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post #44
spn cowboys
immortal_lights wrote in anon_lovefest
Ryan/Spencer, D/s
i dare you to forget (five times mikey way kissed adam lazzara)
Ryan/Jon, dark fantasy
slutty!bb!Patrick/Pete, blowjob at movies
aggressive!Mikey/chubby!collared!Gerard, boot!kink and watersports
Gerard/Frank, dirty talk, light D/s
The best shit, like ever, I swear (Patrick/Gabe, blowjob)
Sex, Drugs and Rock'n'Roll (well, two out of three ain't bad) (Ryan/Spencer, dressing room!sex) from Post #39

Theme: new.

Have at it! Let this year be a good one.

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bb!Patrick sure gets a lot of requests (and i just keep filling them)

Mrs. Gibbons was old. She looked old, and she smelled old, and she still thought Germany was two different countries. So while Patrick wasn't *happy* that she broke her hip (she was also really nice, and always made him lemon squares before tests), he was kind of looking forward to having a tutor who he could actually talk to in between study sessions, and maybe even about something other than cats or the insanity of funeral costs.

The first day with his new tutor, Patrick waited at the kitchen table with a neat pile of textbooks, just like he always had, but Mrs. Gibbons had always been precisely 3 minutes and the new tutor wasn't even on time. Patrick sat there for ten minutes, knowing his mom was peering disapprovingly out of the front window, before he heard her snort and the doorbell ring.

"Shit, shit, I'm so--*shit*. Sorry. I mean. Sorry. For being late. And the, uh, other thing." And Pete was there.

Pete was not old. He wore obnoxious sneakers, he smelled like sweat and some kind of cologne that's not quite expensive enough to be good but not cheap, and he thought texting was the highest form of communication. He was also totally, painfully, unbelievably hot. Possibly the hottest person Patrick had ever seen in real life, and pretty high up in the ranks of the hottest people Patrick had seen ever.

The trouble was, Pete wasn't old, but he was older than Patrick. He was out of high school, living on his own, and damned if that didn't make Patrick want him even more. He had *tattoos*, which Patrick had never really thought of as sexy before, but on Pete's skin, they were. Everything Pete had or did had a nasty habit of being sexy to Patrick--even his stupid laugh and his unrestrained douchiness. Patrick knew he had it bad, embarrassingly bad, but he didn't care. He just *wanted*.

The best part of having Pete for a tutor was that Patrick's mom never came into the kitchen anymore, to putter around, or give Patrick arched eyebrows when he didn't know the answer to something he was being quizzed on, or offer pop (or prune juice). Pete had spun her some story about "sacred learning space," and she stayed away. Which meant Patrick was free to push aside the books and talk to Pete.

They talked about all sorts of things, 80s movies, and music, and shows, until one week, Patrick finally worked up the courage to ask, after Pete's breathless description of a pit he was in last weekend, "So, uh. Did you, like. Pick some girl up?"

Pete stared at him for a second, and Patrick's ears burned. But then he laughed, and leaned over the table, confidentially, even though there was no one else in the house (his mom was out running errands). "Not some girl." He leaned back, grinning, like he knew he'd blown Patrick's little mind.

"Oh." This was bad. It was really really bad, and Pete seemed to see it on Patrick's face, because his smug look crumpled a little.

"It's. That's cool with you, right? Don't freak out on me."

Patrick was freaking out, but not for whatever Pete thought he was. He was freaking out because Pete was supposed to be safe. He was supposed to be able to fantasize, and imagine, and never ever have to feel guilty about it because it was just in his head, and it could never happen, right? He should have known, when Pete showed up in his tiny jeans and the remains of the weekend's eyeliner smeared below his eyelid, but a lot of guys dressed it up for shows, a lot of guys even kissed other guys, to impress girls. But...for real.

"Patrick, seriously, it's not a big deal. Fuck, I didn't expect this from you--"

"I'm not freaked." Pete stared at him and Patrick shook his head. "Seriously, I'm not. I was just...thinking."


"Yeah, um." Patrick's cheeks were bright, bright red, and his throat was closing up like it always did when he was little and his mom put him in chorus and he was expected to *sing* in front of *people* (she took him out after a week), but he forced himself to go through with it. "What's it like?"

part 2

"What?" Pete stared. "You mean, like. Dudes?"

"Yeah." Patrick looked down at the table, and he had *never* been this embarrassed in his entire life, and he doubted he ever would be again. "You know, never mind, let's just." He shuffled with his papers. "Stalin. Uh, let's talk about Stalin."

"You want me to tell you about sex with dudes?" Pete was still staring, but there was an edge to his voice that Patrick didn't like. "What, for. Like a nature documentary or something? 'Here's the fag in his natural habitat, note the brightly colored plumage'?"

"No!" Patrick looked up, and Pete was looking back at him with hurt eyes. "Not like. No way. Of course not."

"Then like what?"

"Like. I mean, he. Um." And he had said it a thousand times, in jokes or whatever, but actually *saying* it, for real? His voice cracked when he finally managed to say, "Blew you?"

"Yeah." Pete still looked kind of hurt, but he was relaxing a little bit. "What about it?"

"What." Patrick had to look down again, and he could feel that his blush was spreading down to his chest. At the rate this went, he was going to look like a lobster by the time his mom got home. "What's it like?" Pete laughed, and Patrick looked up at him, stung. At the look, Pete clamped his mouth shut.

"Shit, you're serious? You. Shit." Pete rubbed at the back of his neck, slumping in his chair a little. "I don't know. It's like a blowjob, it's. It's just what it is."

"It couldn't, um." Patrick bit his lip. "It couldn't be that hard to do, right? I mean, if. If you had someone to teach you."

"Yeah." Pete nodded, with a weird half shrug. "I mean, I guess so?"

Patrick swallowed hard. "Will you teach me?"

Pete stared. Patrick stared back, as defiantly as he could feeling like his whole head was on fire. Pete made a face, and he sounded, thankfully, a little bit rough when he said, "Like with. Books and diagrams and shit?"

"No." Patrick stood up, and he was short enough and the table was high enough that he wasn't too self-conscious about it, the way his jeans bulged and the wet spot that felt painfully obvious. "Not, um. Not like that."

He waited for Pete's reaction, which was a strangled, "You're. Shit, are you even sixteen?"

Patrick shrugged, like it didn't matter. "Yeah. Almost."

Pete stared at him for a long moment, and Patrick's heart thundered in his chest, his head, he could feel the thud of it in his dick, and Pete was going to say no. Pete was going to laugh at him, and then it would all be over, no more bitchfights about Prince, none of it. He fucked it all up because he thought a hot guy might be okay with a dumpy highschool kid sucking him off. And then Pete did laugh, but he also said, "What the fuck, not like it's stopped me before."

part 3

Patrick felt like a robot walking around to Pete's side of the table, and getting down on his knees was awkward, but it felt so right. Pete stared down at him and made a gurgling sound that really shouldn't have been hot, and Patrick had a perfect view when Pete skated a hand down to squeeze himself though his jeans, like he needed it. Like Patrick made him need that.

They sat like that for a long beat, Pete looking down at Patrick, loosely holding his dick, Patrick kneeling and looking up at him, and then Patrick finally licked his lips. Pete moaned and squeezed himself again, and he turned the chair so he was slumped facing Patrick, knees on either side of Patrick's head and...god, presenting himself like a gift on an altar.

Patrick reached forward with trembling fingers and brushed them against the back of Pete's hand. He didn't quite have the courage to do more, but Pete shuddered anyway. Patrick bit his lip and looked up at Pete, Pete's hand warm under his fingertips. "What do I do?"

Pete made a pathetic sound and moved his hand away fast enough that he almost smacked Patrick in the face. "Shit, shit, um. Get my dick out?"

Patrick's stomach twisted and his dick twitched hard against his fly, and he reached forward, thumb resting for a second on the button of Pete's jeans, and opened Pete's jeans as best he could. He was horribly nervous about catching something necessary in the zipper, feeling the heat of Pete's skin and not warm cotton underneath, and he went as slow as he could. Pete's thighs were trembling around him and he was making *sounds* that made Patrick duck his head. "I'm sorry, sorry, I'm trying."

Then Pete's hand landed warm and heavy on his shoulder, and Patrick looked up to see that the impatience wasn't aggravated. Pete smiled at him, the crooked, broken little smile that Patrick had only seen a couple of times, that he treasured like perfect pure chords. Patrick felt better, a million times better instantly, and he helped Pete get his jeans down and off, with some interesting wriggling, and dispensing him of his bright orange shoes, big enough to be practically clown shoes on him.

Patrick looked up, and Pete his hot tutor was sprawled in the kitchen chair, wearing nothing but a tight t-shirt that had been riding up *before* and mismatched socks. His dick was...well.

"I would have, um. Done some manscaping." Pete shrugged a little. "If I'd known that we were going to be doing a unit on gay sex for your human bio class."

Patrick snorted, because seriously? He'd never seen a guy's dick like this--in real life, up close, and hard--and he didn't really have a standard to compare to, but it was nice. As far as these things went. He was going to just grab for it and try but he remembered the sound Pete made when he'd asked, so he looked up. "What next?"

Pete groaned. "Uh. Hand around the base, and um. Go for it?"

Patrick obeyed, wrapping his hand around Pete's dick and jesus, he was actually doing this. "Go for it, uh, how?"

"Jesus fucking." Pete's head fell back for a second, but he was back almost immediately, peering down at Patrick with lust blown eyes. "Lick it. The, uh, the head."

And hey, if Pete got off on Patrick's inexperience, no reason to play off any of the worries that Patrick had about looking cool or wanting to seem like he knew what he was doing. He leaned in, with just a little more slow caution than he actually felt, and lapped carefully at the head of Pete's dick.

part 4 (shit this got long)

"Holy *shit*." Pete closed his eyes, and his hand was wandering, cupping Patrick's neck, and then up to play with his hair. His mom didn't let him wear hats in the house, and he felt a sudden rush of shyness. He pulled away just a little, but that just made Pete run his hand over to the back of Patrick's head, fingers twining through his hair, and guide him gently forward. "No, no, hey. C'mere. Just put your mouth on me, okay? Just a little."

Patrick's belly and groin had been on fire practically since Pete showed up today, but a warm feeling spread through his chest at that. Pete was...god, for someone this hot, who obviously got laid as much as any guy could handle, he was being too sweet to the stupid little virgin with a crush. Patrick didn't hesitate before taking the head of Pete's cock into his mouth, suckling on it, trying to get a feel. It was kind of weird, but the weight on his tongue felt like something he'd been missing for a long time.

Pete guided him a little farther, with rough, desperate whispers of "Come on, c'mon, just. Take it, okay, you can do it." It was sort of like when Pete would coach him through his Spanish flashcards, and the thought made Patrick want to laugh. He couldn't, not with Pete's dick in his mouth, but he hummed a little. Pete gurgled again, and he stroked at Patrick's hair like he was trying not to hold too tight, which was appreciated.

After a while, Patrick couldn't really hear Pete anymore. There was the same low voice, grunts and groans, but he was focused on it, sucking and licking, taking long pulls with his cheeks hollowed out. It was like when he played an instrument, his head emptying out into pleasant white noise that let him focus. He couldn't go very far down, but it was his first time, and he didn't feel too bad about it, with Pete hissing out hot breath at the soft squelching sound of Patrick's lips around his dick.

He was so into it, he didn't even really hear Pete's voice going higher and faster until he was *yanking* Patrick's head back and coming half into his hand and half over Patrick's swollen mouth.

"Dude, shit, sorry, I tried. But you weren't--" Pete trailed off when Patrick ran a thumb over his lips, sticky and a little puffy, and sucked it into his mouth for a taste. "Holy shit."

Patrick grinned, ridiculously pleased with himself. "I think I did pretty good on the oral portion, but I could still use your help with the written."

Re: part 4 (shit this got long)

Not the op, but that was hot and cute< 3

Re: part 4 (shit this got long)

Dude, that was so awesome. And I totally loved the last line (bad puns, ftw). :)

Re: part 4 (shit this got long)


that is all.

Re: part 4 (shit this got long)



Thankyouthankthankyouthankyou! ♥♥♥♥

Re: part 4 (shit this got long)

This is glorious and wonderful and awesomely hot! ^______^V

Re: part 4 (shit this got long)

Trust me, I don't feel bad about you posting yours first at all

Re: part 4 (shit this got long)

I'm sorryyy, I just wrote it in the comment box and your comment wasn't there when I started :\

Re: part 4 (shit this got long)

nooo don't feel bad, yours was awesome :) I added it to my anon!fic rec list

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