Sex Lessons (Peterick)

six

The fifth lesson

"I've been waitin' to get my mouth on you all day," Patrick whispers in Pete's ear as they walk through the halls. Pete shudders. "Fuckin' wait,"

"You alright, P?" Pete's friend, Brendon, asks from the other side of him. Pete just nods, not trusting his voice.

"I'm gonna let ya fuck my mouth, Panda," Patrick says, his breath blowing over Pete's ear. Pete shudders again. He might be a virgin, but he knows his dick down Patrick's throat is probably going to feel amazing. He whimpers loud enough for Brendon to hear.

"Seriously, Pete, are you alright?" Brendon asks again. Pete shakes his head.

"No, uh, I think I'm going to head home. I'm not feeling too well," He tells Brendon. Brendon just nods and pats his back.

"How about you, Leprechaun?" Brendon asks Patrick. Patrick rolls his eyes.

"How many times have I told ya not to call me that?" Patrick asks. Brendon shrugs. "Too many times for an American to count, apparently," Patrick mumbles under his breath. "I'm goin' to head home, too, though,"

"Why's that?" Brendon asks. Patrick really wishes that he wouldn't press, but he knows Brendon, and this is Brendon's personality; nosy and a little annoying.

"Mum scheduled me a dentist appointment. It better not be with a barbarian like you folks. I don't trust those American fools puttin' things in my mouth," Patrick says, the lie rolling off of his tongue easily, as he winks at Pete. Pete chokes on air.

"You're going to get slapped one day by an American. You insult them hourly," Brendon says, shaking off Pete's odd behaviour. It's true, though. Patrick's going to get slapped one day.

"Yeh, probably," Patrick concludes, shrugging. "What the hell? I deserve it,"

"True that," Pete murmurs, walking towards the parking lot. Patrick follows him. They wave goodbye to Brendon, who has a class, then lunch, and then three more classes before he gets out for the weekend.

"We gotta check out, and then you're all mine, Panda," Patrick says as he literally skips to the front office.

By the time Pete gets there seconds after Patrick, the latter has already signed himself out with a bullshit excuse that says 'Doctor xx'. Pete snorts as he signs himself out.

He and Patrick walk to Patrick's car together. As soon as they get in, Patrick's hands are in his usual places (one on the wheel, the other on Pete's thigh).

"You're so predictable," Pete says as they drive, placing his hand on top of Patrick's.

"Am I now, Wentz?" Patrick asks with a smirk on his face. Pete nods.

"Hell yeah. I knew you'd put your hand on my thigh. You always do," Pete says. Patrick removes his hand and lets it join the other on the wheel, not saying a word. Pete crosses his arms. "What did you do that for?"

"If I'm so predictable, I gotta switch things up, Petey," Patrick explains. Pete's eyebrows raise at the new nickname. The only things Patrick ever calls him are 'Panda' and his name.

"I didn't say I don't like predictable. It's actually pretty nice not having everything thrown at me," Pete says. Patrick sighs and rests his hand back on Pete's thigh, Pete's immediately resting on top.

Pete had just found out his 'dad' was actually his step dad last year. His real father was a real piece of work. His mother, the fucking mayor, even called him a dick once.

He left Pete and his mother when Pete was only two, and a year later, his mom met Stan, who adopted Pete when they got married years later. No one ever told Pete, though, until he found his birth certificate.

Dale and Stan loved each other with a burning passion, and Pete couldn't blame his mother when she lied to him. He wouldn't have told his kid if his husband was a dickwad, either.

All of this was thrown on Pete last year right before finals. It's a wonder he didn't just give up and get out. But a Pete's strong and smart, and he's going to graduate as valedictorian in a little over three months.

So Patrick says, "I know, Panda," and that makes Pete pretty damn happy.

"Thanks for understanding, 'Tricky bear," Patrick pulls into his own driveway, happy to see that his mother isn't at home. They walk in together, not saying a thing until they reach Patrick's room.

"I understand if you don't want to do a-" Patrick is cut off by Pete pressing his lips to his own. He quickly shuts up and lets out a groan when Pete's fingers find his hair, tugging hard. "Someone's eager," Patrick says against Pete's neck as he moves down the latter's body.

He quickly takes the leather jacket Pete's taken a quick liking to off of his shoulders before pulling his shirt off by the hem. His eyes widen as they roam Pete's now tattooed body, the dark ink making him look somehow better.

"Holy shit," He breathes, tracing the tattoo just above his waistband with his hands and then his lips, followed by a little tongue to tease Pete.

When Pete's hands reach his hair again, they tug the too-short strands ridiculously hard. Patrick whimpers and then looks up. "I was promise some throat fucking," Pete says, grinning mischievously.

"Anything for you, Mr. Wentz," Patrick says innocently, like the teacher (who Patrick now knows as Mr. Michael Fuentes) said earlier. Pete groans as Patrick pulls down his skinny jeans that he bought in the women's section at whatever store he went to, stopping at his thighs and trapping him there against Patrick's door.

Everything about Pete had changed in the past two days, down to his boxers. He now wore a pair of dark grey Calvin Klein boxers that outlined his dick perfectly.

Patrick pulls them down after admiring them for a few seconds, making Pete's cock spring free. Patrick licks his lips before diving in, placing one hand around Pete's base, the other pressing his hips into the wall.

He licks a stripe from directly above his hand to the tip, which makes Pete buck his hips wildly. "Not yet, baby boy," Patrick teases.

He takes Pete into his mouth, his tongue flicking out the deeper he goes, driving Pete batshit crazy. As he reaches the base after having removed his hand, he slides up and down, making Pete squeeze his eyes shut.

Patrick soon removes his other hand from Pete's hips, winking at him, as if to say 'Do your worst'. And Pete Wentz doesn't have to be told twice.

He immediately grabs the back of Patrick's bleached blonde head and thrusts not so gently until his cock hits the back of Patrick's throat. "You feel so fucking good," Pete moans. He continues to fuck Patrick's throat, loving that Patrick seems to have little to no gag reflex until he moans again, "I'm gonna-" Patrick swallows around him rather than pulling off.

And then he shoots his load down Patrick's throat. Patrick swallows it all, and that earns a questioning look from Pete after he regains his breath and comes down from his high.

"What can I say? Hashtag spitterz are quitterz," Patrick winks at Pete again.

Pete pushes Patrick against the door, unbuttoning his jeans. That takes Patrick by surprise. Pete's actually going to give him a handjob.

"Don't ruin this by talking, Patrick," Pete threatens as he snakes his hand into Patrick's boxers. He jerks Patrick slow and rough, the calluses on his fingers making Patrick shudder. It doesn't take Pete more than four strokes before Patrick's coming in hot spurts in his fist.

"You're not bad at that," Patrick concludes once Pete's hand is away from his dick. Pete just smirks.

"I try,"

SO FINALLY UPDATED

WOOHOO

it's long and lets you in on what mr. pete's life has been like AND IT HAS SMUT

GO ME

anyways

goodbye

Jesus watched you read this, as always ;))