emo band texts 2 // emo quartet au

// 112

Frank's been teasing him about his next tattoo, saying it should be "greedy slut" since he and Mikey got their wedding ink done at that parlor in the Netherlands. Maybe Frank's right. Maybe Pete is a greedy slut but Mikey's looking at him with dark eyes, so who cares. He can totally rock greedy, needy, hungry slut for Mikey. It's pretty much his standard setting anyway.

"Pete-" "Please, Mikey. Please, okay, I need you Il "I know. Jesus, Pete, I heard you. I wasn't going to say no. Get on the bed, alright? Just, take off your underwear and get on the fucking bed." He punctuates this with a sharp kiss that sucks out most of Pete's air before giving him a sharp shove towards the mattress Pete trips and feels his whole body catch fire. He didn't actually know Mikey could do use that kind force and it makes him whimper like a puppy. He shimmies out of his boxers. Mikey doesn't move, just watches him from behind his lenses. His gaze is so intense that Pete can almost feel it and he arches up into it like a touch. You are so fucking needy I don't know what to do with you," Mikey says, mostly to himself. Pete could give him some suggestions but he waits as Mikey tilts his head to the side and studies him. Pete hates that he's not being touched. Hates it As much as he does, the attention makes him feel like he's being caressed everywhere. It's fucking bliss and it's torture and Pete loves him so fucking much because Mikey gets it. Gets him "Mikey," Pete whines. He's hard, so fucking hard and Mikey hasn't put a hand on him yet. He wants Mikey's hands. He wants Mikey's mouth too, his teeth and his tongue and his lips and the light stubble on his cheeks. And Pete wants his cock. God Pete really wants Mikey's cock, down his throat first then inside him, turning Pete into something more, better, than the vibrating shell he is now "Aside from the obvious. I'll fuck you Pete, okay, don't worry about that. Just, hm." He tilts his head to the other side. "I'm just not sure, because you're right. We've got a hotel and all night and you look like porn right now so, yeah. I'm trying to figure out what I want to do to." "Don't think so hard." Pete's voice comes out sulkier than he intends but fuck, he's getting cold over here. He reaches an arm up, beckoning. "Don't think at all, just get over here. We don't need a plan." Mikey's mouth compresses into a line, but his eyes are still locked on Pete, scheming behind his glasses. He takes the two steps forward and slides his fingers between Pete's on his outstretched hand. Pete fights a grin, gripping Mikey's hand and tugging him forwards suddenly. The move works, tipping Mikey off balance, but Mikey's part ninja and he manages to land on Pete in a straddle, pushing Pete's arms above his head. Pete's totally at his mercy and he wouldn't have it any other way. Mikey smiles down at him, hair flopping in front of his eyes. "Hi." "Hi," Pete responds, before arching up off the bed and taking Mikey's mouth again. Mikey makes a satisfied noise into their lips and shimmies down Pete's body in a way that feels amazing and leaves their bodies pressed hip to hip, chest to chest. Well not exactly chest to chest because they're both being careful about the freshly inked patch above their respective hearts. Up close like this, Pete can't help himself, his fingers are trailing down Mikey's chest, framing the design with his hands. Two Ws interlaced inside a heart isn't the most stubble thing in the world but Pete's never really gone in for subtly. Fuck." He's short of breath looking at it, because it's just there. On Mikey's skin. Forever. He's a sap and a romantic, but there's a sudden pressure behind his eyes that threaten tears and he's blinking fast when he looks up at Mikey. Mikey smiles down at him, his eyes a little faraway. "I know." Then Mikey's trailing his fingers carefully up Pete's stomach, across his chest until his fingertips are dancing patterns around the edge of Pete's entwined W's. His touch is feather-light, but Pete's skin is still healing so it hurts a little. Enough to make Pete suck in sharp breath. "Still sore?" Mikey asks, fingers trailing further away from the design, the pain more of an itch now. Same as yours." Pete's voice doesn't sound like his own. It's too low. Too throaty. Mikey's fingers trail back again. He traces the pad of his index finger down the long line of a W, his touch so light it would tickle if the flesh wasn't raw. As it is, it's like being painted with a hot brush and Pete's body stiffens as he gasps in another breath. Mikey shifts on top of Pete, sliding lower. Their legs intertwine and fuck, there it is. Their fit. Mikey's thigh is between Pete's legs, putting delicious pressure on his cock and the combination of that and the zing of pain from Mikey's fingertips has Pete making a choked noise and rolling up against Mikey. Mikey's mouth quirks up at the side wickedly. "You like that. Of course you like that." He's speaking more to himself than Pete and this time when he does it again, fingertip tracing a different line on Pete's skin, he rolls his hips down against Pete's. It's kind of evil and amazing at the same time, and if Pete could actually speak he'd tell Mikey that, but he's too busy panting and groaning and rocking up against Mikey Fuck. He's so fucking hard now, leaking against Mikey's leg, and he can feel the answering press of Mikey's arousal against his thigh, through the thin fabric of the underwear he's somehow still wearing. He grasps Mikey's shoulder weakly, wanting more, needing more of something "Mikey. Fuck." Pete squirms and Mikey starts tracing letters again, his hips still rocking against Pete's, almost like he doesn't realize he's doing it Fucking love this on you." Mikey's voice is low, throaty and wrecked. "There on your skin. Showing you're mine." He presses lightly on the clean skin between two inked lines, and it's a different pain this time, a stretch instead of a touch and it makes Pete whine between his teeth. His hand falls onto Mikey's ass, grabbing a handful and pulling down, needing more pressure, more friction. He grabs Mikey behind the head with his other hand, pulling him down and devouring his mouth. Mikey kisses him rough and needy, nipping at his lips. He doesn't move his hand from Pete's tattoo, letting his palm rest lightly over the design, and every tiny shift of his hand has Pete squirming. He bucks up against Mikey, groaning into his mouth, reaching up to cover Mikey's hand with his own and press down. Fuck. It's nearly too much. He breaks the kiss with a startled noise, but he doesn't let go of Mikey's hand. The burn underneath it is addictive and Pete's not ready to give it up. "Pete?" Mikey's concern leaks into his breathless voice. "More. Just. More." Pete chokes the words out, writhing under Mikey, eyes fluttering so much he can't focus on Mikey's face. But he doesn't need to see Mikey's face to know there's a concerned furrow between his eyebrows. "Please," Pete adds, breathless and pleading, hips shifting restlessly under Mikey as he searches for friction ikey's still for barely a heartbeat considering. Then his mouth is on Pete's neck and the pressure on Pete's fresh ink isn't coming from his own hand but Mikey's. And Pete wants to sing his praises from the fucking rooftops and skywrite poetry about him because he fucking gets it. He just does. He kisses and licks at Pete's neck as he grinds down on him, his teeth lightly grazing before he opens his mouth to suck and then bite the soft skin of Pete's neck and shoulder Pete shudders under Mikey's hands and mouth. It's a fucking onslaught. Teeth and tongue and burn and friction. He's shaking, flushed hot from feet to forehead, and Mikey's not letting up, biting hard enough to bruise and rubbing off on Pete's leg. Pete gasps for air, trembling, feeling the pleasure in his cock get more insistent. He's gonna - he's gonna "Stop! Fuck. Mikey." He gasps the words out, desperate, grabbing Mikey by the shoulders and willing his body still. Mikey freezes, his hand going light on Pete's tattoo, his sharp breaths bouncing cool off the wet patch he's left on Pete's neck. Pete can't crane his neck to see Mikey's expression but he can guess at the quirked eyebrow and the confusion. I don't wanna come yet. Not yet." His voice is wrecked, words coming out on panting breaths. Mikey eases up on his elbows, looking down at Pete, his hair all wrecked and his mouth all kiss-swollen. He's so fucking beautiful. "You want me to fuck you." Mikey says it as casually as if he were reciting Pete's coffee order. That was the plan.-"Pete pants the words out, eyes half closed and his face nched up. He's still not quite back from the brink. It's taking a lot for him not to just shove up with his hips and rub one off on the curve of Mikey's leg "I thought you said we didn't need a plan. I thought were going to wing it. Fuck Mikey and his fucking steel trap memory. "Just get the fucking lube. Please. Jesus." "So less winging it. You're saying that we've got some artistic license to reach a set outcome," Mikey says. He pulls back as he speaks and grabs the lube off the night stand where Pete had placed it with the condoms, seriously, like two hours ago because he is going to get fucked You talking like your brother: not sexy right now. You fucking me: sexy. Try and keep Mikey's glare doesn't hold a lot of kick. Pete can see the smile in his eyes. Pete has to reassess him on the sexy-meter when he starts spreading lube over his fingers. Because he has really long, elegant fingers and Pete knows what he can do with them. Watching Mikey get them all slick and shiny and ready to be inside Pete pretty much maxes out the sexy scale. When he leans down over Pete, balancing on one elbow and skating the back of his other hand up the inside of Pete's thigh, Pete actually shivers. "Are you going to stop being a little bitch?" "Not planning on it," Pete laughs. He loves laughing during sex. He loves laughing, period, but when there's other physical pleasure involved, it's like he thinks dying must be once you get past all the painful regret shit. He doesn't know for sure. He didn't get that far in February. This is better, he can do it more than once and he gets to have Mikey. "You don't know bitchy my bitching I will be if you're not inside me Soon," I'm terrified." Mikey Wentz-Way I swear to oh fuck," Pete moans because two of Mikey's lube- coated fingers push inside him at that exact second. It's not enough, not even close, but it's something. Hot rough skin made wet and slick starting to hollow Pete out are a whole lot of something. "Fuck, oh fuck yeah." "I love the way you say my name," Mikey muses. He noses the bruise he left on Pete's shoulder and worries the spot with his teeth. Mikey," Pete groans, trying to arch into the bite. He can give Mikey that in exchange for the way he's making Pete feel right now. He's going to turn it purple and Pete does not care. Normally he'd be into that that, but, really, he could give a shit about anything but the way Mikey's doing that thing where he scissors his fingers and his knuckles bump Pete's prostate. That's even better than bite marks because the empty feeling is receding, just a little.

"No," Mikey says and what is he doing talking? No talking. Talking slows his fingers and makes the biting stop. Pete is against talking. "Say my whole name." Oh. Oh. Oh, fuck Pete loves him so fucking much it is really, really distracting. "Mikey Wentz-Way." Yeah. Like that." Pete hitches his hips up. It's not even on purpose, his body just does it because fuck, he needs more. "Mikey Wentz-Way." He says again, voice too throaty and shot with need. When he tilts his head down, Mikey's mouth is stretched into a wicked grin. "T' give you a hundred years to stop saying that." Before Pete can fathom a response, Mikey twists his fingers, shooting heat right up Pete's spine and he's bucking up off the mattress. "Fuck. Fuck, Mikey."

Mikey nips at the bruise on Pete's neck, the already-aching flesh spiking with fresh pain. "All of it, Pete." The words push hot into Pete's neck. "Fuck. Fuck." Pete huffs out the words because his spine is actually dissolving now. "Mikeyfuckingwentzway if you don't fucking fuck me right the fuck now- " Pete chokes off, because Mikey's wrapped his hand around Pete's dick now, holding tight and low and Pete's brain can't actually find any verbal function anymore. All the heat in his body is in one place, under Mikey's hand, and Pete's lucky he can even breathe. Mikey takes advantage, leaning down and kissing him, hard and rough and just the way Pete needs it. Pete drowns in Mikey's taste - god, how is this his fucking life? He can have this forever, now - clinging to Mikey's shoulders until their lips break apart with a wet noise. Mikey looks down at Pete over the rim of his glasses, his eyes serious and intense.

"I'm going to take my fingers out now. Don't bitch Pete nods rapidly, already squirming, so completely impatient for the next part. Still, he can't help the small whine that leaks from his lips when Mikey slips his fingers free "I said don't bitch." Mikey punctuates the statement with a brief nip at Pete's chest. "l'm not bitching." And he really isn't. He just feels so empty now. So wet and open and ready. Too ready. Overdue. "I'm fine, I'm fucking peachy. Now give me your dick. Pete's already groping at the beside for the strip of condoms he knows is there Who put all this other shit in the way anyway? "Fucking tested, Mikey. I told you to remind me." He shoves the condoms at Mikey Mikey takes them, pulling a face at Pete. "I told you to remind me." He rips one free and Pete nearly loses his mind waiting for him to get it open and put it on. This is exactly why they need to get tested, he wants Mikey right now. The consolation prize is getting to see Mikey roll it on and stroke lube over his dick with those long clever fingers, eyes half-closed, mouth soft and loose. Pete's heart lodges in his throat for a moment and he gets stuck watching, transfixed by Mikey's face, his hand, the way his chest shifts with each breath "Here. Let me." Pete sits up, his fingers joining Mikey's and even with the thin layer of rubber preventing skin-to-skin, it's fucking glorious. He hasn't touched Mikey enough tonight, he's been selfish and greedy and he'll make it up. He kisses Mikey hard, lips and tongue promising blow jobs and rimming and lazy morning sex until Mikey's hands are pressing him back down onto the bed Fucking finally. He doesn't say it. He doesn't have to, Mikey knows. He manhandles Pete into position, pushing a pillow under Pete's ass and pressing his legs back, because he knew Pete would want it this way - face to face - of course he knew. As impatient as Pete was to get to this point, when Mikey's leaning over him, his bony hips pressing into the back of Pete's thighs and his lips a breath away, Pete's a little shaky. It's probably his imagination the way it feels like his banging heartbeat tugs at the still-raw flesh of his new ink. Probably just his overactive mind that makes it feel like every time Mikey draws a breath it's pulling the air out of Pete's lungs. Probably Mikey nudges his hips forwards gently and fuck, there it is. The light press of Mikey's dick at his ass, like he's asking permission. Like he needs it? Like Pete hasn't been begging-literally-for this all night "Mikey, come on. Please, please, come on."