Fic: The Boy Can't Help It (1/1)
Title: The Boy Can't Help It
Author: new_evolution
Pairing: Patrick Stump/William Beckett/Gabe Saporta/Travis McCoy/Jon Walker/Bob Bryar
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "He loves getting fucked. Needs it, even."
Disclaimer: Don't own, and I wish this happened.
Author's Note: It's long, so it's going under the cut. Once upon a time, there was a thread in normalhumanbein's journal. It started with overloved saying, and I quote, "i want more stories in which patrick gets fucked. a lot. by lots of different guys."
callsigns replied with, "I WANT THIS TOO."
normalhumanbein: "SO DO I. QUICKLY, FIND SOMEONE WHO CAN WRITE ORGIES."
Quoth overloved, "HAVE YOU SEE HIS MOUTH JESSA? HE SHOULD HAVE COCKS IN IT."
So, what with all the capslocking, I couldn't not write this. This story is partly for overloved and callsigns, partly so that normalhumanbein will write a porn edit of the awesome three-way fic she wrote and ended before the sex scene, but mostly because I have seen his mouth, and he should have cocks in it. NOW ON TO THE ACTUAL STORY.
---
"I shit you not, man. That kid? Total freak in bed."
William spares a sidelong skeptical look at Gabe before pointing his eyes back across the room at the boy in question. He just doesn't see it. The glasses, the soft face--the soft everything, really--every part of him screams "innocent."
"He can take two guys at once," Gabe continues. That one almost gets a spit-take out of William. "I'm serious. Joe and Andy like to double up on him."
"What?! Dude, just...no. Why would anyone do that to anyone?"
Gabe shrugs. "He asked for it."
"You realize you sound like a creepy rapist, right?"
"As opposed to the other kind? No, I mean literally, he asked them to do it. Begged for it, the way Joe tells it."
William rolls his eyes. "You're making this shit up."
"He's not." William turns around to find Jon Walker standing on his other side. "I walked in on them once. Him, Pete, Joe, Brendon...."
"Brendon?" William and Gabe ask incredulously in unison.
Jon nods. "I only saw them for a second or two, but, y'know, that was enough."
"And he was actually enjoying it?" William asks.
"If the noises he was making were any indication, yeah."
"Are you kidding? Of course he enjoys it."
Gabe flinches, almost spills his beer. "Fuck, Bryar, how long have you been standing there?"
Bob ignores him and goes on. "He loves getting fucked. Needs it, even. The two-at-once thing--hell, just ask Quinn and Jepha." William asks him how he knows all this. Bob nods in Jon's direction. "You know how it is when you're a tech--people tend to forget you're there. The stories I've overheard...."
He trails off. Gabe taps his foot impatiently. "Well? Details."
"Right, so, apparently this one time--it was Quinn and Jeph, like I said, Bert, Gerard, Sonny...oh, and Alicia."
Jon looks confused. "I thought he--"
"She had a strap-on. Doesn't matter to him as long as it's big, hard, and up his ass."
William's still shaking his head. "I'll believe it when I see it."
Gabe's got that devilish smile on, the one that might as well be a sign reading "BAD IDEA" flashing above his head. "You want to?"
William sputters, "Well--I didn't--I never--" He sighs. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."
Gabe glances between Bob and Jon. "What about you guys, you in? If we're gonna do this, might as well do it right." They nod their agreement. "All right." Gabe thrusts his hand into the middle of the circle. It's cheesy, but they pile their hands on top of his. "Here we go. Operation Patrick Stump."
---
It is decided that Bob should be the one to go talk to him, because while Gabe would quite readily say, "Hey, me and a few other guys want to fuck you silly," Bob has the tact necessary to keep the conversation from getting too awkward, if such a thing is possible.
He enters the bus to find Joe lying hung-over on the couch and Andy making him coffee. "Hey," he says, "is Patrick around?"
"Not right now," Andy replies, "but he'll probably be back in like five minutes, if you want to hang around. Any particular reason you're looking for him?"
Bob stares out the window, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh. Well. Sort of."
"Ahhh." Andy grins. "I know that look."
"Is it the 'Me and a bunch of other guys want to fuck Patrick' look?" Joe mumbles from the couch.
"Yeah," Andy says, "that one."
Joe rolls over to look at Bob. "Sorry, man, you're out of luck."
"He doesn't do that anymore?"
Andy explains, "Not for lack of trying. It's just that Pete has gotten kind of...overprotective."
"Won't even let us have him anymore," Joe adds sullenly. "You'd think he'd be cool with just keeping it within the band, but--"
The door swings open and in walks Patrick. "Hi, guys," he says cheerfully, and heads for the fridge. When he realizes everyone has gone quiet and is staring at him, he stops and looks around suspiciously. "Okay, what the hell is going on?"
"We were just talking," Andy says pointedly, "about how much of a dick Pete's been lately."
Patrick rolls his eyes. "God. If it were up to him I'd be in a cage."
"And it's too bad," Bob says, sensing his opening, "because a few of us were thinking of maybe getting a hotel room tonight...."
Patrick lights up. "You and who else?"
"Saporta, Becks, and Jon Walker. Maybe some others, if we can find anyone who's interested."
"Oh, man." Patrick bites his lower lip. "We need to do this, seriously. It's been too long. You remember that time, with Quinn and Jeph...wait, you weren't there. I wished you were there."
"I did too," Bob admits quietly.
"We're doing this," Patrick says firmly. "Leave Pete to me."
---
"So you and three other dudes are pulling some kind of tag team...on Patrick?" Travis is confused. "Why Patrick?"
"He likes it, apparently," William says. "Can't live without cock, or something like that."
"Huh. Weird. And you're telling me this why?"
"I thought you might like to come," William responds nervously.
Travis looks at his hands, the wall, the ceiling, and back at William. "What time?"
---
After everyone has cleared out, Patrick sits alone in the kitchenette, daydreaming. He's thinking about Gabe Saporta--that swagger, that cocky smirk. Who hasn't wanted to get fucked by him at some point or another? And William--while half of Patrick thinks he is an unnatural human being and needs to eat a goddamned sandwich, the other half is dying to see how far that long, lithe body will bend until it breaks.
Jon Walker, well, that one's kind of self-explanatory.
Pete stumbles in, disheveled and beleaguered, interrupting Patrick's train of thought. He snaps back to alertness. "You look exhausted."
Pete groans and wipes the sweat from his forehead. "I got about ten minutes of sleep last night. I feel like one of those, what do you call 'em, those goat things that faint."
"Fainting goats?"
"Yeah." He flops onto the couch.
Patrick makes a sympathetic tongue-clucking noise. "Poor baby." He moves to sit on the edge of the couch and starts to rub Pete's shoulders. "Let me take care of you."
Pete relaxes under Patrick's tender ministrations, and after five minutes, the little moans and sighs turn into light snoring. Patrick smiles to himself and goes to get the rope.
---
They decide that all of them checking into a hotel room at once will look suspicious, so they designate Jon as their front desk emissary. Once he gets the room, he calls the others to tell them what number it is, and they sneak in through various back entrances.
They're all in now, standing in a circle near the bed, and suddenly all the excitement and bravado has turned into mind-crushing awkwardness. Patrick dissipates it by looking around expectantly and asking, "So why aren't we naked yet?" The others all laugh and start taking things off.
Patrick seems to have a sixth sense for tension, like a cat who enters a roomful of people and heads straight into the lap of the one who hates cats. Except in this case, it's Patrick moving up to William with a kind of self-posessed shyness, stroking William's hair and kissing him gently.
William pulls back and takes a moment to look at him. The Patrick he knows was always reluctant to even take his hat off around anyone, forget about his shirt, so naked Patrick is a sight he's not used to. He thinks, though, that he could get used to it rather quickly. He's all soft curves and smooth, pale skin and almost undetectable patches of downy hair. His eyes are round and earnest, his lips red and wet.
William kisses him again, deeper this time, and Patrick takes his hand and leads him backwards toward the bed. They tumble onto it in a tangle of limbs, and before William can fully process what's going on, those exquisite lips are around his dick. He's kneeling upright, and Patrick is lying on his back with his head between William's legs. As he drags the tip of his tongue agonizingly along the shaft, swirls it around the tip, teases that sensitive place on the underside, he extends a hand and beckons to the others.
Bob is closest, so he steps forward tentatively, kneels by the edge of the bed, and presses his lips the inside of Patrick's wrist. He kisses his way up his arm, head bowed, looking almost reverent. One by one, the rest advance, clustering around Patrick's supine body and worshipping it with their hands and mouths. Travis slides his tongue along his inner thigh; Gabe rubs his face against his stomach; Jon bites delicately at a peaked nipple. Patrick moans deeply, and the vibrations on William's cock make him cry out and toss his head back. Patrick sucks harder, as though milking every last drop of cum out of him. William extracts his cock and falls back, panting, a light sheen of sweat already forming on his chest.
Patrick's head rolls to the side until he's facing Jon. He mumbles something desperate and unintelligible. Jon blinks. "Huh?"
Patrick grabs him by the back of the neck and jerks him forward. "I want you. To fuck me. As hard as you can."
They reposition themselves so that Jon is on top of him and the other four are off to the sides. Gabe is visibly disappointed, and Patrick smiles at him indulgently. "Patience," he says, "It'll be your turn next, okay?"
Travis sidles up beside William and whispers in his ear, lips almost touching his neck. "You wanna go last?" he asks. "You and me?"
William nods, unable to take his eyes off the sight before him. Jon is slicking his cock with lube, which at least one of them was smart enough to bring, and Patrick is fingering himself, watching. Finally he removes his hand and Jon pushes into him, slowly. Patrick squirms and whines, "I told you to do it hard."
Jon obliges, pulling out almost all the way and slamming back in with an audible collision. William's hand migrates toward his re-hardened cock as Travis licks his collarbone softly. William is thankful that he won't be able to come again just yet; he wants to save it. Bob and Gabe are jacking each other off as they watch Patrick shove his hips upward to engulf Jon's cock, his face the picture of ecstasy.
As promised, Gabe goes next, flipping Patrick onto his stomach and pushing into him from behind. Patrick's body moves fluidly, almost in a sort of wave, with his ass at the highest point. Next is Bob, who fucks Patrick up against the wall, his legs wrapped around Bob's waist, his weight supported by Bob's muscled arms.
When Bob lets him down, Patrick walks back to the bed, a little stiffly but clearly not out of energy yet, lube and cum dripping down the back of his thigh. He stretches out on his back again, spreads his legs, and nods at William and Travis. "You two. Now."
William lets Travis enter Patrick first, hanging back until Patrick waves him forward. "Don't be afraid," he says breathily. "I can handle it."
William slides his cock in alongside Travis's. The sensation is almost unbearable--the tight, wet heat, the friction of their two erections together. Patrick is purring, almost, making a low rumbling noise in the back of his throat. Travis and William begin to thrust in tandem, slowly and gently, still a little scared of hurting him. William threads his arm around Travis's waist for support, bracing the other hand on Patrick's thigh.
Patrick's head is tilted back, his mouth wide open, and Gabe, nothing if not an opportunist, slips his dick into it. Patrick's lips close around him, moist and undulating. Bob and Jon are on either side of him, and Patrick reaches out to grab both their cocks, stroking fiercely. Travis and William have turned their heads to face each other and are conjoined at the mouth as Patrick's opening pulses around them. Everyone's voices mingle--growls, moans, whimpers--and Patrick is the loudest of them all.
Jon is the first to come, spilling all over Patrick's hand. Bob is not far behind, and a rivulet of cum trickles from the corner of Patrick's mouth as Gabe meets his release. William clings to Travis as his second orgasm of the night wracks through him. It's not until Travis comes too, slumping against William with a deep moan, that Patrick reaches his end, splattering onto his stomach without anyone even touching his dick.
Slowly, they all move out of their cluster, limp and sweaty and satiated. Even now, William can't keep his eyes off Patrick. He'd expect someone who's just been fucked by five guys to look used up, wilted, degraded, but Patrick, though tired, looks more vibrant than he's ever seen him. He's flushed all over, glowing, his eyes two points of joyous light.
---
The click of Patrick opening the door to the back lounge provokes a torrent of obscenities from the prone, hogtied figure on the floor. Only after about eight sentences consisting mostly of "fuck" do they begin to be interspersed with actual words. "You fucking son of a bitch, I can't feel my goddamn legs, I'm starving to death, and I've had to piss for the past two hours. You better have a good fucking reason for this."
"Oh, I had a reason," Patrick says calmly, stooping down to untie the knots around Pete's wrists and ankles.
Pete's expression goes from angry snarl to shocked gape to disdainful sneer in the course of five seconds. "You whore. I should've known."
"What you should have known," Patrick replies in a cool, glass-smooth tone, "is that you wouldn't be enough to satisfy me, and that by trying to keep me all to yourself, you were asking for something like this to happen."
"Right," Pete says sarcastically, struggling to his feet. "Jesus, we should just put you on streetcorners, it'd make us more money than we get from album sales--"
Patrick shuts him up with a cuff to the side of the head. Pete looks ready to hit back, but Patrick grabs onto his wrists and stares steadily into his eyes.
"One thing before I leave," he says, "I'm not yours. Remember that. I'm mine." He lets go of Pete and heads for the door. "Oh, and if you put your fists through any windows, I'm tying you up again."
Fin
Author: new_evolution
Pairing: Patrick Stump/William Beckett/Gabe Saporta/Travis McCoy/Jon Walker/Bob Bryar
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "He loves getting fucked. Needs it, even."
Disclaimer: Don't own, and I wish this happened.
Author's Note: It's long, so it's going under the cut. Once upon a time, there was a thread in normalhumanbein's journal. It started with overloved saying, and I quote, "i want more stories in which patrick gets fucked. a lot. by lots of different guys."
callsigns replied with, "I WANT THIS TOO."
normalhumanbein: "SO DO I. QUICKLY, FIND SOMEONE WHO CAN WRITE ORGIES."
Quoth overloved, "HAVE YOU SEE HIS MOUTH JESSA? HE SHOULD HAVE COCKS IN IT."
So, what with all the capslocking, I couldn't not write this. This story is partly for overloved and callsigns, partly so that normalhumanbein will write a porn edit of the awesome three-way fic she wrote and ended before the sex scene, but mostly because I have seen his mouth, and he should have cocks in it. NOW ON TO THE ACTUAL STORY.
---
"I shit you not, man. That kid? Total freak in bed."
William spares a sidelong skeptical look at Gabe before pointing his eyes back across the room at the boy in question. He just doesn't see it. The glasses, the soft face--the soft everything, really--every part of him screams "innocent."
"He can take two guys at once," Gabe continues. That one almost gets a spit-take out of William. "I'm serious. Joe and Andy like to double up on him."
"What?! Dude, just...no. Why would anyone do that to anyone?"
Gabe shrugs. "He asked for it."
"You realize you sound like a creepy rapist, right?"
"As opposed to the other kind? No, I mean literally, he asked them to do it. Begged for it, the way Joe tells it."
William rolls his eyes. "You're making this shit up."
"He's not." William turns around to find Jon Walker standing on his other side. "I walked in on them once. Him, Pete, Joe, Brendon...."
"Brendon?" William and Gabe ask incredulously in unison.
Jon nods. "I only saw them for a second or two, but, y'know, that was enough."
"And he was actually enjoying it?" William asks.
"If the noises he was making were any indication, yeah."
"Are you kidding? Of course he enjoys it."
Gabe flinches, almost spills his beer. "Fuck, Bryar, how long have you been standing there?"
Bob ignores him and goes on. "He loves getting fucked. Needs it, even. The two-at-once thing--hell, just ask Quinn and Jepha." William asks him how he knows all this. Bob nods in Jon's direction. "You know how it is when you're a tech--people tend to forget you're there. The stories I've overheard...."
He trails off. Gabe taps his foot impatiently. "Well? Details."
"Right, so, apparently this one time--it was Quinn and Jeph, like I said, Bert, Gerard, Sonny...oh, and Alicia."
Jon looks confused. "I thought he--"
"She had a strap-on. Doesn't matter to him as long as it's big, hard, and up his ass."
William's still shaking his head. "I'll believe it when I see it."
Gabe's got that devilish smile on, the one that might as well be a sign reading "BAD IDEA" flashing above his head. "You want to?"
William sputters, "Well--I didn't--I never--" He sighs. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."
Gabe glances between Bob and Jon. "What about you guys, you in? If we're gonna do this, might as well do it right." They nod their agreement. "All right." Gabe thrusts his hand into the middle of the circle. It's cheesy, but they pile their hands on top of his. "Here we go. Operation Patrick Stump."
---
It is decided that Bob should be the one to go talk to him, because while Gabe would quite readily say, "Hey, me and a few other guys want to fuck you silly," Bob has the tact necessary to keep the conversation from getting too awkward, if such a thing is possible.
He enters the bus to find Joe lying hung-over on the couch and Andy making him coffee. "Hey," he says, "is Patrick around?"
"Not right now," Andy replies, "but he'll probably be back in like five minutes, if you want to hang around. Any particular reason you're looking for him?"
Bob stares out the window, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh. Well. Sort of."
"Ahhh." Andy grins. "I know that look."
"Is it the 'Me and a bunch of other guys want to fuck Patrick' look?" Joe mumbles from the couch.
"Yeah," Andy says, "that one."
Joe rolls over to look at Bob. "Sorry, man, you're out of luck."
"He doesn't do that anymore?"
Andy explains, "Not for lack of trying. It's just that Pete has gotten kind of...overprotective."
"Won't even let us have him anymore," Joe adds sullenly. "You'd think he'd be cool with just keeping it within the band, but--"
The door swings open and in walks Patrick. "Hi, guys," he says cheerfully, and heads for the fridge. When he realizes everyone has gone quiet and is staring at him, he stops and looks around suspiciously. "Okay, what the hell is going on?"
"We were just talking," Andy says pointedly, "about how much of a dick Pete's been lately."
Patrick rolls his eyes. "God. If it were up to him I'd be in a cage."
"And it's too bad," Bob says, sensing his opening, "because a few of us were thinking of maybe getting a hotel room tonight...."
Patrick lights up. "You and who else?"
"Saporta, Becks, and Jon Walker. Maybe some others, if we can find anyone who's interested."
"Oh, man." Patrick bites his lower lip. "We need to do this, seriously. It's been too long. You remember that time, with Quinn and Jeph...wait, you weren't there. I wished you were there."
"I did too," Bob admits quietly.
"We're doing this," Patrick says firmly. "Leave Pete to me."
---
"So you and three other dudes are pulling some kind of tag team...on Patrick?" Travis is confused. "Why Patrick?"
"He likes it, apparently," William says. "Can't live without cock, or something like that."
"Huh. Weird. And you're telling me this why?"
"I thought you might like to come," William responds nervously.
Travis looks at his hands, the wall, the ceiling, and back at William. "What time?"
---
After everyone has cleared out, Patrick sits alone in the kitchenette, daydreaming. He's thinking about Gabe Saporta--that swagger, that cocky smirk. Who hasn't wanted to get fucked by him at some point or another? And William--while half of Patrick thinks he is an unnatural human being and needs to eat a goddamned sandwich, the other half is dying to see how far that long, lithe body will bend until it breaks.
Jon Walker, well, that one's kind of self-explanatory.
Pete stumbles in, disheveled and beleaguered, interrupting Patrick's train of thought. He snaps back to alertness. "You look exhausted."
Pete groans and wipes the sweat from his forehead. "I got about ten minutes of sleep last night. I feel like one of those, what do you call 'em, those goat things that faint."
"Fainting goats?"
"Yeah." He flops onto the couch.
Patrick makes a sympathetic tongue-clucking noise. "Poor baby." He moves to sit on the edge of the couch and starts to rub Pete's shoulders. "Let me take care of you."
Pete relaxes under Patrick's tender ministrations, and after five minutes, the little moans and sighs turn into light snoring. Patrick smiles to himself and goes to get the rope.
---
They decide that all of them checking into a hotel room at once will look suspicious, so they designate Jon as their front desk emissary. Once he gets the room, he calls the others to tell them what number it is, and they sneak in through various back entrances.
They're all in now, standing in a circle near the bed, and suddenly all the excitement and bravado has turned into mind-crushing awkwardness. Patrick dissipates it by looking around expectantly and asking, "So why aren't we naked yet?" The others all laugh and start taking things off.
Patrick seems to have a sixth sense for tension, like a cat who enters a roomful of people and heads straight into the lap of the one who hates cats. Except in this case, it's Patrick moving up to William with a kind of self-posessed shyness, stroking William's hair and kissing him gently.
William pulls back and takes a moment to look at him. The Patrick he knows was always reluctant to even take his hat off around anyone, forget about his shirt, so naked Patrick is a sight he's not used to. He thinks, though, that he could get used to it rather quickly. He's all soft curves and smooth, pale skin and almost undetectable patches of downy hair. His eyes are round and earnest, his lips red and wet.
William kisses him again, deeper this time, and Patrick takes his hand and leads him backwards toward the bed. They tumble onto it in a tangle of limbs, and before William can fully process what's going on, those exquisite lips are around his dick. He's kneeling upright, and Patrick is lying on his back with his head between William's legs. As he drags the tip of his tongue agonizingly along the shaft, swirls it around the tip, teases that sensitive place on the underside, he extends a hand and beckons to the others.
Bob is closest, so he steps forward tentatively, kneels by the edge of the bed, and presses his lips the inside of Patrick's wrist. He kisses his way up his arm, head bowed, looking almost reverent. One by one, the rest advance, clustering around Patrick's supine body and worshipping it with their hands and mouths. Travis slides his tongue along his inner thigh; Gabe rubs his face against his stomach; Jon bites delicately at a peaked nipple. Patrick moans deeply, and the vibrations on William's cock make him cry out and toss his head back. Patrick sucks harder, as though milking every last drop of cum out of him. William extracts his cock and falls back, panting, a light sheen of sweat already forming on his chest.
Patrick's head rolls to the side until he's facing Jon. He mumbles something desperate and unintelligible. Jon blinks. "Huh?"
Patrick grabs him by the back of the neck and jerks him forward. "I want you. To fuck me. As hard as you can."
They reposition themselves so that Jon is on top of him and the other four are off to the sides. Gabe is visibly disappointed, and Patrick smiles at him indulgently. "Patience," he says, "It'll be your turn next, okay?"
Travis sidles up beside William and whispers in his ear, lips almost touching his neck. "You wanna go last?" he asks. "You and me?"
William nods, unable to take his eyes off the sight before him. Jon is slicking his cock with lube, which at least one of them was smart enough to bring, and Patrick is fingering himself, watching. Finally he removes his hand and Jon pushes into him, slowly. Patrick squirms and whines, "I told you to do it hard."
Jon obliges, pulling out almost all the way and slamming back in with an audible collision. William's hand migrates toward his re-hardened cock as Travis licks his collarbone softly. William is thankful that he won't be able to come again just yet; he wants to save it. Bob and Gabe are jacking each other off as they watch Patrick shove his hips upward to engulf Jon's cock, his face the picture of ecstasy.
As promised, Gabe goes next, flipping Patrick onto his stomach and pushing into him from behind. Patrick's body moves fluidly, almost in a sort of wave, with his ass at the highest point. Next is Bob, who fucks Patrick up against the wall, his legs wrapped around Bob's waist, his weight supported by Bob's muscled arms.
When Bob lets him down, Patrick walks back to the bed, a little stiffly but clearly not out of energy yet, lube and cum dripping down the back of his thigh. He stretches out on his back again, spreads his legs, and nods at William and Travis. "You two. Now."
William lets Travis enter Patrick first, hanging back until Patrick waves him forward. "Don't be afraid," he says breathily. "I can handle it."
William slides his cock in alongside Travis's. The sensation is almost unbearable--the tight, wet heat, the friction of their two erections together. Patrick is purring, almost, making a low rumbling noise in the back of his throat. Travis and William begin to thrust in tandem, slowly and gently, still a little scared of hurting him. William threads his arm around Travis's waist for support, bracing the other hand on Patrick's thigh.
Patrick's head is tilted back, his mouth wide open, and Gabe, nothing if not an opportunist, slips his dick into it. Patrick's lips close around him, moist and undulating. Bob and Jon are on either side of him, and Patrick reaches out to grab both their cocks, stroking fiercely. Travis and William have turned their heads to face each other and are conjoined at the mouth as Patrick's opening pulses around them. Everyone's voices mingle--growls, moans, whimpers--and Patrick is the loudest of them all.
Jon is the first to come, spilling all over Patrick's hand. Bob is not far behind, and a rivulet of cum trickles from the corner of Patrick's mouth as Gabe meets his release. William clings to Travis as his second orgasm of the night wracks through him. It's not until Travis comes too, slumping against William with a deep moan, that Patrick reaches his end, splattering onto his stomach without anyone even touching his dick.
Slowly, they all move out of their cluster, limp and sweaty and satiated. Even now, William can't keep his eyes off Patrick. He'd expect someone who's just been fucked by five guys to look used up, wilted, degraded, but Patrick, though tired, looks more vibrant than he's ever seen him. He's flushed all over, glowing, his eyes two points of joyous light.
---
The click of Patrick opening the door to the back lounge provokes a torrent of obscenities from the prone, hogtied figure on the floor. Only after about eight sentences consisting mostly of "fuck" do they begin to be interspersed with actual words. "You fucking son of a bitch, I can't feel my goddamn legs, I'm starving to death, and I've had to piss for the past two hours. You better have a good fucking reason for this."
"Oh, I had a reason," Patrick says calmly, stooping down to untie the knots around Pete's wrists and ankles.
Pete's expression goes from angry snarl to shocked gape to disdainful sneer in the course of five seconds. "You whore. I should've known."
"What you should have known," Patrick replies in a cool, glass-smooth tone, "is that you wouldn't be enough to satisfy me, and that by trying to keep me all to yourself, you were asking for something like this to happen."
"Right," Pete says sarcastically, struggling to his feet. "Jesus, we should just put you on streetcorners, it'd make us more money than we get from album sales--"
Patrick shuts him up with a cuff to the side of the head. Pete looks ready to hit back, but Patrick grabs onto his wrists and stares steadily into his eyes.
"One thing before I leave," he says, "I'm not yours. Remember that. I'm mine." He lets go of Pete and heads for the door. "Oh, and if you put your fists through any windows, I'm tying you up again."
Fin