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Pete watches from the back of the little club as Patrick struts around on stage, displaying more confidence than he ever has on stage. Pete's not going to lie, he's seen the YouTube videos of Patrick's performances recently and has seen just how hot the other man is strutting around onstage like he owned it.
It's so different from how he is onstage with Fall Out Boy and it takes Pete a minute to reconcile the Patrick on stage in the three piece suit and tie to the one that wears hoodies and jeans and beat up Converse. It's a little disorienting, but he's really liking this new Patrick.
The suits that are tailored to perfectly fit Patrick's new slender form are so ridiculously hot that Pete can't help staring, even after Patrick strips out of his suit jacket, too hot on the stage for it. Pete's fingers twitch, wanting to strip Patrick of every layer, run his hands over the familiar skin, relearn this new Patrick.
He really wants to fuck this new Patrick too, judging by how tight his pants have gotten over the last hour or so of the show. Thankfully, the show's ending now and Pete slips through the crowd with ease, no one paying him much attention as he heads backstage and quickly finds Patrick's dressing room and the man himself alone.
Patrick turns around at the sound of his door opening and closing, hands deftly undoing his bow tie. He looks surprised. "Pete."
"Patrick." Pete grins, dark and predatory.
Patrick swallows, dropping his hands from his bow tie, leaving it undone around his neck. "What are you doing here? You didn't tell me you were coming to see the show."
"I wanted to surprise you." Pete says, grin still firmly in place as he locks the door behind him.
"Well, it's a nice surprise. We haven't talked much since the start of the hiatus." Patrick says, trying to smile at him as he glances at the door.
"Yeah, it is, isn't it." Pete says, walking toward Patrick.
"Pete, why'd you lock the door?" Patrick asks, eyeing Pete warily.
"So we could have a little privacy, Patrick." Pete says reasonably.
"Pete, what's going on?" Patrick asks, backing away from Pete until he runs into the couch, one hand grabbing it to steady himself. He doesn't like the sharp grin on Pete's face or the dark look in his eyes.
"You've changed so much lately, Patrick. The weight loss, the bleach blonde hair, the suits, the new confidence onstage. It's all so very unlike you that I had to see it for myself. See if you're still my Patrick underneath it all." Pete says, walking up to Patrick until there's hardly any space left between them.
"I'm still the same. Just a bit more open now." Patrick says, leaning back from Pete.
Pete wraps his hand around the back of Patrick's neck, dragging him in again. "That's good. I'd be disappointed to find out that you weren't mine anymore, you know."
Patrick opens his mouth to reply, but Pete cuts him off with a kiss, rough and demanding and everything Patrick had thought he'd escaped from when they went on hiatus. He doesn't pull away and he kisses back, hating himself a little bit for letting Pete get to him again when he was supposed to be over this shit. You can't just get over someone like Pete though.
Patrick's pretty sure he's been at least half in love with Pete ever since he was fifteen and seeing Arma Angelus play for the first time and that half has only gotten bigger over the years. Patrick wishes he was stronger, but this is Pete and Pete knows him better than anyone else, so Pete knows just what buttons to press.
Pete breaks the kiss and mouths at Patrick's jaw, one hand fisted in the back of Patrick's hair, pulling his head back to give himself more access. Patrick reaches out with one hand, intending on pushing Pete away, but he just rests it lightly on Pete's chest, knowing that Pete would always win.
"Get down on your knees." Pete says, breathing the words into Patrick's ear, making him shiver.
Patrick wants to refuse, wants to throw Pete out of his dressing room, but instead he finds himself sliding down to the ground when Pete takes a half step back to give him room. He looks up at Pete and waits, remembering this part of the game.
Pete strokes a hand through Patrick's hair and uses the other one to gesture down at himself. "Well, you know what to do."
Patrick reaches up and unbuckles Pete's belt, undoing his zipper and button, and tugging his jeans down his thighs. He's not wearing any underwear. Patrick wraps his fingers around Pete and strokes him, getting him fully hard before he takes him into his mouth. As soon as his lips wrap around the head of Pete's cock, Pete jerks his hips forward and Patrick chokes, trying to pull off of Pete's cock and breathe, but Pete follows him, keeping his cock in Patrick's mouth until the back of Patrick's head hits the back of the couch.
Patrick's hands scrabble at Pete's hips, trying to push him back, but Pete shoves his hands away and presses himself closer to Patrick. Finally he pulls back a little, allowing Patrick to breathe and Patrick coughs, gasping for breath, face red. Pete smirks down at him, carding his fingers through Patrick's hair.
He grins as he tightens his fingers in Patrick's hair and jerks his up, forcing Patrick to his feet. Pete leans forward and drags his teeth along the side of Patrick's jaw, making him whimper. His fingers trace over the buttons to Patrick's vest and slowly begin undoing them. Patrick is tense under his hands and mouth, but Pete doesn't care. He sucks a mark onto Patrick's neck, nipping at the spot to ensure it bruises. Patrick's hands curl into fists at his sides, but he doesn't do anything to make this stop.
Pete slides his hands under the open sides of Patrick's vest and curl around his hips, kissing his way back up to Patrick's mouth. He bites down on Patrick's bottom lip hard enough to make Patrick jerk. Pete licks at Patrick's lips until Patrick parts them and then Pete surges into him, kissing him hard and fierce, one hand still tangled in Patrick's hair.
Patrick hates himself for it, but he gives in, kissing back and matching Pete's desperation. His hands curl around Pete's shoulders and hold on as Pete devours his mouth. Pete breaks the kiss with a sharp bite to Patrick's lips again.
"Fuck, the suit thing is so hot." Pete mutters against the damp skin of Patrick's neck as he licks a long stripe up the pale skin.
He manhandles Patrick so he's gripping onto the back of the couch, bent over and presses his ass back into Pete's hips. Pete groans and reaches around, undoing Patrick's belt and his zipper, jerking his pants and underwear down his thighs. He drops to his knees then, spreading Patrick open and running his thumb over Patrick's hole. Patrick gasps and buries his face in his arms.
Pete runs his tongue over the edge of Patrick's hole and Patrick groans as Pete fucks into him with his tongue, the wet heat almost more than he can stand. Pete spreads him open more, digging his nails into the cheeks of Patrick's ass and licking him open, curling his tongue in ways that he knows makes Patrick squirm.
He pushes two fingers into Patrick and Patrick whines, rocking back into Pete as Pete fucks him with fingers and tongue. He's so hard, he's surprised he hasn't actually exploded yet. Then Pete's fingers find his sweet spot and rub mercilessly against it and Patrick's so fucking close without even having his dick touched that it's embarrassing. Pete's hand comes around and strokes him once, twice, three times and he's just about to come, can feel the familiar tingle in his spine, but then Pete is squeezing the base of his cock and the feeling fades. Patrick lets out a sob. He's so hard it hurts and he wants to come like yesterday, but Pete ignores him. He continues to fuck Patrick with his fingers as he trails his tongue around the edge of his hole where he's stretched around Pete's fingers.
Suddenly, Pete pulls away all at once and Patrick whines, looking over his shoulder, a frown on his face. Pete gets to his feet and strokes his own cock a few times before gripping Patrick's hips and pushing inside of him with one thrust. Patrick lets out a strangled scream at the burn and drag of skin against skin.
"Pete, fuck. You didn't use a fucking condom?" Patrick gasps, voice muffled by his arms.
"Why should I? You got something?" Pete asks, pulling out only to thrust back in.
"N-No, but fuck, you should have used a condom." Patrick grunts as Pete slams into him again.
"No. You're mine. We've never used condoms before." Pete says, gritting his teeth as he picks up the pace.
After that, Patrick loses track of everything except the feeling of Pete fucking him, the feel of his cock pressing uncomfortably against the back of the couch and all he can do is groan and try to keep up with Pete's movements.
Then Pete finds his sweet spot again, fucking against it as hard as he can and Patrick's so close again, he's going to come so hard, but then Pete's hand is slipping around his cock again and squeezing to cut off his orgasm and Patrick sobs again, teeth sinking into his own forearm as he grunts in time with Pete's thrusts.
"No coming unless I say you can." Pete says, an edge of darkness in his voice.
Patrick whines when Pete redoubles his efforts, slamming into him, hands leaving bruises on Patrick's hips. It isn't long after that that Patrick feels Pete thrust into him and still, wet heat spilling into him. Patrick shivers and clenches around Pete just to milk him a little more.
Pete groans and pulls out, dropping to his knees and spreading Patrick open once again, smirking at the reddened and abused skin. He waits patiently for a few moments before he sees it, the first few drops of his come slipping out of Patrick. He pushes his fingers in and out, drawing his come from Patrick and letting it drip onto the floor. Patrick whines and moans above him, fingers clenching so tightly around the back of the couch, his knuckles are white.
"Pete, please." He chokes out, thighs shaking with the effort of holding him up. He still hasn't come yet.
Pete stands up and turns Patrick around, holding up his hand in front of his face. "Clean it off."
Patrick stares at him with glassy eyes, mouth parted and red, before leaning forward and dragging his tongue along Pete's palm. He sucks each finger into his mouth and licks all around it. Pete's dick twitches, but he's not ready for a round two.
Pete fixes his jeans and buckles his belt, taking a step away from Patrick. He takes in the sight of Patrick, vest hanging open, white shirt clinging to him with sweat, slacks ruined with spit and come and shoved down around his thighs, his dick hard and dripping with precome, and it's possibly the hottest thing Pete has ever seen.
"Pete, please. Please." Patrick reaches out for him, but Pete steps back again, out of reach.
"We're going to do this my way." Pete smirks, the hint of darkness lurking in the edges of his mouth.
He crowds Patrick back up against the couch and works his hand back between Patrick's thighs, fingertips brushing against his hole. He makes sure he's not touching Patrick's dick.
"If you want to come, you have to fuck yourself on my fingers. No touching your dick." Pete's smirk gets wider.
Patrick looks like he wants to protest, but then Pete is thrust his fingers into him and hitting his sweet spot, so all that comes out of his mouth is a moan.
"You get to do the rest." Pete says, stilling his hand.
Patrick pants, eyes closed as he works his hips, raising up on his tip toes to fuck himself on Pete's fingers. His thighs shake with the effort, but somehow he manages, Pete's fingers brushing his sweet spot on every thrust.
Finally, finally, his orgasm sweeps over him and he comes with a desperate sob, spilling over his own dick and getting come on his shirt and vest. Pete pulls out his fingers and Patrick sags against the couch, trembling. Pete wipes his hand off on Patrick's shirt and then steals the bow tie still hanging around Patrick's neck. He tucks it into his pocket.
"I'll see you around, 'Trick." Pete says, turning and unlocking the dressing room, heading out of it, whistling as he goes.
Patrick closes his eyes and tears spill down his cheeks. He doesn't know why he continues to let Pete do these things to him. The hiatus was supposed to be an escape. Something for him to use to put distance between him and Pete and for him to try to get back to a healthy place from all the shit Pete put him through. Instead, he let Pete march right back into his life and fuck it all up again.
Patrick knows that he'll always let Pete get his way. He loves Pete too much and this is all he knows from Pete.
He's ashamed of himself as he cleans up as best he can before heading out to meet the fans and paste a smile on his face.
If he catches sight of dark eyes watching his every move, well, he doesn't show it and no one catches on. When he looks back, Pete's gone and all Patrick has is the lingering feel of Pete's body on his to remind him that this happened.