One moment, Patrick's staring at waveforms on his computer screen, balancing levels between bass and percussion.
The next, he's flat on his back, sweat-slick and panting for breath, his dick enveloped in wet heat. He looks down, past his body - which is too tanned and tattooed to be his - to lock eyes with Mikey Way, who's sucking him off.
Well, who's sucking Pete off, if the tattoos are anything to go by, but Patrick is most definitely the one experiencing it. And fuck, Mikey's good with his mouth. Patrick chokes out a noise, which just makes him whine because it comes out in Pete's voice. He reaches down toward Mikey weakly, trying to communicate... what? He doesn't know. Fuck, he can barely think. Pete was already close and now Patrick is at the tipping point.
Mikey hums around his dick, and Patrick whines again. Mikey locks eyes with him - and with his hair all fucked up, his eyeliner messy and his glasses crooked - he should look silly. He just looks hot. Patrick suddenly gets what all fuss is about. Mikey blinks up at him, working his mouth around Patrick's dick like he was born to suck cock, his eyes locked to Patrick's.
Patrick comes a moment later, grunting out a high pitched noise in Pete's voice as he shudders up in to Mikey's mouth.
He's still shaking when Mikey pulls off with a wet sound. He palms Patrick's dick - Pete's dick - gently, sending little aftershocks up Patrick's spine. He slides up Patrick's body with surprising grace, managing to not bump his head on the low bunk ceiling. Then he's kissing Patrick, tasting of salt and bitterness and Patrick doesn't have the strength not to kiss back.
Mikey kisses messy, and dirty and Patrick can feel the hard press of his cock where he's rubbing it off against Patrick's thigh. And Patrick's going to stop this. In a moment. Any moment now.
The sharp tear of velcro startles them out of the kiss. Someone's ripped open the bunk curtains. Patrick looks to the side, knowing what to expect but dreading it all the same. What he sees is his own face, wearing a grin that is totally Pete's.
"Do that again, oh my god." Pete sounds gleeful.
Patrick has to look away, unable to look himself in the face. "Oh god."
"Pete?" Mikey asks, helpfully pushing the messy sheets over Patrick's lap.
Patrick's head is spinning. Or is it Pete's? Oh god. Oh god, he can't think. "Pete, what the fuck?" He says to Pete, who is still gaping at the two of them like Christmas came early.
"No, you're Pete," Mikey points out, poking Patrick in his (lean, tanned, tattooed) chest. He straightens his glasses. He's kind of adorable when he does that, Patrick's brain notes unhelpfully.
"No, he isn't! That's the thing." Pete points out, way too cheerfully and Patrick wants to roll over and bury his face in the pillow but he's pretty sure there is no logistical way to do that without kicking Mikey in the head, so he just covers his face with his hands.
"You need to explain, Pete. What the fuck just happened?"
"Why do you keep calling him Pete?" Mikey asks, "You're Pete."
"Pete," Patrick says, using his special Pete-you're-being-a-dick tone, and it amazingly actually still works even in different voice.
Pete pulls up short, glancing between Mikey and Patrick. Patrick can see the wheels turning, but he's not fast enough to predict the next part before it happens.
Pete kisses Mikey.
It shouldn't be a big deal, because Pete and Mikey have kissed heaps. Except this time Mikey doesn't know it's Pete. He squeaks against Pete's mouth, not kissing back, but not pulling away either. Patrick gets stuck staring as Pete kisses Mikey with his mouth. It's like watching himself in a mirror or something, but way, way weirder.
Pete kisses differently to Patrick, he's more messy and aggressive, and he bites more. Mikey must know it - must recognise it, because when they break apart, his mouth wet and swollen, he stares at Pete and says, "Pete?"
Pete grins wide at Mikey, and Patrick wonders if he looks that good when he smiles. It must be Pete doing something to his face. "I knew you'd know," he tells Mikey, sounding so sure.
Mikey's mouth drops open and he stares between the two of them, his arms coming up to cross his chest protectively.
That's Patrick's cue to leave. "I'm sorry! I'm just- it was so… I'm gonna-" Patrick slides his (tanned, tattooed) legs out from under Mikey and scrambles to pull on some pants.
Of course, Pete doesn't let him go. He snares Patrick's wrist, "No, Trick. Stay." He sounds so desperate Patrick has to stop, halfway out of the bunk, one leg still tangled in the sheets. "Stay, please." Pete's fingers tighten until it's nearly painful. And fuck, it's embarrassing how much Patrick wants to. But it's not fair, not to Mikey.
"If you want to," Mikey adds, his voice is quiet but sure.
Patrick curses his own weakness, but he looks back and fuck, the way Mikey's looking at him - it's the same way he looks at Pete, his eyes dark and hot with want. Patrick knows it's only because he looks like Pete right now, that look isn't really for him, but at this exact moment he's finding it hard to care. Especially when Mikey places his hand over Pete's on Patrick's arm and squeezes, like a plea.
"Okay," Patrick hears himself say, in Pete's voice. He barely gets the word out before they both pull him back into the bunk. Then Pete's kissing Patrick with Patrick's mouth and it makes a weird, yet perfect kind of sense that this is their first real kiss.
Pete's just as messy and aggressive as Patrick always knew he'd be, pushing Patrick backwards until they're sprawled half in, half out of the bunk. When they break for air Patrick barely gets to suck in a breath before Mikey takes his mouth in another wicked kiss. He's pressed up against Patrick's side, and Patrick can feel how hard he still is.
He snakes a hand between their bodies, his fingers tangling with Pete's. He breaks the kiss, panting to Pete, "You should show me what he likes," because of course Pete will know.
"Sure thing, Trick." Pete smiles breathlessly at Patrick, spots of colour on his cheeks and his hair dark with sweat around his crown. Somehow, Patrick can appreciate how good Pete's smile looks on his face and he returns it.
"You gotta show me what you like too," Pete tells him, crushing his body to Patrick's as they both struggle with Mikey's jeans. Pete gets them open first - he's had practise, Patrick figures - then Pete's stroking Mikey's dick and Patrick's transfixed by the way Mikey shivers and trembles under his hands. Patrick licks his palm to slick it up and rubs it over the head of Mikey's dick while Pete works his shaft. Mikey whines and it sounds so gorgeous Patrick has to do it again, and again.
"Like this," Pete tugs Patrick's hand downward, pressing Patrick's fingers into a grip around Mikey's cock and guiding Patrick's hand into a rhythm that makes Mikey's breath hitch. He's pressed awkwardly between Patrick's body and the wall, but his face is pure bliss and Patrick gets stuck looking at him. "Fucking gorgeous, right?" Pete whispers to Patrick, like they're sharing a secret. Mikey looks up at them both with slitted eyes, grabbing Patrick's shoulder and pulling him down in a kiss that's all teeth and want.
Patrick loses himself in Mikey's taste, his hand keeping perfect rhythm on Mikey's dick with zero concentration. When Mikey starts to moan against his lips, his hips pushing up into Patrick's hand, Pete wraps his fingers around Patrick's, slowing his strokes.
"Ease off," Pete whispers, "Slow down a little."
Patrick wants to argue, because it's obvious Mikey's getting close, he should be doing the opposite of slowing down. He breaks the kiss to glare at Pete, who just smirks and says, "Trust me, he loves it."
"No, Pete," Mikey whines breathlessly, "Not this time, just - just-"
Pete hushes him, leaning over Patrick to kiss Mikey softly, "C'mon, you love it, don't even front."
Mikey shakes his head, but there's a curve to his mouth like he's fighting a smile, "Don't be mean."
Pete's grip firms around Patrick's fingers, slowing him down more, "You love it when I'm mean."
"I don't," Mikey says, "I like it when you, when you-" he loses the words on a shuddering breath as Pete speeds the pace again. Fuck, Mikey's leaking in Patrick's hand now and he's so fucking hard. There's a tremor to his breaths, his eyelids fluttering. Patrick can't stop staring, absolutely mesmerised.
"So fucking pretty, right?" Pete asks, and Patrick can only nod, tearing his eyes from Mikey long enough to see Pete's smirk on Patrick's mouth. Pete leans in and kisses him, hard and biting before turning his attention back to Mikey, slowing Patrick's strokes again.
"No, no, no," Mikey whines weakly, grabbing at their hands.
Pete smacks Mikey's hands away, "No, baby, you know how this goes. You like it like this."
"Not today, just please, please." Mikey sounds desperate and it shoots straight to Patrick's cock. Mikey turns his pleas toward Patrick, his eyes huge and pained behind his thick glasses, "Please Patrick-"
"Please what?" Pete asks, and Patrick can hear the smile in his voice. He slows Patrick down even more, squeezing his fingers into a tight grip, up and down on Mikey's slick flesh.
"Please," Mikey breathes, voice pitched up in frustration, but he doesn't finish the sentence.
Pete nudges Patrick, who blinks down at Mikey - beautiful, desperate Mikey - and asks, "Please what, Mikey?" A thrill runs right down him as the words leave his lips and fuck if he isn't getting hard again. He's totally getting off on this.
Mikey tosses his head. His cheeks are flushed, his hair's a mess and he can't seem to catch a breath, "Please, please…" he repeats, like he's stuck on a loop. Patrick leans in and kisses him, tasting sweat and want. The kiss is messy and rough and Patrick's the one to break it, asking "Please what, Mikey?" his voice low and deep. He feels Pete shiver where their bodies are pressed together.
Mikey opens his eyes and fixes on Patrick. "Please, I need to come." He sounds so broken, so needy, Patrick can't say no.
"Pete?" Patrick says, and Pete answers the question by releasing Patrick's hand, letting him take over. Patrick sets a hard, fast pace that has Mikey gasping and whining beautifully. Pete leans over Patrick's busy hand and kisses Mikey as Patrick brings him off.
Patrick gets stuck watching them kiss, entranced by the blissful expression on his own face, the way Mikey clings and moans into the kiss. Patrick knows Mikey's nearly there when he breaks the kiss, his head falling backward and his hips pushing up into Patrick's hand.
"Fuck, yes," Patrick breathes, leaning closer so he can watch when Mikey comes apart. He finds himself sharing breath with Pete, who's doing just the same. Patrick jerks Mikey fast, faster, then just as he feels his dick start to pulse he slows right down, stroking slow and firm from tip to base. Mikey keens and shakes, then on the third stroke he comes with shattered cry, his whole body jerking. Patrick strokes him through it gently, feeling Mikey's dick throb under his hand, letting the slickness of Mikey's come ease the way.
"Jesus, Trick," Pete mutters, and when Patrick looks up at him Pete's grinning proudly, "You're a quick study."
Before Patrick manages to answer, Mikey yanks both him and Pete down into an awkward hug. There really isn't enough room for them all in this bunk. Mikey' skin is fire-hot and sweaty but Patrick wriggles closer anyway.
"He's a cuddler," Pete whispers to Patrick conspiratorially.
Mikey slaps him up the back of the head, "Shut up, Wentz. You're fucking up my afterglow."
Patrick stifles a giggle into Mikey's neck which earns him a half-hearted glare from Pete.
"What?" Patrick retorts, "It's your turn next, Pete. Don't get comfortable."
"Are we gonna make him beg?" Mikey asks, losing half the sentence to a stifled yawn.
Patrick meets Pete's eyes and smiles, "Oh yeah, I think we are." Patrick carefully catalogues the look of anticipation and pure want that flickers across his features.
"Good." Mikey says, sharing a knowing smile with Patrick.
Oh yes, Patrick is pretty sure between what Mikey knows about Pete and what Patrick knows about himself, they are going to blow Pete's mind.