Pete Wentz likes the idea of angry sex.
So, when Stump has a hold of him by the bunched up front of his shirt after a recording disagreement gone too far, he’s a little turned the hell on.
It takes a colossal amount of things happening at once to get Patrick this mad. His bassist/best friend managed to pile up just the right number of things in the course of a couple of hours, and he snapped.
The last straw was an accident, honestly. Patrick had jumped too quickly when Pete went to grab his ass, causing a sharp pinch to his lower back. He cursed, a lot louder than he usually would in such a quiet place.
“Son of a bitch! Fucking stop!”
The space between their faces left nothing to the imagination. Pete could practically feel the steam from Patrick’s head. His rough breathing wasn’t helping the cause in Pete’s pants, either.
“What, you don’t like it? You got a lot closer and a lot faster than I expected.”
The dark haired man winked, thrusting his lower half into the other’s. Patrick was so completely baffled that Pete would have sex in mind even after he was thoroughly pissed off at him that he forgot to talk himself out of becoming hard along with him.
Patrick took a dominate hold on Pete’s shoulders, maneuvering him around to be pressed face first into the wall he had pinned him to. He didn’t let go of it as he took his other hand and wrapped it around his stomach, bending his torso to fit his needs.
His cheek hit the wall hard. Pete would be okay with his face being sore because of something like this.
Pete’s pants and boxers were both pushed down in one fast and flawless motion. Patrick didn’t remove a piece of clothing from himself. There wasn’t enough time for that.
Patrick placed himself right outside of Pete’s entrance, pushing in somewhere in the middle of fast and slow. There was no lube and the next option most commonly seen in porn was always commented on by Wentz as ‘weird’. Plus, this wasn’t romantic, thought out or conveniant by any means.
Both men held their breath with the first few thrusts.
Letting the oxygen out with grunts, Pete pleading for Patrick not to cease being inside of him.
Pete turned his head at an uncomfortable position, but he wanted to see his friend’s face. He extended his hand behind his back to place it over Patrick’s, which was holding his hips in place. Patrick disapproved, still angry, and moved his hand away while pushing in harder.
Neither of them knew which one got louder first, but by the end of it they were both unaware of what their inside voices even sounded like. Patrick rocked through his orgasm inside Pete, which ultimately drove him into his own, spilling himself on the wall.
Pete still likes the idea of angry sex, only a little more now.
