![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jamjarTitle: Here's Your New Postion (two skinny emo boys Patrick Stump never shoved against a wall). Version: William Beckett
Fandom: Bandslash, Fall Out Boy and The Academy Is...
Disclaimer: Pure fiction
Notes: Non-gen, adult content. This one is Patrick/Bill and Zee's is Patrick/Pete.
So Zee and I were talking and it went like this:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jamjar: that's pretty special
jamjar: incidentally, top people for Patrick to push up against a wall?
ficbyzee: hmmm
ficbyzee: well, Pete
jamjar: Pete kind of being pushed and struggling a little, or encouraging
ficbyzee: and William Beckett is kind of designed for being pushed up against walls
ficbyzee: oooh, I like both
jamjar: yeah
ficbyzee: I can't decide! that's mean.
jamjar: even, maybe especially, by people shorter
Which lead to this and this.
Bill likes watching Patrick's hands when he talks about music. He's wearing a black sweatshirt and his hands are pale picking up every bit of streetlight and reflecting it back. They're almost like ghost hands or birds or something, sketching out riffs and beats and then drawing back in the sleeves, just until he has to say something new. Pretty
He's maybe a little drunk, but not much, really. The walk is making his thoughts feel sharper, clearer, but he keeps getting distracted by things like Patrick's hands, the line of his shoulders when he falls behind enough to see.
"Bill," Patrick says, kind of impatient and Bill looks up.
"Hmm? Yeah, I'm listening," he says. Smiles a little and you have to kind of curl down a little with any of Fall Out Boy, so he does. His hand is on Patrick's shoulder and he's only bending down so he can talk to him better, but he kind of has to lean on him a little too, and then Patrick's neck is right there, so he licks it. Just a little, just enough to taste. "See, I'm listening. Really," he says, smiling at Patrick, and then just kind of nuzzling at the crook of his neck. He pulls at the collar of the T-shirt, just enough to get a little bit more skin.
Patrick shrugs him off, pushes him away and smacks his hand down at the same time, and Bill doesnÂft really register how it happened. Patrick looks around, grabs his hand and pulls him into a little side street and when he lets go, momentum almost throws Bill against a wall. He steadies himself against it and looks at Patrick.
"Can't you ever fucking behave?" Patrick says, and it doesn't sound angry, more exasperated. "Even just for five minutes?"
"I can," Bill says, nodding. "Just because I sometimes choose not to." He ducks his head so his hair falls forwards, looks at Patrick through it. Patrick looks like he's getting angry again, arms crossed and hands disappearing inside the sweatshirt so he grabs them quickly before Patrick can protest, pulling them out and holding them while he bends his head to kiss him. Patrick's surprised and Bill takes advantage of that, of his slightly open mouth and the momentary lack of resistance.
It only lasts for a second and then Patrick twists his hands around so he's holding Bill's wrists, using them to pull him down and hold him. Patrick pulls him in and Bill almost trips over his own legs, catching his balance with his legs wide, Patrick against him.
Patrick shoves him against the wall, hard, then lets him go, lets him push back. One arm goes around him and there's this brief band of pressure before Patrick lets go and then he holds Bill on his sides at the waist. Bill kisses him with a lot of biting, worrying Patrick's bottom lip between his teeth. Patrick kicks his legs apart, professional as a cop and then pushes against him.
It's always the quiet ones, Bill thinks, but that's not quite right. It's not the quiet ones, it's the ones that listen, that let you speak and say just enough so you keep talking so they end up with bright, sharp little bits of knowledge about you.
And it probably helps that he's an easy read. That's a good thing, because it leads to him being here and leaning, forearm flat against the wall, gasping and kind of struggling, then stopping himself.
And Patrick pulls away, just long enough to say, "You wanna be good?"
Bill just goes, "Yeah, sure, whatever." and tries to follow the kiss back, crossing his arms at the wrist behind Patrick's head, resting his forearms on Patrick's shoulders, head tilting down, his legs still kind of splayed. It'd be awkward, off balance, if Patrick wasn't holding him
Patrick's hands aren't *quite* on his ass. He's holding his hips and his fingers are splayed over William's back, just above where his ass starts, not quite naughty, except for the absolutely filthy way William's pressed against the wall
He's not-- it's not even like Patrick's got his whole body against him, mostly just his hands, his mouth, but William can feel the potential of it, weight and pressure and skin almost on him. William's pressing himself against the wall, he can feel every scratch against his skin, the outline of every brick when he moves against it.
And he's saying, trying to say, "Please, let me, fuck me, I wanna blow you, please, just if you get on your knees, I'll do anything you want." But it comes out as, "Patrick, god, yeah."
"Easy," Patrick says, and it could be a comment or a suggestion or a command, he's not sure. Doesn't care, and Bill's still pushing back, hard enough that he knows he must be pushing Patrick's fingers against the wall too, those lovely, talented fingers scraped and shoved
Patrick lets go and his hands come round, find his fly.
"Be easier if they weren't so tight," he says, kind of half under his breath.
And then his hand is wrapped around Bill, and he just-- he runs his fingers along him, just for a second, and then he curls them around and squeezes, just hard enough. "This good?" he says. "This enough?"
And William honestly doesn't know the answer to that. Because yes, anything, and at the same time please, more. Patrick moves in closer so his whole body is pressed against him, between Beckett's legs. He pushes Bill's chin up so he can bite along his jaw. "Yes? No?" He says, sounding like he's laughing.
"What? Fuck, I don't-- what was the question?"
And then he pushes Patrick away, his hands flat against Patrick's chest, then at the waistband of his own jeans, pushing them down and wriggling out of them. They're too tight for it to be easy and he's too distracted to make it look pretty, just doing it as quickly as he can so he can find Patrick again, press against him. Let Patrick push him back against the wall so he's braced, so he can wrap his legs around Patrick. He wants-- Patrick's still got his jeans on, and that's a shame, but Bill's having trouble thinking about anything apart from pressure, how good it feels just to push against him like that.
And then Patrick has his hands on Bill's thighs, and for a moment he's just gripping them, his hands strong and capable and digging in just the right amount.
He pushes Bill's legs down off him, and Bill's shocked, bereft for a moment until Patrick says, "Turn around."
And god, *yes*. Because Patrick's twisting him around, and then he grips Bill's cock, just for a second, and one of Bill's hands goes to join him, and Patrick says, "Just like that, stay there."
And then he moves away, and Bill's got his hand around his own dick and he wants to move it, wants to stroke up and down, but he waits and then Patrick comes back.
"Good," he says, and for a moment Bill can see him look, then Patrick says, "wider", so he spreads.
And it's perfect, because Patrick is fingering him, familiar pressure, familiar sense of being prepared. Patrick knows what to do, it's clear and it's good and not quite enough, Patrick's not letting it be enough, and Bill is whimpering, until Patrick says, "It's okay, you can touch yourself."
"I want--" Bill says, and interrupts himself with a moan.
He feels Patrick's hand on his back, almost affectionately, and then-- oh, yes, finally, Patrick's fucking him. Slow at first, forcing Bill to hold still, not to shove himself back, Patrick's forearm pressing along his back. His hand is curled around Bill's shoulder, and there's a moment when he's in and he's still, just for a second or an hour or something, and then he's moving, he's found the right angle, the right position and Bill doesn't even need his own hand before he's coming, forehead pressed against the brick.
Patrick follows him a few seconds later and Bill closes his eyes, listens to Patrick's groan.
Beautiful, he thinks.
Patrick pulls out, but stays there. Not pushing Bill against the wall so much as holding him up, giving him time until Bill can shake his head and say, "Yeah, thanks."
He moves away from the wall and turns around, touching his forehead and feeling the little indentations from the brick.
Patrick's backlit against the streetlights, but Bill can still see him well enough, hair stuck to the side of his face and breathing heavily. He bends down a little and kisses him again.
"You're welcome," Patrick says, sounding kind of odd. Awkward or amused or something.
"Come back to mine?" Bill says. "You can-- I've got a shower and everything. A bed. Door. Walls."
Patrick looks at him, shakes his head a little, then says, "Sure. Why not?"
jamjar: End. Now you do Pete.
Fandom: Bandslash, Fall Out Boy and The Academy Is...
Disclaimer: Pure fiction
Notes: Non-gen, adult content. This one is Patrick/Bill and Zee's is Patrick/Pete.
So Zee and I were talking and it went like this:
jamjar: that's pretty specialjamjar: incidentally, top people for Patrick to push up against a wall?ficbyzee: hmmmficbyzee: well, Petejamjar: Pete kind of being pushed and struggling a little, or encouragingficbyzee: and William Beckett is kind of designed for being pushed up against wallsficbyzee: oooh, I like bothjamjar: yeahficbyzee: I can't decide! that's mean.jamjar: even, maybe especially, by people shorter(LJ-ify your IMs before pasting!)
Which lead to this and this.
Bill likes watching Patrick's hands when he talks about music. He's wearing a black sweatshirt and his hands are pale picking up every bit of streetlight and reflecting it back. They're almost like ghost hands or birds or something, sketching out riffs and beats and then drawing back in the sleeves, just until he has to say something new. Pretty
He's maybe a little drunk, but not much, really. The walk is making his thoughts feel sharper, clearer, but he keeps getting distracted by things like Patrick's hands, the line of his shoulders when he falls behind enough to see.
"Bill," Patrick says, kind of impatient and Bill looks up.
"Hmm? Yeah, I'm listening," he says. Smiles a little and you have to kind of curl down a little with any of Fall Out Boy, so he does. His hand is on Patrick's shoulder and he's only bending down so he can talk to him better, but he kind of has to lean on him a little too, and then Patrick's neck is right there, so he licks it. Just a little, just enough to taste. "See, I'm listening. Really," he says, smiling at Patrick, and then just kind of nuzzling at the crook of his neck. He pulls at the collar of the T-shirt, just enough to get a little bit more skin.
Patrick shrugs him off, pushes him away and smacks his hand down at the same time, and Bill doesnÂft really register how it happened. Patrick looks around, grabs his hand and pulls him into a little side street and when he lets go, momentum almost throws Bill against a wall. He steadies himself against it and looks at Patrick.
"Can't you ever fucking behave?" Patrick says, and it doesn't sound angry, more exasperated. "Even just for five minutes?"
"I can," Bill says, nodding. "Just because I sometimes choose not to." He ducks his head so his hair falls forwards, looks at Patrick through it. Patrick looks like he's getting angry again, arms crossed and hands disappearing inside the sweatshirt so he grabs them quickly before Patrick can protest, pulling them out and holding them while he bends his head to kiss him. Patrick's surprised and Bill takes advantage of that, of his slightly open mouth and the momentary lack of resistance.
It only lasts for a second and then Patrick twists his hands around so he's holding Bill's wrists, using them to pull him down and hold him. Patrick pulls him in and Bill almost trips over his own legs, catching his balance with his legs wide, Patrick against him.
Patrick shoves him against the wall, hard, then lets him go, lets him push back. One arm goes around him and there's this brief band of pressure before Patrick lets go and then he holds Bill on his sides at the waist. Bill kisses him with a lot of biting, worrying Patrick's bottom lip between his teeth. Patrick kicks his legs apart, professional as a cop and then pushes against him.
It's always the quiet ones, Bill thinks, but that's not quite right. It's not the quiet ones, it's the ones that listen, that let you speak and say just enough so you keep talking so they end up with bright, sharp little bits of knowledge about you.
And it probably helps that he's an easy read. That's a good thing, because it leads to him being here and leaning, forearm flat against the wall, gasping and kind of struggling, then stopping himself.
And Patrick pulls away, just long enough to say, "You wanna be good?"
Bill just goes, "Yeah, sure, whatever." and tries to follow the kiss back, crossing his arms at the wrist behind Patrick's head, resting his forearms on Patrick's shoulders, head tilting down, his legs still kind of splayed. It'd be awkward, off balance, if Patrick wasn't holding him
Patrick's hands aren't *quite* on his ass. He's holding his hips and his fingers are splayed over William's back, just above where his ass starts, not quite naughty, except for the absolutely filthy way William's pressed against the wall
He's not-- it's not even like Patrick's got his whole body against him, mostly just his hands, his mouth, but William can feel the potential of it, weight and pressure and skin almost on him. William's pressing himself against the wall, he can feel every scratch against his skin, the outline of every brick when he moves against it.
And he's saying, trying to say, "Please, let me, fuck me, I wanna blow you, please, just if you get on your knees, I'll do anything you want." But it comes out as, "Patrick, god, yeah."
"Easy," Patrick says, and it could be a comment or a suggestion or a command, he's not sure. Doesn't care, and Bill's still pushing back, hard enough that he knows he must be pushing Patrick's fingers against the wall too, those lovely, talented fingers scraped and shoved
Patrick lets go and his hands come round, find his fly.
"Be easier if they weren't so tight," he says, kind of half under his breath.
And then his hand is wrapped around Bill, and he just-- he runs his fingers along him, just for a second, and then he curls them around and squeezes, just hard enough. "This good?" he says. "This enough?"
And William honestly doesn't know the answer to that. Because yes, anything, and at the same time please, more. Patrick moves in closer so his whole body is pressed against him, between Beckett's legs. He pushes Bill's chin up so he can bite along his jaw. "Yes? No?" He says, sounding like he's laughing.
"What? Fuck, I don't-- what was the question?"
And then he pushes Patrick away, his hands flat against Patrick's chest, then at the waistband of his own jeans, pushing them down and wriggling out of them. They're too tight for it to be easy and he's too distracted to make it look pretty, just doing it as quickly as he can so he can find Patrick again, press against him. Let Patrick push him back against the wall so he's braced, so he can wrap his legs around Patrick. He wants-- Patrick's still got his jeans on, and that's a shame, but Bill's having trouble thinking about anything apart from pressure, how good it feels just to push against him like that.
And then Patrick has his hands on Bill's thighs, and for a moment he's just gripping them, his hands strong and capable and digging in just the right amount.
He pushes Bill's legs down off him, and Bill's shocked, bereft for a moment until Patrick says, "Turn around."
And god, *yes*. Because Patrick's twisting him around, and then he grips Bill's cock, just for a second, and one of Bill's hands goes to join him, and Patrick says, "Just like that, stay there."
And then he moves away, and Bill's got his hand around his own dick and he wants to move it, wants to stroke up and down, but he waits and then Patrick comes back.
"Good," he says, and for a moment Bill can see him look, then Patrick says, "wider", so he spreads.
And it's perfect, because Patrick is fingering him, familiar pressure, familiar sense of being prepared. Patrick knows what to do, it's clear and it's good and not quite enough, Patrick's not letting it be enough, and Bill is whimpering, until Patrick says, "It's okay, you can touch yourself."
"I want--" Bill says, and interrupts himself with a moan.
He feels Patrick's hand on his back, almost affectionately, and then-- oh, yes, finally, Patrick's fucking him. Slow at first, forcing Bill to hold still, not to shove himself back, Patrick's forearm pressing along his back. His hand is curled around Bill's shoulder, and there's a moment when he's in and he's still, just for a second or an hour or something, and then he's moving, he's found the right angle, the right position and Bill doesn't even need his own hand before he's coming, forehead pressed against the brick.
Patrick follows him a few seconds later and Bill closes his eyes, listens to Patrick's groan.
Beautiful, he thinks.
Patrick pulls out, but stays there. Not pushing Bill against the wall so much as holding him up, giving him time until Bill can shake his head and say, "Yeah, thanks."
He moves away from the wall and turns around, touching his forehead and feeling the little indentations from the brick.
Patrick's backlit against the streetlights, but Bill can still see him well enough, hair stuck to the side of his face and breathing heavily. He bends down a little and kisses him again.
"You're welcome," Patrick says, sounding kind of odd. Awkward or amused or something.
"Come back to mine?" Bill says. "You can-- I've got a shower and everything. A bed. Door. Walls."
Patrick looks at him, shakes his head a little, then says, "Sure. Why not?"
jamjar: End. Now you do Pete.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-04-07 08:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-07 09:18 pm (UTC)That's entirely understandable.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-07 09:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-07 10:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-07 11:40 pm (UTC)Oh, wow. I am..I am a puddle on the floor. I am not coherent right now, but I think I love you, maybe? My mind is too fuzzy from the hot William/Patrick sex for me to be sure, but I think so.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-08 08:12 am (UTC)That was pretty much my thinking.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-08 01:49 am (UTC)This is fantastically hot. I think it's the utterly tactile nature of the whole thing. Patrick should shove people against walls all the time. (And now my brain has gone off on a Patrick/Ryan Ross tangent) This is great.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-08 08:13 am (UTC)I feel very strongly about this, too.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-08 04:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-08 08:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-08 04:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-08 08:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-08 04:38 am (UTC)Dude, this was seriously. A+. God I wish I were more coherent but right now tis not to be (I'm loopy as hell but at least I'm mostly spelling right now!).
no subject
Date: 2007-04-08 08:15 am (UTC)Walls are neat.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-08 06:49 pm (UTC)also? and you have to kind of curl down a little with any of Fall Out Boy YES. short emo boys + tall William FTW.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-08 08:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-15 07:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-15 07:51 pm (UTC)