ladyfoxxx: (Default)
ladyfoxxx ([personal profile] ladyfoxxx) wrote2010-05-27 07:28 pm

Fic: Emergency Contact (Pete/Patrick/Mikey sexpollen) Part 1/2

Title: Emergency Contact
Fandom: Fall Out Boy & My Chemical Romance
Pairing: Pete/Patrick/Mikey
Rating: R/NC-17, for sex and sexpollen
Length: 14 281 words

Summary: "I need your help. There's something..." Patrick's trailing hand finds its way under Pete's t-shirt and Pete's breath catches in his throat. He swallows hard before continuing. "Something is wrong with Patrick."

Author's Notes: So here's that giant pile of porn I wrote when I was procrastinating my BBB. Big thanks to [livejournal.com profile] b_dsaint for the beta and to [livejournal.com profile] dancinbutterfly for making me write it. If you're not sure exactly why I wrote a bunch of Patrick sexin' I would suggest you see this picspam. Also submitted to the bottom!Patrick fest

ETA - There is now a fantastic podfic available of this fic by the most excellent [livejournal.com profile] pennyplainknits, so if you'd rather experience this fic by having it read to you by someone with an awesome voice, check it out.



Emergency Contact

Pete calls Mikey.

Not because he thinks Mikey will know what to do, or anything useful. He just can't imagine speaking the words aloud to anyone else. He doesn't want to have to explain it because he can't, he doesn't know how, and Mikey has this uncanny ability to just take things at face value. Pete needs some of that right now.

Because right now he's got Patrick sprawled across him; he’s mouthing at Pete's neck, and every inch of his skin burning. Every time Pete tries to get up Patrick whines and latches tighter, clinging to every part of Pete he can. So Pete’s given up on the idea and remained reclined on the bed, making the phone call with Patrick draped over him, while feathering a hand gently through his strawberry blonde hair because it seems to soothe him.

They figured that part out pretty quickly. Touch helps. When Pete's touching Patrick, he stops making those dying noises; the deep almost-growl he was making when Pete let himself into Patrick's apartment, worried when he was a no-show because Patrick is never a no-show. Pete found him in his bedroom, curtains still drawn, sheets pulled tight around the lump of his body in the centre of the bed.

He was making that noise then and it twisted Pete up to hear it, sending his feet padding straight across the floor to kneel by the bed, looking at Patrick with concern, except he couldn't see him. The Patrick he knows wasn't there, just a blank-eyed body snatcher doubled in on himself, and keening desperately.

Until Pete touched him. He pressed quivering fingers to Patrick's red-stained cheek and the noise stopped. Patrick's eyes came open, fixed hazily on Pete's and okay, yeah, there he was.

"Trick, what's wrong?" Pete's voice was shaking even on a whisper.

Patrick tilted his head into the touch, rubbing his cheek on Pete's hand and it took a lot of willpower for Pete not to pull his hand back like he'd been burned, because fuck, he must be doing something wrong. He started to move his hand away but Patrick caught, held it.

"Hurts." Patrick sounded like a little kid, voice raw from groaning, damp breath feathering over the heel of Pete's hand.

"What hurts?" He asked, trying to keep his voice calm while inside he was uncoiling in panic.

"Everything," Patrick answered, reaching absently for Pete's other hand and dragging it to his chest. When Pete's fingers met Patrick's chest through the thin layer of his damp t-shirt, Patrick's breath came out in a sigh, his eyes falling shut. "Better."

It wasn't far from there to where they are now, because if two hands were good, arms and legs and chest and thighs are better. Pete let Patrick drag him onto the sheets, coiling their bodies together because he didn't know what else to do. Patrick won’t let him get up and Pete doesn’t want to hear that noise again, the one Patrick made every time he tried to move away. So he lays there, covered in Patrick, nose full of his scent and tries not to get hard.

Patrick is hard. Pete can feel it, pushing against his hip as his phone trills in his ear. Pete bites his lip, fists his hand in the sheets and holds still. Patrick's not still, he's shifting constantly like he can't get comfortable, fingers trailing up and down Pete's side in a way that would tickle if Pete weren't coiled as tight as a spring.

"Pete, hey." There's a smile in Mikey's voice, even though there's probably barely a quirk on his lips.

"Please tell me you're nearby." The words rush out of Pete's mouth. Thank god Mikey answered.

"Depends on where you are."

"I'm at Patrick's."

"I'm nearby. What's going on?" This is why Pete loves Mikey. He gets straight to the point, no bullshit.

"I need your help. There's something..." Patrick's trailing hand finds its way under Pete's t-shirt and Pete's breath catches in his throat. He swallows hard before continuing. "Something is wrong with Patrick."

"Something’s wrong?" Mikey twists the word 'wrong' to mean more and fuck, yes, he fucking gets it.

"Yeah." Pete forces the word out on a hiss of air. Patrick shifts on him again, rolling his hips against Pete's and fuck, he can't breathe. He's definitely got a semi now. "Can you come?"

"Right now?"

"Please." Patrick's other hand finds it way under Pete's shirt and he knows Mikey can hear the way his breathing picks up, rough pants bouncing off the receiver.

There's a million questions Mikey should be asking but all he says is, "I'm coming," and hangs up.

Thank god for Mikey fucking Way.

***

Pete sets a mental countdown to Mikey's arrival. It doesn't tick down fast enough.

Patrick's burrowed his way under Pete's t-shirt, the material stretched tight over his head and shoulders as Patrick licks and bites gently across Pete's chest. Every time Pete tries to stop him, gently move his mouth away, Patrick starts whining again and Pete can't go through with it. So he bears it, lies there with Patrick's hot mouth and hot skin all up against him, going from semi to completely hard in no time.

He texts Mikey the location of Patrick's hidden spare key, because there's no way he's going to be able to get up and let him in without carrying Patrick to the door with him. When he hears movement in the hallway, he starts flushing red before Mikey's even made it to the bedroom.

When he appears in the doorway, all weird hair and awkward stance, Pete just wants to kiss him. Somehow just having him here is calming the fizzing panic Pete's got swimming around in his belly.

"Hey," Mikey says, voice sounding way too normal, like there's nothing unusual about Patrick using Pete's shirt as a tent.

"Hey," Pete responds, forcing the word out. He starts to sit up, but Patrick pushes him back down again, sliding out from under Pete's shirt to focus hazily on Mikey. The move leaves Patrick's hair all stuck up and crazy; his lips are pink and wet from all the licking, and his eyes are shot. He looks wild and too fucking beautiful for words. It's a completely alien look on him and Pete doesn't want to think about how Patrick will feel about it later.

Mikey takes it all in immediately; he steps right up to kneel on the bed, one hand going to Patrick's forehead, which Pete already knows is burning, just the same as every inch of Patrick's skin.

"Is he on something?" Mikey asks, eyes searching Patrick's face. Patrick turns into Mikey's hand like a cat, licking at the pulse point on Mikey's wrist.

"I don't think so," Pete says, sitting up, far too aware of his hard-on and his too-tight jeans. "Nothing I know of would do this. Maybe ecstasy but even still, I don't think so."

Mikey bites his lip and starts to take his hand away. He freezes completely when Patrick makes that noise, the agonized whine that undoes Pete. It has much the same effect on Mikey, furrowing his brow together and pressing his lips into a line.

"Shhh," Mikey whispers softly, stroking his fingers down Patrick's red stained cheek. "It's okay. It'll be okay." Somehow the words sound reassuring in Mikey's monotone and Pete really wants to believe them. "Tell us what's wrong. What do you need?"

Patrick doesn't speak. He hasn't said much since Pete arrived, just the odd word here and there, like verbalizing is beyond him. He tucks his head into the crook of Mikey's neck, fingers trailing down his slight chest, grabbing his wrist and pressing Mikey's hand to his crotch. His hips rolls up at the contact and he makes a throaty noise. Not the dying one, no, this is a good noise.

Pete's mouth goes dry, his heart pounding fit to burst, because fuck, fuck. There's about a million thoughts swirling through his mind, the topmost one being Patrick wants to be fucked and the rest of them kind of fall over and die in the presence of that one thought.

Mikey meets Pete's eyes over Patrick's head and the image of Patrick's soft form curled into Mikey's angular one is so hot it steals his breath. He fights off an irrational jealousy that he's not the one Patrick's touching.

Pete moves closer, kneeling up behind Patrick and putting a warm hand on his neck. Patrick purrs, shifting backwards until his ass and lower back are pushing against Pete's legs.

"Do you think we should…?" Pete asks, not sure why he's treating Mikey like he's in charge, but he's made more progress in the ten minutes he's been here than Pete's managed all afternoon, that's got to count for something.

Mikey raises an eyebrow and shrugs. So much for having all the answers.

He's still got his hand on Patrick's crotch, and Patrick's still rolling against it, face pressed into Mikey's neck so hard his nose is smushed. Pete feels like he should be doing something, but he's not sure what. Well, not entirely unsure, he knows what Patrick seems to want and it scares him a little just how much he wants to give that to him.

He could. So easily.

He slides the hand he's got on Patrick's neck up to his face, brushing back his hair and turning his chin so he can see Patrick's eyes. They're almost black and he's looking at Pete like he wants to devour him. Pete has to fight a full body shiver. He never thought Patrick would look at him like that, and it's turning his bones to water.

"Trick?" he whispers, hoping for something, anything that makes sense. He's too aware of Mikey's eyes darting between the two of them, gaze heavy and somehow comforting.

"Please," Patrick breathes, leaning towards Pete until their foreheads are touching, his breath feathering over Pete's lips, and fuck if this isn't even hotter than the chest licking. Pete has to close his eyes and dig deep for self control. His eyes flicker sideways, checking in with Mikey like he's looking for permission. Mikey's expression is frustratingly blank, but it's not a 'no' so Pete goes with it, letting his mouth drift closer to Patrick's until Patrick makes a needy noise and closes the distance, pressing their lips together.

It's so different from any other time he and Patrick have kissed, because this time Patrick is kissing Pete, he's starting it. He's doing it like he means it too, soft plump lips pressing against Pete's wetly, mouth sighing open happily until their tongues are stroking. Pete starts to feel light-headed almost immediately, his fingers gripping Patrick's shirt, desperately hanging on.

He breaks the kiss, gasping for air and clawing at his mind for some kind of logic or plan. This is not the way it's supposed to work. Pete's the one who goes off half-cocked, who dives head-first into things with no thought for consequences. Patrick does the thinking, the considering, the risk assessment. Patrick's the one who picks up all the pieces of Pete when his half-baked schemes go wrong and helps him fit them back together.

Pete has to be the Patrick this time. It's Pete's turn to play care-taker and he has no idea how.

Patrick's mouth focuses on Pete's neck again, his tongue stroking over Pete's pulse-point and fuck, Pete's so hard. When Patrick starts unbuckling Pete's belt Pete glances desperately at Mikey, like he'll magically have the answers.

Mikey stares back and blinks, one eyebrow quirking up. No dice.

"Should I... let him?" Pete asks, hands hovering above Patrick's, ready to still them, dreading hearing that noise again.

Mikey shrugs, stroking Patrick's back absently. "It's what he wants," he offers, not sounding all that sure.

"Yeah, he does now," Pete counters. "But, he won't... later. He'll be fucking mortified." Patrick's having trouble with Pete's belt, but Pete's not going to help him. It buys them a small amount of time to figure out what to do.

"So what, we just leave him alone? Take him to a doctor?" Mikey poses the questions, adjusting his glasses as casually as if Patrick isn't currently trying to crawl into Pete's pants.

"Fuck no." Both options suck. "We can't leave him like this and no way are we taking him outside."

"So what then?" Mikey asks, slumping lower in a way that makes him look extra-angular.

"We take care of him," Pete says, and even as the words leave his mouth, he realizes that's it. That's totally it. It's his turn to take care of Patrick. He's going to give Patrick what he needs.

He presses his palms to Patrick's cheeks, pulling his head up and looking him dead on in his flat, hazy eyes.

"Patrick. Baby. I'm gonna blow you now." His voice only trembles a little, which he's thankful for. Patrick's staring back at him, eyes complete drowning pools, but Pete can see the words register. They get Patrick's head nodding, still breathing sharp and fast as he mutters, "yes," hissing out the 's' long and drawn.

Pete kisses him again for good measure, stroking his tongue inside, letting himself enjoy it because, fuck, if he's going to do this he may as well do it right. It might be the only time he gets to. Patrick probably won't ever speak to him again after this.

He fumbles with the knot on Patrick's sweats, trying to vocalize the hastily drawn plan to Mikey. "I think, maybe if he gets off, you know, it'll fix him. Maybe he just needs to come." He glances up at Mikey, wishing for something more encouraging than the expression he gets.

"Hey, it's worth a shot right?" Mikey offers, not very convincingly. "You want me to...?" He nods towards the door, making Pete's heart backflip in panic, his fingers stilling on Patrick's pants.

"No. Please, can you... stay? I just... its better having you here." Pete couldn't say why for all the money in the world, but he can't help feeling like the tentative hold he's got on the situation will crumble if he loses Mikey.

Mikey, thank Christ, gets it. He nods slowly at Pete, saying, "sure, okay," like Pete just asked him to borrow ten bucks. Then he slides in behind Patrick and strips him out of his t-shirt, just like that, totally on board.

Pete's fighting a grin as he pulls Patrick's pants off all the way, a mild hysteria brewing in his chest at the complete absurdity of what's about to happen. Patrick has no such compunctions, rocking into Pete's hands, flopping backwards to slump in Mikey's lap. Mikey dances his hands all over Patrick's pale chest, and Patrick's practically purring, turning his head and kissing and licking up Mikey's arm.

Fuck, it's so fucking hot to watch Pete can't concentrate; he gets stuck staring until Mikey cocks an eyebrow at him, prodding him verbally. "'Sup Pete, you forget how? I remember you being pretty fucking good at this."

Pete wants to spit back something really witty and biting, but he's running on reserve brain function, which doesn't extend much beyond breathing and hard-on, so he just sticks his tongue out at Mikey. Mikey responds simply by pointing downwards to Patrick's cock, which Pete's eyes immediately latch onto and yeah, okay, fuck so he's seen Patrick naked before, but never like, naked and fuck-ready and Jesus , it's a really fucking mind blowing thing to be witnessing. Up close. Real close and getting closer as he leans down, shuffling down the bed until he can comfortably fit his mouth around Patrick's cock. The gargling happy noise Patrick makes at the move fills him with a mad pride and he concentrates on sucking, moving his tongue, tasting salt and skin and the heavy musk of Patrick's precome.

It's been a long time since Pete's done this and he's not exactly a master. He and Mikey still fuck around occasionally, but it's gotten fewer and far between, as they figured out that the beat they rock to is more friends-with-benefits than long-term love affair. Pete swallows deeply, pressing down until his nose is touching the delicate hairs at Patrick's base and he can feel Patrick right to the back of his throat.

"Breathe through your nose," Mikey says and Pete can't see past Patrick's pelvis but he can hear the smirk in Mikey's voice. He reaches one hand up from Patrick's hip to flip Mikey the bird, but he does suck in a long nasal breath at the reminder.

Patrick's hands find their way to Pete's head, trailing through his hair and sending shivers all down his back. Patrick's being free and easy with the moans, drawn out and musical, as he rocks his hips into Pete's mouth. It's making Pete's eyes water a little but that doesn't mean he doesn't like it. He can't help feeling a little guilty about it, but he fucking loves seeing Patrick like this, all greedy and wild and out of control. He wants to take it further, all the way, feel him come apart under his hands and in his mouth.

He flicks his gaze up to finds Patrick's mouth locked to Mikey's and he nearly loses his rhythm. Mikey's glasses are skewed and his hair's all fucked up. Patrick's is worse, but the look on his face... wow. So blissed out it's like he found god and they're kissing like they need each other to breathe. Their mouths shift slightly and Pete catches a glimpse of tongue. He has to rub his hard-on into the bed, sinking his mouth down on Patrick's cock, breathing hard and just sucking.

There's a wet noise when Patrick breaks the kiss, moaning rhythmically, that amazing voice of his ascending higher and higher. His fingers tighten in Pete's hair and Pete's head bounces, using his hands as leverage to move his head faster. Fuck he can feel Patrick pulsing under him, his whole body twitching and writhing under Pete, completely undone.

Pete slides one hand from Patrick's hip to cup and stroke his balls, taking him as deep, moving as fast, sucking as hard as he can. Patrick's voice breaks beautifully as his hips stutter upwards, spilling down Pete's throat until he pulls off coughing, stroking Patrick's dick, slowly bringing him down. Patrick's cheeks are stained red, he's shiny with sweat and his eyes are glowing. Mikey brushes a hand gently through Patrick's damp hair, making soothing noises. He glances up from Patrick to look at Pete, lips quirking briefly, a strangely casual almost-smile on his face in spite of his fuck-me eyes. Pete can recognize Mikey's fuck-me eyes anywhere.

"Nice," Mikey says, not even joking.

"Thanks," Pete pants, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth and crawling up beside Patrick, leaning on one arm. "Do you think it worked?" he asks, studying Patrick, who's lax and breathing deeply, the urgency of moments before all gone.

"Give him a minute," Mikey says gently, still carding fingers through Patrick's hair, and fuck that looks relaxing. Pete wants some of that treatment. He's feeling touch starved and completely horny, but that's going to have to take a back seat until they figure out what's going on with his lead singer.

Pete leans his head on Mikey's bony knee, shuffling in closer until he's nearly nose to nose with Patrick. He fights down the urgency to just know if it worked already, settling for resting a hand on Patrick's cheek, stroking a thumb over his cheekbone while he waits for Patrick's eyes to open.

They do, eventually. Pete looks deep, smiling with relief when they're not too cloudy.

"Hey. How're you feeling?" he asks softly, waiting for Patrick to tense up and start grumbling. He doesn't. He blinks slowly and fuck if he doesn't have the prettiest eyes ever.

"Hey," Patrick repeats back at Pete, licking his lips slowly before leaning in and kissing, no - devouring Pete's mouth.

Pete's got nothing left, he's way too wound up to even try to fight it. He lets Patrick press him onto his back, kissing him for all he's worth. Fuck, his tongue, his lips. He can't not do this.

Patrick comes up for air, tugging at Pete's t-shirt and Pete takes the opportunity to squeak, "Mikey?" Somewhat loudly.

"Didn't work, huh?" Mikey responds, so flatly Pete wants to hit him.

Patrick gets the shirt over his head and Pete manages to grab a glance at Mikey, "A little help?"

"Fine," Mikey sighs and gets up from the bed. That's not exactly what Pete was expecting, but he doesn't have time to complain because Patrick's run out of fabric-based distractions and is pressing his tongue back into Pete's mouth enthusiastically. All Pete can do is sink his hands into Patrick's hair and kiss back, reveling in the press of their bare chests together.

He gives himself up to it, writhing on the bed and bucking up against Patrick', who's grinding back down on him and shit, that's some fucking recovery time because Patrick is almost definitely hard again. A happy gurgling noise leaks from their lips and this time it isn't Patrick's.

Pete's lost to everything in the world that isn't Patrick's lips, mouth or body when the bed shifting signals Mikey's return. Pete vaguely hears the plastic snap of a bottle opening and moments later Patrick goes rigid above him.

"Oh. Fuck, yeah," he moans, eyes fluttering. That's three whole words. In a row. Pete leans up on an elbow to try and see what magic Mikey's performing to pull this out of Patrick.

"Mikey, what are you doing?" Pete's voice comes out breathlessly.

"Helping," Mikey says, and Pete cranes his neck far enough to finally see how Mikey's bent over Patrick's ass, one hand hidden between Patrick's cheeks, a look of intent concentration on his sharp features. Pete knows immediately why Patrick's moaning, because Mikey's fingers are long and he's really fucking good with them. "Get his dick," Mikey commands matter-of-factly.

Pete is nothing if not co-operative. He flops back down underneath Patrick, who's moaning pretty much nonstop now, all pink-faced and sweaty and looking like a debauched schoolboy. He slides a hand down between their bodies and yeah, Patrick is definitely hard again, hard and leaking. He presses his other hand to Patrick's cheek and Patrick turns his head into it, drawing Pete's thumb into his mouth. Well fuck, that's a sight to save for the spank bank. Pete's not going to get over this anytime soon.

He starts stroking the slick skin of Patrick's dick, and Patrick's moaning pitches up. He writhes above Pete, sucking hard on Pete's thumb, panting hot breath all over his face and Pete strokes faster.

Patrick makes a needy noise, hitching his hips backwards at Mikey, head dropping down to touch foreheads with Pete. His skin is still burning.

"Mikey, how many fingers?" Pete asks, and not just to form the mental picture in his head, though it's a fucking gorgeous one.

"Two," Mikey answers, then he's leaning over, so Pete can see his face over Patrick's shoulder, all pressed up against Patrick's back. Fucker's still fully clothed too. How is that even possible?

"I think he wants three." Pete says, and Patrick nods into Pete's neck.

"Mmmm, yeah. Three," Patrick agrees, and this is good. They're getting more words now.

If Pete could see Mikey's shoulders, he knows he'd see them shrug. As it is, Mikey says "'Kay," and moments later Patrick goes rigid again, and hits an octave Pete doesn't think he's heard him get to before. Pete speeds his hand on Patrick's dick, feeling the tremble and pulse under his fingers. Patrick falls down onto him, capturing his mouth, desperate and messy and moaning down his throat as he comes apart, stiffening and shooting all over Pete's jeans.

Patrick's body goes liquid, flopping down on Pete like a blanket, chest heaving with deep breaths and Pete almost feels like he got off too, the relief is so intense. Mikey flops down beside him, wiping his hand off on the sheets before stroking down Patrick's back softly and gently. Patrick smiles dazedly into Pete's neck and snuggles closer, reaching a hand out to Mikey, who takes it and presses a kiss to the palm.

"How are you so amazing?" Pete asks, still not quite able to believe how Mikey just came right over and made it all better. "Fuck Mikey, thanks. Really."

"Thank me when it works," Mikey says flatly, but there's a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. Pete leans in and presses a kiss to it. Mikey shifts his head slightly sideways, turning it into a real kiss, slipping Pete tongue and fuck Mikeyway is a good kisser.

They get stuck for long moments, the kiss building in intensity. Pete realizes belatedly that this might not be the best idea, since he's already on a knife-edge and he feels like he's been sporting this hard-on forever now. It's pretty awesome though, because on one side he's got Mikey kissing him, stroking his tongue and biting gently on his lower lip and on the other side he's got Patrick all naked and hot and cuddly.

Mikey breaks the kiss first, because he's eminently sensible like that. Pete's breathless by this point, his hips rocking up against Patrick of their own accord. He's so aware of his hard-on right now, pressed down tight and unsatisfying by his jeans and Patrick's weight.

He almost hopes it didn't work.

"If that doesn't do it, I think I might have to fuck him," he tells Mikey, hoping Mikey will try to talk him out of it.

Mikey doesn't, he just says, "Third time might be the charm" softly, like they're sharing a secret. Pete can't fight the grin that crawls across his face. Fuck he's so glad he called Mikey.

They get about ten minutes of relaxed snuggle time before Patrick starts to stir again. Any questions about whether or not he's fixed are answered loudly when Patrick sticks his hand down Pete's jeans, groping for Pete's cock and groaning "Now, Pete. Come on, Please." into his neck. Pete's got nothing for it, he has to do this. There's a bubble of excitement and sheer nerves in his chest, but he's not going to back down. Patrick needs him.

Once he's made the decision in his own mind he can't get his pants off fast enough. He's barely kicked them off his feet when Mikey's handing him a condom and the bottle of lube with a tentative smile. Pete takes them, kissing him thanks and tries to ignore the way his hands are shaking as he strokes on the rubber.

Mikey slides across the bed to Patrick. "Hey Patrick, you've done this before yeah?" he asks, but has to wait for the answer because as soon as he's within range Patrick dives on him, kissing him breathless. Pete has to grab his cock at the base and just hold on for a few moments, because that's seriously delicious to watch and he can't afford a false start right now.

Mikey separates their mouths with a wet noise. "Patrick," he repeats, emphasizing the word slowly. "Have you been fucked in the ass before?"

Patrick nods absently, distracted because he's tugging insistently at Mikey's t-shirt. Mikey sighs briefly and pulls it off, gaining a happy noise from Patrick as he glues himself to Mikey's front. Pete doesn't have time to be jealous of whoever got to Patrick's ass before he did, because Mikey's coaxing Patrick onto his hands and knees and suddenly Patrick's kneeling in front of him, ass forwards like a fucking invitation.

There's more than a little awe in Pete' motions as he grazes fingertips over the pale skin of Patrick's back. It's pretty mind blowing to think that this is finally going to happen. There's no way it could possibly live up to Pete's own fantasies, he's certain, but fuck if that's going to stop him.

He uncaps the lube, dripping some into his hand and stroking it over his dick. Fuck he's so wired, he'll be lucky if he lasts three strokes. He mutters as much to Mikey who flops down onto his back and slides his body under Patrick's.

"I'll get him going," he says, reaching a hand down and pulling a moan from Patrick with what Pete knows first-hand is a top-shelf hand job. The smile on Pete's face is short lived as he coats his fingers with lube and presses them into Patrick's ass.

Fuck, he's so hot and so loose already; he barely needs any prep at all. Patrick groans and shoves back against Pete's fingers. "Pete. Please. Your dick. Now."

There's no way Pete can deny him. He slips his fingers free, taking a deep breath before guiding his cock inside, Patrick pushing back against him eagerly until he's sunk in all the way. His own groan joins Patrick's because fuck that feels so good, so fucking perfect.

"Mikey, how's he?" Pete asks, wishing he could see Patrick's face.

"He's good Pete, real fucking good. Give it to him." Mikey barely gets the words out before Pete slides out and shoves in again, making Patrick writhe back against him deliciously. All rational thought flees then, his body taking over, pushing into Patrick, thrusting home over and over.

"Fuck, he feels amazing." Pete grunts in awe as he bends forward over Patrick, pressing his chest down against the hot skin of Patrick's back and clasping an arm across Patrick's chest.

The noises Patrick's making are guttural and desperately appreciative, vibrating his chest under Pete's arm. Pete's eyes crease up, he presses his face into the curve of Patrick's neck, tasting the salt and sweat of Patrick's skin, needing more, wanting everything. His hips buck forwards, harder, faster and Patrick starts shuddering under him, Pete's name getting mixed up in the increasingly loud and musical moaning he's doing. A hot pride races through Pete, fuck he's doing that to Patrick, he's giving him this pleasure.

The thought alone nearly tips him over.

"Mikey, fuck, I'm not gonna last, I'm, fuck, I'm-" he stutters breathlessly, reaching for Patrick's dick and finding Mikey's hand already on it. He tangles his fingers with Mikey's and they bring Patrick off together, the throb and pulse of Patrick's cock under Pete's fingers pushing him closer and closer to overload.

Pete bites gently into Patrick's shoulder as Mikey arches up off the bed, kissing Patrick full and hard as he speeds their hands over Patrick's cock. The last of Pete's control slips away and he pounds into Patrick's ass, hard and fast and perfect, not stopping until he feels Patrick lose it. And he does, his whole body stiffening as he sings out his orgasm high and loud. Pete feels the pulse and release in his hand as Patrick's ass tightens around him and he's gone too, one last thrust forward as he comes hard, orgasm crashing him down on top of Patrick with a grunt of completion that sounds a lot like Patrick's name.

His whole body is singing with euphoria. He feels amazing.

He kisses it into Patrick, who's gone lax and floppy, their bodies twisted awkwardly because Pete's not ready to deal with having to pull out yet. Patrick kisses back, lazy and messy, clutching at Pete's shoulder and moaning softly into Pete's mouth.

Patrick's knees finally give way and he flops boneless onto Mikey, making a three man sandwich. Mikey doesn't make a noise even though he's bearing their combined weight, he just strokes a hand absently down Pete's back and lets Patrick nuzzle into his neck. Pete pulls out reluctantly and climbs off, getting rid of the condom. He rejoins them quickly, curling himself around Patrick's back and resting a warm hand over Mikey's racing heart.

"You're going to have to take the next one." Pete's voice is raw, the words carrying hot over Patrick's shoulder. He feels like he emptied his body out and now there's nothing left inside. "If he needs another one, that is," Pete adds, squeezing tighter around Patrick, and with the way Patrick's skin is still burning hot, he can't help thinking that maybe three wasn't the charm.

Mikey slides his fingers between Pete's, lifting their joined hands to his mouth and pressing a light kiss to Pete's palm. "'Kay," he says quietly, and Pete has to smother his grin into Patrick's neck at Mikey's unshakeable calm.

It becomes apparent fairly rapidly that three is most definitely not the charm. When Patrick starts twitching and rubbing up against them both, Mikey quirks an eyebrow at Pete and extracts himself from the man-pile to finally wriggle out of his jeans. Pete watches him over Patrick's shoulder, because Mikey naked is always a pretty picture. He's hard already and the long limbs and sharp angles of his body should look awkward but there's a grace about him as he crawls back onto the bed that shortens Pete's breath.

Pete steals a kiss from Mikey and sits up, disentangling himself from Patrick, who hasn't stopped grinding on him since his post-orgasm high wore off. He presses his palms to Patrick's cheeks, looking deep, speaking slowly and clearly. "Mikey's going to fuck you now. Is that okay? You want that?"

Patrick nods firmly before pressing close and kissing Pete again, licking inside his mouth and sucking on his lips. It's not as desperate now, it doesn't feel like Patrick needs to devour him this time, but there's still urgency in his kisses. He pauses between deep searching tongue strokes to whisper "please" and "yes" into Pete's mouth, his body leaning close so Pete can feel his swollen cock pressing against his belly again. Fuck, if he hadn't just gotten off minutes ago he's sure he'd be up for it, just from feeling that.

Mikey comes up behind him, pushing his chest into Pete's back, sandwiching Pete between his body and Patrick's. Pete has to break the kiss and just breathe for a moment, savoring the sensation of being pressed in on both sides. Patrick finds Mikey's mouth immediately and Pete gets to watch them kiss, so close he can feel their breath, can almost taste them.

Patrick's hand locks in his hair, dragging his head those few inches closer until he meets their joined lips in a three-way kiss that's messy, wet and mostly tongue. It's awkward, but still delicious and by the time they separate Pete's starting to wonder if what Patrick's got actually is contagious because fuck if he isn't starting to get hard again.

He flops down onto the bed, pulling Patrick down with him. "On his back?" he asks Mikey, getting a nod in reply as Mikey rips open a condom packet. Pete takes the cue to press Patrick horizontal on the soft mattress, giving his dick a few strokes that make him mewl delightfully. Mikey joins them, dick sheathed in rubber and bottle of lube in his hand.

Pete scoots sideways, giving Mikey some room between Patrick's legs . He's still stroking Patrick's dick when Mikey's lubed fingers slip inside Patrick's ass, making Patrick moan and arch up off the bed. Patrick feels too far away, so Pete replaces his own hand on Patrick's dick with Mikey's, who takes over the stroking with a half-smile. Pete returns it with a wide grin and shuffles up the bed to sit behind Patrick, sliding his hips underneath Patrick's shoulders until his upper half is settled in Pete's lap.

Pete likes it here; he can look down at Patrick, see everything he's going through up close and make sure he's okay. He's also got front row seats for everything Mikey's doing to Patrick; at the moment stroking his cock slowly while he works inside him with long, skilful fingers. Mikey glances up at them both and the look on his face is so wicked Pete's breath catches in his throat.

"Pete. Mikey. Please." Patrick groans out the words and Pete strokes his hair absently.

"I think he wants your dick now," Pete translates needlessly.

"No shit," Mikey says, softening the comment with a grin as he slips his fingers free.

He shoves a pillow under Patrick's hips, folding his legs back and Pete can't help holding his breath as Mikey lines up his dick with Patrick's ass. Mikey glances up through his hair to check in with Pete and then Patrick before he pushes home. Pete can feel the shuddering breath Patrick pulls in all up his body, Patrick's hands gripping Pete's knees tight enough to leave imprints as Mikey starts to move, slow but sure. On every forward thrust Patrick's body shoves into Pete's chest and fuck, he can feel everything. He looks down into Patrick's face, all flushed cheeks, messy hair and the most wanton expression Pete's seen him wear.

Pete's fingers slide from Patrick's hair to brush over his plump lips; Patrick's eyes spring open, tongue licking out to find Pete's fingertips, sucking his index and middle fingers right into his sweet mouth. It looks so sinful Pete nearly chokes on his own tongue, forcing his gaze away only to settle on Mikey instead, and the perfect view he has of Mikey's cock driving home inside Patrick. That doesn't do much for his tongue-choking situation because Mikey's looking at Patrick with eyes that could burn him from the inside out.

Luckily, the moan that finds its way out of Pete's mouth is all but drowned out by all the noise Patrick's making. Every time Mikey draws out, Patrick pulls in a shaky breath, only to push it out again on a musical moan with every one of Mikey's forward thrusts. Pete feels like he's getting fucked by proxy, he keeps getting stuck on Patrick's eyes, his mouth, every moan he makes feathering over Pete's hand as Patrick keeps sucking his fingers.

"Fuck. More. Faster," Patrick pants, the words muddled around Pete's hand. Pete looks up, ready to translate, but Mikey's got it; he's already speeding his thrusts, wrapping a hand around Patrick's cock, his fingers long and elegant around the rude red skin of Patrick's dick. Patrick groans louder at the added contact, hips shoving down at Mikey on each stroke. Mikey leans forward on his free arm, pressing his face into Patrick's neck as he fucks and jerks him off simultaneously. Pete has to bite down on his own lip, stroking his fingers down Patrick's neck and up over Mikey's back. Fuck, they are both fucking beautiful.

"Fuck, Pete. He feels fucking amazing," Mikey groans breathlessly, hips snapping sharply forwards and Pete can only agree.

"I fucking know," he states, voice awed, vision full of Patrick, who's eyes are slit closed, his mouth pure pornography around Pete's fingers.

Mikey starts to keen low in his throat and Pete knows he's close. His movements get sharper and faster and Patrick's arching in Pete's lap, biting and licking at Pete's fingers, moaning nearly non-stop and every note is sending shivers up Pete's spine.

"Pete," Mikey warns breathlessly, sounding panicked and so fucking close.

"He's nearly there, come on, just a little more," Pete tells him, trying for encouraging but sounding desperate. He slips his fingers out of Patrick's mouth, pressing them across his forehead and staring down at him. "Come on, Trick. Let it out," he whispers and Patrick's eyes slam open, locking on Pete's as his whole body stiffens and he groans out his orgasm, loud and long.

"Oh fuck," Mikey moans over it, shoving into Patrick fast and hard, a hiccupping moan tearing from his mouth as he comes, shaking, inside Patrick. He stays perched over Patrick and breathes desperately for long moments, before his arm finally gives away and he collapses onto Patrick's waiting body.

Pete can't help the content smile that crawls over his face as he strokes gentle fingers over Patrick's face and down Mikey's fucked-up hair. It's so surreal. He just watched two of his best friends fuck and it was fucking awesome.

He extracts himself from Patrick's delicious weight, scooting down the bed to curl his body around them both in a wide hug. Mikey pulls his head out of Patrick's neck long enough to giggle at him and hug back. Mikey always gets giggly after orgasm, it's so completely unexpected and adorable; Pete will never get tired of it.

Patrick's so quiet and still Pete starts to wonder if he's asleep, but when he runs a finger lightly down his cheek Patrick's eyes spring open instantly and he gives Pete a lazy smile. Pete squeezes him harder, feeling ridiculously elated, wishing he could bottle this moment. He'll probably need it later, whenever Patrick comes back to himself.

God, he hopes he does. As wonderful as having a fuck-ready, desperately slutty Patrick is, he misses his normal, sensible, slightly grumpy Patrick a lot. A whole lot.

Feeling suddenly scared, he rolls Patrick into his arms and clasps him close to his chest.

"Fuck, Mikey. What if he doesn't... ?" He can't even finish the sentence. Patrick's breath feathers over Pete's arm and Pete presses his lips to the back of Patrick's neck protectively.

"He will," Mikey says matter-of-factly, and even though Pete knows that Mikey has no more knowledge on the situation than he does, he can't help but believe him.

He rolls it around in his head, eyelids getting heavier, drifting off into something like sleep until Patrick shakes him awake. He has no idea how much time passed but Patrick's keening at him, and there's an edge to his voice that sounds too much like the needy hurting groans Pete remembers from this afternoon. Fuck. Have they really not come that far at all?

He pulls Patrick against him, wrapping his arms around him and trying for as much skin to skin contact as he can possibly achieve. Mikey's out, face-planted into the pillow and Pete nudges him with his foot until he drags his head up, looking sleepy and mussed.

"He's getting bad again," Pete explains, one hand curled around the back of Patrick's head as Patrick licks around Pete's neck.

"Fuck," Mikey curses, pushing himself to his knees and crawling over to join them. He presses himself flat up against Patrick's back, making Patrick's breath sigh out even as his brow furrows further, hips shoving against Pete and fuck, he's hard again. "What now?" Mikey asks, over Patrick's shoulder.

"Do you think you could fuck him again?" Pete asks hopefully.

"Jesus, a little recovery time dude," Mikey complains and Pete has to agree. Though, the way Patrick's writhing up against him, he's pretty sure it won't take him that long. Still, it might be too long for Patrick. Unless...

"Trick? Hey Patrick?" He fixes his hand in Patrick's hair, pulling his head up, finding Patrick's eyes huge and dilated. "You want to fuck me, Patrick?" Even though he knows the answer will no doubt be in the affirmative, he can't help the way his heart skips at the question. It's kind of a big deal to offer this, but if it'll help at all, he's going to. And fuck, he really fucking wants to.

Patrick's mouth twitches into a smile and he's kissing his answer into Pete's lips. "Yeah. Fuck yes." Whispering it over and over into Pete's mouth between swipes of his tongue and sucking on Pete's lips. Pete lets himself fall into it, feeling his cock waking up, barely hearing Mikey's doubtful response.

"You sure that's a good idea, Pete? He's not really... himself. He might, you know, get carried away."

Pete pulls his mouth off Patrick's long enough to stutter out an answer while Patrick redirects his mouth back to Pete's neck, fuck he's going to be covered in hickeys when this is over. "You'll help, right? It'll be fine."

Mikey snorts and shakes his head, making his hair wiggle. "You're fucking insane, you know that?" but he crawls across the bed to find the lube anyway, coming back to slide up behind Pete and press a condom into his hand.

It becomes very real very quickly when Pete has to push Patrick's body away from his and find his dick, shaping him with his hand before ripping the packet open with his teeth. Patrick's smiling at him, lips all wet and plump from kissing, right up until the point when Pete tightens his hand enough to pull a needy groan from him. Then Pete's the one smiling. God, he won't ever tire of touching Patrick like this and bathing in every one of his reactions.

The smile falls from Pete's lips as Mikey's hands find him, familiar calluses running gently over his ass cheeks before one of Mikey's slick fingers starts to stroke gently around his hole. Pete groans and captures Patrick's mouth again, his hand clutching a-rhythmically at Patrick's dick as he struggles for the brain capacity to finish his task.

Mikey's lips are wet on Pete's neck when the first finger slides in. Pete breaks the kiss, stuttering out a groan and he can feel Mikey smile against his skin.

"Been a while, hey?" Mikey asks.

"You should know," Pete chokes out, breath coming in erratically. "You're the only one with a current backstage pass."

"Not for long." Mikey grins, adding another finger, and Pete's not sure if the groan he lets out is from the thought or the movement or both. Either way, it's fucking sublime and he's already on his way to hard again. Mikey is too, from the way he's pressing into Pete's back, his hot breath feathering over Pete's neck and shoulder.

"You should get that condom on him or he's never gonna be able to fuck you," Mikey says hotly and Pete's brain might just melt from that. Fuck, Mikey can talk sin when he wants to.

Pete finally gets the condom on Patrick, not helped at all by the way Patrick keeps shifting and writhing at every touch. Mikey slips a hand between them, stroking lube over Patrick's dick and if Pete wasn't hard already, that would've done it.

Patrick bucks up into Mikey's hand, moaning sweetly and Pete has to kiss him again, sucking Patrick's tongue into his mouth, desperate and messy.

"You want three?" Mikey whispers into his ear warmly. Pete can only choke out a yes against Patrick's lips, pulling Patrick tighter until he's rubbing his lubed dick all over Pete's stomach. Pete groans loudly into Patrick's mouth at the stretch when Mikey adds a third finger, fuck Mikey's hands were fucking made for this.

He has to pull his mouth free and pant, "Fuck, Mikey. You're killing me."

"You asked for it," Mikey argues, twisting his fingers in a way that shoots heat down Pete's spine, straight to his dick. He bucks forward into Patrick, groaning into his neck throatily. Patrick's fingers crawl up Pete's sides, over his chest, fitting his hands around Pete's face, forcing his gaze up.

"Pete, come on. I wanna fuck you, already," Patrick demands and fuck, that’s like, whole sentences now. Maybe it is wearing off, whatever it is.

Mikey takes the cue, slipping his fingers out of Pete's ass and sliding out from behind him. Pete's a bit overloaded from all the sensation, so he lets Mikey ease him down onto his back and press his legs up off the bed, pushing a pillow beneath his hips and opening him up for Patrick. Patrick looks hungry, he's eyeing Pete like a meal, color high, skin shiny with sweat. Pete watches as Mikey slides up behind Patrick, coaxing him into place with firm hands and soft kisses. Pete finally gets a proper look at Mikey and he was so fucking right, he's totally hard now, his dick shiny at the tip. Pete has to grab his own cock and stroke it lazily. Fuck, he feels so empty.

The first press of Patrick's cock at his ass can't come too soon, Mikey's hand on Patrick's hip guiding him. Christ, it's like being fucked by both of them at once, it's Patrick's dick but moving at Mikey's pace, somehow familiar and yet totally new. Patrick's cock isn't as long as Mikey's, but it's fatter and it's stretching Pete in all the best ways.

Pete's groan starts deep in his chest, chasing heat up his neck and into his cheeks. Patrick comes forward, guided by Mikey until he's leaning on one elbow, face hovering over Pete's, staring him down. Pete arches up off the bed, claiming Patrick's mouth and shoving down on his cock. Fuck, he's gonna hurt tomorrow but right now he only wants more, he wants to feel Patrick all through him.

And Mikey was worried about Patrick getting carried away.

Patrick groans and rolls his hips up, rocking into Pete. Pete's still got a loose grip on his dick, and he firms it, stroking in time with Patrick's thrusts, which are slow, way too slow. He knows Mikey's controlling this, it's a total Mikey rhythm, and when he glances over Patrick's shoulder he can see Mikey's hands firm on Patrick's hips, steadily guiding him, his fuck-me eyes burning at Pete.

Jesus, this thing's got to be contagious.

Pete closes his eyes, letting his head drop back on the pillow as Patrick drives home, frustratingly slow, until they're both groaning with effort.

"Mikey, fuck, come on," Pete grits out, desperate for something harder, for a real fucking pounding.

"Wait." Mikey's voice pitches up from his usual monotone, and if Pete wasn't working on reserve brain function that level of inflection from Mikey would be notable. "I have an idea."

Pete doesn't want ideas, he wants some real fucking movement already. Patrick's not holding up too well either, he's straining against Mikey's hands, cooing little needy noises at Pete that are slowly unpicking his brain.

"I should fuck Patrick again," Mikey offers, sounding like he's just come up with the solution for world peace or some shit.

"Fuck, yeah, whatever, later," Pete whines. "Mikey, come on."

"No, I mean now. I should fuck him now. While he's fucking you."

Pete loses his breath at the words. He forces his gaze over Patrick's shoulder, locking on Mikey's face and he is so fucking serious Pete has to tighten his grip on his cock and just hold.

He fixes his eyes on Patrick. Patrick, who's still rubbing and writhing, kissing up Pete's neck and across his face like he can't get enough. Fuck, maybe it'll work, maybe they just need to overload him completely, fuck this thing right out of him.

"Trick," he whispers, catching fingers in Patrick's hair and locking their eyes. "You want Mikey to fuck you?"

"Fuck, Pete. Anything. Everything. Just, more okay?" Patrick's voice sounds almost normal; he could be ordering dinner or discussing song lyrics, so Pete believes him. Patrick drops down and takes Pete's mouth again, kissing him deep and desperate. He pulls off with a wet noise groaning, "I wanna fucking come." Fuck, Pete can totally relate.

"Make it quick Mikes, I'm not gonna last and I don’t think he is either." Pete's voice is so rough and throaty, it's almost alien.

"That's the whole idea." Mikey half-smiles, already ripping open a new condom.

Pete closes his eyes, fingers feathering through Patrick's hair as he concentrates on being still. He does better than Patrick, who twitches and moans and kisses him breathless, right up until he stiffens and groans deep into Pete's mouth.

"Fuck, Mikey. Your cock, please," Patrick begs, because of course Mikey would use his fingers first, just to make sure, even though Patrick's been fucked so many times tonight It's completely unnecessary.

"Jesus, Mikey, come on," Pete groans, so fucking ready for the next part he can't even deal.

"So fucking impatient," Mikey grumbles, but his voice is breathless and Pete knows he's barely hanging on himself. They're all so fucking eager; it's so close he can taste it.

He claws a hand into Patrick's hair, kissing him deeply and he feels it run all the way up Patrick's spine when Mikey finally pushes home. He and Patrick groan, and it vibrates down Pete's body. Mikey takes a long breath, and then he starts to move, pulling out and pushing in and every long slow thrust is echoed by Patrick, making him rock into Pete as Mikey moves inside him. It feels fucking amazing, and that's before Mikey reaches between them to stroke Pete's dick.

Pete lets out a guttural moan, before locking his mouth to Patrick's and being ridden, letting Patrick fuck him as Mikey fucks Patrick and jesusfuckingchrist it's intense. Slow, so slow it's maddening, making sweat spring from every pore as Pete gives himself up to it.

"Fuck, fuck," Mikey mutters, the word coming out hard on every thrust. Patrick's groaning deep in his chest and it rumbles through Pete's body. Fuck, it's not enough, he wants more.

"Mikey, fuck. Faster, please," Pete pleads.

"Please," Patrick echoes, pushing the words into Pete's neck.

"Fuck." Mikey sounds like he wants to complain, but he complies, rocking into Patrick faster, pushing Patrick into Pete and fuck, it's almost enough.

Pete presses his mouth to Patrick's, drowning in his taste, gurgling moans leaking into the kiss every time Patrick drives home. Patrick kisses him hard and dirty, teeth and tongues sliding as his cock slides inside Pete and fuck, he's going to overload.

He pulls his mouth from Patrick's, whining, "Mikey." And that seems to do it. Mikey finally unlocks, shoving into Patrick fast and satisfying, making Patrick arch and buck, his voice rising higher and higher. Pete locks his mouth onto Patrick's neck and bites down, bathing in the sound, in every push of Patrick's cock as Mikey's hand strokes him expertly.

There's no way he's going to last. One more shove of Patrick's hips, one twist of Mikey's hand and he's coming, hard, whiting out, howling, shaking and shooting weakly onto Patrick's belly. He barely sucks in a breath before Patrick loses it too, pumping hard into Pete until his body stiffens, his cock pulsing as he cries out his release. Pete locks a hand in Patrick's sweaty hair, tucking Patrick's head into his neck as he pants heat into Pete's skin, still shaking from it.

Mikey's not far behind, and Pete has to watch, his eyes devouring every line of Mikey's body as he jacks into Patrick, keening out his desire as his eyes crease closed and his hips go elastic.

"Come on, Mikey," Pete encourages, voice raw. He's still getting aftershocks every time Mikey's hips shove forwards and fuck, he just wants to see Mikey lose it already. Three more strokes and Mikey does, head dropping back as he shouts out his orgasm, cock shoving home one last time.

He melts down onto Patrick and Pete feels the muscles in the backs of his legs starting to protest. Fuck, he's going to be sore tomorrow. It'll be so worth it though. He puts up with the strain for as long as he can, because the feel of all that weight on top of him is delicious, but it isn't long before he has to grumble and shove Mikey's shoulder until he moves.

Mikey giggles at him, pulling out of Patrick and continuing to beam giddily at Pete as they set about cleaning up. Patrick's gone completely boneless; not unconscious, but not terribly responsive either. He barely makes a noise when Pete strips the condom off him, snuffling into the pillow, hardly able to keep his eyes open. He looks so sweet, sleepy and content, that it makes Pete's heart clench.

"Do you think it worked this time?" he asks Mikey, filling his vision with Patrick and hoping hard. He brushes gentle fingers down Patrick's cheek, and Patrick stirs enough to nuzzle his fingers before closing his eyes again.

"We'll have to wait and see," Mikey says, flopping onto his back. "Fuck, I could sleep for a week."

Pete "mmmph"'s in agreement, curling himself around Patrick and thinking that sounds like a damn good plan. He barely registers Mikey pressing up against his back and throwing an arm over him before he falls asleep.


Concluded in Part Two

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