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Post #6
spn cowboys
immortal_lights wrote in anon_lovefest
Here are the fics from last week:

Look, Ma, No Hands (Ray/Frank/Bob) (from Post #4)

Ryan/Spencer- spin the bottle

Spencer/Dusty/Katie K

This week's prompt: Porn involving three bandom members or more! Come on, you guys, you have to try.

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Bob/Frank/Patrick, Summer of Like [1/3]

Bob feels like he's watching his girlfriend fuck his best friend, but he's just watching Patrick play drums on "Thank You for the Venom." He's not quite sure who Patrick is in that analogy, but he thinks the feeling's right, a kind of half-jealous, half-turned-on voyeuristic thrill.

And then the song is done and Bob's back on. He has enough time to squeeze Patrick's shoulder and say, "Hey, good job, man," before he's adjusting his seat and picking up a clean pair of sticks.

Patrick watches the rest of the set from the wings. He's grinning when he hugs Bob backstage, bouncing a little on his feet when he lets go.

"Oh, man, that was awesome," he says.

Bob is still riding his own adrenaline high, and he grins back, because, yes, it is awesome.

"Thank you so much," Patrick says. "I know I missed some of the fills, sorry—"

"No, it's cool," Bob says, and it is, because Patrick sounded great anyway.

Patrick's saying something about Bob playing with his whole arms when Frank comes barreling up out of nowhere and jumps on Patrick's back. Patrick doesn't have Bob's mass and Frank's momentum sends them both crashing into Bob.

For a second it's a sensory overload: the hot press of their bodies, the smell of sweat and skin, the sound of Patrick and Frank laughing. Then Bob steadies himself and takes a step back, his hands still braced against Patrick's shoulders. Frank's grinning at him over Patrick's shoulder. He kind of arches an eyebrow, and Bob blushes despite himself.

Twenty-four hours earlier, Bob had been not-watching Patrick practice on his kit when Frank jumped on Bob's back and whispered, low and quiet, into his ear, "You should totally hit that."

Frank's smile slides over into a smirk, like he's remembering the same thing. He presses a kiss to the side of Patrick's head and drops to his own feet, bounding off into the crowd. Patrick gets dragged off by his band a minute later, shouting back over his shoulder, "Tonight! We should hang out!"

Bob waves goodbye, and goes to find a beer. Or maybe jerk off and then find a beer.

That night, he runs into Patrick again, standing around with Frank. They're both holding red plastic cups, and Frank is nodding along to whatever Patrick is saying.

"Yeah, he is," Frank is saying when Bob walks up.

"Who's what now?" Bob asks, and they both turn to smile at him.

He's a beer or two shy of being comfortably buzzed, and from the looks on their faces, so are they.

"You," Patrick says earnestly. "You're more buff than people give you credit for." Patrick reaches out and pats Bob's bicep for emphasis, and then leaves his hand there.

"Oh," Bob says, and, fuck, he's blushing again. Frank smiles more broadly. "Um—"

"It's true," Frank says, equally earnest, and copies Patrick gesture.

Bob eyes him suspiciously. He can't tell if Frank is match-making or hitting on him, but when Frank says, "We should show Patrick the studio on the bus," it occurs to him that it might be both.

Bob/Frank/Patrick, Summer of Like [2/3]

Patrick's face lights up, and he says, "Oh, yeah, that sounds so cool! I really want to see that!"

"Hey, c'mon, we can do it now," Frank says. "Ray's out being social tonight."

Patrick glances over at the rest of the party, and whatever he sees or doesn't see makes him look back and Frank and smile and say, "Sounds good."

So Bob sighs and gives in, and they show Patrick the studio.

They actually do talk about music.

They open up the laptop and play a couple of the songs they've been working, the ones that Bob knows Gerard and Ray won't mind Patrick hearing, and they talk about guitars and drumming and writing on tour. Frank hangs off of Bob and leans into Patrick's space, but he's not being any flirtier than usual, and Bob's beginning to think he misread the whole situation. Which is, okay, maybe a little disappointing, but it's better this way, this is cool, too, this is good.

Then Frank reaches out and puts his hand on Patrick's shoulder and strokes the side of his neck with his thumb.

Frank's sitting in Bob's lap, so when Patrick stutters to a halt in the middle of his sentence and looks at Frank, Bob can see his eyes go wide and startled. Patrick licks his lips, then meets Bob's eyes.

Bob has pretty much decided this would be a bad idea and opens his mouth to say something like, Frank, quit fucking around, but what comes out is, "Patrick, you don't have to do anything you don't want to," and his voice is lower and rougher than he intends.

Patrick smiles at him, and it has a faint echo of Frank's smirk in it. He keeps his eyes on Bob when he grabs the front of Frank's t-shirt and drags him in close, right up until their mouths meet and they're kissing, fast and wet and dirty.

When Patrick breaks the kiss he looks at Bob again, eyebrows raised. Bob keeps his face blank and raises his own eyebrows back. Patrick laughs.

Frank leans back against Bob's chest, his hand on Patrick's shoulder pulling him in closer. Patrick follows, leaning forward and up to kiss Bob. His mouth is soft and lush and scalding hot and it's the only point of contact between them. The weight draped over him, the hand holding his are Frank's.

Frank squirms against him. He's half-twisted around in Bob's lap, leaning in as soon as Patrick pulls back a little, but he stops with his mouth not quite touching Bob's. He flicks his tongue over Bob's lip-ring instead, and Bob hisses, "Fucker," against his mouth. Frank's laughing when he kisses him.

He stops laughing when Patrick drops to his knees.

Patrick looks up at both of them, almost coy with his mouth just brushing the tip of Frank's cock. He lowers his head slowly, pauses, and pulls off equally slow. Frank whines a little and tries to thrust, and Bob holds his hips still.

"Shhh," he says in Frank's ear.

"No, it's okay," Patrick says, looking up at him again. "Maybe, just—"

"Yeah," Bob says, and doesn't let go completely, just lets Frank have a little slack.

Frank uses it, pushing his hips forward, and Patrick opens his mouth and takes it. Bob holds onto Frank's hips, keeping his thrusts shallow as Frank fucks Patrick's mouth.

Frank is making these sharp, breathy sounds, and it's amazing how fast he goes to pieces under Bob's hands and Patrick's mouth. Bob tells him so and kisses him just beneath his ear. Frank shudders and grinds back against Bob's cock, and yeah, maybe Bob's not really in a position to talk.

"Fuck, Patrick," Frank says, "Bob—" and twists his head up to press his mouth against Bob's.

Bob/Frank/Patrick, Summer of Like [3/3]

Bob can feel it when he comes, the way his whole body goes rigid and then completely limp. He slumps back against Bob, head on his shoulder, breath hot and ragged against his throat. Patrick wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, face flushed and a little smug, and Bob reaches down to brush the hair out of Patrick's eyes. He hooks two fingers in the collar of Patrick's shirt and tugs gently.

Patrick follows the pull eagerly, moving up to straddle Frank's legs and kiss Bob. Bob moves his hand to the back of Patrick's neck and opens his mouth, sliding his tongue against Patrick's. He can taste Frank's come in Patrick's mouth, and from Frank's sudden sharp breath, he realizes it, too.

"Floor—" Bob says breathlessly, because Patrick and Frank are tiny but this chair is not going to hold all three of them for long.

It's not graceful, and Bob's elbow is going to regret that move in the morning, but he doesn't care because Patrick is still kissing him, and Frank has his hands under Bob's shirt, slim, callused fingers stroking over his stomach. Bob ends up on his back with Patrick grinding down above him. He can tell how this is going to end and he'd prefer it if pants weren't involved. He fumbles with Patrick's zipper, and then Frank's hands are there to help, peeling off clothes and belts and shoes. Frank darts in to kiss his mouth while Patrick takes off his own t-shirt. It's quick and fierce and of course Frank is hyper after an orgasm.

Patrick grinds down against him again, and it's even better when they're naked, Patrick sprawled out on top of him, kissing slow and wet and just a little desperate.

Frank runs his hands down Patrick's back, over Bob's hands on Patrick's back, and settles himself in the tangle of their legs. Bob feels him shift against his thighs, then Patrick makes a thin, high sound and drops his head to Bob's shoulder.

Bob lifts his head a little to see what Frank's doing. Frank has one hand on Patrick's ass, holding him steady, and from the slick wet sounds and Patrick's tiny noises, Bob can tell Frank's rimming him. Bob rolls his hips up a little and Patrick pushes back against him a little frantically. Bob laughs a little in the back of his throat.

When Patrick comes, slick and warm against Bob's belly, he gives an incoherent shout and bites down hard on Bob's shoulder.

Patrick rolls off to the side and Bob whines at the loss of pressure and friction. It's Patrick's turn to laugh. He wraps a hand around Bob's cock, slick with his own come, and starts stroking. Frank's shifts again, and runs his tongue over his balls, and really, lip rings are fucking genius.

"Yeah, Bob, c'mon," Patrick says, and his voice is wrecked.

Frank slides two spit-slick fingers into him, and that's it, Bob is gone. He shoves up into Patrick's hand, and back onto Frank's fingers, and the world dissolves into orgasm and white noise.

When he opens his eyes again, Frank is handing Patrick a shirt to clean up with. It's Bob's shirt, and he makes a mental note to be irritated by that when he has more than one functioning brain cell.

"Hey," Frank says a little while later. Patrick is curled up, warm and soft and already asleep between them, his mouth pressed to the bite-marks he left on Bob's shoulder.

Bob grunts.

"Ray is going to be totally pissed about the studio smelling like sex."

Bob turns his head a little to see Frank. "Nah," he says, "we'll just spray the whole place down with Febreeze and tell him Brian got loose in here."

The last thing he hears before falling asleep is Frank's laughter.

Re: Bob/Frank/Patrick, Summer of Like [3/3]


Re: Bob/Frank/Patrick, Summer of Like [3/3]

So So So hot! I also love the Bob/Patrick canon, anyway this was great!

Re: Bob/Frank/Patrick, Summer of Like [3/3]

This was so hot!! And I like the way you wrote the three of them, they felt very THEM.

Re: Bob/Frank/Patrick, Summer of Like [3/3]

holy hotness! I love all three of them a ridiculous amount and you, kind stranger, for writing this. ♥

Re: Bob/Frank/Patrick, Summer of Like [3/3]

Fun and hot and delightful!

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