Pete makes a late-night visit to My Chem's bus. It's a favorite tour-hookup method since he isn't sleeping half of the time anyway, and Mikey, new as he is to the experience that is Pete Wentz, hasn't had the full benefit of Pete's attentions yet. Everybody wins.
And really, since it looks like the rest of My Chem's hanging out on someone else's bus, it's like the universe is watching everyone's back. Pete doesn't want Bob Bryar griping from another bunk while he's trying to get orgasms. Again, that is.
He's mouthing at Mikey's neck when Mikey stirs awake, grumbling and rubbing at his puffy eyes. "Pete?"
"Hey," Pete says, grinning. "I'm going to make you come your brains out. That cool?"
"Do I have to wake up?" Mikey's voice is gruff from sleep, but fond, and Pete slips a hand under Mikey's shirt to rub at his belly.
"Let me do all the work," he whispers against Mikey's skin, and slips on top to straddle him. Mikey throws his arms around Pete's neck and hums happily.
Pete lets himself feel around for a minute, getting the full impression of Mikey's lanky form under his hands. Whatever he and Mikey have, it's new, and there's still a thrill, a newness, whenever they screw around. Pete would make a sweater out of that feeling if he could, but he can't, and holding onto Mikey's better anyway.
He's so busy losing himself in everything Mikey that he doesn't notice Mikey's pants until he's slips a hand down the front and circles Mikey's dick. Or, more importantly, the red-and-blue lightsabers all over Mikey's pants.
"Dude," he says. "Star Wars pajama pants?"
It occurs to him three seconds later, like it usually does, that this might be an embarrassing question. But after another three seconds, when Mikey answers, Pete remembers that he's a Way, and Ways are not like other people.
"Matching shirt, too," Mikey says. His eyes are open and squinty, probably because he doesn't have his glasses on.
Pete kisses him full on the mouth then, groaning a little. He pulls back to say, "Dude. I'm going to fuck you with these pajamas on."
"That's gotta be a first." Mikey's lips are quirking up at the ends.
"Where have you been all my life?" Pete's slipping down Mikey's pants, not enough to come off completely, just to give him access. Mikey's not wearing underwear, and he's half-hard. Too perfect.
"You mean, besides Jersey?"
Pete has a condom tucked into his jeans, but he shucks them without digging in the pockets. He has a better idea now. "I mean, when I was a kid and I had all my Han Solo fantasies."
Mikey grins and gives a breathy laugh as Pete starts jerking him again. "Playing...playing with Gee. We'd switch off Luke and Darth Vader."
Pete takes a break to nudge Mikey's legs together - and god, the way they slope inward, Pete had no idea that'd be his thing - and to position himself over him. "I bet you'd do the breath, fuck, and everything."
Sure enough, as Pete starts to nudge his dick between the break in Mikey's thighs, Mikey does his best iron-lung-in-space sound. Pete shakes, and he's not sure if it's because he's seconds from blowing his load or because that was the best impression he's ever heard.
Luckily, by the way Mikey arches into Pete's hand when he puts it back, it's having the same kind of effect on him. "Never could get Chewbacca, though."
Pete thrusts a couple times before he gives Mikey his best Wookiee whine. He's not going to get hired by George Lucas any time soon, but the fact that Mikey comes all over his hand when he does it? Fucking sweet.
Mikey barely finished when he puts his hands on Pete's hips and pushes. Pete moans. Sometimes, Mikey's slow to get going, but when he's there, he's ready.
"Han Solo?" he asks. "You liked the gold bikini?"
"God yes." Like so many other guys his age, that had been his first spank-bank fantasy: Princess Leia in Jabba's palace. Of course, guys like Hurley never talked about following it up with a hand job from Luke's robotic replacement, but whatever. Some dudes had no imagination.
"You think about her with the collar and the chain?" Mikey tightens his thighs, and that, along with the brush of the soft pajama material on Pete's lower legs, is enough to make him shake. "Or is that more your speed, having something around your throat?"
Pete can't answer in words at this point because Mikey has Luke Skywalker's face on his chest and his hand on Pete's ass, circling his hole, and it's so fucking perfect.
Or so Pete thinks, until Mikey tugs at his shirt until he can whisper in his ear. "If I had the Force, I'd make you come with it. I wouldn't even put a finger on you. Just make you feel it, inside and out."
Pete comes so hard, he actually blacks out for about five seconds.
When he comes to, Mikey's still lying underneath him, wiping his sweaty bangs off his forehead. He gives Pete his best closemouthed smile when he notes him looking. "That was my favorite fantasy. Thinking I was Luke Skywalker, and I'd do all kinds of things to Han while wrestling with the Dark Side."
"Fuck," Pete says. It's kind of impossible to catch his breath at this point. "The Force is with you, Mikeyway."
Mikey kisses his temple. Pete's pretty much ready to sign up as his padawan forever at this point.
He snuggles Mikey until he hears the others get back. Even great sex isn't enough to get him to conk out the entire night, and it's probably for the best. He probably shouldn't spend all day annoying the shit out of the My Chem guys.
Gerard waves as Pete stumbles out, looking cheerfully bleary around his coffee cup. "Did I hear you making a Wookiee noise last night?"
"Uh." And here he'd thought they hadn't had an audience.
"Because that wasn't Mikey." Gerard shakes his head. "But you should get him to do the R2-D2 beeps some time. He's really good at those."
"I'll remember that." Pete ducks off the bus. He should probably be embarrassed, but he's too busy getting a boner from the thought of playing British butler droid to Mikey's sprightly sidekick.