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Entry tags:
Fic: eyes closed to fingers crossed, non-gen, bandslash, adult content
Title: Eyes closed to fingers crossed
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jamjar
Warnings: adult content including sex and (in alphabetical order by first name) Patrick, Pete and Travis.
Notes:ficbyzee beta-read and audienced and was a good example of humanity generally. It wouldn't have been finished or probably even started without her.
Her motives were pure, I'm sure.
When Patrick gets out of the shower, he pulls on clean boxers and a T-shirt and heads out. He's not surprised to see Pete's fully dressed. Pete hates forced early mornings and has a tendency to deal with them like he's starting a war, putting on his armour and ready to punch 7am in the eye if it looks at him funny.
He's not surprised that Travis isn't, from what he can see. And because he's entitled to be a little bit shallow -he's a rockstar, dammit! Fox said so- he ogles, just for a moment, and offers up another little note of gratitude to whatever put him in a place where he can actually hook up with someone like that on a regular basis, without the use of money or blackmail.
The third thing to not surprise him is when Travis kisses Pete, because Travis has a terrible sense of personal boundaries and Pete has a pretty mouth.
He's kind of surprised that it's so short. "Yeah, but I'm pretty fucking cute anyway," Travis says to Pete.
Pete smiles at him, then says "Only reason we keep you around." He looks over at Patrick in the doorway, and Patrick wonders if he knew he was there before. Pete's bad with mornings, but he sometimes makes up for it with crazy animal defensive instincts, cave-brain taking over from the higher functions. "Your boyfriend's trying to steal my virtue," he says.
"That's kind of pointless," Patrick says. "See, we keep Pete's virtue very securely hidden. In a safe with a lock on the door and everything."
"In an egg," Pete says. "In a duck, in a hare, in a locked chest, in a cave in Russia." He grins at Patrick and Patrick smiles back, because he remembers Pete finding that book in his house, the beautiful illustrations, reading them with his back against Patrick's while Patrick bent over his iBook.
"So it's pretty safe," Patrick says. "He can have it back when he grows up, or when he turns thirty-five, whichever comes first." He goes over to the little breakfast table and man, he can remember when they were lucky to get a hotel with one room for all of them, and now they have a suite with an actual main room with furniture. He pulls out the chair opposite them and sits down, grabbing the menu.
"Yeah?" Travis says. "Is yours there too?"
Patrick looks down at the table and tries to look like he's blushing. "Oh, Travis. You mean you couldn't tell? Our first night, it was my first..." He looks away, shy and demure, meets Pete's eyes and starts laughing.
"Dude, why do you think we dressed him in white?" Pete says.
The best part is that Travis looks panicked for just a split second, almost chokes before he recovers and says, "Wow. I mean, I just assumed you were overwhelmed by my presence, but-- You offered me your special flo--"
"Don't say it," Pete says, "Seriously, no."
"I'm kind of with Pete on this one," Patrick says.
Travis puts a hand to his chest, over his heart. "But you saved yourself for me, right?"
Pete nods. "He did. And everyone knows the first three-- three?" Patrick nods and Pete continues, "don't count." He hesitates, then says, "Three and a half is kind of more accurate,"
"You can't count halves," Patrick tells him. "So three or four, and since it wasn't exactly--"
"Right," Pete says. "Three." He turns to Travis and pats him on the shoulder. "But apart from them, it's only been you."
Patrick steals some of Pete's cereal from Travis and picks at it, dry, honey-flavoured crunchy things, the sort of thing that looks healthy as long as you don't actually read what it says on the packet. After a few mouthfuls, he says, "Are you naked?"
He means it to come out flat, but his voice goes up on naked, like it's done since he was twelve.
Travis looks down, looks shocked and then looks at Pete. "But I was dressed when I sat down!" he says, before grinning.
Pete shrugs. "Must have been the naked fairies. They're always doing that. Running around, stealing clothes when you're not looking."
"Pete, that's you," Patrick says. He points at him. "You know you're wearing Travis's sweatshirt, right?"
Pete looks a little surprised. "Huh. You want it back?"
Patrick shakes his head. "Keep it. Looks better on you then it does on him."
Travis rolls his eyes and says, "Fuck you," half turning to include Pete. "Hey, I think it is mine." He pushes the hood down and lifts the collar. "My size." He leaves his hand there, curled around the back of Pete's neck and Patrick sees Pete shiver. Pete's neck is always kind of sensitive, an easy target for cold fingers and ice cubes.
Travis yawns, stretches and pats the back of his head, catching his fingers in his hair and then combing them through. "I'm gonna have a shower," he says and stands up.
Patrick's really not immune to the sight.
Pete doesn't seem to be either, and Patrick has a moment of something that's a little like being smug, like being proud of what he managed to get, and a little like sharing, one of those beats where he and Pete are in sync.
And then Pete looks at him, eyes wide and dark, and then smiles and Patrick knows he got that, too. "You could join him," Pete says, putting on a dirty old man grin.
Patrick rolls his eyes, because Pete has-- it's not a kink, or even the X-rated kind of fetish, just some kind of psychological quirk where he honestly seems to believe that it's his duty to make sure Patrick gets laid as often as humanly possible, that Patrick will go through life oblivious to any and all chances to hook up, unless Pete personally points them out.
The thing is, Patrick maybe would have joined Travis anyway, but if he goes now then it'll mean that Pete will have won, and also that he'll be sitting out here knowing that Patrick's in there with Travis.
"Seriously, Trick. He's in there, wet, slick, naked, and you're sitting out here eating my breakfast. What's wrong with this picture?"
"You know, you could just buy your own porn," Patrick says. "Instead of playing Triple-X-rated matchmaker."
Pete grins and tries to steal his food back, before Patrick holds the bowl out of reach. "Maybe I'm cheap."
"Maybe you're just a freak," Patrick offers. "I think we should consider that option, too."
"Maybe you're cheap," Pete says. "Mean. Not letting anyone else enjoy the thought of you two fucking like ferrets."
"Weasels," Patrick corrects automatically. Pete raises and eyebrow and Patrick refuses to blush. "People fuck like weasels," he says. "Not ferrets. Weasels. People fuck like weasels." And, because if you're in a hole you might as well keep digging, he adds, "in heat, usually."
Pete opens his eyes wide. "You know something I don't, Stump?"
Patrick shrugs. "It's just what people say. Salt and pepper, not pepper and salt, dumb as a box of rocks, not bricks or whatever. People screw like horny weasels. Not ferrets." He waits a beat. "Not unless you're doing it wrong."
Pete gives up trying to take back his cereal and leans back in his chair. "You know we've got to have that in the next single," he says.
Patrick contemplates saying something like, "Just because you write it, doesn't mean I have to sing it," but if Pete can make it work, Pete can make it work, and then Patrick will turn it into something he can sing and he'll be pretty much powerless to do anything else. The hoodie is too big on Pete, covering up to his fingertips and Pete wonders if Travis will get it back, or if he's lost it to Pete forever.
He's not really hungry. He prefers to eat breakfast when he's already done something with the morning. It's a thought that leads straight to Travis, because that's how a lot of his mornings start these days. He shifts in his seat and--
And actually, he's being stupid, because it's not like Pete doesn't have a pretty good idea what happens when Patrick and Travis go to bed, when they turn up late, and Patrick could -should!- go into that bathroom right now and jump Travis in the shower. Or maybe not jump him in the shower exactly, because it'll be kind of slippery and easy to crack your head open on a soapdish, and wouldn't that be fun to explain, so maybe just fold a towel on the bathroom floor for a little cushioning and--
He pushes his chair back and says, "I'm done."
Pete gives him a vaguely disapproving look. "That's not a proper breakfast, and you know you--"
"I'm just gonna go back to bed," Patrick says over him. "Watch cartoons or something."
"You know just saying that lets me know you're going back in there to--"
"Do you want me to stay here and talk to you instead?" Patrick says. "Because you say anything, and I'm going to sit back down and we're going to eat breakfast and have an actual conversation, while Travis is wet and naked and alone. Do you want that to happen?"
Pete laughs and says, "Aw, they grow up so--"
"So I'm thinking about switching the order so Joe has a chance to calm the fuck down before we--"
"I'm shutting up!" Pete says. "I'm just going to sit out here, maybe have some more toast, while you go in there and, you know, watch cartoons. Or whatever." He looks away from Patrick, making a show of it.
Patrick stands up, tugs his T-shirt down a bit. Pete ignores him and starts whistling, so Patrick rolls his eyes and says, "You're lucky I'm easily distracted."
Travis is still in the shower, curtain drawn, when Patrick goes in. He perches on the edge of the sink, watching through the plastic. His glasses fog up, and he takes them off and puts them to one side, then leans back.
The shower stops and Travis pushes the curtain back and Patrick has a moment where he just appreciates. Looks him over, top to toe and back again, and feels nicely predatory. One of the best things about dating regularly is the permission to do this, to just look whenever you want, and for it not to be creepy or weird but actually a good thing.
Travis looks back, and that's the other good thing about having sex with someone who knows you-- no worries about them being disappointed or deciding that what they see isn't to their tastes, because they know what you look like, what you sound like, how you are, and they *want* that.
Patrick shifts position a little, not out of discomfort. The edge of the surface is hard under his palms, and when he presses his fingers against it, he remembers how Travis's hair feels when Patrick's got his hands in it.
"You want to join me?" Travis says, holding back the curtain in a sweeping, dramatic gesture.
"You look like you're pretty much finished." Patrick says.
"Yeah, but you can never be too clean," Travis says. "Or too dirty." His smile is pretty close to how Pete's was over the breakfast table, dirty-old-man.
He gets out of the shower and comes up to Patrick. Patrick tilts his head back, and honestly, most of the time he doesn't realise the height difference. He knows it's there, but it's just-- Travis. And then sometimes when he's next to him, or when he sees Travis next to Pete or Andy, it just hits him.
Travis kisses him, pressing himself against Patrick, and Patrick hitches himself up on edge of the sink, wrapping his legs around Travis. His skin's damp from the shower and he smells like Patrick's shower gel.
Travis's hands go under his T-shirt, resting on his back for a moment before they start to tug at his T-shirt. Patrick shifts position, helping Travis pull it off him, holding on with his legs so he doesn't fall, and then his hands are free and he curls one hand round the side of his neck, covering the tattoo and pressing in just a little with his thumb to feel Travis's throat move.
He gets his other hand between them, finding Travis's cock, feeling his own hard through his boxers. "I'm not feeling subtle," he says, half laughing.
"Yeah, I appreciate that," Travis says, and then groans when Patrick runs his thumb just over the head. Right now, that sound is hands down the sexiest sound Travis has ever made, but Patrick knows he's pretty fickle about that, tends to feel that way about everything. I'm so easy, he thinks.
"Yeah, and I appreciate that too." Patrick jumps when Travis says that, just a little. He hadn't realised he'd said that out loud, but sex makes him easily distracted or overly focussed, depending on how you look at it.
Travis's hands go to his thighs, holding with a grip just this side of bruising, and then crossing over when Patrick moves his hand on his cock. He has to lean back a little to get space and it makes his position a little precarious, needing his hand on Travis's neck to stay balanced.
Travis's eyes close and his head tilts back, just a little, just enough to leave him looking open, and Patrick thinks he could do *anything*, and then Travis pushes forward, sharp movement of his hips into Patrick's hand, pushing against Patrick's cock and Patrick groans and jerks forwards, almost coming off-balance. He has to take his hand off Travis to stay up there and he knocks down the little hotel soap basket and only just manages to catch the glass before it joins it. They both freeze and Patrick thinks that if it broke, Pete would hear, before backing away from that thought. He puts the glass as far back as he can against the mirror and says, "Maybe we should--"
"Wait, I've got to-- Just hold on to my head or something," Travis says, and he pushes Patrick's legs apart, then slides down on to his knees between them, tugging Patrick's boxers down.
Wait, I wanted to-- Patrick starts to think, before realising what a stupid thing that is to say when you've got Travis between your legs, permission to bury your hands in his hair, to hold on and grip. "Fuck!"
He can *feel* Travis smile, right before he starts, feel his mouth open into a grin against the inside of his thigh before he moves it and takes him in.
His fingers tighten in Travis's hair and he forces them not to pull, but it's hard, and he can only make little, shallow thrusts. Travis takes him in then draws back, rubs the side of his face against Patrick's thigh and Patrick can feel it, rough and abrasive. He tightens his grip and pulls him back in, then realises what he's doing and loosens his grip, but Travis doesn't pull away, just bends his head forward and Patrick can't really see what he's doing without pushing his hair back, but he can feel it and he groans again, bites his lip when he realises it came out too loud.
Travis takes one hand off his leg and Patrick can feel the imprint of his hand where it was. Travis moves, but he doesn't stop, his *genius* mouth at work, and then Patrick jerks forward, almost too far when Travis' fingers push against him then into him, one, two and then *moving*, and--
"I'm gonna--" Patrick says, and somehow manages to actually pull Travis away, knotting his fingers in his hair, letting go when Travis looks at him.
"What?"
"I want you to fuck me-- we've got time, I want--" He slides forwards, off the sink and landing on Travis, pushing him on to his back a little too fast on a tiled floor. "You okay?"
Travis's hands tighten on his hips, lifting him up so he's kneeling over him. The tiles are hard against his knees, hard enough that he'll probably regret this later, but not now. He looks around for the lube but Travis beats him to it, then passes it over and puts his hands flat on the floor next to him, smiling like he's just discovered live-action porn.
Patrick rolls his eyes at the expression, but only until he starts. He's not a showman, but there is something about preparing yourself, using your own fingers to open yourself up while someone watches and *appreciates* that makes everything better.
And it's still probably too fast and he'll be feeling that later, too, but he lowers himself on Travis, and Travis jerks up as he's bringing himself down. One hand grips the side of the sink and one hand grips himself and he *moves*, feeling the hard edge of the sink digging in to his hand, hearing Travis groan. He looks at Travis, looks at his mouth and starts to lean forward, and Travis comes and that pushes Patrick over, gripping the side of the sink hard enough to turn his fingers white and saying Travis's name too loud.
He collapses forwards and Travis fails to catch him, just makes a soft huff at the weight. They lie there for a moment and Travis' neck is right next to Patrick's mouth, so he licks it, then rolls over on to the floor.
The ceiling is generic hotel magnolia, and Patrick tries to get his breathing under control. Travis is lying next to him and something about the positions, listening to another person breathe so heavily and so close, makes him remember the early days in the van. It's less a memory and more an echo, but a warm one.
"I need a shower," he says when his heart's settled a little.
Travis and Joe end up on one of the techie buses, something to do with either helping sound engineers with their broken hearts, or stealing their money in a poker tournament. Patrick's not too sure of the details and likes it that way. He's a little surprised when Andy and Pete don't join them, but Andy heads straight to the bunks and pulls the curtain closed and Pete leans against Patrick when he sits down on the bench, resting his head on Patrick's shoulder and closing his eyes.
He hasn't been thinking particularly about Pete and Travis kissing, but he hasn't been not-thinking about it, either. It's just there in the back of his head, like a song that's vaguely coming together or the first part of a two-parter season finale, ticking over in the back of his mind. There's something weirdly comforting in it, something that's vaguely pleasing for reasons he can't quite identify.
"You and Travis," Patrick starts to say.
"Hmm?" Pete raises his head and looks at him.
Patrick hugs him a little tighter, encouraging him back to sleep. Pete bends his head down against Patrick's shoulder and rubs his forehead against Patrick's sweater. Pete mocks him for the argyle, which is half the reason Patrick wears it, but this particular sweater is soft and Pete might threaten it with scissors and koolaid, but he still spends more time next to Patrick when he wears it, pulling Patrick's arm over him like a blanket.
He's not sure what he would have said anyway. Not "You were kissing," because Pete was there, he knows that. Not, "Did you and Travis ever fuck around?" Because really, he knows the answer to that one.
Maybe "Why did you stop?"
He doesn't say anything, though, which is why he's kind of surprised when Pete says, "I'm not sleeping." Into his shoulder.
"What?"
"I'm not sleeping," he says, not lifting his head up, but Patrick can feel him smile. "I'm just being lazy." And then he does lift his head and he's in close-up. "So whatever you were going to say..." He straightens up and Patrick feels light where Pete's not touching him anymore.
"Huh? Oh, it's nothing," he says. "Just thinking, only not really." He gestures at the window, because something about moving makes it easy to not really think, thoughts just drifting through your head without ever really landing.
Pete gives him a look, frowning a little, then says, "Is this about this morning?" Sounding weirdly tentative.
Patrick shakes his head and smiles. "No, not really. Just-- you and Travis. You know, generally." He shrugs, then smiles.
"Because we're friends I'm going to let you get away with the complete lack of sense you're making," Pete says. He pats Patrick's knee. "You wanna watch something?" Pete asks, then he rolls his neck and winces. "You find something to watch, I'm gonna stretch."
He slides off the bench, arms out in front of him, head tilted back and rolling his wrists like an undead yoga instructor, which is probably not an image Patrick should share with him. Well, maybe-- no. He digs around for something to watch and grabs the first season of Buffy.
Pete comes back with a couple cans of coke, puts them on the table in front of them and looks at Patrick for a moment.
"What?" Patrick says, pushing his glasses more securely on his nose.
"Nothing," Pete says, and really, that smile should have been warning enough, but Patrick is still unprepared when Pete's icy fingers find his side.
"Fuck!" Patrick-- shouts, not shrieks, shouts, and tries to retreat, blocked by the wall, but Pete dives back after him. "Get your hands off me! They're like--" Patrick tries to bat them away, but Pete is determined, even when he's giggling like a hyena, and Patrick's reduced to yelling, "Andy! Pete's trying to--"
"Let him!" Andy's voice calls back from the bunks, sleep-grouchy.
Pete tries for an evil laugh but gets derailed by actual laughter, choking on it so he's half collapsed on Patrick, his hands flat on Patrick's skin. He lifts himself up, still keeping his hands on Patrick, but stops halfway, staring.
Patrick follows his gaze. His sweater and T-shirt are shoved up, but it's not like there's anything Pete hasn't seen before-- oh.
Because his jeans are loose enough that the waistband's been pushed down a little too, and there are clear bruises on Patrick's hips, and two bitemarks between them. Pete stretches his fingers out, trying to match them, and doesn't even come close.
"His hands are huge," Pete says, almost distractedly. He moves his hand, trying to touch the bruises and his thumb goes over a bitemark, and Patrick freezes so that he doesn't shiver, his skin feeling oversensitive. For a moment, he has two thoughts running in tandem. If this was anybody but Pete touching him like this, it'd feel weird. And, if this was anybody but Pete, it wouldn't feel so strange.
"Breathe, Patrick," Pete says.
"No?"
Pete laughs, and it's low, quiet.
Patrick doesn't move, not deliberately, but he can feel his stomach tense under Pete's hand. He doesn't know what to do or what to say, so he ends up with, "Why did you and Travis stop hooking up?" And then, before Pete can answer, "Did you?"
"We weren't-- You two started. Seemed like it'd be--" And Pete's words sound uncertain, sentences cut short, but his pitch is steady and low, and he's looking at Patrick without blinking. "Seemed like it'd be weird, I guess. Our tastes don't usually overlap." He's smiling just a little, and his hands are still there, like they're glued to Patrick's skin. They're not moving, not stroking or anything, just these two points of contact that Patrick can feel himself shift against.
There's a moment where Patrick knows he should say something, do something, but he lets it draw out. He can feel his face get hot and Pete's still looking at him.
He doesn't know if he's relieved or disappointed when he feels the bus stop and the driver yell, "Lunch break, everyone back here in forty."
Patrick has his headphones on and is sitting crosslegged on his bunk and staring at the screen when Travis gets back on their bus. He's only vaguely aware of it, but he can feel when Travis comes up behind him, crawls in and stretches out, arms loose around Patrick and Travis's legs either side of him, knees slightly raised over Patrick's own. Patrick leans back into him, just for a second, and then goes back to staring at the screen.
After a few moments he gives up, closes the laptop and slips the headphones off.
"I think the game is rigged," he says.
"Mmm." Travis sounds distracted and his hands go under Patrick's sweater and T-shirt, fingers stretched as wide as they can go over his stomach and just edging under his waistband. He rests his chin on Patrick's shoulder, hunched over him, and Patrick wonders if there's something about him that encourages that or if it's just that Pete and Travis picked up their habits together.
Travis is wearing his glasses and they bang against Patrick's own, plastic arms knocking in to each other. Then Travis leans back, taking Patrick with him so they're sprawled on the bunk. Patrick turns around so he's lying half on Travis, half on his side, careful not to kick the laptop where it lies on the bunk.
Travis smiles at him, open and easy, and Patrick kisses him without quite meaning too, then again because the first time was nice. Travis's hands go back to where they were, half under his shirt with the other half just edging under his waistband, and then stay there, unrushed.
"Hey, were you--" Pete says, coming in to their section, then he stops. "Or I can come back later."
Travis groans dramatically, but Patrick moves off him and sits up. "Nothing we can't do later," he says. "Which one of us did you want?"
Pete blinks, and then Patrick realises what he said. He gives an irritated sigh. "You know what I mean."
"Me and Freud both," Pete says. Travis sniggers and Patrick digs his elbow in to him and reaches over to offer Pete an arm up into the bunk.
"Freud was kind of a freak," Patrick points out when Pete's sitting comfortably cross-legged.
Travis sits up as well, back against the wall, and they have to shuffle around. Travis is on the edge of the bunk. It's safe, but it looks kind of precarious and Pete's hand curls around Travis's ankle like that would help.
"You wanted something?" Patrick prompts.
"Probably," Pete says. "Can't remember what it was."
"Going senile?" Travis says.
"I'd tell you to fuck off, but since I'm right here, can you wait til I'm gone?" Pete says, but his hand stays where it is on Travis's ankle.
"Yeah, these bunks fail the threesome test," Travis says. "You don't get this problem when you're travelling with The Academy Is..."
"Hey, we can get all four of us in here, plus Dirty," Pete says. "You're just too damn big..."
"I'm not complaining," Patrick says, beating Travis to it.
Pete ducks his head when he smiles, looking away, but it still feels shared.
And just like that-- it's not that Patrick's suddenly in a good mood, only that he's aware of it, and he reaches over and grabs Pete's hand, pulling him off-balance so he and Pete fall back and land on Travis.
"Hey," Pete says, sounding kind of surprised at finding himself there.
"You're still wearing my sweatshirt," Travis says. His hands went up to catch Pete automatically, but he looks at Patrick and Patrick realises with a slight note of panic that he has no idea what he's doing, only that he just did something without actually thinking about it at all until after he'd done it.
And Travis is still looking at him, even as he turns onto his side, tipping Pete between them, and Patrick has to change his position, uncross his legs and turn on to his side so that there's enough space. Travis hooks his leg over both of them.
"I don't--" Patrick starts to say at the same time as Pete says, "I want--" and Travis says, "You know--"
They all stop, then all wait for someone else to start talking, and when nobody does, Patrick closes his eyes and just breathes. He knows what they sound like, knows the exact pitch and pattern of Pete breathing, what Travis sounds like when he's shifting about and trying to get comfortable, and it's all familiar. It's not new, lying like this, even if the details have never happened before.
"I could go," he says, not opening his eyes.
He feels Pete's laugh even before he hears it, a tension-laugh but still real. "You think that'd make any difference?" Pete says.
"Plausible deniability? Yeah, I know." He feels Pete jump and when he touches his waist, he finds Travis's hand there already. He brushes it with his fingers, then moves his hand so his fingers rest between Travis's.
"I don't want to dismiss your powers of denial," Travis says, "but--" And he moves, pulling him and Patrick in tighter against Pete and Patrick's eyes open to look at them.
I should kiss him, he thinks, but he doesn't know the etiquette, which him to kiss. And then Travis tilts his head and goes for the back of Pete's neck, so Patrick kisses him.
Not the first time he's kissed Pete, not even the first time he meant it, just the first time he couldn't excuse it.
And then he feels Travis' hand on his hip move to the front of his jeans, and he bucks against Pete, pushes him back against Travis and then Travis is off the edge of the bunk, landing with a muted crash on the ground.
"No orgies and no riots in the bus!" Joe yells from the main section.
Pete rolls over and looks down over the edge of the bunk and Patrick goes up on his elbow behind him to see as well. "You okay?" Pete asks.
"Bunks are too fucking small," Travis says, rubbing the back of his head.
Pete hesitates and Patrick can see his back tense, so he rests his hand on it. "We're at a hotel again tonight," Pete says. "Bigger rooms. Real beds."
"I could-- that might work," he says. He's a little surprised that he doesn't sound nervous, but he keeps his hand on Pete's back, watching Travis.
Travis gets to his feet, still rubbing the back of his head, and kisses Pete like he's trying to taste Patrick on him. He pulls away and Pete falls back against Patrick just as Patrick's going up to follow him. Travis's smile widens. "Yeah, that could work," he says.
One time, as a bet, the whole of Fall Out Boy stayed naked for four days, until Andy broke when they had to order takeaway and Pete made sure it was the cute girl Andy liked doing the delivery. Patrick had it easy, because he'd mostly been in his room, working on garageband -trying to beat it into submission- and wrapped in blankets. He'd still had to come out for meals, though, and to watch Heroes.
The point is, this is really not the first time he's seen Pete naked, at all.
It's not even the first time he's seen him naked and kissing Travis, but it is the first time he's seen it happen with *intent*. Not a joke, something friendly, or a spur of the moment thing, but with intent, leaning over Travis and angled across his body on the bed.
Pete kisses hard and kind of angry, and Patrick knows this is just Pete establishing ground first, Pete's way of saying that fucking or being fucked, he's not gonna be pushed around unless he wants to.
Especially because Travis's hands find Pete's hips, kind of holding him up, and Patrick has a moment when he's amused, because they're kind of predictable even though he's never seen this before. And a little pang, because they look good together, decorated and compatible.
And he wants to-- he wants to touch, he doesn't really want to be the guy standing awkwardly on the sidelines like a colossal dork, but he also really doesn't want to distract them. Pete kisses like he's picking a fight, and Travis kisses like he's trying to break one up.
He reaches out and touches Pete's back, feeling the muscles move and the ribcage underneath, his hand flat. Pete freezes and then shivers slightly, but he doesn't stop kissing Travis, doesn't look up.
Patrick bites his tongue and wonders if it's too early to lick him.
Pete's slowing down the attack, not any less intense but less aggressive, maybe, less pushy. Pulling away, just enough to make Travis follow him. Patrick leans in, and he doesn't realise how close he is until Travis breaks the kiss with Pete and kisses him.
Patrick's moment of shock lasts a moment before, "Yes, please," kicks in, and he can feel Pete still under his hand, the way he's braced up on his arms, but he can't see anything apart from Travis.
He's at an awkward angle, on his side with one hand on Pete's back and the other flat on the bed, and he has to lean against them to kiss Travis properly.
All the familiar differences, but the angle's different, and Travis pulls back, smiles and says, "hey, take over for a second," and pushes Patrick flat on his back and kind of-- passes Pete over, across him and on to Patrick. The movement's smoother than it should be, and Patrick wonders if Travis has been practicing, working it out in his mind and maybe getting someone else to act as stand-in while he rehearsed.
And then Pete's on top of him, braced on his forearms and looking kind of surprised. Patrick smiles, and Pete looks at him for a second, then he kisses him and Patrick was expecting-- well, something like what he'd just seen, Pete sharp and aggressive.
But Pete kisses him like-- not like a girl, because Pete kisses girls the same way he kisses guys, from what Patrick's observed. But slower, certain. It's the way he kisses people not for the first time, even though it kind of is, like this.
Pete shifts over from Travis properly, still kissing him, and Patrick's hands go to his sides, then his arms along his shoulders. Pulling him down and kissing him harder.
It's not that he's forgotten about Travis, but it's easier, a lot easier, to focus on Pete, kissing him and pulling him down and pushing up against him, than it is to think about Travis watching them.
He can feel the bed shift when Travis lies next to them on his side, like Patrick was earlier, but Travis presses against them and Patrick can feel his leg go across Pete's so they're all crossed over, his arm around both of them, pulling himself in.
Travis kind of interrupts, kissing Patrick, then Pete, then Patrick again. Travis is not one to let himself be left out. Pete moves against Patrick, smooth motion of his hips and Patrick jerks up, doesn't mean to, but-- and it makes Pete push down, and Travis stops kissing them to say, "Fuck I don't--"
Patrick stops kissing, freezes to look at him, and says, "What?"
Travis laughs, "I'm so fucking greedy, I can't--" he gestures at them. "Hard to choose," he says.
He's right, because Patrick wants-- he wants more of what he has now, but he also wants-- "I could blow you," he offers. "That's always good. Uh, you too," he says to Pete.
"Fuck!" Pete jerks forwards and his cock rubs against Patrick's before he freezes. "Jesus fucking Christ, Trick, warn a guy, right? Or the choice is gonna be taken out of your hands."
"He's right," Travis said, and he leans over them both. "You've seen the mouth, it's pretty--" He touches Patrick's mouth and Patrick, helpfully, sucks his fingers. "Pretty," Travis says, looking at him, sounding a little dazed. "Pete, move over and let me--"
Patrick can feel Pete grin, even before he moves his head, meets Patrick's eyes and joins his mouth, his tongue darting out to touch Travis's fingers where they disappear into Patrick's mouth. It's for show, but it's also conspiracy, and it's Pete's tongue touching his and--
"That is such a porn star move," Travis says.
Patrick pulls away. "You'd know."
Pete rests his face by the side of Patrick's and Patrick can feel him grin. "You've seen his collection?"
"Who hasn't?" And then Pete pulls away, curious look on his face, so Patrick asks before he can get the chance, "What did you watch, the first time you got together?" And because he knows them, he says, "What did you do?"
Pete looks at him, then across at Travis. "You mean he hasn't told you?"
"Waiting for the right moment," Travis says, then his hand, the same one Patrick had in his mouth seconds before, is between them. He can feel the back of Travis's knuckles moving against his as Travis curls his hand around Pete's cock. "Now, now feels good," he says.
"Maybe," Travis says. "Get off him, I want to--" Pete rolls off Patrick and Patrick can't hide the involuntary jerk of his hips, but Travis grabs him and pulls him tight next to him, on their sides facing Pete. He gets his hand on Patrick's cock and starts to stroke, slow and steady, and Patrick looks down like he always does, sees the tattoos on Travis fingers, sees them curl around him and is shocked, always, that he somehow has this. He hears a sound from Pete and when he looks up, Pete's looking at Travis jacking him off like it's something worth concentrating on. He has his hand on his own dick and Patrick's watching that, so when Travis speaks, it's actually a surprise.
"The first real thing," Travis says, "Was in the kitchen. I woke up and Pete had come over, broken in--"
"You didn't lock the door--"
"So I just came in, he pushed me down in a chair and blew me before the coffee was even ready." Travis licks the side of Patrick's neck, just where it joins his shoulder."
"That's it?" Pete says. "'He blew me, that's it? You kind of suck at this." He stops jerking himself off and Patrick lets out a little "Don't!" before he can help it. Pete grins at him, and it's a lot closer to how he was looking at Travis before. He moves closer just a little too slowly, and it should be like he's giving Patrick time to brace himself, time to say something, but it just makes him more sensitised when Pete touches him.
"I'd probably count it from the first time he invited me over, after I went to watch them at a gig," Pete says, tightening his hand over Travis's. "But whatever, if Travis doesn't think handjobs count, then sure, the kitchen. He came in, still half-asleep, didn't seem to notice he was naked." And Patrick can feel his fingers, feel them interlocking with Travis's to touch him. "He was half-hard and I figured since he'd got off on my hand the day before, why not? So I pushed him down on the chair, spread his legs wide enough that I could get in between them, and--"
"Show me," Patrick says, then says it again, trying to make it sound a little more like a request and less like a statement. "Show me what you did?"
Pete looks surprised for a moment, then he scoots down the bed and this isn't exactly what Patrick meant, but he's not going to object, even when Travis lets go of him, moving his hand to Patrick's hip so that it's all Pete. Pete keeps one hand on Patrick, setting up a rhythm and then he licks and Travis's hand stops him from jerking his hips forward. Then Travis is speaking, low and close enough that it's felt as much as heard.
"Yeah, like that, except I was holding on to the chair, didn't want to be rude first time out and hold his head, so I let him do all the work, just like that, and then--" And he finds Patrick's hand and lifts it, positions it on the side of Pete's head and stretches his own over it. It's strange, looking down and feeling Pete, seeing Travis and this was what it was like, he thinks, and he pushes back against Travis, forward in to Pete.
Travis is grinding against him and he's come like that before, looking over Patrick's shoulder at Patrick's cock like it's something new and exciting as he jerks him off, but it's not-- Pete's sucking him and he doesn't know if Travis is looking at him or looking at that and remembering.
And then Pete stops, licks his fingers and Patrick can see it, as clearly as if he'd been there and can picture it happening to himself even before Travis lift's his leg up, hooking it over his own and spreading Patrick, before Pete gets his mouth on him and Patrick can feel his fingers, just touching. Travis puts his hand on Patrick's mouth and Patrick licks, just like Pete's doing to him, and then he can feel one of Pete's fingers in him, two, trying to find the right spot and he wants to warn Pete, but Travis's hand is over his mouth and he comes, pushing back against him.
Travis holds him and when he finishes, bends his head to say, "Yeah, I wasn't that quick."
Pete's cough sounds remarkably like, "Bullshit."
Patrick laughs a little too, feeling it catch it his throat as his breathing settles. "Based on past experience, I'm gonna go with Pete on this one."
Pete comes back up the bed and kisses him and Patrick can taste himself on Pete's mouth briefly, before Travis pulls Pete over him, kissing in a way that's more like licking the inside of his mouth clean. Patrick feels lazy in a way that he knows won't last, but it feeds in to the slow, warm feeling of lying here and watching them.
He shuffles over a little so Pete can crawl over him, hands and knees above Travis and it steals his breath even before Travis starts jerking Pete off, slowly like he's in no particular rush and making Pete work at making it more.
He could stay here like this, just watching, and it's tempting, it really is, especially when Pete fights back, turning his kiss into a tease and staying only just in reach so Travis has to lean up to make it happen.
He should let them keep going, because it'd be pretty greedy to interrupt them now, but--
It'd be really fucking greedy to get in between them, but maybe he can just lend a helping hand or something. He scrambles around, finds the lube on the other side of them and tries to get it without throwing them off rhythm. It doesn't work entirely, because they turn to look at him at the same time and Travis says, "Maybe we should toss a coin," like he was halfway through a conversation that Patrick wasn't aware of.
"I could--" he starts to say, trying to remember that it's perfectly appropriate being caught holding lube in a situation like this, "I could-- a lot. Anything. Really. Whatever you wanted."
Pete's body shakes slightly and his head comes down so his forehead is resting against Travis's. "He's not kidding, is he?"
Travis's smile is pretty smug. "You can find out," he offers.
Pete's laugh is kind of shaky and his eyes are dark when they look at Patrick. "I want to watch him fuck you," he says. "I want you to fuck me, I want-- Anything? Really, you can't--" He looks down at Travis again, and says, "How the fuck do you--"
Travis looks at Pete like he understands, like what Pete said made sense. "Just-- you don't have to choose it all now, that helps."
"Still, jesus," Pete says, then he turns to Patrick and says, "I want to fuck you while Travis fucks me, but I don't think we've got the coordination for that right now." His voice is casual, like he's not just made Patrick's head explode, and does Pete even know what he's doing when he says stuff like that?
"Come here?" Pete says, as if it's possible for Patrick to say no. He straightens up, coming on to his knees and holding out his hand, Travis's hands holding his thighs, and Patrick walks over on his knees.
"We can-- lie down," Pete says, pushing at Patrick's shoulder. "No, wait, I want..." And he pushes his hair back, frowning, until Travis says, "We don't do something soon, I'm taking care of myself."
"Oh right, like that's a threat," Pete says, and Patrick's not even sure if Pete realises he's doing it, but his hand is going down to his own cock. And then Pete looks at Travis, smiles wide and evil and strokes himself once, slowly and deliberately. "I could come on you like this," he says. "You like the moneyshot, don't you?"
"Short toppy bastards," Travis says, but his hands are still on Pete's legs, stroking up and down. He looks at Patrick and says, "On your back?" And then his hands are on Pete's hips and he half-lifts, half spills him on to Patrick. Patrick grabs him automatically at the same time as Pete pushes himself upon his hands and their cocks rub against each other and Patrick groans, does it again when Pete rolls against him.
"Hold up, I've got a plan," Travis says, sounding impatient. Patrick can't see him, can't see anything but Pete's grin, the way his hair is sticking to the side of his face.
"Oh, he's got a plan. We should worry, right?" Pete says, whispering just loud enough to make sure Travis can hear.
"I'm panicking right now," Patrick says, trying to keep his voice deadpan, trying not to stutter when he can feel Pete's laugh down his whole body.
And then Pete stiffens, tensing for a moment, before relaxing like an act of will, his head coming down to rest on Patrick's shoulders.
"Pete?" Patrick says, trying to see what happened.
"Yeah, I'm good, I'm just--"
"I'm a fucking genius," Travis says. Patrick's hands are on Pete's back, almost at his waist, and he feels one of Travis's hands there, fingers splayed wide. Reassuring, he thinks, and realises --slow, Stump, pretty fucking slow-- what Travis is doing with his other hand. Pete's trying to keep braced, to keep his weight off Patrick, but Patrick can feel when he thrusts back, when he jerks forwards, and it makes him move under Pete, makes him change position so he can push up as well.
He can feel it when Travis stops using his fingers, could tell even without Pete's muttered "fuck, yes," when Travis starts fucking him. He can see Travis's hands on Pete's hips, pulling him back, holding him still. Pete's over him, on him, hands braced on either side of Patrick's arms, and it's awkward but Patrick can hold Pete's wrist with one hand, thumb pressing against the smooth skin, and find them both with the other. Patrick wraps his hand around him trying to time it to Travis's thrusts and saying, "Now, there," when he feels Pete shudder, when Travis hits the right spot or Patrick strokes him the right way, and then Travis does it again, and Patrick knows what Travis sounds like when he's this close to coming, so he's prepared for it when Travis comes, even before he hears him, feels the shaking translated through Pete's body. Patrick digs his feet in to the bed, pushes up against Pete, greedy and determined.
Pete sounds almost shocked when he comes, collapsing on Patrick, rolling off him when Patrick huffs. Travis comes along the other side, eyes heavy, and his movements are slow and lazy when he jerks Patrick off.
Travis's eyes are almost closed when he finishes, dropping one arm across Patrick and turning his head into the pillow. Pete's breathing is settling, but his eyes are wide open when Patrick turns to look at him. He smiles at Patrick, nods his head at the bathroom. "Should clean up," he says.
Patrick nods, yawns. "Yeah, just--" He scoots over, just a little. Not enough to dislodge Travis, but enough that he can lean his head against Pete's shoulder.
"'Kay," Pete says, turning on to his side and leaning against Patrick. His arm joins Travis's across Patrick, his head buried in his shoulder.
It's not the most comfortable position Patrick's ever been in, but he closes his eyes and sleeps.
End.
Author:
jamjarWarnings: adult content including sex and (in alphabetical order by first name) Patrick, Pete and Travis.
Notes:
ficbyzee beta-read and audienced and was a good example of humanity generally. It wouldn't have been finished or probably even started without her.Her motives were pure, I'm sure.
When Patrick gets out of the shower, he pulls on clean boxers and a T-shirt and heads out. He's not surprised to see Pete's fully dressed. Pete hates forced early mornings and has a tendency to deal with them like he's starting a war, putting on his armour and ready to punch 7am in the eye if it looks at him funny.
He's not surprised that Travis isn't, from what he can see. And because he's entitled to be a little bit shallow -he's a rockstar, dammit! Fox said so- he ogles, just for a moment, and offers up another little note of gratitude to whatever put him in a place where he can actually hook up with someone like that on a regular basis, without the use of money or blackmail.
The third thing to not surprise him is when Travis kisses Pete, because Travis has a terrible sense of personal boundaries and Pete has a pretty mouth.
He's kind of surprised that it's so short. "Yeah, but I'm pretty fucking cute anyway," Travis says to Pete.
Pete smiles at him, then says "Only reason we keep you around." He looks over at Patrick in the doorway, and Patrick wonders if he knew he was there before. Pete's bad with mornings, but he sometimes makes up for it with crazy animal defensive instincts, cave-brain taking over from the higher functions. "Your boyfriend's trying to steal my virtue," he says.
"That's kind of pointless," Patrick says. "See, we keep Pete's virtue very securely hidden. In a safe with a lock on the door and everything."
"In an egg," Pete says. "In a duck, in a hare, in a locked chest, in a cave in Russia." He grins at Patrick and Patrick smiles back, because he remembers Pete finding that book in his house, the beautiful illustrations, reading them with his back against Patrick's while Patrick bent over his iBook.
"So it's pretty safe," Patrick says. "He can have it back when he grows up, or when he turns thirty-five, whichever comes first." He goes over to the little breakfast table and man, he can remember when they were lucky to get a hotel with one room for all of them, and now they have a suite with an actual main room with furniture. He pulls out the chair opposite them and sits down, grabbing the menu.
"Yeah?" Travis says. "Is yours there too?"
Patrick looks down at the table and tries to look like he's blushing. "Oh, Travis. You mean you couldn't tell? Our first night, it was my first..." He looks away, shy and demure, meets Pete's eyes and starts laughing.
"Dude, why do you think we dressed him in white?" Pete says.
The best part is that Travis looks panicked for just a split second, almost chokes before he recovers and says, "Wow. I mean, I just assumed you were overwhelmed by my presence, but-- You offered me your special flo--"
"Don't say it," Pete says, "Seriously, no."
"I'm kind of with Pete on this one," Patrick says.
Travis puts a hand to his chest, over his heart. "But you saved yourself for me, right?"
Pete nods. "He did. And everyone knows the first three-- three?" Patrick nods and Pete continues, "don't count." He hesitates, then says, "Three and a half is kind of more accurate,"
"You can't count halves," Patrick tells him. "So three or four, and since it wasn't exactly--"
"Right," Pete says. "Three." He turns to Travis and pats him on the shoulder. "But apart from them, it's only been you."
Patrick steals some of Pete's cereal from Travis and picks at it, dry, honey-flavoured crunchy things, the sort of thing that looks healthy as long as you don't actually read what it says on the packet. After a few mouthfuls, he says, "Are you naked?"
He means it to come out flat, but his voice goes up on naked, like it's done since he was twelve.
Travis looks down, looks shocked and then looks at Pete. "But I was dressed when I sat down!" he says, before grinning.
Pete shrugs. "Must have been the naked fairies. They're always doing that. Running around, stealing clothes when you're not looking."
"Pete, that's you," Patrick says. He points at him. "You know you're wearing Travis's sweatshirt, right?"
Pete looks a little surprised. "Huh. You want it back?"
Patrick shakes his head. "Keep it. Looks better on you then it does on him."
Travis rolls his eyes and says, "Fuck you," half turning to include Pete. "Hey, I think it is mine." He pushes the hood down and lifts the collar. "My size." He leaves his hand there, curled around the back of Pete's neck and Patrick sees Pete shiver. Pete's neck is always kind of sensitive, an easy target for cold fingers and ice cubes.
Travis yawns, stretches and pats the back of his head, catching his fingers in his hair and then combing them through. "I'm gonna have a shower," he says and stands up.
Patrick's really not immune to the sight.
Pete doesn't seem to be either, and Patrick has a moment of something that's a little like being smug, like being proud of what he managed to get, and a little like sharing, one of those beats where he and Pete are in sync.
And then Pete looks at him, eyes wide and dark, and then smiles and Patrick knows he got that, too. "You could join him," Pete says, putting on a dirty old man grin.
Patrick rolls his eyes, because Pete has-- it's not a kink, or even the X-rated kind of fetish, just some kind of psychological quirk where he honestly seems to believe that it's his duty to make sure Patrick gets laid as often as humanly possible, that Patrick will go through life oblivious to any and all chances to hook up, unless Pete personally points them out.
The thing is, Patrick maybe would have joined Travis anyway, but if he goes now then it'll mean that Pete will have won, and also that he'll be sitting out here knowing that Patrick's in there with Travis.
"Seriously, Trick. He's in there, wet, slick, naked, and you're sitting out here eating my breakfast. What's wrong with this picture?"
"You know, you could just buy your own porn," Patrick says. "Instead of playing Triple-X-rated matchmaker."
Pete grins and tries to steal his food back, before Patrick holds the bowl out of reach. "Maybe I'm cheap."
"Maybe you're just a freak," Patrick offers. "I think we should consider that option, too."
"Maybe you're cheap," Pete says. "Mean. Not letting anyone else enjoy the thought of you two fucking like ferrets."
"Weasels," Patrick corrects automatically. Pete raises and eyebrow and Patrick refuses to blush. "People fuck like weasels," he says. "Not ferrets. Weasels. People fuck like weasels." And, because if you're in a hole you might as well keep digging, he adds, "in heat, usually."
Pete opens his eyes wide. "You know something I don't, Stump?"
Patrick shrugs. "It's just what people say. Salt and pepper, not pepper and salt, dumb as a box of rocks, not bricks or whatever. People screw like horny weasels. Not ferrets." He waits a beat. "Not unless you're doing it wrong."
Pete gives up trying to take back his cereal and leans back in his chair. "You know we've got to have that in the next single," he says.
Patrick contemplates saying something like, "Just because you write it, doesn't mean I have to sing it," but if Pete can make it work, Pete can make it work, and then Patrick will turn it into something he can sing and he'll be pretty much powerless to do anything else. The hoodie is too big on Pete, covering up to his fingertips and Pete wonders if Travis will get it back, or if he's lost it to Pete forever.
He's not really hungry. He prefers to eat breakfast when he's already done something with the morning. It's a thought that leads straight to Travis, because that's how a lot of his mornings start these days. He shifts in his seat and--
And actually, he's being stupid, because it's not like Pete doesn't have a pretty good idea what happens when Patrick and Travis go to bed, when they turn up late, and Patrick could -should!- go into that bathroom right now and jump Travis in the shower. Or maybe not jump him in the shower exactly, because it'll be kind of slippery and easy to crack your head open on a soapdish, and wouldn't that be fun to explain, so maybe just fold a towel on the bathroom floor for a little cushioning and--
He pushes his chair back and says, "I'm done."
Pete gives him a vaguely disapproving look. "That's not a proper breakfast, and you know you--"
"I'm just gonna go back to bed," Patrick says over him. "Watch cartoons or something."
"You know just saying that lets me know you're going back in there to--"
"Do you want me to stay here and talk to you instead?" Patrick says. "Because you say anything, and I'm going to sit back down and we're going to eat breakfast and have an actual conversation, while Travis is wet and naked and alone. Do you want that to happen?"
Pete laughs and says, "Aw, they grow up so--"
"So I'm thinking about switching the order so Joe has a chance to calm the fuck down before we--"
"I'm shutting up!" Pete says. "I'm just going to sit out here, maybe have some more toast, while you go in there and, you know, watch cartoons. Or whatever." He looks away from Patrick, making a show of it.
Patrick stands up, tugs his T-shirt down a bit. Pete ignores him and starts whistling, so Patrick rolls his eyes and says, "You're lucky I'm easily distracted."
Travis is still in the shower, curtain drawn, when Patrick goes in. He perches on the edge of the sink, watching through the plastic. His glasses fog up, and he takes them off and puts them to one side, then leans back.
The shower stops and Travis pushes the curtain back and Patrick has a moment where he just appreciates. Looks him over, top to toe and back again, and feels nicely predatory. One of the best things about dating regularly is the permission to do this, to just look whenever you want, and for it not to be creepy or weird but actually a good thing.
Travis looks back, and that's the other good thing about having sex with someone who knows you-- no worries about them being disappointed or deciding that what they see isn't to their tastes, because they know what you look like, what you sound like, how you are, and they *want* that.
Patrick shifts position a little, not out of discomfort. The edge of the surface is hard under his palms, and when he presses his fingers against it, he remembers how Travis's hair feels when Patrick's got his hands in it.
"You want to join me?" Travis says, holding back the curtain in a sweeping, dramatic gesture.
"You look like you're pretty much finished." Patrick says.
"Yeah, but you can never be too clean," Travis says. "Or too dirty." His smile is pretty close to how Pete's was over the breakfast table, dirty-old-man.
He gets out of the shower and comes up to Patrick. Patrick tilts his head back, and honestly, most of the time he doesn't realise the height difference. He knows it's there, but it's just-- Travis. And then sometimes when he's next to him, or when he sees Travis next to Pete or Andy, it just hits him.
Travis kisses him, pressing himself against Patrick, and Patrick hitches himself up on edge of the sink, wrapping his legs around Travis. His skin's damp from the shower and he smells like Patrick's shower gel.
Travis's hands go under his T-shirt, resting on his back for a moment before they start to tug at his T-shirt. Patrick shifts position, helping Travis pull it off him, holding on with his legs so he doesn't fall, and then his hands are free and he curls one hand round the side of his neck, covering the tattoo and pressing in just a little with his thumb to feel Travis's throat move.
He gets his other hand between them, finding Travis's cock, feeling his own hard through his boxers. "I'm not feeling subtle," he says, half laughing.
"Yeah, I appreciate that," Travis says, and then groans when Patrick runs his thumb just over the head. Right now, that sound is hands down the sexiest sound Travis has ever made, but Patrick knows he's pretty fickle about that, tends to feel that way about everything. I'm so easy, he thinks.
"Yeah, and I appreciate that too." Patrick jumps when Travis says that, just a little. He hadn't realised he'd said that out loud, but sex makes him easily distracted or overly focussed, depending on how you look at it.
Travis's hands go to his thighs, holding with a grip just this side of bruising, and then crossing over when Patrick moves his hand on his cock. He has to lean back a little to get space and it makes his position a little precarious, needing his hand on Travis's neck to stay balanced.
Travis's eyes close and his head tilts back, just a little, just enough to leave him looking open, and Patrick thinks he could do *anything*, and then Travis pushes forward, sharp movement of his hips into Patrick's hand, pushing against Patrick's cock and Patrick groans and jerks forwards, almost coming off-balance. He has to take his hand off Travis to stay up there and he knocks down the little hotel soap basket and only just manages to catch the glass before it joins it. They both freeze and Patrick thinks that if it broke, Pete would hear, before backing away from that thought. He puts the glass as far back as he can against the mirror and says, "Maybe we should--"
"Wait, I've got to-- Just hold on to my head or something," Travis says, and he pushes Patrick's legs apart, then slides down on to his knees between them, tugging Patrick's boxers down.
Wait, I wanted to-- Patrick starts to think, before realising what a stupid thing that is to say when you've got Travis between your legs, permission to bury your hands in his hair, to hold on and grip. "Fuck!"
He can *feel* Travis smile, right before he starts, feel his mouth open into a grin against the inside of his thigh before he moves it and takes him in.
His fingers tighten in Travis's hair and he forces them not to pull, but it's hard, and he can only make little, shallow thrusts. Travis takes him in then draws back, rubs the side of his face against Patrick's thigh and Patrick can feel it, rough and abrasive. He tightens his grip and pulls him back in, then realises what he's doing and loosens his grip, but Travis doesn't pull away, just bends his head forward and Patrick can't really see what he's doing without pushing his hair back, but he can feel it and he groans again, bites his lip when he realises it came out too loud.
Travis takes one hand off his leg and Patrick can feel the imprint of his hand where it was. Travis moves, but he doesn't stop, his *genius* mouth at work, and then Patrick jerks forward, almost too far when Travis' fingers push against him then into him, one, two and then *moving*, and--
"I'm gonna--" Patrick says, and somehow manages to actually pull Travis away, knotting his fingers in his hair, letting go when Travis looks at him.
"What?"
"I want you to fuck me-- we've got time, I want--" He slides forwards, off the sink and landing on Travis, pushing him on to his back a little too fast on a tiled floor. "You okay?"
Travis's hands tighten on his hips, lifting him up so he's kneeling over him. The tiles are hard against his knees, hard enough that he'll probably regret this later, but not now. He looks around for the lube but Travis beats him to it, then passes it over and puts his hands flat on the floor next to him, smiling like he's just discovered live-action porn.
Patrick rolls his eyes at the expression, but only until he starts. He's not a showman, but there is something about preparing yourself, using your own fingers to open yourself up while someone watches and *appreciates* that makes everything better.
And it's still probably too fast and he'll be feeling that later, too, but he lowers himself on Travis, and Travis jerks up as he's bringing himself down. One hand grips the side of the sink and one hand grips himself and he *moves*, feeling the hard edge of the sink digging in to his hand, hearing Travis groan. He looks at Travis, looks at his mouth and starts to lean forward, and Travis comes and that pushes Patrick over, gripping the side of the sink hard enough to turn his fingers white and saying Travis's name too loud.
He collapses forwards and Travis fails to catch him, just makes a soft huff at the weight. They lie there for a moment and Travis' neck is right next to Patrick's mouth, so he licks it, then rolls over on to the floor.
The ceiling is generic hotel magnolia, and Patrick tries to get his breathing under control. Travis is lying next to him and something about the positions, listening to another person breathe so heavily and so close, makes him remember the early days in the van. It's less a memory and more an echo, but a warm one.
"I need a shower," he says when his heart's settled a little.
Travis and Joe end up on one of the techie buses, something to do with either helping sound engineers with their broken hearts, or stealing their money in a poker tournament. Patrick's not too sure of the details and likes it that way. He's a little surprised when Andy and Pete don't join them, but Andy heads straight to the bunks and pulls the curtain closed and Pete leans against Patrick when he sits down on the bench, resting his head on Patrick's shoulder and closing his eyes.
He hasn't been thinking particularly about Pete and Travis kissing, but he hasn't been not-thinking about it, either. It's just there in the back of his head, like a song that's vaguely coming together or the first part of a two-parter season finale, ticking over in the back of his mind. There's something weirdly comforting in it, something that's vaguely pleasing for reasons he can't quite identify.
"You and Travis," Patrick starts to say.
"Hmm?" Pete raises his head and looks at him.
Patrick hugs him a little tighter, encouraging him back to sleep. Pete bends his head down against Patrick's shoulder and rubs his forehead against Patrick's sweater. Pete mocks him for the argyle, which is half the reason Patrick wears it, but this particular sweater is soft and Pete might threaten it with scissors and koolaid, but he still spends more time next to Patrick when he wears it, pulling Patrick's arm over him like a blanket.
He's not sure what he would have said anyway. Not "You were kissing," because Pete was there, he knows that. Not, "Did you and Travis ever fuck around?" Because really, he knows the answer to that one.
Maybe "Why did you stop?"
He doesn't say anything, though, which is why he's kind of surprised when Pete says, "I'm not sleeping." Into his shoulder.
"What?"
"I'm not sleeping," he says, not lifting his head up, but Patrick can feel him smile. "I'm just being lazy." And then he does lift his head and he's in close-up. "So whatever you were going to say..." He straightens up and Patrick feels light where Pete's not touching him anymore.
"Huh? Oh, it's nothing," he says. "Just thinking, only not really." He gestures at the window, because something about moving makes it easy to not really think, thoughts just drifting through your head without ever really landing.
Pete gives him a look, frowning a little, then says, "Is this about this morning?" Sounding weirdly tentative.
Patrick shakes his head and smiles. "No, not really. Just-- you and Travis. You know, generally." He shrugs, then smiles.
"Because we're friends I'm going to let you get away with the complete lack of sense you're making," Pete says. He pats Patrick's knee. "You wanna watch something?" Pete asks, then he rolls his neck and winces. "You find something to watch, I'm gonna stretch."
He slides off the bench, arms out in front of him, head tilted back and rolling his wrists like an undead yoga instructor, which is probably not an image Patrick should share with him. Well, maybe-- no. He digs around for something to watch and grabs the first season of Buffy.
Pete comes back with a couple cans of coke, puts them on the table in front of them and looks at Patrick for a moment.
"What?" Patrick says, pushing his glasses more securely on his nose.
"Nothing," Pete says, and really, that smile should have been warning enough, but Patrick is still unprepared when Pete's icy fingers find his side.
"Fuck!" Patrick-- shouts, not shrieks, shouts, and tries to retreat, blocked by the wall, but Pete dives back after him. "Get your hands off me! They're like--" Patrick tries to bat them away, but Pete is determined, even when he's giggling like a hyena, and Patrick's reduced to yelling, "Andy! Pete's trying to--"
"Let him!" Andy's voice calls back from the bunks, sleep-grouchy.
Pete tries for an evil laugh but gets derailed by actual laughter, choking on it so he's half collapsed on Patrick, his hands flat on Patrick's skin. He lifts himself up, still keeping his hands on Patrick, but stops halfway, staring.
Patrick follows his gaze. His sweater and T-shirt are shoved up, but it's not like there's anything Pete hasn't seen before-- oh.
Because his jeans are loose enough that the waistband's been pushed down a little too, and there are clear bruises on Patrick's hips, and two bitemarks between them. Pete stretches his fingers out, trying to match them, and doesn't even come close.
"His hands are huge," Pete says, almost distractedly. He moves his hand, trying to touch the bruises and his thumb goes over a bitemark, and Patrick freezes so that he doesn't shiver, his skin feeling oversensitive. For a moment, he has two thoughts running in tandem. If this was anybody but Pete touching him like this, it'd feel weird. And, if this was anybody but Pete, it wouldn't feel so strange.
"Breathe, Patrick," Pete says.
"No?"
Pete laughs, and it's low, quiet.
Patrick doesn't move, not deliberately, but he can feel his stomach tense under Pete's hand. He doesn't know what to do or what to say, so he ends up with, "Why did you and Travis stop hooking up?" And then, before Pete can answer, "Did you?"
"We weren't-- You two started. Seemed like it'd be--" And Pete's words sound uncertain, sentences cut short, but his pitch is steady and low, and he's looking at Patrick without blinking. "Seemed like it'd be weird, I guess. Our tastes don't usually overlap." He's smiling just a little, and his hands are still there, like they're glued to Patrick's skin. They're not moving, not stroking or anything, just these two points of contact that Patrick can feel himself shift against.
There's a moment where Patrick knows he should say something, do something, but he lets it draw out. He can feel his face get hot and Pete's still looking at him.
He doesn't know if he's relieved or disappointed when he feels the bus stop and the driver yell, "Lunch break, everyone back here in forty."
Patrick has his headphones on and is sitting crosslegged on his bunk and staring at the screen when Travis gets back on their bus. He's only vaguely aware of it, but he can feel when Travis comes up behind him, crawls in and stretches out, arms loose around Patrick and Travis's legs either side of him, knees slightly raised over Patrick's own. Patrick leans back into him, just for a second, and then goes back to staring at the screen.
After a few moments he gives up, closes the laptop and slips the headphones off.
"I think the game is rigged," he says.
"Mmm." Travis sounds distracted and his hands go under Patrick's sweater and T-shirt, fingers stretched as wide as they can go over his stomach and just edging under his waistband. He rests his chin on Patrick's shoulder, hunched over him, and Patrick wonders if there's something about him that encourages that or if it's just that Pete and Travis picked up their habits together.
Travis is wearing his glasses and they bang against Patrick's own, plastic arms knocking in to each other. Then Travis leans back, taking Patrick with him so they're sprawled on the bunk. Patrick turns around so he's lying half on Travis, half on his side, careful not to kick the laptop where it lies on the bunk.
Travis smiles at him, open and easy, and Patrick kisses him without quite meaning too, then again because the first time was nice. Travis's hands go back to where they were, half under his shirt with the other half just edging under his waistband, and then stay there, unrushed.
"Hey, were you--" Pete says, coming in to their section, then he stops. "Or I can come back later."
Travis groans dramatically, but Patrick moves off him and sits up. "Nothing we can't do later," he says. "Which one of us did you want?"
Pete blinks, and then Patrick realises what he said. He gives an irritated sigh. "You know what I mean."
"Me and Freud both," Pete says. Travis sniggers and Patrick digs his elbow in to him and reaches over to offer Pete an arm up into the bunk.
"Freud was kind of a freak," Patrick points out when Pete's sitting comfortably cross-legged.
Travis sits up as well, back against the wall, and they have to shuffle around. Travis is on the edge of the bunk. It's safe, but it looks kind of precarious and Pete's hand curls around Travis's ankle like that would help.
"You wanted something?" Patrick prompts.
"Probably," Pete says. "Can't remember what it was."
"Going senile?" Travis says.
"I'd tell you to fuck off, but since I'm right here, can you wait til I'm gone?" Pete says, but his hand stays where it is on Travis's ankle.
"Yeah, these bunks fail the threesome test," Travis says. "You don't get this problem when you're travelling with The Academy Is..."
"Hey, we can get all four of us in here, plus Dirty," Pete says. "You're just too damn big..."
"I'm not complaining," Patrick says, beating Travis to it.
Pete ducks his head when he smiles, looking away, but it still feels shared.
And just like that-- it's not that Patrick's suddenly in a good mood, only that he's aware of it, and he reaches over and grabs Pete's hand, pulling him off-balance so he and Pete fall back and land on Travis.
"Hey," Pete says, sounding kind of surprised at finding himself there.
"You're still wearing my sweatshirt," Travis says. His hands went up to catch Pete automatically, but he looks at Patrick and Patrick realises with a slight note of panic that he has no idea what he's doing, only that he just did something without actually thinking about it at all until after he'd done it.
And Travis is still looking at him, even as he turns onto his side, tipping Pete between them, and Patrick has to change his position, uncross his legs and turn on to his side so that there's enough space. Travis hooks his leg over both of them.
"I don't--" Patrick starts to say at the same time as Pete says, "I want--" and Travis says, "You know--"
They all stop, then all wait for someone else to start talking, and when nobody does, Patrick closes his eyes and just breathes. He knows what they sound like, knows the exact pitch and pattern of Pete breathing, what Travis sounds like when he's shifting about and trying to get comfortable, and it's all familiar. It's not new, lying like this, even if the details have never happened before.
"I could go," he says, not opening his eyes.
He feels Pete's laugh even before he hears it, a tension-laugh but still real. "You think that'd make any difference?" Pete says.
"Plausible deniability? Yeah, I know." He feels Pete jump and when he touches his waist, he finds Travis's hand there already. He brushes it with his fingers, then moves his hand so his fingers rest between Travis's.
"I don't want to dismiss your powers of denial," Travis says, "but--" And he moves, pulling him and Patrick in tighter against Pete and Patrick's eyes open to look at them.
I should kiss him, he thinks, but he doesn't know the etiquette, which him to kiss. And then Travis tilts his head and goes for the back of Pete's neck, so Patrick kisses him.
Not the first time he's kissed Pete, not even the first time he meant it, just the first time he couldn't excuse it.
And then he feels Travis' hand on his hip move to the front of his jeans, and he bucks against Pete, pushes him back against Travis and then Travis is off the edge of the bunk, landing with a muted crash on the ground.
"No orgies and no riots in the bus!" Joe yells from the main section.
Pete rolls over and looks down over the edge of the bunk and Patrick goes up on his elbow behind him to see as well. "You okay?" Pete asks.
"Bunks are too fucking small," Travis says, rubbing the back of his head.
Pete hesitates and Patrick can see his back tense, so he rests his hand on it. "We're at a hotel again tonight," Pete says. "Bigger rooms. Real beds."
"I could-- that might work," he says. He's a little surprised that he doesn't sound nervous, but he keeps his hand on Pete's back, watching Travis.
Travis gets to his feet, still rubbing the back of his head, and kisses Pete like he's trying to taste Patrick on him. He pulls away and Pete falls back against Patrick just as Patrick's going up to follow him. Travis's smile widens. "Yeah, that could work," he says.
One time, as a bet, the whole of Fall Out Boy stayed naked for four days, until Andy broke when they had to order takeaway and Pete made sure it was the cute girl Andy liked doing the delivery. Patrick had it easy, because he'd mostly been in his room, working on garageband -trying to beat it into submission- and wrapped in blankets. He'd still had to come out for meals, though, and to watch Heroes.
The point is, this is really not the first time he's seen Pete naked, at all.
It's not even the first time he's seen him naked and kissing Travis, but it is the first time he's seen it happen with *intent*. Not a joke, something friendly, or a spur of the moment thing, but with intent, leaning over Travis and angled across his body on the bed.
Pete kisses hard and kind of angry, and Patrick knows this is just Pete establishing ground first, Pete's way of saying that fucking or being fucked, he's not gonna be pushed around unless he wants to.
Especially because Travis's hands find Pete's hips, kind of holding him up, and Patrick has a moment when he's amused, because they're kind of predictable even though he's never seen this before. And a little pang, because they look good together, decorated and compatible.
And he wants to-- he wants to touch, he doesn't really want to be the guy standing awkwardly on the sidelines like a colossal dork, but he also really doesn't want to distract them. Pete kisses like he's picking a fight, and Travis kisses like he's trying to break one up.
He reaches out and touches Pete's back, feeling the muscles move and the ribcage underneath, his hand flat. Pete freezes and then shivers slightly, but he doesn't stop kissing Travis, doesn't look up.
Patrick bites his tongue and wonders if it's too early to lick him.
Pete's slowing down the attack, not any less intense but less aggressive, maybe, less pushy. Pulling away, just enough to make Travis follow him. Patrick leans in, and he doesn't realise how close he is until Travis breaks the kiss with Pete and kisses him.
Patrick's moment of shock lasts a moment before, "Yes, please," kicks in, and he can feel Pete still under his hand, the way he's braced up on his arms, but he can't see anything apart from Travis.
He's at an awkward angle, on his side with one hand on Pete's back and the other flat on the bed, and he has to lean against them to kiss Travis properly.
All the familiar differences, but the angle's different, and Travis pulls back, smiles and says, "hey, take over for a second," and pushes Patrick flat on his back and kind of-- passes Pete over, across him and on to Patrick. The movement's smoother than it should be, and Patrick wonders if Travis has been practicing, working it out in his mind and maybe getting someone else to act as stand-in while he rehearsed.
And then Pete's on top of him, braced on his forearms and looking kind of surprised. Patrick smiles, and Pete looks at him for a second, then he kisses him and Patrick was expecting-- well, something like what he'd just seen, Pete sharp and aggressive.
But Pete kisses him like-- not like a girl, because Pete kisses girls the same way he kisses guys, from what Patrick's observed. But slower, certain. It's the way he kisses people not for the first time, even though it kind of is, like this.
Pete shifts over from Travis properly, still kissing him, and Patrick's hands go to his sides, then his arms along his shoulders. Pulling him down and kissing him harder.
It's not that he's forgotten about Travis, but it's easier, a lot easier, to focus on Pete, kissing him and pulling him down and pushing up against him, than it is to think about Travis watching them.
He can feel the bed shift when Travis lies next to them on his side, like Patrick was earlier, but Travis presses against them and Patrick can feel his leg go across Pete's so they're all crossed over, his arm around both of them, pulling himself in.
Travis kind of interrupts, kissing Patrick, then Pete, then Patrick again. Travis is not one to let himself be left out. Pete moves against Patrick, smooth motion of his hips and Patrick jerks up, doesn't mean to, but-- and it makes Pete push down, and Travis stops kissing them to say, "Fuck I don't--"
Patrick stops kissing, freezes to look at him, and says, "What?"
Travis laughs, "I'm so fucking greedy, I can't--" he gestures at them. "Hard to choose," he says.
He's right, because Patrick wants-- he wants more of what he has now, but he also wants-- "I could blow you," he offers. "That's always good. Uh, you too," he says to Pete.
"Fuck!" Pete jerks forwards and his cock rubs against Patrick's before he freezes. "Jesus fucking Christ, Trick, warn a guy, right? Or the choice is gonna be taken out of your hands."
"He's right," Travis said, and he leans over them both. "You've seen the mouth, it's pretty--" He touches Patrick's mouth and Patrick, helpfully, sucks his fingers. "Pretty," Travis says, looking at him, sounding a little dazed. "Pete, move over and let me--"
Patrick can feel Pete grin, even before he moves his head, meets Patrick's eyes and joins his mouth, his tongue darting out to touch Travis's fingers where they disappear into Patrick's mouth. It's for show, but it's also conspiracy, and it's Pete's tongue touching his and--
"That is such a porn star move," Travis says.
Patrick pulls away. "You'd know."
Pete rests his face by the side of Patrick's and Patrick can feel him grin. "You've seen his collection?"
"Who hasn't?" And then Pete pulls away, curious look on his face, so Patrick asks before he can get the chance, "What did you watch, the first time you got together?" And because he knows them, he says, "What did you do?"
Pete looks at him, then across at Travis. "You mean he hasn't told you?"
"Waiting for the right moment," Travis says, then his hand, the same one Patrick had in his mouth seconds before, is between them. He can feel the back of Travis's knuckles moving against his as Travis curls his hand around Pete's cock. "Now, now feels good," he says.
"Maybe," Travis says. "Get off him, I want to--" Pete rolls off Patrick and Patrick can't hide the involuntary jerk of his hips, but Travis grabs him and pulls him tight next to him, on their sides facing Pete. He gets his hand on Patrick's cock and starts to stroke, slow and steady, and Patrick looks down like he always does, sees the tattoos on Travis fingers, sees them curl around him and is shocked, always, that he somehow has this. He hears a sound from Pete and when he looks up, Pete's looking at Travis jacking him off like it's something worth concentrating on. He has his hand on his own dick and Patrick's watching that, so when Travis speaks, it's actually a surprise.
"The first real thing," Travis says, "Was in the kitchen. I woke up and Pete had come over, broken in--"
"You didn't lock the door--"
"So I just came in, he pushed me down in a chair and blew me before the coffee was even ready." Travis licks the side of Patrick's neck, just where it joins his shoulder."
"That's it?" Pete says. "'He blew me, that's it? You kind of suck at this." He stops jerking himself off and Patrick lets out a little "Don't!" before he can help it. Pete grins at him, and it's a lot closer to how he was looking at Travis before. He moves closer just a little too slowly, and it should be like he's giving Patrick time to brace himself, time to say something, but it just makes him more sensitised when Pete touches him.
"I'd probably count it from the first time he invited me over, after I went to watch them at a gig," Pete says, tightening his hand over Travis's. "But whatever, if Travis doesn't think handjobs count, then sure, the kitchen. He came in, still half-asleep, didn't seem to notice he was naked." And Patrick can feel his fingers, feel them interlocking with Travis's to touch him. "He was half-hard and I figured since he'd got off on my hand the day before, why not? So I pushed him down on the chair, spread his legs wide enough that I could get in between them, and--"
"Show me," Patrick says, then says it again, trying to make it sound a little more like a request and less like a statement. "Show me what you did?"
Pete looks surprised for a moment, then he scoots down the bed and this isn't exactly what Patrick meant, but he's not going to object, even when Travis lets go of him, moving his hand to Patrick's hip so that it's all Pete. Pete keeps one hand on Patrick, setting up a rhythm and then he licks and Travis's hand stops him from jerking his hips forward. Then Travis is speaking, low and close enough that it's felt as much as heard.
"Yeah, like that, except I was holding on to the chair, didn't want to be rude first time out and hold his head, so I let him do all the work, just like that, and then--" And he finds Patrick's hand and lifts it, positions it on the side of Pete's head and stretches his own over it. It's strange, looking down and feeling Pete, seeing Travis and this was what it was like, he thinks, and he pushes back against Travis, forward in to Pete.
Travis is grinding against him and he's come like that before, looking over Patrick's shoulder at Patrick's cock like it's something new and exciting as he jerks him off, but it's not-- Pete's sucking him and he doesn't know if Travis is looking at him or looking at that and remembering.
And then Pete stops, licks his fingers and Patrick can see it, as clearly as if he'd been there and can picture it happening to himself even before Travis lift's his leg up, hooking it over his own and spreading Patrick, before Pete gets his mouth on him and Patrick can feel his fingers, just touching. Travis puts his hand on Patrick's mouth and Patrick licks, just like Pete's doing to him, and then he can feel one of Pete's fingers in him, two, trying to find the right spot and he wants to warn Pete, but Travis's hand is over his mouth and he comes, pushing back against him.
Travis holds him and when he finishes, bends his head to say, "Yeah, I wasn't that quick."
Pete's cough sounds remarkably like, "Bullshit."
Patrick laughs a little too, feeling it catch it his throat as his breathing settles. "Based on past experience, I'm gonna go with Pete on this one."
Pete comes back up the bed and kisses him and Patrick can taste himself on Pete's mouth briefly, before Travis pulls Pete over him, kissing in a way that's more like licking the inside of his mouth clean. Patrick feels lazy in a way that he knows won't last, but it feeds in to the slow, warm feeling of lying here and watching them.
He shuffles over a little so Pete can crawl over him, hands and knees above Travis and it steals his breath even before Travis starts jerking Pete off, slowly like he's in no particular rush and making Pete work at making it more.
He could stay here like this, just watching, and it's tempting, it really is, especially when Pete fights back, turning his kiss into a tease and staying only just in reach so Travis has to lean up to make it happen.
He should let them keep going, because it'd be pretty greedy to interrupt them now, but--
It'd be really fucking greedy to get in between them, but maybe he can just lend a helping hand or something. He scrambles around, finds the lube on the other side of them and tries to get it without throwing them off rhythm. It doesn't work entirely, because they turn to look at him at the same time and Travis says, "Maybe we should toss a coin," like he was halfway through a conversation that Patrick wasn't aware of.
"I could--" he starts to say, trying to remember that it's perfectly appropriate being caught holding lube in a situation like this, "I could-- a lot. Anything. Really. Whatever you wanted."
Pete's body shakes slightly and his head comes down so his forehead is resting against Travis's. "He's not kidding, is he?"
Travis's smile is pretty smug. "You can find out," he offers.
Pete's laugh is kind of shaky and his eyes are dark when they look at Patrick. "I want to watch him fuck you," he says. "I want you to fuck me, I want-- Anything? Really, you can't--" He looks down at Travis again, and says, "How the fuck do you--"
Travis looks at Pete like he understands, like what Pete said made sense. "Just-- you don't have to choose it all now, that helps."
"Still, jesus," Pete says, then he turns to Patrick and says, "I want to fuck you while Travis fucks me, but I don't think we've got the coordination for that right now." His voice is casual, like he's not just made Patrick's head explode, and does Pete even know what he's doing when he says stuff like that?
"Come here?" Pete says, as if it's possible for Patrick to say no. He straightens up, coming on to his knees and holding out his hand, Travis's hands holding his thighs, and Patrick walks over on his knees.
"We can-- lie down," Pete says, pushing at Patrick's shoulder. "No, wait, I want..." And he pushes his hair back, frowning, until Travis says, "We don't do something soon, I'm taking care of myself."
"Oh right, like that's a threat," Pete says, and Patrick's not even sure if Pete realises he's doing it, but his hand is going down to his own cock. And then Pete looks at Travis, smiles wide and evil and strokes himself once, slowly and deliberately. "I could come on you like this," he says. "You like the moneyshot, don't you?"
"Short toppy bastards," Travis says, but his hands are still on Pete's legs, stroking up and down. He looks at Patrick and says, "On your back?" And then his hands are on Pete's hips and he half-lifts, half spills him on to Patrick. Patrick grabs him automatically at the same time as Pete pushes himself upon his hands and their cocks rub against each other and Patrick groans, does it again when Pete rolls against him.
"Hold up, I've got a plan," Travis says, sounding impatient. Patrick can't see him, can't see anything but Pete's grin, the way his hair is sticking to the side of his face.
"Oh, he's got a plan. We should worry, right?" Pete says, whispering just loud enough to make sure Travis can hear.
"I'm panicking right now," Patrick says, trying to keep his voice deadpan, trying not to stutter when he can feel Pete's laugh down his whole body.
And then Pete stiffens, tensing for a moment, before relaxing like an act of will, his head coming down to rest on Patrick's shoulders.
"Pete?" Patrick says, trying to see what happened.
"Yeah, I'm good, I'm just--"
"I'm a fucking genius," Travis says. Patrick's hands are on Pete's back, almost at his waist, and he feels one of Travis's hands there, fingers splayed wide. Reassuring, he thinks, and realises --slow, Stump, pretty fucking slow-- what Travis is doing with his other hand. Pete's trying to keep braced, to keep his weight off Patrick, but Patrick can feel when he thrusts back, when he jerks forwards, and it makes him move under Pete, makes him change position so he can push up as well.
He can feel it when Travis stops using his fingers, could tell even without Pete's muttered "fuck, yes," when Travis starts fucking him. He can see Travis's hands on Pete's hips, pulling him back, holding him still. Pete's over him, on him, hands braced on either side of Patrick's arms, and it's awkward but Patrick can hold Pete's wrist with one hand, thumb pressing against the smooth skin, and find them both with the other. Patrick wraps his hand around him trying to time it to Travis's thrusts and saying, "Now, there," when he feels Pete shudder, when Travis hits the right spot or Patrick strokes him the right way, and then Travis does it again, and Patrick knows what Travis sounds like when he's this close to coming, so he's prepared for it when Travis comes, even before he hears him, feels the shaking translated through Pete's body. Patrick digs his feet in to the bed, pushes up against Pete, greedy and determined.
Pete sounds almost shocked when he comes, collapsing on Patrick, rolling off him when Patrick huffs. Travis comes along the other side, eyes heavy, and his movements are slow and lazy when he jerks Patrick off.
Travis's eyes are almost closed when he finishes, dropping one arm across Patrick and turning his head into the pillow. Pete's breathing is settling, but his eyes are wide open when Patrick turns to look at him. He smiles at Patrick, nods his head at the bathroom. "Should clean up," he says.
Patrick nods, yawns. "Yeah, just--" He scoots over, just a little. Not enough to dislodge Travis, but enough that he can lean his head against Pete's shoulder.
"'Kay," Pete says, turning on to his side and leaning against Patrick. His arm joins Travis's across Patrick, his head buried in his shoulder.
It's not the most comfortable position Patrick's ever been in, but he closes his eyes and sleeps.
End.
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God, you need to write my boys more. You writes them being banter-y FRIENDS better than most ANYONE. I approve.
WEASELS! Fuck, you made me plug my nose so as not to laugh out loud at work. *scowls*
...twice. I want that in a single, man. Ferrets. ("better off as lovers not the other way around"?) Genius.
Threatening Pete with leaving hot, wet, naked Travis ALONE. AWESOME threat.
"Andy! Pete's trying to--!" "LET HIM!" No orgies and no riots! I love how Joe and Andy are really not IN this story and yet are present in a way that feels unforced and also like they aren't being IGNORED (or particularly made little of, so much as simply not fucking these people at this time).
And then the PORN. Oh my GOD. This is... god. *handwaves* It's hot and amazing and, yeah, kind of inevitable, inexorable, which I adore about these people, you know?
I love, possibly most of all, the way from the beginning it's Pete and Patrick on the same wavelength, on and off. I love that, I love the way you write that.
Anyway, yes. I really liked this. I can stop fangirling now.
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I've personally spent many long hours wondering why it is weasels and not ferrets. One of the great mysteries of life, I guess.
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We'd love to have you in
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just the conversations, and the--GOD, btw, the sex is hot--and just the fact that it's Patrick, and Travis, and i don't even really mind so much about Pete, even though i usually don't like him in fics, i do in this one. and everything's so nice. :D
i'm definately memories-izing this.
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Yeah-- PATRICK's head exploded. Does PETE know what he's doing.
MINE. YOU. GAHH.
This is the best trilogy of smut I've read in a very long and lonely time. Memories to all threeeeeeee.
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Awesome.
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Pete kisses like he's picking a fight, and Travis kisses like he's trying to break one up.
That's a really beautiful description, and feels really true.
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And that's not just because I would do Travis up against a wall in a hot minute - although that's entirely true
Mmm, yes. I could climb that boy like a tree.
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