Title: dedicated follower of fashion
Pairings: Pete/Mikey
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1325
Summary: Set during Warped '05. Pete never lets Mikey get anything done.
Disclaimer: I admit it! I made it up! Also: Don't google yourself.
Notes: For lessthangreat's birthday. Thanks to peridium for the beta read! ♥

"Are you seriously reading Harry Potter?" Pete asks, climbing on to the couch beside Mikey.

Mikey narrows his eyes, but doesn't look up. "Are you seriously going to distract me right now? This is the best part."

Pete folds his legs up on the couch and rests his head on Mikey's shoulder. "Sorry," he mumbles into the fabric of Mikey's shirt. He lies there for several minutes, content with the relative silence. He listens to the soft hum of the air conditioner, punctuated every couple of minutes by the rustle of a page turn. Phrases run through his mind; some of them he itches to write down before they fade, but at the moment he's too content to move.

"What are you wearing?" Mikey asks suddenly, cutting into Pete's thought process. He bookmarks his page and sets the book aside.

Pete sits up and blinks a few times, caught off guard. He looks down at his hoodie, one of the newer Clandestine designs. "What, you don't like it?"

"It's awfully... bright," Mikey says, squinting. He takes off his glasses and stares at Pete, eyes wide and unfocused. "That's maybe a little better."

"Shut up," Pete says, laughing and pushing at Mikey's shoulder. Mikey grins and slides his glasses back on. "Keep acting that way and you won't get any free stuff."

Mikey gives him a blank look. "I won't wear anything that doesn't pass the Harding Test."

Pete scowls at him, crossing his arms. He's not actually angry, but he's already contemplating storing this particular hoodie away in the Styles That Did Not Work box.

Mikey rolls his eyes and leans forward to tug on Pete's sleeve. "It looks good on you, okay? But don't you have... I don't know, something simple? Maybe something black?"

Pete sighs. "I'll see what I can do." He takes Mikey's hand and laces their fingers together, leaning in to kiss him.

Mikey's lips are soft, as usual, because he's the kind of person who wears chapstick during shows. Pete considers this as he sucks Mikey's lower lip into his mouth and shifts closer to him on the couch. Mikey hums appreciatively, sliding his fingers under Pete's hoodie and along the curve of Pete's spine. Pete shivers, both from the contact and from the chill of the room. Mikey's fingers are probably Pete's favorite thing about him, especially since Mikey has a tendency to put his hands everywhere while they're kissing.

Mikey pulls away long enough to tug the hoodie off and throw it across the room. Pete smirks and says, "This was your evil plan all along, wasn't it? To get rid of my--"

"Actually," Mikey cuts in, "I just wanted to do this." He leans down to Pete's shoulder and begins to trace the lines of Pete's tattoo slowly and tantalizingly with his tongue.

"God, Mikey," Pete mutters, tilting his head back and trying to remember how to breathe. Mikey bites down as he gets to Pete's collarbone and begins to work at the button on Pete's jeans. Pete scrambles to help, squirming and pushing until his pants slide down to his feet. He thinks the way the waists of pants feel better at the ankles, he thinks the way your fingers linger in all the right places, and then he doesn't think anything at all because Mikey's fingers wrap around his cock. He pushes his hips forward to match Mikey's movement, and when Mikey leans forward to bring their lips together, he returns the kiss enthusiastically. Mikey strokes him slowly and languidly, and Pete tries to say faster but all that escapes is a breathless moan as Mikey tightens his hold on him.

He's only vaguely aware of Mikey shifting on the couch, and he doesn't register the importance of this until Mikey places an open-mouthed kiss across the tattoo on his stomach. Pete gasps and arches into the touch, wanting more. Mikey settles onto his knees on the floor and looks up at Pete. Pete stares down at him, mouth hanging open, because they haven't done this before. There's something relatively safe about jerking someone else off, but this just seems so intimate. He wants to ask Mikey a million questions, but when Mikey lays his hands on Pete's hips and whispers, "Can I?", Pete can only make a desperate noise and nod.

Mikey takes him in slowly, wrapping his fingers around the base of Pete's cock. He pulls up slightly, attempting to move his tongue. It's sloppy and completely new for both of them, but Pete's pretty sure he hasn't been this turned on in his life. "God, the things you do to me," Pete murmurs, concentrating hard on not pushing into Mikey's mouth. Mikey hums softly, sending jolts of pleasure throughout Pete's body. "Jesus," he breathes. Mikey finds a rhythm, using his hand to make up for what his mouth can't do, and Pete holds on tight to the couch to keep from touching. The heat builds under Pete's skin until he feels like his body is on fire. "Mikey, I'm gonna--"

Mikey understands immediately and pulls off. He fists Pete's cock and Pete comes with a shameless cry he didn't know he was capable of making. Mikey clashes their mouths together in a hungry kiss, much more aggressive than he has ever been in the past. His tongue slides into Pete's mouth as he climbs back onto the couch.

Pete unbuttons Mikey's jeans quickly, and Mikey arches up into his touch immediately. "Fuck," Mikey whispers, "how are you so fucking hot?" Pete blinks in surprise at Mikey. His head is thrown back and he writhes under Pete's touch as he skirts his fingers across Mikey's chest, up to his neck, and into his hair. Pete leans forward and pulls Mikey's shirt until he can suck a mark onto the skin at the base of his neck. Mikey moans and bucks his hips up fervently.

"What has gotten into you today?" Pete asks roughly, his lips brushing along the shell of Mikey's ear. Mikey is normally so quiet during sex that the first time, Pete worried that he was doing it wrong.

Mikey doesn't answer. Instead, he turns his head to capture Pete's lips again, and Pete increases his rhythm until Mikey is biting at his lip and spilling onto his hand. As he comes down, he brings his hands up to Pete's face and kisses him softly. "I'll go get you a towel," he mumbles as he pulls away. He buttons his jeans and disappears before Pete can say anything.

Pete fidgets as he waits for Mikey, contemplating what he will say. Mikey returns quickly, wearing a new shirt. He hands Pete the towel before crossing the room to retrieve Pete's hoodie. When he sits back on the couch, he doesn't look Pete in the eye.

"Hey," Pete whispers. Mikey looks at him shyly, and Pete grins at him. "That was amazing."

Mikey's mouth quirks up into half of a smile. "Yeah?"

Pete glares at him. "If you have to doubt it, then I'm doing something wrong." Mikey smiles fully now, leaning forward to kiss Pete again.

Pete enjoys the simplicity of sitting together on the couch, comfortable in each other's presence. "I'll be right back," he murmurs, heading back to the bathroom to splash water on his face.

When he returns, Mikey is reading again. Pete gives him a Look, but Mikey doesn't look up. "I want to finish this tonight," Mikey says, "or I'll fall behind schedule."

Pete sighs, resigned to the fact that Mikey is going to ignore him. He cuddles up to Mikey on the couch, and asks, "Schedule?"

"The sixth book comes out on the sixteenth. I have to finish reading the first five by then."

Pete blinks at him in surprise for a few seconds, processing the thought, and then he beams at Mikey. "That's a great idea. Can I borrow Sorcerer's Stone?"


Go here if you'd like to comment on this fic. ♥