Sciamachy [Peterick AU]

Chapter 1

New story. Sex, drugs, and crime all used in this fanfiction. I'd like any feedback or suggestions.

Third Person Point Of View

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It was hot in the state of Florida. Specifically Miami, Key Biscayne in Miami-Dade County. The 88-degree weather beaded down on all the prostitutes in Island Drive. They all stood, leaning against a cool red brick wall smeared with graffiti as some let cancer sticks hang from their mouths, blowing the second-hand smoke over the streets, along the other's who stood. The hookers had wished for the humidity to go down to a dry heat, but that never seemed to happen. No matter how hard they wished nor prayed.

Patrick Stump, one of the youngest among the boys and mix of girls stood wiping the sweat off his brow. He had been wearing the coolest shirt he managed to own, a white v-neck. He wore black tight pants that attacked his legs with black combat boots that looked nice on him or at least what his client's thought. He'd been waiting for anyone to show up, but the girl's were getting a lot of attention today. That angered most of the boys like Kellin but then there were days where the guys got lots of attention which upset the girls cause they weren't getting paid.

The boy sighed as he leaned his head up against the cooling wall, he hadn't eaten in a while and he was unsure the next time he'd get money to be able to feed himself. A new boy named Jack had offered some of his share, but Patrick refused to take someone else's earnings, it just wasn't him.

It slowly rolled around to 5:30 in the evening, just as he was walking down the street as his day finished up. The only thing he got was $15 dollars for a sloppy blowjob. How gross. And guys complain they can't get money for sex, Patrick got money for a blowjob.

He listened to his combat boots click on the sidewalk as he listened to awkward elevator music play in weird indie stores he'd passed. As he'd been walking a black Hummer H2 had been following him slowly as he'd walked. Eventually, Patrick stopped dead in his tracks and hadn't bothered to look behind him.

"Hey," Said a man with jet black hair that looked as if it'd once been dyed several times before.

"Huh?" Patrick looked confused as he moved to face who had spoken to him.

"You look a little lonely, want to come home with me?" The man asked.

Patrick didn't have any plans that night and he was probably going to get paid. Not like he ever had any plans.

"Sure," Patrick replied walking over to the Hummer next to the curb.

The weather still hadn't decided to calm down, the days felt like walking through hell and back. Getting in the passenger seat of the man's car felt like heaven. Air conditioning was turned on and the seats had been comfy too.

"So, you're just letting me pick you up as a random stranger?" The mysterious man yet dared to ask.

"The name's Patrick. Now I'm not a stranger, happy?" Asked Patrick.

"Very happy. The name is Pete, Pete Wentz," He spoke as he pulled his car away from the curb to a place the man called home, and a place Patrick called work.

Patrick watched cars pass by through the window as Pete parked into a rather nice Beach House.

Patrick's jaw dropped as he saw the house, the walkway had been divided off between two pools as white tiles were in the middle making their way to the door of the marble white home. Pete got out of the car and as Patrick got out he took his hand.

Pete walked on the white tiles as he dragged Patrick along inside to more air conditioning. This was more than he seemed to bargain for, or at least that's what Patrick seemed to think.

Pete led Patrick to his bedroom and pushed Patrick down onto the bed and had grabbed a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket.

"So you're into the kinky stuff, eh?" Patrick asked, smirking.

"No, the last hooker I had sex with tried to kill me," Pete spoke before things had started.