You and Me Against a Wall

Author's Note: Not really a proper fic. Just me indulging in several things I enjoy, like: forceful!Patrick, pliable!Pete, post-show rush, sex-against-a-wall.

When Pete stumbles off stage, his whole body is still buzzing with endorphins, the screams of fans ringing in his ears. He hands his bass to the tech and highfives some of the guys milling around backstage. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dirty barrelling towards him, but before he can brace himself for the impact, he catches sight of Patrick at the other end of the corridor.

His blood suddenly rushing downwards, Pete holds up a hand that stops Dirty in his tracks and, ignoring the commotion around them completely, moves purposefully to where Patrick is leaning against the wall in a carefully relaxed pose, belied by the intensity in his gaze, which is fixed on Pete. Then Pete reaches him, and Patrick springs into motion, all pent-up energy suddenly released as he pushes Pete backwards, away from the people and against the back wall of the dimly lit hallway.

Pete goes with it, his fingers already twisting in Patrick's sweat-soaked shirt, pulling him closer. He gasps as Patrick pushes a thigh between Pete's legs, grinding up, and their lips slide against each other rather than make proper contact. Then Patrick captures him in a real kiss, deep and messy, and Pete almost loses the ability to breathe as a pair of determined hands bunch his hoodie up and splay over his chest. He can feel the cold brick scrape against his lower back and pushes back, downwards, hard cock against strong thigh, feeling Patrick's own erection against his hip, clinging to Patrick's shoulders as he is almost lifted off the ground from the force of their movement.

Patrick curses into Pete's mouth, and Pete slides his fingers inside Patrick's collar, desperate to touch his skin, hot and flushed with need and want built up during an amazing performance. Pete loves it when Patrick gets like this, when his control snaps, and without looking Pete knows that Charlie is standing at the other end of the corridor, his massive form shielding them as he has many times before. Pete can't hear anything except the pounding of blood in his ears and Patrick's low whispers of filthy nothings against his neck as their grinding becomes more frantic, less controlled, but he knows without a doubt that Dirty is out there somewhere, creating a disturbance, giving them the privacy they need because there is no way they can wait until the hotel.

Patrick's hands slide down to Pete's hips, strong fingers pressing into his skin just inside his pants. Patrick will feel guilty about the bruises afterwards, proof of his loss of control, but Pete cherishes them, cherishes knowing that, when Patrick snaps, it is because he wants Pete so badly. Pete's grin at the thought is distorted into another groan as Patrick sinks his teeth into his shoulder, and Pete's head hits the bricks behind him with a dull thud. He curses and his fingers scrabble for the fly of Patrick's jeans, fumbling to unbutton them as Patrick slides both hands arounds Pete's back and between his ass and the wall, hoisting him up as he sets the pace.

They kiss, open-mouthed and interrupted by gasps for breath, and Patrick's hat falls off as Pete grabs Patrick's neck uncoordinatedly with his free hand. But Patrick doesn't seem to notice, half-growling as Pete finally manages to curl his fingers around Patrick's dick. Pete squeezes a couple of times, lacking technique or finesse, but Patrick's grip on him becomes tighter anyway, almost painful again, and Patrick comes breathing Pete's name.

He rests his forehead against Pete's shoulder for a moment, then he shakes himself slightly, and it's Pete's turn to repeat Patrick's name like a prayer, because Patrick is pulling away and, before Pete can complain, dropping to his knees and opening Pete's fly nimbly. Pete flattens his hands against the rough brick behind him to keep himself from grabbing Patrick's head and forcing himself down his throat, not a good idea with another show scheduled the next day.

Patrick's mouth is hot on him, around him, sucking hard, and Patrick is slipping the hand not currently holding the base of Pete's cock around to his balls, teasing his scrotum and the hole behind. Pete is really trying not to buck too much, but then Patrick is humming something, a snatch of a song or just wordless encouragement, and Pete comes with a hoarse cry.

Patrick swallows neatly, tidily, and keeps him in his mouth until the aftershocks subside, then he smoothly rises to his feet, tucking himself and Pete back into their pants, his hands skimming Pete's sides as he pulls down Pete's hoodie. Pete hears himself make a whining noise and Patrick smirks slightly but obeys the unspoken plea and kisses him, letting Pete taste himself. Pete sucks on Patrick's tongue greedily and is rewarded with a full body shudder from Patrick.

They're both coming down now, the urgency that propelled them gone, but Pete is reluctant to let go and Patrick seems content to stay as well. They kiss slowly, almost like breathing, Pete's fingers curling gently against Patrick's neck, Patrick's whole body still holding Pete pressed against the wall, warm and safe, grounding them both.

Finally they pull apart a bit, and Pete can feel the huge satisfied grin on his face. Patrick grins right back, shaking his head a little as if he can't believe what just happened, although they've done it before, many times, and will in all likelihood do it several more times before this tour is over.

Pete bends down to retrieve Patrick's hat from where it has fallen and jams it firmly on the reddish curls, almost blinding Patrick in the process, who protests and swats Pete's hands away. Order restored Pete hooks an arm around Patrick and holds him tightly, leaning heavily against him for just one moment longer, feeling Patrick's breath fan softly against his cheek. Then he lets go and jumps on Charlie's broad back, demanding a piggyback ride, claiming exhaustion.

No sign remains of what happened in the dark little hallway, Patrick pulling a jacket over the telltale stains on his t-shirt, but Pete can feel it heavy in his bones even after Charlie puts him back down on his own two feet. It makes him fall silent, warm and lethargic, and he finds himself latching onto anyone who stands still long enough. Everyone knows the signs, and Joe rolls his eyes and redirects Pete's attempt at a human pretzel with practised ease when they climb into the van that will bring them to the hotel.

Pete ends up with his head in Patrick's lap, a position he thoroughly approves of, especially when Patrick's fingers begin to comb gently through Pete's hair even as he carries on a low conversation about the show with Andy. Pete turns his head slightly and nuzzles Patrick's hand tiredly before nodding off.