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When they play Chicago, Pete likes to take them on adventures.
Pete's idea of an adventure is always wildly different, and never as much fun for anyone else as it is for him, so this time Spencer put his foot down. "I'm staying in tonight," he told everyone after the show. "Jon and I are staying in," he added, and that was when Pete's plan fell to pieces. Because "it's no fun without you, Jon Walker," Pete protested, but Pete wasn't the one Jon was sleeping with, so Spencer won.
Which, somehow, was how they all ended up back on the bus, Spencer curled up in Jon's lap, Brendon, Jon, and Patrick sharing the last of Jon's beer, all talking about blowjobs.
"How about you, Jon Walker?" Pete asked with a smirk, leaning back against Patrick's leg.
"Yeah, Jon," Spencer prodded, poking him lightly in the side and leaning close so that his lips were nearly against Jon's ear. "Tell us." Tell me, he didn't say, but Brendon heard it anyway.
He shrugged. "It's not such a great story, really. It was just…some shitty little bar in Chicago, when I was playing with 504Plan. This guy, he was with one of the other bands, he just…" he shrugged again, his face coloring as he lifted his beer to his lips.
"What, right there in the bar?" Brendon asked, eyes wide.
"In the alley out back, actually, if I remember right," Pete said, and Spencer covered Jon's mouth before he could do a spit take all over both of them. Pete beamed. "You never told me I was your first," he said, sounding utterly pleased with himself.
Jon curled around Spencer, burying his face in Spencer's neck. "Oh man, I am totally not drunk enough to be having his conversation," he mumbled.
"You…" Spencer looked back and forth from Pete to Jon a few times. "Really?" he finally said.
"Is this going to make you think less of me as a man?" Jon asked solemnly, lifting his head a little.
Spencer seemed to think about it for a minute or two. "Well it's not like you're the only member of the band who got his first tour blowjob from Pete. And you got to him years before Ryan did!"
In his corner, Ryan started spluttering, and while everyone was distracted laughing at that, Brendon took the opportunity to slip away from the conversation, crawling into the bunk hallway and then standing up and making his way carefully over Spencer's discarded shoes to the back lounge. Aladdin was still paused on the tv, so he pressed play and pulled Jon's laptop onto the couch with him, humming along under his breath as he checked his email.
"Too many blowjobs?" he heard behind him, and pressed pause again, setting the laptop aside and turning to rest his chin on the back of the couch, looking up at Patrick.
"No such thing," he said.
Patrick grinned, his face tinged blue in the light of the tv, and gestured at the computer. "I'm not…you're not busy, are you?"
Brendon pushed it further down the couch. "No, I'm just…" he was trying to find some good excuse for leaving, but then noticed the two bottles of beer wrapped between the fingers of Patrick's left hand. "Hey, you come bearing gifts! You are welcome here!" He spread his arms wide, offering the room to Patrick. Patrick smiled and came around the edge of the couch to sit down, handing over one of the bottles. They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping beer and looking at the paused tv, before Brendon raised an eyebrow at Patrick. "So. Trying to escape getting asked about tour blowjobs?" he guessed.
"Actually, no," Patrick said. "Trying to escape not getting asked."
"Hmm?" Brendon asked around the mouth of his beer bottle.
Patrick sighed and leaned back against the couch. "Oh come on. There's not a person in that room who doesn't think that Pete was my first tour blowjob."
Brendon laughed. "Yeah, ok, fair enough." There was a long pause. "Wait." Brendon tucked his legs up under him and twisted around on the couch so he was facing Patrick. "Are you saying he wasn't?"
Patrick peered down at his sneakers for a few minutes, as if fascinated by them. They were nice sneakers, Brendon was willing to give him that, but they weren't that interesting. He nudged Patrick's thigh with his knee, and Patrick looked up at him from under the brim of his hat. "Yeah," he said. "That's what I'm saying."
"Wow." Brendon's eyes got wider. "Wait, does Pete know?" Patrick looked down at his shoes again and scuffed his toes against the ground for a second before finally shaking his head. Brendon whistled, low and impressed. "Who was it?" he asked.
Patrick peered at him sideways. "You're not going to—"
"I won't say anything," Brendon said, holding up his hand. "Scout's honor."
Patrick looked at him for a long moment. "You were never a Boy Scout, were you?"
Brendon sighed. "No. But I am a man of my word," he said solemnly.
"I know where you live," Patrick warned. "More importantly, I know where your Disney DVDs live." Brendon nodded, waving his hands in the international signal for please don't hurt me, or my DVDs! and the corner of Patrick's mouth curved up a little. "Ok. It was Joe."
Brendon blinked. "Joe…Joe Trohman Joe?"
"That's the one."
"Joe Trohman, the straightest guy in the world—or at least Pete Wentz's corner of it—Joe?"
"That Joe, yeah."
"But…why?"
Patrick laughed, loud in the quiet room. "Because maybe he's not so straight after all?" he suggested, then he paused, some of the humor draining from his face. "And because he thought that if it was Pete—and it was going to be, eventually, I'm sure—that I'd fall hopelessly in love with him and get my heart broken." His mouth twisted into a painful little smile. "Joe's kind of an awesome friend like that."
"He gave you a blowjob to save you?" Brendon asked, a little awed. "It's like a fairy tale."
This time Patrick's laugh was real. "Like the most fucked up fairy tale in the world, yeah. That's my life." He leaned over to set his empty beer bottle on the floor and twisted, stretching his back. "So," he said, settling back against the couch cushions. "What about you?"
"What about me?" Brendon asked.
"Well, I told you mine." Patrick waved a hand at him. "It's only fair."
Brendon felt his cheeks grow hot. "I'm not…it isn't…" he shook his head.
Patrick sighed softly. "Look, I'm not going to say anything. Why, who was it? Ryan? Spencer? Some roadie girl whose name you don't remember?"
"No, it isn't…I mean, Ryan is…" He waved his hands. "We just…don't. And Spencer," he shrugged. "Jon, you know."
"Yeah." Patrick smiled. "I know."
"So…no."
"Ok, so it wasn't your band. It's…look, are you going to make me guess or what?"
"No, it's not…I'm just…" Brendon shook his head and slumped forward, burying his face in his hands.
"Oh," Patrick said in a small voice. "Oh." The couch shifted as he moved. "You're saying…you haven't."
"I've had blowjobs!" Brendon said sharply, picking up his head and turning towards Patrick. "I mean, I'm not…it's not like I'm some kind of virgin or something. I just…I haven't really had a tour blowjob, not the way Pete defines it."
"Oh. Well. That's." Patrick seemed at a loss. "That's unfortunate," he finally decided on, and Brendon laughed into his hands.
"That's one word for it, yeah," he agreed.
"No, I mean, really. That's…I'm sad for you," Patrick said, and when Brendon picked up his head to look at him, he realized with a start that Patrick wasn't mocking him at all. He really was disappointed for him.
"Well I don't…I mean…it's not like I can do anything about it. I'm not really going to go around hunting the elusive blowjob on a tour bus. So unless some guy drops to his knees in front of me and says 'hey, I'd like to suck you off', I think I'm pretty much out of luck."
Patrick looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "I guess that's true."
Then he slid to his knees in front of Brendon.
"Hey," he said, resting his hands against Brendon's thighs. "I'd like to suck you off."
Brendon gaped.
Patrick smiled, tiny and dirty, his hair falling into his eyes from beneath his hat, and Brendon somehow found the muscle coordination to nod. "Yeah. I. God, Patrick. Yeah."
Patrick's smile got wider. "Hey," he said again, rubbing circles into the denim of Brendon's pants. "Breathe. I'd be kinda offended if you passed out while I'm blowing you."
Brendon swallowed and watched Patrick's tongue trace wetly across his lower lip. "I. Um," he said helpfully.
Patrick smirked, then slid his palms up the length of Brendon's legs, pushing Brendon's shirt up his stomach a little and hooking his fingers into the waistband of his pants. He tugged Brendon forward on the couch, settling more comfortably between his legs, then went to work on unfastening his pants. His fingers were cool, and he reached up to press them against Brendon's side for a moment, making him jump. They slowly warmed against his skin, and then Patrick was reaching into his pants, wrapping his fingers around Brendon's cock and sliding it out of his boxers.
Just the sight of Patrick kneeling there between his legs had gotten him hard, and Patrick stroked him a few times, watching Brendon to see how he reacted when he twisted his wrist, when he brushed his thumb over the head of Brendon's cock. Brendon's breath shook at the sensation, his fingers clinging to the fabric of the couch. Patrick licked his lips again, leaning in, and Brendon reached up a hand, resting his fingers against the corner of Patrick's mouth.
"Hey," he said, voice a little unsteady. "You don't—" Patrick turned his head a little and sucked Brendon's fingers into his mouth, biting at them lightly.
"I want to," Patrick said, letting Brendon's fingers slip from between his lips, and Brendon nodded helplessly.
"Yeah," he agreed, "ok," and his head rolled back against the couch as Patrick took him in his mouth.
Patrick had a singer's mouth, strong and disciplined, and seemed to learn within moments which movements of his tongue would make Brendon shiver, and which would make him arch up off the couch, desperate to thrust up against Patrick. He held himself back, twisting his fingers painfully into the cushions to keep his hands from flying up and grabbing onto Patrick's head.
Then one of Patrick's hands was wrapping around his, tugging it away from the couch and pressing it to Patrick's neck until Brendon curved his fingers around to hold onto him. "I don't want…" he said, but Patrick just sucked harder, and when Brendon looked down, Patrick was watching him, gaze steady and a little pleading.
Brendon took just a second to boggle at the fact that Patrick fucking Stump was kneeling between his legs, lips wrapped around his cock, eyes asking him to fuck his mouth.
Then he tightened his fingers into Patrick's hair, and he did.
Patrick's mouth was hot and tight around him, his hands still bracing against Brendon's thighs, pressing points of heat into his skin through his jeans. Brendon clutched at the back of Patrick's head and thrust up into his mouth. His movements sent Patrick's hat tumbling to the floor, but Patrick didn't seem to notice, closing his eyes and focusing only on Brendon, on the heat and taste of his cock. A startled whine slipped from Brendon's lips when Patrick backed off a little, but then his hand was wrapping around the base of Brendon's cock, twisting and sliding against the slick skin, and his tongue was tracing quick patterns over the head, each swipe of his tongue setting another set of Brendon's nerves on fire.
"Patrick," he finally choked out, voice shaky and unfamiliar. "I can't…I need…" and Patrick ducked back down to swallow Brendon's cock into his mouth, the heat and suction sending him right over the edge, thrusting up and rolling his head to the side to muffle his cries in the couch cushions.
When he was finally able to move again, he looked down to find that Patrick's head was resting against his thigh while Brendon idly ran his fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. And he was jerking off.
"Hey," Brendon said, tugging on Patrick's hair just enough to get him to tip his head up so he could look at him. "Don't. I can…I want to…" but Patrick shook his head.
"I'm good," he said, a little breathlessly. "I'm…" He twisted his hand and closed his eyes, breath shuddering as he cut himself off, and Brendon realized that he was saying he was too close to wait for Brendon to even get his hands on him.
"God," Brendon hissed, and Patrick nodded, eyes still closed.
"Told you I wanted to," he said, opening his eyes to look at Brendon, and then he came, one hand gripping at Brendon's leg, the other wrapped around his own cock inside his pants, lips swollen and a little red as he gasped out something that was more vowels than words, then folded up and rested his forehead against Brendon's knee.
Brendon kept rubbing Patrick's neck until he started moving again, shifting around to do up his pants, then finally lifting his head and retrieving his hat from the floor. Brendon took his hand back and fixed himself up a little too, zipping his jeans and pulling his shirt back down over his stomach.
Patrick looked up at him and laughed. "You look like…" he shook his head and knelt up so that he could reach Brendon's hair, fixing it in the places where it had rubbed against the couch and was sticking straight up.
"…like I just got a spectacular blowjob?" Brendon guessed, and Patrick turned a little red.
"Yeah," he agreed. "Kinda like that."
When Pete finally and inevitably came in search of Patrick, he found him on the floor, leaning back against Brendon's legs with Jon's computer in his lap, while Brendon watched Aladdin and serenaded him at inappropriate moments.
"What are you guys doing in here?" Pete asked, curling up against Brendon's side, and Patrick tipped his head back to look at him.
"Tour blowjobs," he said very seriously, then turned back to the computer. Brendon snickered.
"Hey! Speaking of!" Pete leaned his chin on Brendon's shoulder and looked at him imploringly. "Somebody hasn't told us about his first one."
Patrick shifted against Brendon's legs, and Brendon smiled at the tv. "No," he agreed. "I haven't."
Something in his tone must have made Pete decide that he didn't want to know, because for once in his life, Pete Wentz didn't ask any more questions.