A pair of blue eyes scanned the dark hotel room, as Patrick searched himself for the courage to go over to the other bed, where his best friend was soundlessly sleeping. It was one of the few nights that they got a break, and they took full advantage. Pete of course had to had the room on the same temperature as Antarctica, and Patrick had to have the bed closest to the window. Patrick laid on his back, looking at the ceiling. He was never going to be able to sleep, and the one night Pete just passes out.
Pete.
Patrick couldn’t stop thinking about what all they have laughed about that day, how many inside jokes were said. How they both lose all control when they start to laugh, Patrick almost falls over and Pete gets this smirk, that is his real smile, not the toothy grin he gives the cameras. How Pete will touch his arm, right on his forearm, close to his elbow. The way he touched his back when he was getting something in front of Patrick. Okay, he needed to stop thinking about Pete touching him. Patrick felt himself go hard, but didn’t touch himself. Sweat started to form on his forehead, he took off his glasses. He felt the blood pump underneath his plaid boxers.
Pete.
Pete on top of him, running his hand through his hair, his soft lips. Fuck it the nice shit. Pete’s tongue dancing on his neck, his teeth biting into Patrick’s shoulder, grabbing his back. Patrick’s hand traveled to his boxers, his hand around the base of his dick. Pete grinding against him, Patrick pulling his hair. Patrick’s finger rubbed the head of his cock. Pete pulling out his cock, looking up at him, and began to suck on it. Patrick couldn’t to take it anymore, he began to stroke. Pete holding down his hips, taking all Patrick in his mouth. He would look up with his brown eyes, making Patrick melt.
Pete was just right across the room.
No. No. No. No. No.
Patrick’s eyes gazed longingly at the bed next to his, thinking that maybe if he was just beside Pete, he would have a better time imagining what he wishes was real. No, that would be creepy. Normal people don’t do that. He wasn’t normal though. What would he say to Pete when he woke up? I mean, he could say he was too cold, plus it wasn’t like they haven’t slept in the same bed before. Pete wouldn’t mind. Shit. What if he was sprawled across the bed? Patrick looked up no, Pete was clinging to the side of the bed. Okay. So…no, he can’t, but it won’t hurt.
There was a soft sound as Patrick left the bed, his toes leaving the ground and coming back as quietly as possible. God, he felt like such a creep. He would never admit that on occasion he would ask Pete questions in his sleep, and probably knew more than Pete would ever let on to anyone. He made his way to the left side of the bed, the sheets taking shape to his body. Patrick squeezed his eyes as he put himself all the way into the bed, hoping not to wake the sleeping bassist.
Turning onto his back was all that Pete did, causing a soft sigh to escape Patrick’s lips. His cock twitched a little as Patrick’s eyes ran up and down Pete’s body. His hand returned to stroking, slow movements at first. He wanted touch him so bad, the caramel colored skin screamed his name. His free hand began to trace the ink that permanently stained Pete’s skin. His fingertips walked across Pete’s hip bones, and startled him when he took a large breath. He gripped tighter on his dick, as he imagined Pete taking it in. Patrick touched his face, tracing jawline, lightly feeling the five o’clock shadow.
“Pete,” he began to whisper in the bassist’s ear, “I’m going to make you get on your hands and knees, and fuck you so hard you will not be able to move for a week. There will be my hand in your hair, pulling so hard,” Patrick felt the pressure in his dick building, “and I will make you take my load.”
His hand traveled to Pete’s boxer briefs, tracing the outline of his dick. Patrick knew if he was caught it would be weird, but he didn’t care. He felt Pete’s cock start to harden with his fingers around it. He was going to finish soon, and that’s when he began to stroke Pete’s cock, pulling it out of the boxers.
He heard a moan from the bassist, which caused him to rock his hips and go over the edge. He suppressed his moan, bit his lip, and left the mess in his underwear, and made his priority Pete. Patrick’s fingers felt every detail, and he began to experiment with the reactions with the different strokes. His fingers even traced the head of his dick,causing Pete to twitch a bit. Patrick settled with fast, long, powerful strokes, and he ran his hand through his hair.
“I am going to suck you off,” Patrick whispered again, “in the van, on the bus, in the room before we go on stage. Mark my words, Peter.”
Patrick felt Pete’s whole body start to shudder and Pete grunted, his hand grabbing the sheets. Patrick could feel his best friend’s load on him and the sheets, as he laid looking at the ceiling. He had told Pete in his sleep what he had always wanted to say, but couldn’t. He laid on his back, thinking about what just happened. He began to drift, as Pete moved his arm, putting his head on Patrick’s chest.
“You know, you could have just told me all that before. You didn’t did have to give me a hand job in my sleep to do that. You’re sweet though.”
