teases.
Patrick only rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding Ryan's eyes, "Yeah... sure."
Ryan smiles, turning back to Brendon and kissing him before pulling him along, away from the crowd. Patrick seriously considers throwing it all into the bonfire.
But he doesn't.
It takes a good ten minutes of building his courage, eyes tracing the small, round pill with a heart design engraved in the top. He wonders if the ecstasy really is ecstasy and if Hayley Williams really did get some or if Ryan's just fucking with him.
Either way, he'd be up to fucking. He's jut barley tipsy and he knows he should be thinking about Andy's words from earlier but they're kind of just pressed aside to a small dark corner where they'll be pulled out again tomorrow morning.
He really wants to get fucked, though. He's eager to get that goddamned plug out of his ass. Or maybe Hayley would be up to something else. He has no clue.
He just takes the pill with the liquid and doesn't think much of it, watching the bonfire and setting the drink aside. He just wants the ecstasy, nothing else.
About ten minutes pass before it really starts to take effect. He feels his head begin to spin, the fire seems 10 times hotter on his sensitive skin and he feels himself beginning to grow hard at the sensations. That's when a single name echoes its way into his mind and he needs. Has to have.
Hayley Fucking Williams.
He sits up, abandoning the cup somewhere he isn't sure, and begins searching frantically for that bright orange hair. He imagines how it'll light by the fire and how those green eyes will search across him, how that tongue with prod out and lick those cherry lipstick lips.
He passes by several guys he wants to get fucked by, one of which's eyes seem to follow him. Dallon Weekes, Frank Iero, Mikey Way, Josh Dun, Ashley Frangipane, Joe Trohman, Hayley... Hayley Williams!
As soon as he sees her, he bites his lip, trying his best to clear his mind enough to not just drag her away.
He cringes at the way it comes out, all stutters and cracks but Hayley looks up anyways from where she sits beside Taylor York.
"Patrick, hey. Hold on," She turns back to Taylor and with a quick word, she's up, dragging Patrick along by his wrist. Her grip is tight and her fingernails dig into the skin but he doesn't mind. It's kinda hot with how rough she is. He's just not entirely sure if it's desperation there, too, or not.
The bonfire fades from sight as she leads him away to a small rest stop they stopped near (surprisingly enough, Andy said it's clean). Only then does she begin to slow down and turn to Patrick, her light eyes tracing his and her finger going up to trace his lips, "This is okay, right?"
"Yeah, yeah," Patrick replied quietly, "Andy won't mind. Was Ryan lying?"
"Nope," Hayley whispers, connecting their lips and pressing her tongue to trace his teeth. Patrick groans, bucking his hips forward against hers. She's about an inch shorter than him so it's easy for him to grip her hips and press her against the bus, taking the dominant side and hesitantly wondering if she ever will.
Hayley is the first to pull away, gasping and sucking down his neck, biting on his Adam's Apple and fitting her lips there perfectly. Patrick moans loudly, tangling his fingers in her quickly tangling hair while pressing his other hand down her rounded chest and to her skirt.
"We should take this not outside," she pants, "My bus is pretty full right now, yours?"
"Pete'll be pissed if I kick him out," Patrick mumbles against her ear.
"Fuck," she whimpers, pulling him into the family restroom and shutting the door fast. It's not long before Patrick's got her pinned up on he sink and is quickly unzipping her skirt and throwing it aside it reveal a full on lingerie under her clothing. She's missing the panties, but it's hot enough as it is. The garter belt sliding down her thighs and hips, the leggings that lead down to boots, and the brassier that slowly comes into sight as she peels off her sweater.
"Fuck," Patrick breathes, "You're so goddamn hot."
Hayley spreads her legs, and after another heated kiss, he's pressing his lips down to her opening, licking into her and taking in the musky scent. She tastes salty, and while it's not often that he eats girls out, it's still hot as hell and he loves it.
His nose nudges her clit with every time he licks her, sending her fingers tangling in his hair and knocking his hat off (for the second time in these past couple of days). Hayley's back arches, her pants become cries and moans and a small trail of, "oh fuck's," and "your tongue's," begin to grow through her sounds.
Patrick pulls his face off for a moment, leaning up to kiss Hayley before pressing a couple fingers in her mouth, watching her coat them in spit. Their eyes meet and 'Trick swears it's the hottest thing he's ever seen. He isn't even a top but with the way Hayley gives herself up to him, it's irresistible.
"Please," she whispers, "Fuck, please."
"What?" Patrick groans in her ear, "What do you want?"
"Want you to finger me and eat me out," she replies.
Patrick groans, pressing his fingers to her clit and rubbing furiously while nuzzling his face into her neck, licking and sucking at the sweaty skin.
"Oh shit!" The singer cries, fingers shaking and hips grinding against his fingers.
"Yeah? You like having your clit rubbed? Does that feel good?" He chuckles darkly. She seems to like the talk because she immediately replies with a desperate, "Yes, yes, yes, Trick. It feels so good!"
Patrick sinks back down to his knees and attaches his lips to her clit, licking and tensing his tongue to give her more pressure.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," She squirms, "Oh my god, I'm gonna cum, I-I—"
"Wait," Patrick grunts before he can stop himself. He feels Hayley immediately clench and take deep breaths to stop herself from cumming, instead just sitting there with her thighs tense and shaking.
"I need to, Trick, it's too much, please," Hayley whimpers.
Patrick licks her entire slit and spits right on her entrance before inserting his tongue again and sucking on her clit simultaneously. He understands what she's saying, though. He's only had ecstasy once before but it's intense with how sensitive everything and you can feel absolutely everything.
Patrick pulls away and with one last word to her ear he whispers the command, "Cum."
She bucks down on where Patrick's fingers replaced his tongue, throwing her head back and sobbing, her hips twitching and thighs shaking. She's so goddamn beautiful in that black lingerie contrasting against that perfect skin. Patrick lets her ride through it and when she's finally finished and limp against him, he begins palming his twitching cock through his jeans.
"Tricky, can I ride you?" She whispers, "On the counter, please?"
"You have enough energy?" He asks worriedly.
"I could go another ten rounds," Hayley chuckles, "C'mon."
Patrick bites his lips but nods, searching his pockets for a condom and his heart drops when he comes up empty, looking up at Hayley.
"My sweater," she answers, "I've got one in there, and some whipped cream."
Patrick blinks, looking up from the floor and searching her eyes to see if they're really thinking the same thing.
Patrick yanks her sweater from the floor grabbing the container of Cool Whip and the condom. Before he can reach the counter, though, Hayley is on her knees in front of him, yanking off his belt and tugging down his jeans, releasing the lace panties that he completely forgot to changer out of earlier. She chuckles at the sight, licking his hardon through the lace and pulling them down not long after with a soft, "Kinky." Patrick face is a bright cherry red.
Hayley wraps her lips around his cock, pressing all the way down to the base and looking up at him through innocent lashes. Patrick whimpers but runs his fingers through her hair anyways, dropping the whipped cream without second thought and letting the intense sensations take over.
He shuts his eyes, throwing his head back and just taking it all in.
That's when he heard the soft spraying sound of whipped cream coming from the can and his gaze immediately goes down. Hayley's spreading the sugary substance across his cock and when she's satisfied and there's a thick line across the top, she sinks her lips back around it and licks it up, swirling over his tip and pulling off with a pop.
"Fuck," Patrick whispers.
"Fuck," Hayley chuckles, swallowing down the substance, then standing up with the condom in her free hand, "Get on the counter."
Patrick abandons the baby blue panties on the floor and sits back on the counter instead, watching Hayley set the whipped cream aside for a moment and instead tearing open the condom with her teeth, "What's up with the cockslut on your neck?"
Patrick chuckles as Hayley pulls the rubber down on him, "It's there for the same reason why I have a fucking plug in my ass and Travie McCoy's cum up there as well."
"Kinky," Hayley replies simply.
"That he is," Patrick sighs before mouthing at the tops of her breasts and attempting to unhook the brassier from between her shoulders.
Hayley helps him with it, slipping it off and watching him take a breast in his mouth, sucking and licking the B cup skin.
Hayley slowly lowers herself down on his cock as he does so, exhaling deeply and inhaling again not long after. Patrick isn't super long, maybe just under average, but it's enough for her. He's fucking amazing everywhere else, and experienced.
She presses his lips away for a moment, grinding down on him slightly before grabbing the whipped cream and spraying it across her chest and especially on her nipples. Patrick groans, twitching inside of Hayley and wasting no time in licking up the spray, covering her skin in saliva as he licks and sucks and bites. Hayley just groans, whining high pitched and desperate and pulling his head in closer. The way her body feels against his, how she clenches around him and how she whines and moans at his mouth. How she's so eager to have him.
Patrick tugs the whipped cream from her spraying it right in her mouth before throwing it aside and kissing her hard, pulling her up by her hips and pressing her back down. She gets the signal, beginning to finally ride the boy while he licks up the sugar from inside her mouth, both moaning to each other with hips bouncing and skin slapping.
"Patrick," she moans, "Patrick, I..."
Patrick just slaps her ass, groping the cheeks not long after and drawing from her desperate moans.
"Sing to me," Patrick grunts.
"Sing," he replies, bucking his hips up as a counter rhythm against her own, "Please? It'd be so hot, hearing your voice crack and all your desperate moans, c'mon..."
"Fuck, what song?" Hayley pants.
"Shit, uh... what's that one you were singing the other night? The one about falling?" Patrick says breathily.
"All We Know," Hayley replies, "That's a bit fast. What about Here We Go Again?"
Hayley kisses Patrick again, speeding up their thrusts a little to match the tempo of the song and when Hayley's finally brave enough, she begins.
"And here we go again with all the things you said
And not a minute spent, to think that we'll regret
So we just take it back, these words
And hold our breath, forget, the things we swore we meant."
The last meant is met with a loud moan when Patrick manages to find her g spot. She bites down on her lower lip, shutting her eyes and gasping again when Patrick smacks her ass again.
She's not protesting.
"I'll write you just to let you know that I'm alright,
Can't say I'm sad to see you go 'cause I'm not
No, I'm not."
She releases a whiny breath and begins the next verse, throwing her head back as Patrick licks across her vibrating throat.
It's a little ridiculous, the whole thing. Unedited and without any backup, it's not a turn off in the least, though, her cracked vocals echoing off the bathroom walls. It's hot.
Patrick actually finds himself humming along with the guitar part (or what he remembers of it anyways).
"And here we go again, with all the things we did
And now I'm wondering, just who I have been
To be the one attached, at all time through your head,
Forget, the things we swore we meant."
Hayley cuts off with a loud, "fuck!" And begins thrusting down faster, Patrick continuing to grip and rub her perfect ass but after a while, he moves up to her boobs again, spraying more whipped cream on them and continuing down her stomach. She can't do much but just ride, letting the sensations take over.
She repeats the chorus, cracking almost all the way through and ending every line with a desperate, pleasures sigh until Patrick swears he'll burst if they have to continue.
He grabs her by her thighs, pulling them around so she's bent over and he's fucking her hard and without mercy.
Hayley cuts off her singing, all the words contaminated with "fucks" and "oh my god's" and "pleases." The slapping of skin and hips on hips becomes much more frequent. Patrick pulls Hayley up just enough to reach her clit, spitting on his fingers and rubbing her again, watching her legs shake all over again and her lips part wide, eyes rolling back.
"I'm gonna cum," Patrick grunts, "Ready?"
"Yes, oh shit yes!" She pants, "Fuck!"
She comes, clenching around him and making him release into the condom as well, both of their legs shaking and Patrick's hands clasped to her boobs and her hands gripping the counter.
She goes limp, eyes shut and body completely given out. She rarely does anything by like this, much less goes through two orgasms when she does. Patrick, on the other hand, is much more fit and pulls out, tying off the condom before throwing it in the trash and wiping the remains from his cock.
"That was good, Trick, thanks," Hayley hums, slowly reaching for her bra and pulling it back on before turning back to Patrick who has her skirt and his own lace panties.
She grabs the skirt and smirks, eyes on the undergarments.
"The baby blue is nice, it fits you. You should try red sometime, though. Maybe devil horns? I feel like that would be kinda hot." She says.
"I thought you said it was too kinky for you," Patrick replies.
"It's kinky, and I'm a pretty vanilla girl, but I'm just giving out suggestions. Fashion wise. That's totally not kinky."
They finish getting dressed, Hayley grabbing her whipped cream and finishing off the bottle in Patrick's mouth. They laugh to each other and with his hand around her waist, they leave the restroom.
Andy is outside waiting for them.
Patrick gasps, freezing. He's been caught. He fucked up. That's the end of that. Oh god.
Hayley blushes a bright red and looks up at Patrick worriedly who just looks down at her and smiles as best as he can, "It's fine. Go back to the bonfire. I'll see you tomorrow or something."
As soon as she's gone, Andy grabs his wrist and drags him along to the bus.
He's in for a long night.
Chapter 7: Andy Hurley Part 2
"Look at me, Patrick," Andy demands from where he sits across from him, Andy in Joe's bunk and Patrick in Pete's. Pete was gone when they arrived.
Patrick squeezes his eyes shut, head still lowered and guilt tugging at every little bit of matter in him. He shouldn't have done it and while Andy isn't even his dominant, he still feels submissive, still feels guilty for breaking the rules. He should have thought about it. Shouldn't have just done it without permission.
"Patrick," Andy warns, "I know I'm just a temporary caregiver but I will bend you over my lap if I have to."
Patrick takes a deep breath and finally, finally raises his head, still slumped and submissive but his eyes meet Andy's and that's all the dom wants.
"I'm not mad at you, Patrick," he starts, "But you did break one of the rules we had set up. And I'm not entirely sure what I'm supposed to do about it. I don't know if..." he trails off, then continues after a moment of hesitation, "I know there should be a punishment of some sort. But I don't know what you'd be comfortable with."
Patrick takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut again. He hates being the one who has to make decisions for punishments and such. But he does know he needs to learn. If he doesn't, he'll do it all over again and he doesn't want to disappoint Andy.
"Belt me, and make it hurt," He replies, avoiding Andy's eyes again, "But it really has to hurt. No pleasure."
"I..." Andy bites his lip, "I don't want to hurt you bad, Trick. I don't..."
"It'll be fine," Patrick replies sincerely.
"I'm not doing it," Andy argues.
"Andy, seriously just—"
Patrick gasps when the man darts forward and grabs his hair, moaning slightly at the dominance.
"I'm not going to fucking beat you, Jesus fucking Christ, Patrick. Just... give me a bit, okay?" Andy snaps.
Patrick nods, slumping to his knees in front of Andy and lowering his head, pressing his hands behind his back, "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir."
"Don't call me 'Sir,'" Andy sighs, "I'm not above you. We're friends and you know damn well I'm just your caregiver. Just... kneel the in the corner for an hour. I don't want a word from you. Afterwards, we can talk about how the week went so far and then... and then subspace? Would that be okay?"
"Yeah," Patrick nods, "That's okay. Thank you."
Andy sighs, dropping to his knees in front of Patrick and pressing his lips to the sub's forehead, "Okay, go kneel. I'll talk to you in an hour."
Patrick nods, rising to his feet and heading to the side of the bunk between the bed and the kitchen. He sinks back down to his knees and pushes his forehead into Pete's unmade bed while Andy works behind him to make some more tea.
God, it seems like there's never enough tea.
"Patrick, Bud, your time's up."
He blinks away the darkness of Pete's comforter, wincing against the bright lights of their bus. Andy has his hand on Patrick's back, stroking the space between his shoulders and feeling the tense muscles slowly relax again. It doesn't take Andy long to find a few knots in that area alone.
"Hey, And," he croaks, slowly making his way up and off of sore knees. Andy gives him a soft smile, leading him to Joe's bunk and handing over a cup of green tea (Patrick tastes honey for what seems to be the hundredth time this week.)
Andy turns Patrick so he's facing away toward the door and begins pressing his fingers into Patrick's back, working through the tension and the knots and feeling Patrick slowly unclench and loosen in front of him.
"So, how did the week go?" Andy asks, "Was everything okay?"
Patrick nods, "Yeah. Brendon was good, Jon was good, Travie was fucking amazing. I think Ray and I are gonna go a few more times in the future if that's okay..."
Andy nods, "Of course. What about Travie? Has he talked about doing it again?"
"Yeah, with Will and Gabe," Patrick nods.
"Did you have to use your safeword at all?"
"What about Pete?"
Patrick swallows, wincing as Andy reaches his lower back and hips, "I... I mean it's Pete? I don't know. I suggested he talk to you, he said he might. He was kinda weirded out about the whole thing but he said he wouldn't judge."
Andy nods, "I last told you that Frank, Mikey, and Dallon talked to me, right?"
"Yeah, 'cause I asked."
"Right, so Gerard came up to me today, too. Said he's never really dommed with a guy before and Lindsey said it was fine," Andy says, "And I've also been meaning to ask you about Frank."
"What about him?"
"He said he's into bloodplay, and needleplay, and edging? You know just blood in general and he wanted to make sure that wasn't a hard limit for you or anything. He said he is pretty hardcore and strict and stuff. Worse than shit you'll find in porn, y'know? Even Gerard came up to me to make sure I talked to you about it. And I checked, buys new needles after every scene and cleanses and sterilizes his knives."
"That's fine," Patrick nods, "I've got my safeword if I need."
Andy finishes up, digging his fingers into Patrick's lower back, "Awesome. I'll tell Frank."
Patrick smiles, turning to look back at Andy who's leaning back on his hands, "Subspace?"
"Yeah," Patrick replies, turning and bending over Andy's lap.
"Safeword if you need and I'll stop. Count them, too, so I know how far you are."
Patrick begins sliding down his jeans, and Andy immediately makes a noise of disgust, "Can't we do it through your jeans?"
"Your boxers at least?" Andy whines.
"Oh my god, Hurley, don't act like you've never seen my bare ass before. Much less like you don't check it out," Patrick laughs.
Andy rolls his eyes, chuckling, "Whatever. Just count them out."
Chapter 8: Dallon Weekes
Dallon has Patrick on his bus the very next day.
Patrick's kneeling on the bed, his hands tied behind his back. All his clothes stripped from his body beside his jeans. His chest is rising and falling gently as he tries to calm himself but it's too much. His pants are too tight and he swears to god Dallon's been searching through his fucking bag for ten minutes straight.
"Shut up," Dallon replies, running his hand through his dark hair and standing back up on lanky legs. In one hand, Patrick sees, he's holding an electricity wand. In the the other is a dildo and a blindfold. Patrick shivers at the sight, pupils quickly dilating until they're full blown.
"Is this okay?" He asks gently, setting the toys aside and popping the button to Patrick's jeans
"Yes, Sir," Patrick replies simply. Dallon presses him back so he can get the other's jeans off. Patrick blushes when he realizes he went commando today.
"You plugged yourself?" The dom asks.
"Travie did," Patrick replies. Dallon pulls him around so he's bend over, ass in the air, "Travie from that one pop band? God, what's it called?"
"Gym Class Heroes, Sir," Patrick replies, wincing when Dallon pulls out the buttplug and feels the cum slowly drop down to his balls.
"What the hell," he breathes, "Is this...?"
"Yes, Sir," Patrick says, "He did it so the next person to open me up would see who I belonged to, Sir."
Dallon smacks his ass hard and sends his body jolting forward, gasping. He gives out a little chuckle, laughing through his words sickly, "He thinks you belong to him? Is that it? God, that's funny."
"You're mine," Dallon growls, shoving two fingers in his ass and sliding out all the cum before shoving those fingers into Patrick's mouth, "All fucking mine. I'll fucking show him."
Shit, this was actually kinda hot.
"Sir...?" Patrick whimpers.
"Bend over my fucking lap. Who the fuck do you think you belong to?" Dallon growls.
Patrick smirks, taking position, "I don't know, Sir. Travie seems to be the most impressive by far."
That seems to have lit Dallon's fuse.
The bassist yanks Patrick back by his hair, watching a playful smirk cross Trick's face, "What the fuck was that?"
"Until you impress me, I'm gonna say I belong to Travie," Patrick replies.
"Impress you, Jesus Christ. Maybe you just need to learn your fucking place," Dallon barks.
Patrick moans into the mattress as he's shoved back down and Dallon's hand comes down on his already sore ass, "Use your fucking manners and count, whore. You're gonna tell me who the hell you belong to after every five, is that clear?"
"As clear as the fact I'm Travie's," Patrick smirks.
Dallon sends his hand down hard but it's not long before he's shoving Patrick down on the ground and unlooping his belt, "You. Are. Mine."
"Show me," Patrick challenges.
Dallon strikes his ass once, twice, three times. Patrick cries out, scratching at the floor because fuck that hurts.
"Fucking count, Bitch!" Dallon demands.
"Three, thank you, Sir," Patrick grunts through clenched teeth.
Dallon strikes twice more, smirking at the sight of Patrick struggling and sobbing but still somewhat pressing back.
"Five, th-thank you, Sir," his voice cracks on the last word sending Dallon's pants tight, "I belong to Travie, Sir."
That comment alone fuses Dallon's anger worse than before and he shoves the belt away, yanking Patrick onto the bed by his hair. He shoves a blindfold over his eyes and bends him over again with a harsh slap.
Dallon spreads his legs and after a quick moment where Patrick hears him drench the dildo with lube, he's shoving it in, taking pleasure in the strangled moans that follow.
"I'm sure you fucking do, huh? All of this belongs to Travie? Is that it? You just think 'cause he claimed you first makes you his? That fucking cockslut I saw last night on your neck, was that him, too?" Dallon growls over Patrick's hiccups and sobs. His hand works fast at Patrick's ass, thrusting the dildo in and out and fucking him, keeping it at that same angle that has Patrick a tense, hot mess.
"Y-yes, Sir, i-it was!" Patrick sobs, back arching.
Dallon tugs the dildo out and sticks it on the ground before tugging Patrick back down onto his knees and sinks him down so the black tip reaches his entrance. Patrick immediately gets the idea.
"If you stop, it'll get worse," Dallon says. Patrick jumps when he feels the wand hit his arm.
"Yes, Sir," Patrick whines, sinking himself down before pulling up again and repeating.
Dallon goes pretty fast, merciless. Maybe a zap every thrust. It gets Patrick sobbing and apologizing and flinching but he doesn't safeword. It's all making him hard as a rock.
"You. Belong. To. Me. Is that clear? Or do I need to belt you until you learn your place?" Dallon barks.
"It's clear, it's clear, I-I belong to you," Patrick chokes, eyes tearing as he continues to fuck himself on the toy and squeeze his hands into fists at the feeling of the wand zapping at his skin, "All yours, Sir."
Patrick watches as he turns off the wand and throws it in his bag before searching again.
The next thing he pulls out is a long curve of leather, a strap of Velcro holding it in a circle about as wide as Patrick's chest and he outright moans at the sight, eyes sharpening and thrusts slowing slightly.
"Is this okay?" Dallon asks, unrestraining the whip and dragging the end across Patrick's clear back.
"I don't know," Patrick answers honestly, "How much does it hurt?"
Dallon lashes the short wand across his back, causing a painful but pleasureful stinging across he skin. Patrick cries out jerking forward and completely stopping his thrusting as a small spurt of precum escapes the tip of his cock.
"You liked that?" Dallon chuckles, "Look at that, how horny you get from just a little lash."
Patrick throws his head back, panting when Dallon grabs his throat from behind, "You wanna do more with this?"
Patrick nods feverishly, bucking his hips forward into the palm of Dallon's hand and moaning at the thought.
"Keep fucking yourself. If you stop, I'll go faster," Dallon demands. Patrick immediately does so, rocking his hips against the dildo again while Dallon just aims the whip and lets go. It's not long, thankfully, otherwise it'd probably get caught on everything in the bus, but it is long enough to cause long strikes across Patrick's back. They don't break the skin either.
He continues, going across the flesh of his back to his thighs, careful not to catch his cock or balls. Patrick throws his head back, sweat soaking his skin and hands restrained behind his back tightly. His hair is a mess and his eyes and squeezed shut as Dallon just continues to strike his back, one lash after another.
"Dal... S-Sir... I..." Patrick pants, eyes half lidded.
"What is it?" Dallon growls, striking Patrick's chest and forcing the boy to double over forward.
"Too much," he chokes, "Too much. It hurts."
Dallon immediately stops, setting the whip down and watching Patrick pant, recovering for a moment. His hips have stopped rolling and he's just hunched over, head on the ground. He feels a small stab of guilt that he's let the pain outweigh the pleasure.
"You okay?" Dallon asks, stroking his finger under Patrick's chin to tilt his head up.
"Y-Yes, Sir," Patrick pants, lips parted and hair a sweaty mess.
Dallon presses his lips to Patrick's, leaving a string of spit between them. Patrick whimpers when the dom pulls him off of the dildo and kisses across the marks from the whip, "So pretty... stand up and let me suck that pretty little cock."
Patrick moans but obeys, rising to shaky legs and grabbing onto the bunk behind him.
Dallon goes down on him almost right away, nestling his nose against Patrick's untrimmed hair, then pulling off and licking a long strip from 'Trick's balls to his tip. Patrick cries out at the feeling, weaving his fingers through Dal's hair and squeezing but not tugging.
The dom pulls off for a moment, pumping Patrick's dick, "Fuck my throat, Baby Boy."
"A-Are you sure?" Patrick asks quietly, cheeks lighting up fast.
"Fuck yeah," Dallon smiles.
Patrick groans when Dallon goes back down but eventually works up the courage to follow the order, snapping his hips forward against Dallon's mouth and letting out shaky breaths and tiny whines.
The dom runs his hands up Patrick's hips, then back down where he grabs the sub's ass and only then does Trick really start fucking his throat.
His thrusts are harsh and fast and desperate. He's like a teenager dying to get off, humping Dallon's face like some sort of sex toy. Nevertheless, it turns Dallon on, makes the dom run himself through his jeans and eventually press a hand in to jerk himself off.
"I-I'm gonna cum. S-Sir, can I?" Patrick pants, eyes lidded and glazed, lips parted into a slight O.
Dallon only shakes his head against Patrick's cock, pulling off to grab a breath and reply, "Not yet, Baby Boy."
"Do you want to not cum at all?" Dallon threatens.
Patrick immediately backs down, shaking his head and letting Dallon go back down on him. Patrick doesn't fuck his throat, afraid he'll only cum faster and he wants to hold off. Wants to please Dallon.
The man continues to suck him, tonguing his slit and under his tip, then down the underside of his base and back up. Patrick keeps letting out desperate little moans, these sounds that bring Dallon closer and closer to the edge until the bassist can't take it.
He pulls off, turns Patrick around, and shoves him to bend over the bed before shoving himself all the way inside, the only thing undone being his zipper.
Patrick cries out, he's already been stretched from the plug and the vibe and it's more of the surprise than the pain that makes him cry. Dallon thrusts, fast and mercilessly into Patrick, until he's cumming deep inside him, and whispering a dark command into Patrick's ear for him to do the same.
They stay like that for a couple minutes or at least until Patrick's mind unfogs.
When it finally does, he fucking freaks out.
"Dallon," he pants, "Dallon, did you use a condom?"
"No, why?" Dallon replies, pulling out and pressing the plug back in.
"Fuck," Patrick pants. His heart is racing. He didn't get STD papers from him. Didn't get anything. Just an assload of cum, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
"Patrick, what's wrong?" Dallon asks calmly.
"Are you clean? You better fucking be clean, I—" Patrick chokes back a sob, standing up and tugging on his boxers, "Oh my god, I can't die. I can't. Fuck, all my life I've had condoms or papers and I—"
"Patrick, I'm clean—"
"I'm gonna die, because of some stupid STD—"
"I can't believe you, how could you just—"
"Because Travie did!"
"Travie had papers!"
"How the hell was I supposed to know you don't have some sort of anal protection?"
"BECAUSE IT DOESN'T FUCKING EXIST!" Patrick screams. He's fully dressed now and making his way out the door, tears in his eyes and his heart racing and his mind a complete mess besides the three words that keep echoing to the beat of his chest.
I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die.
"Patrick—" Dallon starts but Patrick's already out the door and heading to Andy.
"Andy, Andy fuck, please," Patrick yells, "Oh my god, Andy!"
Andy opens the bus door as fast as he can, but before he can see what's wrong, Patrick's sprinting up the stairs and gripping Andy has close as he can, "I'm gonna die, And, I'm gonna die because of some stupid STD and fucking Dallon and Travie and I can't believe I didn't make him pull out and," He's running his fingers through his hair and hyperventilating and his eyes are wide, "And I'm gonna get infected and die because I didn't fucking think straight and—"
Andy hushes Patrick, cradling his breathless sobs, "Shh, hey, Patrick, deep breaths, deep breaths."
Patrick's hiccuping when he finally begins to calm down, shaking violently.
"Okay, Patrick, tell me what happened, it's okay. Trust me," Andy says, sitting him down and rubbing his back.
"S-So, Dallon and I... w-we were doing our scene and everything a-and everything was fine. But he saw... y'know with the plug and everything that Travie did. H-He got it... out and then after some other s-stuff he did the same thing and I wasn't thinking straight and—"
Andy sighs. The kind of sigh that screams disappointment and stress and fuck Patrick messed up. He messed up so, so bad.
"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, I—"
"Stop, Patrick," Andy whispers, looking back up, "Get over my lap now."
"Andy?" Patrick asks, eyes wide and hands still shaking.
"I'm putting you in subspace for a little bit so you can calm down and I'm gonna do some research on this and see what you could get if anything and if we're really worried, we can get a test from Dallon. I don't think too much can be spread anally, but we do need to be safe," Andy replies calmly.
Patrick nods shakily, watching Any get up and shut the door before returning and patting his lap, "We have a show tonight. I promise you, it'll be okay."
"Okay," Patrick whispers as Andy tugs down his jeans and sends the first slap. Patrick winces but slowly settles between Andy's gentle but firm slaps and the moderate rhythm. Patrick counts off as he's been taught, "One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, one... three, four..."
And on and on. It never ends. Not until Patrick's gone silent and he's at that safe place he always returns to.
Not until the world is gone and he's just floating.
Chapter 9: Frank Iero
Comments are appreciated, thanks for all the kudos and hits!!!
"Common sexually transmitted bacterial organisms may affect the anorectum and perianal skin. While some of these infections are a result of contiguous spread from genital infection, most result from receptive anal intercourse." Andy reads, "Polymicrobial infection is common and there is overlap in symptoms caused by the organisms that may infect the anorectum. This article addresses the most common bacterial organisms blah, blah, blah... Oh here: gonorrhea, campylobacter, chlamydia, shigella, chancroid, granuloma inguinale, and syphilis."
Patrick's eyes widen, "Where's my enema kit?"
"Stop, Patrick, take a deep breath, just like before," Andy replies, "Look, did he have any kind of weird shit going on with his dick? Because most of these are spread from ass to ass contact. So was there blood coming out or anything that wasn't y'know... cummy?"
"N-Not that I saw," Patrick replies, squeezing his arms.
"Then you're fine. HIV is spread from blood to blood contact. Just make sure you use protection from now on. And you know I've talked to Frank a ton and I've seen his supplies and I've talked with Elisa."
"Please tell me you won't tell her," Patrick interrupts, eyes wide, "She'll say I can't and she won't ever let me again a-and—"
"Patrick, I wasn't planning on it," Andy immediately replies, "If anything more happens, I'll have to, but not now."
Patrick nods, biting his fingernails and staring down at the floor. He just got out of subspace but he's still tense. Still afraid.
"What's going on? You guys okay?"
Patrick's gaze darts up to Pete, but nothing else. He doesn't feel like talking.
Andy nods, still scrolling through his laptop, "Yeah, it's fine."
"Any reason as to why Patrick looks more scared than his first time having sex?" The bassist asks, coming through the bunks to the kitchen where he opens one of the cupboards and grabs a bag of chips.
"There's just a little freak out and shit. If you see Dallon by chance, tell him that Patrick's okay and to talk to me if he gets a chance," Andy replies.
"Something bad happen?" Pete frowns, taking a seat beside Patrick who just continues to stare at the wall.
"I'm fine, Pete," Patrick says. Pete raises his eyebrows, "What the hell do you want anyway?"
"A talk with Andy, but if you're gonna be an asshole about it, I won't," Pete replies harshly. It takes a moment for Patrick to process that, but when he does, he sinks back and just lets Pete do whatever. Pete doesn't take it, "Okay, seriously, though. What's up with you?"
Nobody speaks for a moment, but eventually Patrick takes a breath and rubs the bridge of his nose.
"Went bareback without STD results and we're trying to figure it out and shit," he replies, "It's fine."
Pete's eyes glaze over his with a jolt of fear but it quickly passes and he finally just sighs, turning to Andy, "Can we talk?"
About a week passes in which Andy gets Dallon's most recent STD results, and Andy hands over Patrick's.
Dallon is clean. Thank fuck. But Patrick's still shaken up and made Andy sent out an email about barebacking. Nobody asked why. They all just accepted it.
About a week passed since his scene with Dallon and since Pete went on that damn bus, and after a long talk with Andy, left. He didn't say a word to Patrick, not even when the singer looked at him curiously, or outright asked if he arranged something. He hasn't said a word to Patrick since.
They're playing a show in Los Angeles. By "they're" Patrick means My Chemical Romance is playing a show. Fall Out Boy played right before. The problem? Gerard would be singing if he hadn't lost his goddamn voice with a cold. Every other person is busy or out.
Patrick is the only guy left to play this goddamn song. Ray's replacement assured him that it was easy and Patrick's heard enough My Chemical Romance in his life to know most of the song and the style.
They're playing three songs, they're pretty popular and... yeah. Patrick's fucked.
The Ghost Of You
Fall Out Boy has just finished their set and he's heading off stage. Off stage and back on. Off stage to the lyrics. To read once again. Oh god, he's gonna fuck up so bad.
"Tricky, you okay?"
He nearly screams at the feeling of that hand on his back but as soon as he turns and sees Frank there, he relaxes slightly. The dom tilts Patrick's head up because somehow Frank is actually taller than Patrick. It's only by a couple inches but still.
"You're so pretty. Look at you," Frank whispers between drags of his cigarette, "What was up with the email Andy sent out? Someone bother you, Sugar?"
"Uh..." Patrick blushes a dark red. Frank's dark eyes seem to stare into his very soul. He promised himself he wouldn't talk about it if he didn't have to, but it all seems to fly out he window with Frank's eyes on him. He feels like he's confessing all his sins, but it's not that bad. It's sort of comforting in a way, like talking to a therapist, "D-Dallon and I had a little incident..."
"Sounds pretty shitty, Baby," Frank sits back on a table but keeps his hand on Patrick's chin, their eyes still connected. Frank's other hand stays on the cigarette, "You sure you're okay to sing tonight?"
"F-fine," Patrick manages. Frank gives him a gentle smile.
"Alright, Sugar. How about you recite those lines to me while we still have time, hmm?" Frank asks, tonguing his lipring.
"Wh-what?" Patrick asks, eyebrows furrowing.
"Recite the lyrics and sing to me, pretty boy. It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you," Frank assures before puffing a blow of smoke right in Patrick's face. He'd be lying if he didn't say it was hot, though.
"A-Are you sure?" Patrick stutters.
"Positive," Frank smiles.
So Patrick does.
It's like he's under a trance. He recites every lyric from the three songs and even sings them for the dom, Frank's finger still tucked under Patrick's chin and those eyes staring into each other he whole time.
When Mikey comes through, walking in on whatever the fuck is going on, Patrick's just finishing up and eyes still train on Frank even when the dom turns his head to look to the bassist.
"We'll be right out," Frank says, then turns back to Patrick as Mikey leaves, "You're perfect, Baby Boy."
"Yeah?" Patrick breathes.
"Yeah," Frank smiles, "Take a drag. You'll be fine."
Patrick blinks as Frank presses the stick between 'Trick's lips and watches the vocalist inhale. The guitarist pulls it out and watches smoke leave through his nostrils and when
"C'mon. They'll love you."
"How is Los Angeles doing today?" Frank calls through the audience.
There's a loud cheer following in which Frank makes his way over to Patrick and grabs his hat, placing it on his own head, "I'm sorry to tell you guys but Gerard is out today. He had a bad cold and lost his voice last night. Be sure to give Patrick here from Fall Out Boy a warm welcome today. He just learned and memorized these lyrics today."
Patrick blushes slightly, smiling at Frank before taking his own mic and waiting for the audience's screams to die down again.
"Alright guys, this first one is The Ghost Of You. Sing along and help Patrick out if you can," Frank calls, grabbing the singer's ass before walking away and grabbing his guitar. It doesn't go unnoticed.
Patrick hears Frank start off, strumming out the rhythm, Ray's substitute coming in not longer after with his own melody and Mikey maintaining all the way through 'til Bob does his five note fill and Patrick realizes he's up.
"I never said I'd lie and wait forever
If I did we'd be together,
I can't always just forget her
But she could try."
Patrick's takes a breath, and finally begins singing with a little more emotion when the crowd joins in and Frank comes back to his side. The dom sets his hat back on his head.
"At the end of the world or the last thing I see
You are never coming home, never coming home
Could I? Should I?
"And all the things that you never ever told me,
And all the smiles that will never ever..."
Patrick takes a breath, hitching when Frank licks a strip up his neck and the crowd screams all over again.
"E-ver," Patrick gasps for air, "Get the feeling that you're never
All alone and I remember now
At the top of my lungs in my arms she dies
Patrick nearly outright moans when Frank gets on his knees just like he would Gerard and rubs his face in the crotch of Patrick's jeans, still playing just as he's memorized.
"At the end of the world
Or the last thing I see
You are never coming home, never coming home
Could I? Should I?"
Patrick nearly forgets, nearly just chokes and fucks up everything when Frank rises to his feet again and nibbles on his earlobe. But that's when he hears that groggy voice breathing the lyrics into his ear and he catches back on. Just in time.
"And all the things that you never ever told me
And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me
Never coming home, never coming home
Could I? Should I?"
"And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me
For all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me."
Patrick lowers to a whisper, hearing Ray's replacement do that small melody and catching in just in time.
"If I fall
If I fall down."
He doesn't scream no matter how much he's trying to perfect it. Patrick Stump doesn't scream unless you have a whip in your hand and he's rock hard as well. Frank's got one of those down.
But while Ray's replacement has his solo and Frank keeps rhythm, he turns back to Frank, watching the boy work fast and hard, fingers swift. It's almost mesmerizing watching him go. The guitarist heads back forward, nuzzling into Patrick's neck and biting the sensitive skin.
He pulls back just in time tilting the mic up towards Patrick's lips again, and pulls away, letting Patrick finally go back to his place at the center of the stage.
"At the end of the world
Or the last thing I see
You are never coming home, never coming home
Never coming home, never coming home!
"And all the things that you never ever told me
And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me
Never coming home, never coming home
Could I? Should I?"
Frank runs a hand down Patrick's hips, moving onto tease Mikey not long after, though.
"And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me
For all the ghosts that are never gonna..."
Patrick takes a breath, knocking his hat off as he runs his fingers from his hair and pants into the mic awkwardly, "I hope I didn't screw that up too badly."
He gives Frank a sideways glance as the crowd protests to see the man looking right back at him. Those black locks and the dark lip ring.
"Nice job, Trick," Mikey says softly as they leave the stage. Patrick blushes a dark red and nods, lowering his eyes.
Frank was all over him the whole time, licking him, kissing him, grinding on him. Anything to drive the audience wild and it did. Patrick had tried to push him away several times but he would always come right back.
Now here they are, the show over with The Brobecks going up next followed by The Young Veins and a few other bands.
He jumps when he feels a hand on his ass, eyes darting up once more to see Frank, a cigarette in his hand, lit. Mikey's gone. It's just him and the guitarist. He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes when a second hand presses over his lips.
"Hey, Trick," Frank whispers in his ear, "you ready to play?"
He lets out a full body shudder at that, moaning the slightest into Frank's hand, then nodding.
"Be a good boy for your master and get on the MCR bus for me. I'll be there in a bit, I want you kneeling on the top floor and if Gerard's there, tell him Frank has to use it for a while. Alright?" The dom asks, rubbing Patrick's crotch and watching the boy slowly fall apart under his touch.
"Yes, Master," Patrick mumbles through Frank's fingers. The guitarist smiles, turning Trick around before taking a long drag and connecting their lips. Patrick tastes the nicotine. The smoke. And it's fucking addicting.
Frank pulls away only to press the butt of his cigar to Patrick's arm, causing the sub to flinch but moan at the same time. It burns bad but it feels so, so good.
Frank licks a strip up the sub's neck then shoves him away with a short, "Go."
Patrick wastes no time in leaving, his pace fast and his hands frantically tugging down his shirt to below his jeans. He's a little nervous for Frank, knows that he's gonna have some cuts tomorrow and hopes to god they won't scar too badly.
He's gotta be honest, he's never tried edgeplay or needle play or any kind of blood play. He's always wondered what it would be like but never found anyone willing to do it. He's always always been into experimenting and stuff with pretty much anything. That was pretty obvious with Jon, though.
Patrick bites his lip, his thoughts continuing into fantasies. Frank holding him down and pressing that tiny pinprick down his back. Down, down, down to drag against the skin, marking it all over again just like Travie had with his neck.
Patrick knocks on the MCR bus door, realizing there's a lock. It takes a moment but finally, Gerard answers, opening the door with tired eyes. He parts his lips and after a moment, grabs his notebook and writes: what do u want
"Uh..." Patrick blushes, "Frank wanted to let you know him and I are gonna use the bus for a bit..."
Gerard takes a deep breath and sighs with frustration, Any idea where Lindsey is?
Patrick shrugs, lowering his eyes.
Fine, come in. I'm watching, though, Gerard replies. Patrick nods, joining him on the bus and watching him shut the door, the ladder leads to the top. I'll be here.
Patrick waves to Gee once he sees it and climbs up the notches of the ladder, heading to the middle of the floor and kneeling as Frank had asked. Gerard doesn't come up. He's not sure how long he's kneeling.
At least 20 minutes have passed. Patrick's knees ache and he's constantly rolling his shoulders to ease the muscles.
That's when he hears the door downstairs opening.
"Is Patrick here?"
That's Frank, 'Trick can tell. There's some silence, he assumes Gerard is writing, then Frank continues, "Okay, fine. But don't interrupt us, got it?"
There's a moment of nothing but footsteps, Frank climbing the ladder, then hitching when he sees Patrick kneeling, head bowed and hands behind his back.
"Look at you," Frank breathes, "Kneeling so obediently for me."
"Master," Patrick starts but Frank slaps him before he can say anything else. The dom kneels, gripping his jaw with one hand while the other one slings over his knee.
"I have some rules for you, Patrick. I'm not a light dom. I tease, but that's the most fluff you'll get from me," Frank says, "I like pain. I'm a sadist and not a pussy like anyone else you've ever been with. I don't do thigh taps and brushes with strips of leather. I will probably do something that makes you want to safeword but I need you to hold off for as long as you can. Gerard's gonna watch us but he's not gonna do anything unless I ask him. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Master," Patrick replies, keeping silent soon after.
"Good. I'll be nice. You can pick what we do first. Needles or knives?" Frank asks. Patrick hears the gentle footsteps of Gerard climbing up the stairs with a couple bottles of water and a first aid kit.
"Needles, Master," Patrick says, eyeing Gerard. Frank immediately slaps him, though and forces his head forward.
"What was that, Slave?" Frank growls, "Do I need to teach you a lesson in obedience as well?"
"No, Master," Patrick chokes, "I can be obedient, I apologize."
Frank nods, clasping Patrick's chin, "Good, lay back, clothes off. I have to get a few things."
The sub nods as soon as the guitarist releases his chin and he's sure there are bruises.
He watches as Frank heads downstairs and after a long moment where his cheeks turn a tinge of pink, he finally tugs off his shirt and jeans, leaving him in the pair of red panties he wore that day.
Gerard smirks from where he's setting down the equipment and taking a seat against the wall, pulling up his notebook and writing in big letters: KINKY
That's what Hayley said, Patrick thinks as he peels them off and sets them with his other clothes. Frank still isn't up so he decides to fold them, hoping that'll please the dom.
He hears footsteps when he's finishing up the panties and immediately turns, bowing his head and holding his hands back behind his back.
Frank drops something, Patrick doesn't look. Can't look. He has to obey. Has to be put in his place, then those boots come to his face and he shudders slightly.
"Lick them, you fucking cumwhore," Frank says, "I want them clean."
Patrick's cheeks light up slightly but he does so, tongue sticking out and running over the mud and the dirt from outside. It's gross, god it's disgusting, but with how Frank demands it, barks at him to do it, he can't refuse.
"You're a worthless fucking whore. A fucking cumdump," Frank growls, "Look at you, just obeying my orders."
Patrick doesn't have permission to reply, so he doesn't, just continues with the left leather boot, eventually moving to the right.
He feels Frank lower down but doesn't stop. Not even when he feels cool leather around his neck, buckling behind with about a centimeter of wiggle room. It makes him impossibly harder, makes him feel dirty, but it's good. He loves it. It's different from the other doms who never call him worthless and treat him like he's more than just a toy. This is different, Frank doesn't give a hint of mercy like Travie or Dallon or Brendon. He doesn't even care if Patrick gets any pleasure out of it.
He finishes up the rest of the boot then looks up, suppressing the urge to cough. Frank's hair is in his eyes and he looks so tall above Patrick despite the fact he's only 5 feet tall. Maybe less.
"More, I want them squeaky clean. I thought you were good for this shit, Slave," Frank growls.
Patrick immediately bends back down and licks, putting his spit into it until the black is no longer brown. The dirt slowly disappears onto his tongue and it's so gross but so satisfying. Frank finally pulls his feet away, "Good enough, stand up and turn around, eyes to the floor. If I hear a sound out of those lips of yours, I will choke you until you learn to behave, is that understood?"
"Yes, Master," Patrick replies, hearing the bell on his collar jingle as he rises to his feet and turns, spreading his legs slightly.
Frank grabs his ass, sending a sharp gasp from his lips until Frank grabs those, too.
"Not. A. Fucking. Sound."
Patrick nods, eyes watering as Frank lets go, and the lace of rope begins to bind his wrists together in the front, "I thought Andy was offering a slave, not a disobedient whore," Frank grunts, tying one of the knots a bit too tight but immediately loosening it. He knows his knots, though, Patrick notices, and he wonders how long Frank's been a dom. He's obviously pretty experienced.
"What's your safeword again, Slave?" Frank asks.
Patrick parts his lips again, but unsure if he's supposed to respond shuts them again. Frank's eyes meet his, "Answer me."
"Roses," Patrick immediately replies, "it's roses."
"'It's roses,' what?"
"It's roses, Master."
Frank nods finishing up the knots and returning his gaze to Patrick's eyes, "Stay right here."
"Yes, Master," The slave nods, staring forward at the wall with a straight back and his eyes focused on nothing in particular.
He hears some clinking, metal on metal, then in front of him stands Frank with a belt of knives, a simple knife sharpener at the end and a kit of needles in one of the forest green pockets.
Frank grabs a chair from the end of the wall and shoves it in front of Patrick, setting the belt of tools on the hard surface, then grabbing the kit and pulling out a simple sewing needle, brand new and unused, "Andy already told you I replace my needles?"
"Yes, Master," Patrick replies.
"Good turn around and hunch over I wanna see your back," Frank replies. Patrick immediately complies, turning and hunching. He feels like a canvas. Feels like a whore. Like nothing more than an object and it makes him rock hard.
"Gerard, give me an idea."
Patrick completely forgot Gee was in the room and when he turns his head the slightest, he sees the man with a hand on his cock and his eyes wide. He sighs, then grabs his notebook and writes: Frank Was Here.
The dom smirks, then nods, "Actually, Slut, lay on your stomach, you'll be a little more stable there."
Patrick does so, dropping to his knees, then pressing his chest down and turning his head to the side with a jingle of his collar. Frank straddles him not long after, dragging the needle across his skin and eventually beginning to dig in.
It's sharp, and it hurts, and it's not all that great at first. It's on his lower back, just above his ass, and he can feel the sharp lines against his skin, he can feel the way they dig under and tear it apart and as more time passes, it begins to get a little hot, and he finds even the slightest bit of friction on his cock, sending jolts through his skin.
Frank keeps quiet and Gerard just kind of jerks off, sometimes stopping for a moment to draw something in his notebook but Patrick isn't sure what it is or if he wants to know.
Frank pulls up for a moment, rubbing the tender skin and sending a muffled cry out Patrick's mouth. He can feel the small amounts of blood spreading across his skin, then Frank's mouth on it. Patrick bites his lip sharply at the feeling. At his tongue licking up the blood and sliding across the wound, then pulling up and saying to Gerard, "Get me a towel, would you?"
Patrick takes deep breaths when Frank presses his ass up slightly and dips his tongue inside his entrance. The sub gasps but doesn't say a word. He's surprised, he didn't think Frank would do anything for him, but as it continues, he realizes it isn't for him. Frank just really like eating ass. He does nothing to pleasure Patrick, just licks and sucks and dips. He doesn't aim for his prostate. Nothing.
When Gerard finally comes back up, a low groans comes from his throat as Frank pulls out.
"You found your voice finally?" Frank chuckles, grabbing the rag from the vocalist and dabbing it across Patrick's wounds.
"I'm getting there," Gerard replies in an extremely groggy voice.
Frank presses Patrick's hips back down, and when he's satisfied, he presses the sharp metal back to his skin and begins carving. Patrick bites into his arm to keep quiet, wincing but he manages. Gerard continues to jerk off, lip tugging at his teeth and his eyes glazed over in lust at the sight before him. When he runs a hand through his hair, Patrick has to look away. He swears he'll cum if he doesn't.
"Almost halfway done, Whore," Frank growls, setting the needle aside and after licking the wounds, dabbing over them with the rag. The dom grabs his hair and pulls him back not long after, connecting their lips. Patrick is immediately overwhelmed with the taste of metallic. Blood in its purest form. The kiss is raw and rough. Frank shoves his tongue in and explores the new territory, making sure the taste fills Patrick's mouth before pulling out and slapping the dazed boy.
"Taste like blood?" Frank asks with a smirk.
"Yes, Master," Patrick mumbles, "Fuck."
"Fuck is right," Frank replies, biting the slave's bottom lip before pulling away and pressing him down. He grabs the needle again and after dabbing at the wounds, he digs it under and begins dragging it. Patrick squeezes his eyes shut, biting back into his arm and nearly drawing blood.
"Frank," Gerard calls groggily, padding over to the man and showing off whatever he was drawing.
Frank bites his lip and after a long moment of examination, nods, "We might have to make it smaller and thinner but I could do that with the knife. I also want to do more with the needles. Like... y'know... normal needleplay. You wanna...?"
"No, no, no," Gerard immediately blushes, "I'm barely even... I don't... y'know... I don't do that. I wanna wait til I get him alone."
Frank rolls his eyes but nods, continuing to trace an 'A' into Patrick's skin, "Right, what the fuck are you even gonna do with the bitch?"
Gerard blushes a bright red, "It's... I..."
"Okay for fucks sake, Gee. You're watching me carve into his skin, what the hell are you gonna do?"
"I'm not sure yet!" Gerard spits, "Andy's the one who suggested it!"
Frank chuckles, finishing up the last letter and dabbing across the sensitive skin, "It's pretty so far, huh?"
Frank chuckles, licking across the bloody skin and sucking before pointing at the first aid kit and watching Gerard quickly retrieve it.
"I feel like it would have been prettier in he insides of his thighs but there are critical veins there. You kinda wanna avoid the upper thighs all together. It's pretty shitty, y'know?" Frank says to Gerard.
"Well what if you added an arrow down to his ass?" Gee replies in his groany voice.
Frank traps his bottom lip between his teeth, and after a long moment nods, digging the needle back under the skin and dragging it straight down followed by a little dip of the point.
Just like that, Frank spreads his cheeks and licks a strip straight across his balls and ass sending Patrick's hips bucking forward and a broken moan from his lips.
"I don't think he likes he cutting as much as he likes you eating him out," Gerard notes as Frank licks over the wound and kisses Patrick once more, the sub groaning dizzily into Frank's mouth
"Get him some water, I'm gonna bandage this up and then start with the knives," Frank orders. Gerard immediately complies.
The dom grabs the first aid kit and opens it, grabbing some rubbing alcohol and a cotton ball. He soaks the ball in the liquid, then presses it down to the first word and rubs across, not bothering to muffle Patrick's groans. He's obviously not too bothered by them.
Frank cleans all the wounds while Gerard grabs Patrick some water and tilts it for the sub to drink.
Eventually, Frank throws away the cotton ball and bandages them up, keeping one hand on Patrick's shoulders to settle him. When he's satisfied, he tugs Patrick up to his knees when a curious look to see—
There's a fucking puddle of precum on the floor. Frank outright moans at the sight while Patrick just blushes a bright red and Gerard chuckles, grabbing another rag to throw to Frank.
"Look at you, all hot and bothered. You're a horny little cockslut, aren't you?"
"Please, Master," Patrick chokes but Frank only shoves the precum soaked rag in his mouth making him gag but Frank doesn't let up.
"I bet you could get off on anything I did to you, huh? I could beat you half to death and you'd have cum three times," Frank chuckles, "Your pain limits are pretty damn high, Kid."
Patrick chokes as Frank yanks out the rag and after one short, deep breath, Frank has his hands are Patrick's throat, squeezing the sides.
Patrick can't get a breath of air, is completely helpless, but he loves it. He loves how much of a slut he is for it all. Can't get enough.
Eventually, Frank pulls his hand away and kisses Patrick with the taste of blood, then pushes the boy back down and grabs his belt to search through his knives.
He chooses a pretty short one, maybe the size of a pocket knife. It has a dark red handle and a polished, sharp blade. The sharper, the easier and less painful. This whole interaction is about pain, yes, but a full blade causes a lot of itching, too, and it's pretty uncomfortable. It's the itching that's caused several past subs to safeword.
He looks over Gerard's diagram, the large holes that would normally go on cellos and basses and violins but it instead reaches from the shoulder to the upper hip. It's pretty.
Frank starts at the top, he doesn't go too far under the skin, taking off only about 2 layers. It's just enough to cause a mark but not bleed too badly.
Patrick's breathing hitches and his fingers dig into the palms of his hands as he struggles not to protest. It hurts. God, it hurts. It's not an easy wound. Not a flogging and he knows Frank if trying to make it easy but yeah. Wow.
"Shut up, Patrick," Frank immediately replies. Patrick squeezes his eyes shut and bites at the rope so he's not causing himself any more pain.
"I think he needs a break," Gerard says from where he's back to jerking off on the chair, "He looks pretty pained."
"Then he can fucking safeword," Frank grunts, pressing the blade to curve down to his hip and come back up in a narrow curve.
"Roses," Patrick chokes, "Roses."
"There you go," Frank mumbles, throwing the knife on the floor and untying Patrick's hands with one swift movement.
"M'Sorry," Patrick whispers, "I know you told me not to—"
"I told you to hold off for as long as you could and you did. I'm proud of you, Trick. You wanna finish or just stop?" Frank asks,
"Wanna finish I just... can I have a break? I'm getting dizzy and it's hurting a bit much."
"Of course, I need to clean you up really quick and you can get your water after. Maybe I could do something a little more... y'know... pleasurable and afterwards," Frank presses against Patrick's cock softly, then pulling away and leaving Patrick with a hiss of pain and a pleasure, "That sound good?"
"Yeah," Patrick chokes, wincing as he grabs the water Gee set out and takes a few gulps. Frank comes behind him, rubbing down the line and not long after pressing a bandage to it.
Once they're both satisfied, Frank kneels in front of Patrick and kisses him roughly, all tongue and teeth. Patrick moans into the kiss but doesn't dare move his hands, only lets Frank take over, which he immediately does, biting down hard on Trick's lower lip to draw blood.
After a moment, he grabs Trick's cock, hearing the change in his breaths and feeling his hand wrap around Frank's wrist. Not to stop him, though.
Frank goes fast, determined to get Patrick to the edge. He thumbs at the hood of his member and swipes across the slit, thumbing it occasionally. He feels Patrick's reactions, memorized how he thrusts his hips forward when Frank strokes over his head. He grips one of Patrick's hips and swallows his moans when Frank squeezes especially hard. Eventually, Patrick's just fucking himself into Frank's hand, sweat dribbling down his back and his head nuzzled into Frank's neck.
The sub groans out, feeling his balls begin to draw and his muscles tense here and there. Frank shoves him back and straddles his hips so he's facing his thighs and jerking off fast, occasionally licking over the rock hard skin.
"Master," Patrick gasps, "Master, may I cum?"
"Yeah," Frank replies, immediately going down on the sub. Not even five seconds later, Patrick's cumming hard into Frank's mouth with a broken cry, back arching and hips stuttering.
The dom pulls off and leans back to kiss Patrick, emptying the climax into Patrick's mouth who immediately licks it up and swallows.
"On your stomach again," Frank says as Patrick recovers, "One more line left."
The sub nods, brain dead, as he sinks forward onto his stomach and shuts his eyes, "Yes, Master."
Frank kisses the back of his neck gently and grabs his knife again after wiping it off with the rag. Patrick takes deep breaths, relaxing himself as Frank gets back to work, carving lightly into his left shoulder and curving down. It seems to go by faster, the blade smooth against his skin and sharp so it doesn't hurt too terribly bad.
He vaguely hears Gerard let out a muffled cry and assumes the other had just cum. Before he realizes it, Gerard has his jeans up and is helping Frank bandage up the wound. Patrick takes deep breaths and kinda just lays there as they finish up.
"You okay, Trick?" Frank asks softly, stroking Patrick's hips, "Are you dizzy?"
"No," Patrick replies, sitting up, "Just a little tired."
Frank helps him up, grabbing his shirt and helping Patrick put it on before doing the same with his panties and jeans, "You wanna stay the night here?"
"No, tonight's the end of the week. Andy needs to check up on me, but thanks for the offer," Patrick smiles, "This was fun."
Frank pats Trick's head and nods, "Alright, talk to you in a while, then?"
"Yeah," Patrick nods, and with that, he heads downstairs and out the front door to his own bus.
Chapter 10: Gerard Way
I'm supposed to be writing a three way smut between me and two other friends but then geetrick happened and I can't get enough of this ship what. Comments are appreciated, thanks for reading my dudes.
Patrick tugs off his shirt and turns, displaying the bandages across his back to the caregiver who immediately trails his tattooed hands over the skin colored padding.
"Did he say how long it would take for it to scar? Or to disappear after that?" Andy asks, crouching down to trace over the small "FRANK WAS HERE" on Patrick's lower back. Frank had taken off the bandages because needle wounds heal pretty fast.
"He said about two weeks to scar and up to a year for the scars to disappear," Patrick replies, "I really like it, though."
"It's hot," Andy admits, "Can't wait to see the scars."
Patrick nods, pulling his shirt back on and turning to Andy, "Anyone else talk to you?"
"Gerard, of course, and Mikey. William Beckett, Travie again. And that's about it. Travie said he wants to do one more solo session with you and then he, Gabe, and Will are gonna scene with you. Bill said he just wants something quick and vanilla. Nothing too hardcore. And Gerard—have you talked with Gerard?"
"He said he's never dommed before when I was with Frank so I think he wants to try something out," Patrick says as he leans back in bed and looks up at Andy.
"Right," Andy takes a breath, "Also. So, Joe and I have been talking."
"It's not a bad thing," Andy inhales sharply, "Joe just... well he's sick of always being a bottom and there's no way in hell im changing my position."
"So you want me to bottom for Joe," Patrick replies with a small chuckle, "That piece of shit."
"And... I mean there's some other stuff that he wants to try, too," Andy clears his throat, "Have you ever done waxplay?"
"Waxplay?" He breathes, "that kinky little shit."
Andy chuckles and presses his hand to Patrick's back, "Otherwise nobody else has talked to me. We have a break tonight so have fun with Gee."
Patrick rolls his eyes, "It probably won't even be that intense. He's a new dom. I bet he'll ask if I'm okay 24/7."
"Have fun anyways," Andy shrugs, kicking off his shoes and tonguing at the end of his labret piercing, "I'm gonna be here for the rest of the day. Do you need subspace? I probably should have asked last night but you were out like a fucking light."
Patrick shakes his head, "I think I'm good, I'm going out. Talk to you in a while."
He stands and with one last wave to Andy, he's out the front door, shutting it not long after. His strides are slow, wandering as he weaves through the buses. Panic! At the Disco, The Brobecks, Mindless Self Indulgence... My Chemical Romance...
He sees Gerard sitting there, a cigarette in one hand and his legs crossed with his back on the dark bus and his eyes shut. He's pretty with his dark locks, long black hair reaching his neck and his lips moving softly, speaking to the bassist beside him.
Patrick's really never paid much mind to Gerard. They're just friends and they went on Warped 2005 together. He never really paid much mind to how excessively hot the singer is. His mocha eyes tracing the buses and his lips thin. Gerard with smoke blowing from his lips and his gravelly voice. Gerard with his dark hair that he tugs on stage and all those outfits that show off his body.
Patrick doesn't realize he's staring until a droplet of drool reaches his chin and his cheeks go a bright red as he quickly wipes it, looking away in hopes nobody saw.
He was also so distracted he didn't even realize Pete had taken Mikey away and it was back to just Gerard there, smoking his cigarette and shutting his eyes. Patrick knows he probably isn't lonely and probably doesn't want his company but he can't really help it. He wants to talk to him. And maybe more.
He begins walking, eyes low to the ground and hands in his pockets. His bottom lip stays trapped between canines and that's when he finally gets to Gerard, a bit of an awkward mess, but the dom doesn't seem to mind, just smiles slightly and looks up at Trick.
"Hey," he says simply, "You wanna sit?"
"Yeah, that'd be great," Patrick blushes, sliding down to his ass and watching Gerard blow out a puff of smoke, "How are you?"
"Pretty shitty," Gee answers truthfully, "But I'm alright for the most part, how about you? Are the cuts healing well?"
Patrick nods, "They're alright. They hurt but I'm excited for them to scar so I can take the bandages off. They're fucking disgusting."
Gerard chuckles, that goddamn laugh, then takes another drag from his cigarette, "I get that. Do you have any shows today?"
Patrick shakes his head, "Not today, no. You?"
"Nope," Gerard breathes just before leaning forward and connecting their lips, "Everyone's gonna be gone for a while from my bus, wanna head upstairs for a while?"
"Already?" Patrick teases but all thoughts are lost when Gerard bites on his lower lip, drawing blood to the surface. Patrick moans before he can put much thought into it. Gerard immediately stands and tugs him up with him, shoving him against the bus and kissing him hard. His fist clenches around the collar of Patrick's shirt, bunching up the fabric into a tight hold.
"Wanna fuck you," Gerard mumbles, "Feel you tight stretched around me."
Patrick outright chokes at the verbal porn being put on display for him, it makes his pants tight and all his blood rushing from his brain south.
"Please, Gerard," He chokes but it's not long before Gerard's lips are back on his, slower this time.
The dom pulls away, lips red and panting while Patrick just stares with half-lidded eyes and a bitten lip.
"Call me Sir," Gerard mumbles, he grabs Patrick's ass, digging a finger into his entrance, then pulling away and taking his hand to lead him into the bus where, sure enough, everyone else is gone.
The drummer looks up from where he's on his laptop and Patrick sees a flash of jealousy cross his eyes. He immediately backs away.
"Dude, can we fuck here?" Gerard asks, "If not we can go upstairs."
"Yeah that's fine," he sits up and puts away the laptop, "Tell me when you're done and don't get any ass germs on my bunk."
"We won't," Gerard replies with a roll of his eyes while Bob leaves.
"I'll be with Bert. Bye losers," Bob replies and just like that the door shuts. There's a moment where he makes sure the drummer is gone, but as soon as it passes, Gerard is pinning Patrick down on his bunk and unbuckling his jeans, although, surprisingly enough, he's slow with it. He doesn't rush.
"Sir," Patrick moans, shutting his eyes as Gerard nips at his neck, trailing dark bruises down the flesh and gently pulling off his t-shirt completely forgetting about his jeans. Patrick shut his eyes, bucks his hips. Gerard does it in such a way that isn't rushed but he does have to keep up to enjoy it. The worst part is the teasing, though. How he lifts up the other's shirt just the slightest to trace over his nipples, then presses it back down and continues down to grip his hips.
"Sir," Patrick repeats, running his fingers over Gerard's shirt and down his chest, "Please."
One of the dom's fingers presses past Patrick's lips and swirls around Patrick's tongue, "Suck."
He wastes no time in getting to work, drenching it in his saliva and looking right into the other's eyes as he does so. Gerard moans, pulls it out and tugs off his shirt, "I don't wanna hurt you so... let me know if anything is too much, okay?"
"I'm a masochist," Patrick replies, "I enjoy pain."
Gerard gives him a stressed look, "Still... I mean..."
Patrick chuckles, pulling Gerard closer and kissing him but quickly backing down not long after, "Whatever makes you happy, Sir. I'm here for you..."
Gerard inhales sharply, "Strip down. Are... are collars okay?"
"Collars are fine, Sir," Patrick replies, pulling off his shirt and jeans, "Whatever you'd like, Sir."
Gerard's cheeks flush a bright red as Patrick finishes off with his boxers but after a moment to gather himself, he presses his own jeans down and reveals his cock, hard and slick with precum. Patrick leans up on his elbows, watching it with half lidded eyes and in a sultry voice he says, "What would you like me to do, Sir?"
"Hands and knees," Gerard searches under his bed and after a moment, he pulls out a black leather collar with a buckle on the front, "Put this on as tight as you can without hurting yourself."
Patrick quickly complies, pressing the dark material around his neck and waiting on his hands and knees. It takes a minute but eventually he can feel the cool slick of lube pressing into his ass, Gerard moving in smooth, calculating strokes, but not necessarily slow. They go in just past the rim at first, circling the bundle of nerves right there and sending Patrick's hands shaking, then the finger will pull out and return stronger, circles larger, then they'll pull out. On the third time where Patrick's eyes are shut and his head is thrown back, he feels a wet muscle circling his rim and immediately clenches.
Gerard's tongue presses inside him, all the way in until he feels his nose at the top of his crack, and outright moans at the air blowing right there. Gerard chuckles, then spreads Patrick further and collects a dollop of saliva at the end of his tongue and spits. He watches it disappear inside him, and smiles, pressed two fingers in instead. Patrick's physically shaking, shutting his eyes and whimpering into the covers.
Gerard smacks his ass and after a swift moment of rubber and lube, he's pressing in. Patrick has to admit, he's not as thick as some of the other guys but goddamn is he long. At least 8 inches. He shuts his eyes and moans into the covers as he arches his back against Gerard.
"Hands on the headboard, don't move them, okay?"
Patrick loves how polite he is about it, no cussing. It's just kinda sweet and heartfelt and while it isn't love making, it still makes him feel kind of warm inside.
"Look at that, you're such a good boy," Gerard praises, "Able to take my cock so, so well, huh?"
"Thank you, Sir," Patrick pants, eyes shut and mouth hanging open. While he does love all the hardcore degradation, he really enjoys praise as well. He loves the sense of pride he gets from it. He isn't fucking anything up, he's doing this right.
Gerard kisses Patrick's neck and spine, rubbing his hips, then continuing back up and pressing his hips forward, "You're so—" but before he continue, the front door is opening. Patrick gasps and shoves himself off of Gerard's dick while the dom just yanks blankets over their naked bodies.
The darker haired boy relaxes when he sees Frank there, and furrows his eyebrows at the man, "I'm kinda busy right now, could you come on the bus some other time?"
Frank isn't even looking, grabbing dill pickles from the fridge, "Oh shut up, Way, you can go five minutes without masturbating."
"I'm not," Gerard blushes a bright red, looking to Patrick who only raises his eyebrows, "I have Patrick."
Frank's attention is quickly diverted to see the strawberry blond there, his eyes wide, chest heaving and his 'I <3 Bingo' hat abandoned on the floor, "Fuck pickles, I'm making some popcorn and watching. You two into food play? I think we have. Chocolate syrup."
"Right, right," the boy gives his most charming smile, his lipring shining out black against his pale skin, "But I am watching."
"Could you not?"
"Hey, you watched /and/ jerked off when it was my turn you little fuck," Frank protests.
Gerard grumbles but after a short nod, he pulls the covers off, "Hands and knees like before, Trick."
"Call him slut."
"Shut up, Frank," Gerard growls, pressing in to Patrick gently, then rocking himself against him. Patrick moans into the air, eyes half lidded and head tilted back with his mouth in a solid O. Gerard moans into the back of his neck and finally begins thrusting, soft and gentle thrusts. They're calculated, though, and never miss Patrick's prostate. It makes him clench tight and Gerard can feel his balls draw up right next to his own.
"Jesus Christ, Gerard, you're supposed to be a dom, not a fucking boyfriend. Show the bitch his place degrade him!" Frank complains from his bunk. Despite his whining, though, he has his cock pulled out and is stroking it while he holds his balls in his other hand.
"Shut the fuck up before I kick you out," Gerard snaps, but he doesn't dare change his pace it's still smooth, gentle, calculating, "This is still my first time."
"I don't mind it, Sir," Patrick mumbles even though he seriously doubts he's allowed to talk. Gerard doesn't seem to mind, only rolls his hips and mouths his neck, licking across he sweaty skin then blowing air on it. Patrick shudders.
"Yeah? This is okay?" Gerard asks. Patrick nods, turning his head and meeting the other's lips.
Gerard smiles and pulls away, beginning to thrust again, this time harder.
"Well at least change the position so I can see?" Frank asks, still going at a fairly slow pace. Gerard sighs and after a moment, nods.
"Patrick, get on your side, one leg over my shoulder," Gerard sighs. Patrick immediately complies so Frank has a clear view of where their everything meets and almost immediately, the other dom smiles.
"That's hot," he comments absently.
"You say one more and I'll shove Patrick's foot in that mouth of yours," Gerard threatens, pressing back in and starting up again. The new angle doesn't reach Patrick's prostate as much but he really doesn't mind, just shuts his eyes and enjoys the feeling of a long cock inside him. He doesn't necessarily feel full but it's good enough for him.
"Can I touch?" Frank asks. Gerard gives him a long look, then nods, watching as the other dom immediately falls to his knees and pinches Patrick's nipples hard. The sub squeezes his eyes shut, grunting in pain. It hurts, especially more so when the other twists, but he enjoys it, and it just makes him harder. Frank chuckles, and after a long moment; Patrick's cock is trapped between those lips, adorned with a small lip ring.
"May I cum, Sir?" Patrick chokes out of nowhere. He knows he should have much more stamina than this and is a little embarrassed but with the way Frank's fingers are still on his nipples, his mouth swallowing down his cock and Gerard occasionally hitting his prostate, it's impossible to wait.
"Yeah, whenever you're ready, Sugar," Gerard grunts and just like that he's painting Frank's mouth white with his load. He cries out, shaking and the next thing he knows, Gerard's pulling out, throwing away his condom while Frank buckles back up.
Patrick shuts his eyes, sweat glossed against his pale skin, sticky and gross and slick but nobody pays it much thought. When he opens his eyes again, Frank is gone and Gerard's grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, taking a sip then kneeling down and handing it to Patrick, "Can you stay for a while?"
The sub looks across him for a moment, frowning, but nods soon after, taking a swig of the water and handing it back. Gerard places it under his bed, then crawls into bed and pulls Patrick close, spooning the two with the covers up.
The blond can't help but feel a sense of security and after a moment, he sinks back into Gerard, feeling the singer's smile against his scalp.
Patrick falls asleep with the vague feeling of a kiss to his temple and slow breathing against his back.
It's a nice feeling. It truly is.
Chapter 11: Joe Trohman
Comments are appreciated :)
(Also I decided that Bob's not gonna be a bad guy and decided on rape play instead of actual non-con because Bobtrick is underrated and yeah.)
Patrick wakes up a few hours later still wrapped in Gerard's arms with a black dreads tickling his neck and shoulder, moonlight trickles through the window in the kitchen and Bob is across from them, dull eyes glued to his computer. Patrick frowns, he can't remember if Bob was added to the list or not or why he wasn't. He does like Bob, quite a bit actually, but he isn't entirely sure why Elisa didn't email him.
Patrick doesn't confront him, though, or not right away at least. He just grabs his boxers from the end of the bed, slipping them on under the covers and peels himself from Gerard as he continues to get dressed. He feels those green eyes on them, he knows Bob's watching and yeah, shit, that's kind of a turn on. He's tempted to tease it but doesn't, just focuses on grabbing his shirt and jeans and belt and turning back to Bob with a questioning look.
"Why didn't Elisa email you, you know?" Patrick asks, leaning over Bob's bunk.
The ginger tongues his lip ring for a moment before reply, "She didn't think you'd be into the same kinks as I am. Said they'd make you uncomfortable or whatever."
"Oh," Patrick frowns, "She didn't talk to me, what are you into?"
Bob lowers his eyes, working on his computer again and shrugging with a bright red tint to his cheeks. It's obviously something embarrassing if he can't talk to the fucking whore of Warped Tour about it. Patrick purses his lips and walks forward a little farther so when he leans in this time, his face is right in front of Bob's. The ginger bites his lip but Patrick quickly takes it between his own teeth, letting go not long after.
"You can tell me, pretty boy..." Patrick mumbles, "You know I won't judge."
Bob avoids his gaze again, staring at the wall at this point. Patrick sighs, pulling away in defeat. He's about to outright walk off the bus when Bob grips his hand with a small, "Wait."
Patrick turns, watching the other man's eyes flicker to Gerard (who's fast asleep), then back to Patrick, "Can you... look up CNC and I completely understand if you don't want to because it totally weird and wrong and shit, Dude."
Patrick blinks and with a small nod and a smile, he turns away again, heading out the door of the bus and continuing onto his own. CNC. That doesn't sound too bad. It's just an acronym, he's sure it's fine. It's probably just something short for cock and ball torture or something. He can handle that.
He doesn't realize he's in the bus until he hears the clear moans of Andy and Joe and the bunk in the back of their bus squeaking lightly. Patrick sighs, but doesn't bother leaving. He's used to it. Used to all the moans and shit. He's bored.
He flops down on his bunk, grabbing his phone from his pocket and squinting at the brightness of his phone through the dark bus.
He goes to Google and types in those three letters Bob had said. /CNC/
He gets a couple links to CNN, a map to a places he doesn't care about, a cookbook, and a router guide. So he adds BDSM to the end of it. The first link is to a BDSM wiki and he goes straight there, reading the first article.
"CNC, or Consensual Non-Consent, is an advanced form of relationship Negotiations in Power exchange dynamics that indicate that the S-type has voluntarily given up the right to make decisions in one or more areas of their life to the D-type, either permanently or temporarily. In cases where this is in all areas the appropriate term is TPE and this term is most often used in when describing M/s relationships."
That sounds a little intimidating and Patrick doubts that's what Bob wants because he's seen plenty of relationships like that, so he heads to the the next link. Overall, it says the same thing and he's pretty confused.
But that's when he sees the last paragraph and his heart fucking stops.
"In limited parts of the online BDSM community, "consensual non-consent" is instead used to refer to rape play that includes the use of safe words. This use of the term is commonly frowned upon, especially among total power exchange lifestyle participants. Experienced practitioners of BDSM generally discourage others from using "consensual non-consent" to indicate rape play. This attitude arises from the belief that it is a miscommunication potentially leading to serious and irreparable psychological harm."
Patrick purses his lips and after a long moment, goes to his texts and opens his messages with Elisa.
Patrick: hey baby
There's a long moment where he waits, Joe lets out a long cry and everything goes quiet beside their gentle pants.
Elisa: hey, isn't it 10 over there...?
Patrick: yeah, joe and Andy are keeping me up there. I wanted to talk to you about Bob if that would be okay.
It takes another couple minutes, then:
Elisa: Honey, I don't want you to get hurt.
Patrick: I won't, I promise. I know when to use my safeword. It's going to be okay, okay? And if anything does happen, you know Andy's here for me.
Elisa: okay, but you have to talk to Andy before and after and tell bob I will kill him if he gives you more than you can handle, ok?
Patrick: okay, I love you so much, miss you :(
Elisa: I miss you, too. Go to sleep, okay? I love you too <3
Patrick: Okay <3
"Patrick, did you hear all that?"
Patrick jolts when he hears Andy behind him but after a moment, he relaxes again and nods softly, looking back into Andy's gray eyes. He's in his boxers and that about it, his long, wavy hair sheen with a coat of sweat and his face sort of red. The man chuckles in reply and looks back into the other room where Joe's slowly recovering.
"Hey, you wanna come back with us for a couple more rounds?" Andy invites, "like what we talked about? I can bring all the supplies back or forward or whatever. Pete's staying the night on Panic's bus..."
Patrick bites his lip and after a long pause, he replies, "Yeah... yeah, I'd like that..."
Andy grins and calls back to Joe, "Hey, Dude. Come up here, Trick's here."
"Oh my god are we really doing this?" Joe groans back, "Dude I'm like 20 something, I'm too old for this."
Andy sighs in frustration, marching forward and yanking Joe up by his arm in which the other groans, but follows, running his fingers through his hair as he finally reaches his feet and sighs.
"Just a couple more rounds, okay?" Andy asks, "You can do whatever you want to him, I'll be here."
Joe sighs but after a long moment, he gives a legato nod and rubs his eyes, padding to the bunks and digging under Andy's bunk. Patrick notices that he's completely naked and licks his lips as he takes in his body, he slight muscle to his stiff frame and while his ass maybe kinda flat, he honest god doesn't mind he makes up for it everywhere else. And Patrick's eyes especially land on his tattoos which, yeah, he's been fucked by Frank and he had tattoos but this is much more noticeable. It's a full on sleeve and Patrick can't help but wonder how it would look, how it would feel contrasted around his neck.
Joe turns back to Patrick with a very judging, pissy look and after stroking himself a couple times, he nods, "Strip. Lay on your back. You've done waxplay before, right?"
"Yes," Patrick replies, quickly tugging off his shirt, "A couple times."
"Call me Daddy," Joe mumbles numbly as he grabs a baby blue stick and after a couple more looks at Patrick, grabs a light pink and a bright white as well. The blond can't help but think that, damn, Joe knows how to pick good colors.
"Yes, Daddy," Patrick replies obediently as he pulls off his jeans and after a quick glance to Joe, his boxers as well. He lays back in bed and shuts his eyes, feeling those thick hands on him not long after. They press down on his stomach, then continue down and take his semi hard cock in the palm, molding it like clay harder and wetter.
Joe presses his head down, meeting their lips and the contrast of soft skin against Joe's stubble sends Patrick's hips bucking up and a whimper to escape his throat, along with a soft call of, "Daddy..." not long after.
Joe looks back through his box once he's set the candlesticks beside Patrick, grabbing a lighter, a blindfold, and a gag. Patrick whimpers at the sight but Joe only presses two fingers into his mouth to muffle his sounds.
"Look at you," Joe mumbles, "You're such a pretty little slut, all spread out for me, huh?"
Patrick nods breathlessly, parting his lips so Joe can get the bone gag in his mouth followed not long after by the blindfold, "Hold onto the headboard, if you need to stop, rap on the wall, got it?"
Patrick gives a noise of approval and pretty soon Joe's lighting the first candle and handing it over to Andy to hold until it's begun dropping. While he waits, he heads to the freezer, pulling out the container of ice cubes and setting them on the bed beside Patrick so he feels the cold contrasting against his thigh. The blond inhales sharply, squeezes the bar harder, and whines again.
Joe grabs he candle and after at least another minute, Patrick feels the first drip of the wax on his chest, falling right on his nipple. He whimpers, arches his back, but it's no use. By then, Joe's straddling him and letting the creamy white wax fall onto the vocalist's skin.
Patrick lets out a moan of what somewhat resembles "Daddy" but Joe only slaps him and tells him to shut the fuck up (which totally doesn't go straight to Patrick's dick). He's never seen this side of Joe before, neither has Andy, really, but he'd be lying if he didn't say it's one of the hottest things he's ever witnessed. How Joe treats him like complete and absolute trash, like a toy and nothing more. It's so much different from Gerard but it's fucking hot.
He's not entirely sure how long it's been since he started this candle but by the time he's stopped, Patrick's entire chest and torso are burning in the best kind of way. He can feel it beginning to dry and flake off and it hurts but it feels amazing.
Joe's hand brushes his rock hard length, almost fucking soaked in precum and Patrick blushes at how pathetic that kind of is but he really can't help himself. He fucking loves it.
Joe chuckles slightly as he strokes his own growing cock, then grabs the baby blue candle and lights it, waiting for the wax to begin dropping. He runs his fingers over the dry wax across Patrick's chest, scratching at it and watching the masochist lean into the touch, whining.
Neither of them say a word as the first couple drops fall on Patrick's lower waist and that's when the feeling of ice follows right after. Patrick bucks up, cries out because the contrast between pain and relief and painful relief completely clash and it's like hearing two notes, one sharper than the other. The difference? This is a good feeling, this sends his muscles clenching and his breaths drawing faster. It's so perfect. So amazing.
"You want more, Baby Boy?" Joe teases, keeping the candle over where the wax has already dried for the most part.
"'Es, 'Addy! 'Ease, 'ease, '/ease/!" Patrick begs through his gag. Joe quickly tugs it off from around his head (along with the blindfold) and continues, going back up his chest towards his neck where the baby blue coloring falls on the skin and cools not long after with the ice.
"Oh my fuck, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," Patrick gasps, "Please, more, more."
Joe darts forward, gripping a hand around Patrick's neck—the hand connected to the tattooed arm—and growls right in his ear, "You do /not/ give me orders you fucking slut. Apologize. Now."
He lets up slightly and Patrick eyes his tattoos as he replies, breathless.
"I-I'm sorry, Daddy..."
"Good," Joe replies coldly, dripping the wax back down his stomach before blowing it out and setting it on the paper towel on the bedside table with the white, "You like my tattoos Baby Boy? Is that what you're looking at."
"Yes, Daddy..." Patrick chokes out, still examining the skeleton on Joe's upper arm. The guitarist chuckles, dark, and lights the last candle.
"Might have you do something about that later, huh, Baby Slut?"
Patrick nods breathlessly, unable to do much more because the wax is already dripping and he can barely think straight. Joe grabs another couple ice cubes, pressing one into Patrick's mouth and using the other for the last of the blond's unmarked skin. Patrick's pretty worn out by now, just sucking on the ice cube and staring at Joe's tattoos with half lidded eyes. The dom seems to notice Patrick spacing out, sees his eyes closing and his lip trapped between his teeth.
"You still with me, Baby Boy?" Joe asks, tracing the light pink wax down his thighs and back up before blowing it out and drying off the wet skin.
"You heading into subspace?"
Joe sighs and after a moment of thought, slaps Patrick, hard. Patrick jolts out of it, eyes wide open and focused on Joe.
"No. Not now, okay?" He asks. Patrick nods obediently and Joe smiles right back, warm and reassuring.
"I'm gonna peel the wax off and then we can go to bed, alright?" Joe asks.
"But what about you? You haven't cum, Daddy... neither have I..."
Joe bites his lip and after another silence, he nods, "Okay. I'll peel it off and fuck you. Then bed. Got it?"
"Yes, Daddy, thank you."
"Anytime, Baby Boy," Joe mouths against Patrick's neck. The sub groans when he feels Joe's nails digging under the wax, scratching it off. Patrick lets out a half yelp-half sob at the feeling because it's verging on the pain overweighting the pleasure but not quite. It's just there. Just on the edge of too much and Patrick loves it.
"D-Daddy..." He chokes, "Fuck."
Joe kisses across his neck and face, stubble brushing against his lips and the sensitive flesh just under his ear. He continues to scratch, lingering at his nipples, then continuing down to his thighs and back up to his stomach. By the time all the wax is peeled off, Patrick's skin is bright red and on fire. Joe gives him some mercy, stroking the last ice cube across his chest and stomach and thighs and kissing across the sensitive skin until the cube's all melted.
"You okay?" Joe asks gently, pulling away from Patrick and examining his face.
"I'm fucking soaked and ready to be fucked," Patrick replies sarcastically. Joe slaps him and he immediately shuts up.
"You're a fucking whore, Trick," he mumbles. "Andy, condom?"
Patrick almost forgot Andy was even there and as he turns his head, he realizes that he's been teasing himself this whole time and his cock is soaked just like Joe and Patrick's. The dom hands over the aluminum and Joe wastes no time in opening it, ripping it with his teeth and throwing the wrapping to the side before pressing it down his cock. Patrick shuts his eyes, shifting up on the bed as Joe jerks him a few times and lines up because he's still pretty loose from earlier.
He begins pressing in, gasping in pleasure at the feeling and throwing his head back. Patrick knows he isn't supposed to but he pulls his fingers from the headboard and tugs Joe down by his hair, tangling his fingers in the curls and kissing him hard, licking across his stubble not long after.
Neither of them even notice when Joe's bottomed out because the dom has wasted no time in fucking Patrick hard and fast and rough. The thrusts of his hips slap the sub's skin and squeak the bed as Joe draws blood from Patrick's bottom lip. It's fast, it's rough, and Patrick can barely focus on anything. Joe has stamina and that's a serious turn on when he can manage such a ridiculous pace for a full minute, maybe more.
Patrick knows he can't last long, not with Joe jerking and squeezing and tugging him. Drawing out moans and playing his cock just right to make the pitches he wants escape Patrick's lips. It's like the way he's learned his guitar, he has /experience/ even with him being a bottom for the past year or so. He knows what he's doing. Knows how to rub his thumb into Patrick's slit just right to send his hips bucking, he knows how to slide his thumb under his hood to make him sob and Patrick doesn't think he can get over the way he parts his fingers and rubs him like that.
All the while he's slowing down but it hasn't changed a damn thing. Joe's already found that hard bump, already begun to drill into it as accurately as he can but he misses. He's dizzy, even with Patrick stretched, he's still tight. Patrick knows he's thicker and shorter than Gerard. Maybe 5 or 6 inches but it sure as hell isn't disappointing.
"Can I cum?" Patrick chokes out, "Please."
"Look at Andy you fucking whore and hold it unless you want me to ring that cock," Joe growls. Patrick shudders but nods, turning his head and jolting when he sees Andy. He's running his fingers through his hair and pumping his cock and soon as their eyes meet, his cock becomes impossibly more soaked in precum and he bucks up against Joe's hand.
"Talk to him, tell him what a dirty whore you are." Joe smirks like it's a game and wow. Yeah. Patrick's gonna cum if he keeps talking like that.
"I'm a dirty whore," Patrick chokes, "I'm a cockslut, a fucktoy, oh fuck, Daddy!"
Joe squeezes the base of his cock, hard and holds back his orgasm, "More."
"I'm a little filthy slut," Patrick sobs, "I'm a cumdump, a fucking whore! I'll do anything just let me cum!"
"Cum," Andy grunts, "Cum for Joe."
He cums hard, he feels like he's never cum so hard in his life and it won't stop. Five spurts turns to fifteen and its fucking insane. It's the messiest orgasm of his life. It's the best orgasm of his life and he screams.
Everything goes black.
When Patrick stirs, he feels colder than usual and Joe and Andy's soft voices echo from the bunk next to him. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to come to his senses and after a moment passes, he finally turns to see them. Joe's cuddling into Andy's side and Andy's stroking his hair gently, a content warm smile on his lips and his eyes shut.
Patrick feels kind of warm inside at that sight. Joe asleep and gripping Andy like if he lets go, he'll lose it all and Andy completely content with the world. He can't help but feel a pang of sadness for missing Elisa and frowns slightly.
That's when Andy turns and opens his eyes looking right at Patrick. He presses his hand to his chin then waves out. /Thank you/
Patrick smiles and nods.
Chapter 12: Patrick Stump
This was kinda shitty sorry
A couple more days pass and nobody really comes to Patrick. They're either too busy with shows or working on new albums. Andy agreed that he should go on vocal rest because he's been doing pretty shitty at shows with cracked high notes and the overall inability to reach high notes and Patrick didn't blame him. He was doing pretty shitty.
But a couple days passed and nobody came to him. Not Mikey, not Pete, not William, not Travie. It's just him all by himself.
But lucky, on that particular day, nobody was on the bus. Andy was out with Joe on the Cobra Starship bus, Pete was hanging out with Mikey. It was quiet. So. Very. Quiet.
So Patrick, naturally, did the one thing he was really fucking good at.
He grabbed his dildo, his sound kit, and his phone (with earbuds) and headed into the back room, rubbing himself slightly through his jeans He shut and lock the door and just like that, he laid back and began touching himself.
It's not very often that he does anything like that, indulging in himself and doing exactly what he knows he likes. Not very often that he just lets himself go.
He slowly eases himself out of the buttons on his shirt, scratching his chest softly to feel the sensations and moving his fingers his the slightest to rub a nipple between the pads.
Patrick bites his lip, moaning the slightest and slipping his earbud in his ear, pressing play to the first song on his playlist which just happens to be Lying Is The Most Fun. His eyes shut pressing nothing but darkness to his sight until he feels Pete there hovering over him.
Pete's fingers are soft as they pull down Patrick's chest, rubbing and pinching his nipples softly and watching Patrick's back arch up into the touch before continuing down to unbutton his jeans, rubbing the blond through the fabric in smooth, circular motions.
Brendon's voice in his ear sends goosebumps up his skin, the chorus jerking at him and making him as hot and bothered as he thinks he can get.
The rough pads pull down his jeans to his knees and jerk him softly, the hot whiskey eyes tracing his hard, wet cock standing stiff. Patrick can't see it but he knows how it looks, the way the blood swells him full and how the precum leaks down his side.
"Pete," Patrick whispers, a pained look crossing those delicate features.
Pete doesn't reply but he can hear his thoughts as he continues to jerk him to full mast, watching his thighs shake just the slightest and his back arch off the cushioning.
Patrick parts his eyelids, his lip still trapped bloodless between his teeth as he sits up and grabs his sounds. It's not often he does sounding either, but he likes to test his limits when it's just him by himself and he knows when something is too much.
He pulls out one of them, seven inches with a hook on one end so it doesn't get stuck in his dick. The sizes vary in thickness and a couple in length from when he was first starting and he was terrified of sticking something /inside his dick/ but he's learned it's really not that bad, especially when he fucks himself with it while a vibrator stays in his ass. It's /especially/ good when the vibe and the sound get close enough and he feels the vibrations throughout his cock.
Yeah, he can imagine Pete doing that to him.
Patrick wipes down the metal with a sanitary wipe and some lube (which he messily throws back in the box) and lays back again, shutting his eyes and jerking himself softly.
He relaxes into the bed, melts and lets himself get used to the cold tip of the rod. His breathing hitches as Pete holds his cock steady in one hand and circles the tip of the sound around the rim of Patrick's cock, watching the skin stretch slightly.
The vocalist whimpers as he begins entering it, but it slides smoothly through his cock. He's panting slightly, shaking and feeling the sound continue. He's clenching and trying not to let it become too much but Pete just keeps going until it gets to the hook on the end and he lets go.
Patrick shuts his eyes tight, letting the sound stay there for a moment to stretch him out. It hurts, it's sensitive. He always gets this way with sounding but he honestly doesn't mind it. He's learned to tolerate it.
Pete's name ghosts on his lips as he slowly pulls it out, and presses it in again, arching his hips and loosening his grip on himself.
He searches the bed for a moment, eyes still shut as he traces the sheets for that silicone toy and he finds it eventually, thick and long. 8 inches in length and two inches wide. He slowly pulls it to his spread thighs, circling it as he relaxes himself.
He feels that bundle of nerves just at his rim and he presses the toy in slightly only to circle it again, moaning and exhaling deep as he takes in that feeling of pleasure.
He's been teaching himself to take it dry, to tolerate that pain and to hold off on his orgasms at the same time. It's something he's always wanted Elisa to do, honestly, but this is just as good. Maybe Andy would do it for him.
Maybe Pete would.
Pete pulls his hips up and inserts the toy farther, pausing not long after as he watches Patrick's expression of pain. It hurts, the dryness and how it stretches him so far open. Pete jerks him softly and moves the sound as he continues to press the dildo in. Patrick tries to relax, he pushes and squeezes his eyes shut and feels as Pete presses it in. Two inches, three, four. Stop.
Patrick exhales shakily, struggling to relax because there are tears rising to his eyes now and he's trying hard not to give up. It fucking hurts. It really does.
He's taken it without much prep besides a slick of rubber and lube but this? Completely dry? He's sure his ass is about to bleed.
Pete eases it on. Halfway through, he can do it.
The dildo continues to disappear inside him, one inch after another until he can't press it in anymore. Patrick's eyes finally open and widen, blinking slightly because holy /shit/. Did he /really/ just take 7 inches dry?
He's panting, eyes shut as he kind of takes that in, smiles in pride not long after, then sits up slightly and grabs the remote from his side. He turns on the vibrations, shuts his eyes and begins jerking himself off smoothly.
He can feel Pete above him, kissing him and jerking him and tugging his hair. He can feel those warm breaths against his neck and he can feel those hands in his hair trail down to pinch his nipple. He can hear his own labored breaths whispering the bassists name, he can hear his shaky breaths, can feel the slick feeling of the drying precum spreading across his cock and soon enough, he's turning up the setting on the vibe and fucking himself with the sound.
Patrick inhales deep, eyes wide and hands going fast. Be can feel each little vibration basically fucking /massaging/ his cock, his hole is twitching in spasms and his hips are bucking up into Pete's hand.
But he can last. He knows he can.
He whispers Pete's name, shuts his eyes as he chants it, then crescendoes into a pained voice. Not quite a yell, but it's not a whisper.
Soon enough, though, as his cock pulses with the need to cum, he's biting his lip and saying more, "You feel so good," and, "Please," and, "Oh my god, Pete." It would be embarrassing if he wasn't so close, if he wasn't so overfilled with pleasure. He needs to last, though.
He clenches around the vibrator, tugging his hair as it reaches its highest setting and he bite into his lip, drawing blood to contradict the pleasure. It's too much but he'll give himself a minute longer. He knows he's been at this for at least seven minutes. Maybe longer. He can last. He has to.
"Pete," he breathes, fucking himself with the sound, arching his hips, his cock twitching and throbbing. His fingers move from his hair to his chest to the sound and back up, the vibrator buzzes against his prostate. Twenty seconds, fifteen seconds. Ten. He needs to cum. He can't hold off any longer. Five, four—holy shit—three, two—
Patrick tugs out the sound, crying out as he comes in hot white spurts across his chest, hiccuping slightly. It's fucking intense, the vibrator still going fast in him while he arches and twists and sobs and cries. His muscles tense and clench and his back arches off the bed and everything comes down as he releases, whimpering Pete's name like a fucking dog.
His hips stutter to a halt and he lazily grabs the remote and turns off the vibrator. He just kind of lays there for a moment, sweat drenched and fucked out. He's staring at the ceiling surprisingly calm. His muscles are relaxed, his breathing is only slightly rushed, and he just kind of blanks out.
That's when he hears the front door shut and he's bolting to see who it is.
The thing is, nobody is there. He blinks, then his eyes widen.
Someone was watching him.
That shouldn't be as hot as it is.
"And when it all goes to hell
Will you be able to tell me
Sorry with a straight face!
"And when it all goes to hell
Will you be able to tell me
Sorry with a straight face!"
Patrick's fingers grip the mic harder, his hair sweaty in his face as Joe spins beside him and Pete bounces around to his left. It's almost violent with how hard they're playing, Gerard and Ryan and Will and Travie behind them, an audience of what must be thousands before them. The adrenaline's never been higher.
"Take this to your grave
Take this to mine!"
Joe and Pete singing backup, Patrick playing hard and fast. They all seem to lose track of it all but they stay perfectly in sync. Pete screams somewhere in, Patrick continues his pattern through, plays his six note release.
And it's over.
His tired eyes lift to the crowd, a smile on his face. The crowd is screaming and Pete's patting his back and Joe's grinning and looking back at Andy. Patrick pulls away to wave to the crowd and after a long moment, he looks back at Pete who's smiling right back with that stupid emo fringe.
Yeah. Maybe Patrick really could get used to this.
He returns backstage not long after, wiping the sweat from his face and looking around at everyone there. Frank's smoking a cigarette and leaning back against the wall, Gerard's right by his side with a bottle of beer and Brendon and Dallon are talking amongst each other to his right. Travie and Gabe and Will, he notices, are standing beside each other, talking softly. William looks excited, maybe a little high. Gabe's much calmer, and Travie looks just the same.
Patrick licks his lips, setting his guitar in the case and still giving wary glances to Will. He knows Will's already asked. Knows that he wants to do something with him and he knows Andy's consented to it. He wouldn't be surprised if Will would be next to pull him aside and fuck him until he can't think straight.
That thought alone makes his pants tight.
He finishes packing his guitar, eyes lowered and ass out. Maybe a little teasing wouldn't hurt. He's feeling confident enough. Maybe it would make Will fuck him harder. That would be hot. All those dirty words that would come with it. He knows that's how it works with boys. If you can get them in just the right mood, their words can come out much faster, much filthier, much harder.
Patrick keeps William on his feet as he heads back to the bus, but makes sure to stay near as many people as he can. He /knows/ the brunette is following him, though. Sees those brown locks out of the corner of his eye several times as he follows Pete and Joe and Andy, pressing his instrument into the trunk. Once it's away, packed up and put where he won't have to worry about it, he blatantly /bends over the end of the bus/ to help Pete get his bass in.
Nobody questions it, thank fuck. But he can see the wide eyes on Will as he stares at his ass.
"Are you staying on the bus?" Andy asks Patrick as the blond rises back up.
"I need to check in with Bob about the whole rape play thing," The blond replies, "Then I dunno, probably gonna hang out with Pete for a while."
Andy nods mutely, eyeing Will slightly out of the corner of his eye, then nods again, "I'm here if you need me. Don't forget you're going into subspace tonight, okay?"
Patrick nods softly, smiling softly before pushing himself away from the back of the bus and walking away. He needs to find Bob (which he was planning on doing today anyways) but with Will there, it's a little more fun. With the brunette watching his every movement. How he swings his hips when he walks and how he runs his fingers through his greasy hair, knocking off his hat.
Will's just about had enough.
"Patrick!" The lanky boy calls, heading toward the dirty blond in a few quick steps and finally catching up instead of just being a fucking creep and hanging back to basically stalk Patrick for the rest of the evening.
The other turns, mustering his most innocent face and raising his eyebrows as he looks back, "Will, what's up, Man? How's Travie and Gabe?"
The singer chuckles softly, "They're good. /Really/ good, y'know?"
Oh dear lord does Patrick know.
"Yeah, Man," The shorter grins, stopping in front of the bus, "Hey, I gotta check in with Bob really quick about something, anything you wanted to talk about? Or do?"
Will licks his lips, dark eyes tracing Patrick's body discreetly, "Uh... yeah, actually. Go ahead with Bob, though, yeah? I'll catch up to you after."
"You sure you don't wanna come in?" The other asks. The innuendo is well hidden, but Will finds it as clear as a crystal. Patrick's innocently brushing his fingers over Will's chest and slowly, with the soft touch of his fingertips, dragging down to the front of his jeans.
Will takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes to calm himself but it does nothing when Patrick digs his palm against the growing bulge. Will feels cold and rough, a darker feeling than anyone else Patrick's been with. The brunette's hands grip Patrick's hard and rough and pin them right over his head, useless. Trick takes a deep breath, letting out a small sound of desire. Like he's fucking /begging/ Will to just fuck him.
"Travie told me about you," He starts, gripping one of Patrick's hips, "Told me about how many people you've been fucked by."
"Y-yeah?" Patrick encourages, "You wanna own me like he did? Do you really think you're /that/ good?"
Will slams his hand into the blond's neck, cutting off any and all air that goes to his lungs and stopping his speech with it, pressing him harshly against MCR's bus.
"I already own you, you piece of shit. You will call me Sir from now on and you will /not/ talk back. Unless you like to get punished," Will gives a cold smile, "But I'll make sure you'll regret that."
Patrick shuts his eyes as Will finally lets go and watches him fall to his knees in front of the both of them. He's stroking his throat, rubbing his face over Will's jeans and fucking /drooling/ from red, swollen lips. It's obscene and hot and raw and everything about how Patrick looks at him sends his cock twitching.
"You're a fucking slut, Stump. A cockslut, yeah? You like taking cock anywhere you could take it," Will chuckles darkly, "Don't you?"
"Oh fuck, yes, Sir," Patrick groans.
"What? Yes, what?"
"Yes, I'm a fucking cockslut, please, Sir. I want your cock so fucking bad, please," Patrick chokes, "Please."
"Get on my bus, I'll be right there. Against the wall, presentation position," WIll mumbles, pulling himself away from Patrick's mouth, "Lube's under my mattress. Get yourself ready, you worthless whore."
Patrick nods, slowly rising to weak knees and pressing himself against the bus to steady himself. Will chuckles, cupping Patrick's jaw firmly and kissing him. The blond groans, bucking his hips against the other's but he's shoved away not long after with a firm glare. It shouldn't be as hot as it is, being pushed and manipulated and vulnerable.
He leaves anyway, walking in a rush toward where he thinks is Will's bus. He sees a few logos he knows well. Panic! At the Disco, Paramore, Gym Class Heroes, Cobra Starship... The Academy Is...
Patrick wastes no time in heading in, shutting the door not long after and quickly recalling Will's words. Presentation against the wall...
Maybe he could get away with being a brat for the day, though. He bites his lip as he examines the room and quickly tugs off his shirt before laying back in Will's bunk and lifting his hips to undo his belt and pull his jeans off with it.
His cock is straining against his boxers, begging for the release that Patrick has yet to give. His fingers are soft, flow down his chest and through his hair as he gently eases down his boxers and pumps himself soft and smooth. His lips part, delicious and swollen as he moans, shutting his eyes. He needs to put on a show which, coincidentally, he's done a lot in his life. He's used to the stares and the, "Pretty boy's" that dripped like honey from the lips of horny teens just trying to get off.
He's had sex with a /lot/ of people.
Patrick shuts his eyes, bites his lip and furrows his eyebrows, a look of frustration and pleasure crossing his face. The kind of shit that drives guys like them crazy. He wonders how William will react. Pissed? Horny? He's guessing the former. Most dominants would be. And he loves that.
He's pretty used to being tamed like a bitch, used to being held down and fucked and told to "behave like a good boy." If he has a favorite kink, it's /got/ to be something like that. He's a brat. He loves being put in his place.
And from the way Will walks into the bus and glares at him, he can tell he'll have bruises through the next month.
"I thought I told you presentation position, against the wall, fully clothed," Will grits.
"Oops," Patrick grins cheekily.
"I'm giving you to the count of three to fix it," Will mumbles, his hair messy in his face and managing to make that glare impossibly darker and sexier. "You either fix it or I punish you and you don't cum tonight."
Patrick outright laughs. Fix it? He's not gonna fix it. That's not how this happens, Will has to /work/ for it.
"One." Will pulls his hair back and takes a breath. "Two." Patrick thrusts up into his hand faster, teasing his lip. "Three."
When Patrick dosen't move, Will makes his way closer to the bed, hand in a fist, "Travie told me you would behave. Told me you'd be good for me."
"You're not Travie," Patrick smirks, leaning back on his elbows, "And I'm sure your cock isn't that big either. If you want my ass you have to show me you /really/ want it."
Patrick doesn't have time to tease any further because Will's seizing him by his hair and slamming him up from the bed and instead against the wall, entering two fingers dry and covering Patrick's mouth. Despite the fact that he looks like a total twink, he's actually really strong, and Patrick can't help but moan at that following the scream of the two dry fingers.
"This doesn't work like that," Will growls, "You will call me Sir and you will behave or I'll have to show you what happens to people who don't."
"Show me, /Daddy/," Patrick laughs.
He stops when he feels a third finger working his way inside him. He's spreading him open, he's making it hurt. He's treating Patrick like nothing more than a toy. And then he adds his pinkie. It hurts. It burns. And he knows Will isn't planning on stopping as he cries out in pain.
He wants his entire fist up there.
"W-Sir," Patrick drops his head, eyes wide. Will doesn't reply.
"I want you on the bed, I'm going to punish you, Patrick. A lot. And if any of it comes too much, use the safeword, is that understood?" Will asks in a calm voice.
"Y-Yeah," Patrick nods, shutting his eyes and following the order as soon as Will has his fingers out of his ass. His head goes down, arms at a 90 degree angle and ass high in the air, back arched, "Please."
"Shut up," Will grumbles, shoving him down and thrusting two fingers back in, followed by a belated third, "You need lube?"
Patrick stays there for a moment, panting and thinking. He took an entire duldo dry the other night, but a fucking fist...?
"How safe actually /is/ dry fisting? Like... that stuff's gonna make my ass bleed, won't it?"
Will bites his lip, running deft fingers through blond strands, "Possibly, I'm not gonna say it's safe. Because it's probably not, but it kind of depends on whether or not you've ever actually /been/ fisted before."
Patrick takes a breath and after a moment, he just shakes his head. Because no matter how thrilling that may be, he's never actually /had/ a fist up his ass in his life. He knows while there are much more extreme things that he seriously doubts he'll ever try, and fisting has never really crossed that list, it's still scary. And new. And different.
"Yes? You want lube?" Will asks. Patrick immediately nods, pressing his ass up and arching his back again.
"Yes, Sir, please," he takes a breath.
"Please, what?" Will asks, drenching a couple fingers in lube and pressing them back in, "Beg for it like a good little whore."
Patrick groans, shutting his eyes as he tries to bring the words to mind, "I-I want your fist..."
"Where?" Will teases, holding the blond's head down by his hair and slowly maneuvering a third finger in, "In your mouth?"
"I-In my ass, Sir..." Patrick blushes, "Please."
Will chuckles, it's a sly, harsh sound and it's fucking /frustrating./ Patrick fucking needs it, he doesn't even care anymore, "/Sir/."
The brunette pushes Patrick's neck down into the mattress as he swiftly presses more lube around Patrick's entrance and thrusts slightly, three fingers, then four, in and out his tight ass. He's clenching, he's wincing, he's trying to power his way through it but Will sees right through it.
The little brat can take it, though.
Will pulls Patrick further up, dribbling even more lube across his fingers because honestly? This shit takes a /lot/ of lube. His thumb crosses Patrick's balls, pressing his perineum and watching the blond react in a sharp intake of breath, and a slow release. His head is tilted back, chest rising and falling steadily and cock subtly twitching every once in a while. It's hot. Really hot.
Will slowly thumbs his way closer to Patrick's entrance, already stretched tight around his fingers. He dances around the rim for a moment, twisting the four fingers he already has in and spreading them as well as he can against the tight pucker and the intense resistance.
"I'm adding the last one. Deep breath in." Patrick complies, his back arching and twisting under a beautiful layer of fat, he can see the muscles flexing under the skin. "And out." Will presses in watching Patrick wince and hearing the small whine of pain escape his lips followed by a soft, shaky, "/G-God/."
"All good?" Will asks, covering his fist in more lube and testing all five fingers. The hardest part - and he knows from experience, especially from experience without a prestretch from a dildo - is getting past the knuckles. Stretching that last limit. Gabe's done it for him hundreds of times by now on shaky knees and muffled cries. He knows how hard it can be to just pass that last limit. But he knows Patrick can do it. If he could take Travie, he can take a fist.
"Fine," Patrick replies with a delayed, pained response, "Go, all the way. Wanna feel it."
"You sure?" Will asks, massaging Patrick's lower back, "Don't wanna hurt you, I don't care that you're a masochist because everyone has limits, y'know."
"Just put it in me," Patrick snaps, but he's soon met with a sharp slap to his ass and all five fingers leaving his ass. He outright groans at the loss, grinding back into thin air, desperate for something to fill him again. He's stretched, and loose, and it fucking hurts, "Goddamnit, Will!"
"Shut up!" Will barks, choking him against the mattress before he can protest, "Shut up, you're not in fucking charge and I can't do this unless you're fucking sure because I'm not gonna be responsible for your ass fucking tearing or some shit. Just shut up and relax."
Patrick gasps for breath as soon as Will lets go with a frustrated look. Patrick takes a moment to recover before he's nodding breathlessly and spreading his legs, "Please."
Will examines him for a moment more before he nods, and covers his hands in lube again, capping the nearly empty bottle and pressing three fingers back in, "In, out. Slow breaths."
Patrick nods, leaning up slightly to watch. The angle's changed and... yeah maybe watching a fist enter his ass might be a little fascinating. Will's holding him open with one hand and continuing to press with the other. Four fingers, five... Patrick keeps taking deep breaths, unclenching as well as he can despite the fact that it feels weird as all hell and all he wants to do is clench.
"In," Will mumbles, matching Patrick's breathing, "Out," He begins pushing again, slowly reaching his knuckles. Patrick grips the sheets, throws his head back, and arches his hips, crying out in pain and a hint of pleasure. But it fucking hurts. Will immediately stops, watching Patrick with a close eye, seeing his teeth dig into his lip and his chest rise and fall and his fingers twitch into the covers.
Will slowly pulls out, to his fingertips, changes the shape of his hand so it's flatter, and presses back in in slow, gentle movements. Patrick immediately relaxes, legs going limp and lip released with a small, "F-fuck."
The brunette takes that as a sign to go farther, slowly, slowly past the thickest part of his hand, and on until all he can see is his wrist, the rest disappeared inside Patrick. The blond, leans up with wide eyes, breath hitched and a look of awe in his eye.
"Jesus," Is all he mumbles just before laying back again, "You have small hands."
Will frowns, pulling his hand out to his finger tips and thrusting in a little harder this time, "What was that?"
Patrick cups his fingers around his mouth and replies, "You. Have. Small. Hands."
Will smacks his cheek and mumbles, "You're lucky my hands are drenched."
"What? You gonna show me who's boss?" Patrick grins cheekily.
"No, I'm gonna fuck you into submission first with my fucking hands, then with my cock, and then I'm going to put a fucking plug in that hole of yours because it looks fucking beautiful stretched out like this. And afterwards I'll leave you for a few hours until Travie comes and fucks you /again/ is that understood?" Will replies. The blond blinks and after a moment, he nods, smirking slightly, "Okay," he replies, "I can deal with that."
Will smacks his ass promptly, then pulls out his hand, sides it with his left flat out, and begins rubbing against his entrance like he's molding clay. Patrick groans, legs shaking and head thrown back. He likes that. That's good.
"Fuck," Patrick mumbles, incoherently, "/Fuck/."
"Shut up," Will replies, pulling his hands back and forcing Patrick's legs up before digging his fist back in his stretched hole, thrusting and twisting and shaking and overall driving Patrick fucking crazy. He's panting and groaning and tugging at his cock, desperate to cum. Will keeps doing this thing where he twists it and simultaneously pulls it out before shoving it back in and doing it all over again and - fuck. Patrick's not gonna last long.
"W-Will, Will, please, I wanna... let me..." Patrick sobs, arching his hips against Will's hand and grinding down in big, exaggerated motions, still fisting his cock and thumbing his slit and spreading the clear precum dripping down his length.
"Wait," Will mumbles, "I thought you were a cockslut, you were supposed to last longer."
Patrick blushes a bright red, looking away, "Shut up, this is the first time I've had an entire fucking f - oh fuck!"
Will's using both hands again, but this time, he's pressing them in farther, up to the knuckles. Patrick immediately pulls away, whimpering in pain and shaking his head, "I-I can't, Will."
"Yes, you can," Will whispers, "You can, you're okay." He continues a little slower anyways, whispering, "In's" and "Out's" and watching Patrick closely. He knows Patrick can take it.
Patrick feels like his entire lower half is on fire, choking and trying to take steady breaths. He doesn't need to be a fucking expert on fisting to know he's gonna need a shit ton of aftercare for this. It hurts. It doesn't feel good anymore. And Will keeps going to his wrists.
He stops, watches Patrick, how the blond is staring at the ceiling, gripping his still hard cock and taking deep breaths as he adjusts. Will doesn't dare move, doesn't dare speak, just watches. Patrick shuts his eyes, eyes watering and a long sigh escaping his lips as he adjusts before he gives a staccato nod and braces his legs. Will slowly finishes off, continuing to the small of his arm and slowly massaging against the other's prostate with his thumbs, trying to relieve the pain.
"You okay?" Will finally asks.
Patrick shuts his eyes, a faint smile crossing his lips through the pain before he finally replies in a drowsy voice.
"It feels like I'm trying to shit out your hand."
Will chuckles, kissing his hips gently before pulling both hands out the slightest and pressing back in, thumbs still pressed against his prostate, "You're gonna be so stretched after this, you've seen that shit, right?"
The other shakes his head, shutting his eyes as a cold wave of pleasure washes over him and he bites back a moan. Will grins, sly and mischievous as he pulls out his left hand and continues with his right, thrusting and rolling and doing that /thing/ again that drives Patrick crazy right into his tight heat. He's able to go quite a bit faster like this without the extra leverage of his other hand.
"It's beautiful, all red and swollen and wide," Will nibbles at Patrick's thigh, "I could spread you open with my thumbs and see right in there."
He pulls his entire hand out and grabs for the basket under his bed, obviously not giving two fucks that he's covering everything in lube. He grabs the handcuffs and wastes no time in clasping them around Patrick's wrists before reaching for his phone and speading Patrick open with his index and thumb. Sure enough, he can see right inside to all the pink and red flesh. He takes a picture. Patrick doesn't protest.
"What would you say I put these on MySpace," Will teases, "So everyone can see just how slutty you are."
"Will!" Patrick blushes.
"Call me Sir and I might not," Will chuckles, letting go, "Push."
Patrick immediately does, showing off his swollen entrance for another picture, followed by a video. Will spreads it open again, grinning to himself because - yep. This is going to the spank bank.
He ends it with a quick smack to Patrick's ass, turning off the video and throwing his phone aside before pushing his fist back in, "Cum when you're ready."
Patrick groans, bucking his hips and watching Will jerk his cock. It doesn't take long until he's spasming and convulsing, hips stuttering and muscles clenching beautiful with a strain of his face. He cums, cock twitching and hands gripping the restraints in a tight hold. He lets out a weak cry to a strong orgasm. He doesn't have the energy to make it longer or to really appreciate it, but it feels amazing anyway.
Will pulls his fist out not long after, watching Patrick shut his eyes and let out labored, shaky breaths in fast pants.
"You did great," Will whispers, "Amazing."
Patrick nods, tugging at the handcuffs weakly. Will nods, quickly unlocking them and throwing them aside in one swift motion. Patrick's exhausted, too exhausted to talk, or to even look at Will, but after a moment, he drags himself up and pulls Will closer, burying himself in the singer's chest. The other understands, doesn't stop him, only sits back and strokes his hair as he comes down from his high and up from the subdrop. It's something Will's gone through hundreds of times before, despite the fact that he's topped Travie and Gabe before, he's a switch. He doesn't just top or just bottom. He does both.
So yeah, he knows what subdrop's like. It's something he doesn't enjoy, but to every pro, there's always a con.
Patrick releases a long breath and finally speaks, his brain no longer fuzzy, and his thoughts no longer so dark.
"What else do you want me to do?" He asks, wincing as he pulls back and rubbing his ass, "I can't... I can't do the plug or... or any of what you said. Maybe Travie if you give me a while."
"That's fine, that's fine. You think you could help me out?" Will replies, leaning up on his knees to take Patrick's hand and place it to the visible bulge in his jeans, "Suck me off? We've got another fifteen minutes before Travie but I can talk to him if you want me to."
Patrick nods, checking the clock beside Will's bed to see the time. 5:41. He nods again and finally pulls Will up on the bed before pushing him back down. His head falls to the pillows, his back to the sheets, and his legs spread to hold Patrick between them. The blond eagerly tugging off the brunette's shirt to reveal the other's nipples which - sadly - he doesn't spend too long on. He goes straight for the jeans, watching Will's lanky body stretch and flex.
The jeans come off soon after, fallen somewhere on the floor, and then Patrick's pulling down his boxers.
He blinks, chuckles, and rolls his eyes. Because out of all the guys on this entire warped tour, Will's the only one so far who's uncut. It's kind of cute and hot at the same time, how Will twitches before him, swollen stiff with blood. He plays with the foreskin gathered at the tip for a moment, watching Will's flushed face, but it's not long before he's rolling it down and jerking him in smooth, tight strokes. He's long. Not as long as Travie but not as short as Jon. It's sort of this happy medium. Just about average, maybe slightly longer.
Patrick pulls the skin back up, rubbing over Will's tip for a moment before going down on him. His lips wrap around the tip in such a way that the skin goes down with his lips, following the wet vice in smooth, exaggerated motions. He sucks and rolls his tongue in just the right way to find the underside of the cockhead with each stroke. Will's a squirming mess.
The brunette grabs Patrick's hair, pressing him up and down on his cock, watching those green eyes lock with his own and crying out at the feeling. Patrick pulls off for a moment to tug at the skin softly and pull Will's legs up to his shoulders instead, giving him a little bit of a better space to work with. Patrick goes back down, thumbing Will's balls and shutting his eyes again.
"Trick, I..." He bites his lips and wraps his legs tighter around Patrick's neck, "I-I'm gonna - "
"Cum," Patrick mumbles, just before going back down and licking up the droplets of precum dribbling from Will's cock. The vocalist cries out, holding Patrick close and releasing deep into his throat. The blond swallows it all down, pulling off with an audible pop soon after, "Good?"
Will nods, pulling Patrick closer and hugging him tight, "You feeling okay?"
"Better," Patrick winces as he adjusts and tugs the blanket up past his soft cock, "I need to be back on the bus by 7. Andy needs to talk to me about some shit. Do you know how long until Trav's here?"
Will watches the clock for a moment, then turns and pulls Patrick closer, "Like five or ten more minutes. You sure you can't stay? We'd keep you up all night. Maybe Gabe could come over... just spend hours between your thighs or maybe get Travie's fist up that tight little ass..."
Patrick shivers, goosebumps tracing his arms, especially more so when Will follows them, "I'm sure... I really wanna stay but I don't think Andy would like it..."
Will scrunches his mouth to the side in disappointment, then nods, "Oh okay. It's gonna happen soon, though. Gabe and Travie and I treating you like heaven..."
Patrick groans, his soft cock twitching as Will traces his fingers down under the sheets and to his thighs. It's like fucking /torture/. Especially when Will pulls away
"You should probably get back anyways, though, I'll call it off with Travie tonight, but next time, okay? Maybe I could have you suck me off before then, yeah? You're good with your mouth." Will gives a cheeky grin and crawls out of bed, grabbing Patrick's clothes and handing them over before grabbing his own and dressing. Patrick lowers his eyes, tugging on his boxers and jeans.
Yeah, maybe he could get together with Will before then.
My writing is getting so crappy I'm so so sorry for this mess but I had to update.
Comments + kudos are appreciated