Finally! Took me forever and a day to finish this... I don't even know why... But now i'm down to 8 stoves (don't worry, you shouldn't get the joke... inside information) and so I can breathe easier. Kitchen will *not* burn down... I hope...



(Not Quite) Only One
Ryan/Pete/Patrick
NC-17. Porn. Smut.
Pete doesn't apologize. Patrick doesn't ask him to.

For my bff and awsome beta Krystin... who listened to me bitch about having too many stoves... and for promising me dirty dirty things on June 2nd... :D

~*~

When Pete asks Patrick, the pint-sized singer flat-out refuses.

Pete pouts and Patrick rolls his eyes.

Pete pouts more

~*~

Ryan’s 18. Brendon’s 17. Those facts alone are enough to convince Pete to sign them.

If he needs any extra prodding though, Ryan’s body, slick with sweat, sliding along Pete’s might be enough.

If he’s still undecided the next day, Brendon’s lips tight around him as he swallows his cock definitely seal the deal.

~*~

When Pete returns home after the audition, sated smile and clothes that smell like teen boys, Patrick doesn’t talk to him for a week.

~*~

Pete picks a fight with Patrick the night before he leaves for Maryland.

As he thrusts deeply down Ryan’s throat, he doesn’t admit to himself that it was only so he could have his boys with a clear conscience.

He also doesn’t admit this to himself two days later as he stretches Brendon open.

With his tongue.

~*~

Panic! at the Disco takes off. ‘A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out’ sells out in every store and backorders swarm distributing centers. The Nothing Rhymes with Circus tour is still packed every night with teen girls turning out in droves.

Pete shows up for the first night.

And then the fifth. And the twelfth. And the twenty-eighth. And the fortieth.

The only show Pete goes to where he doesn’t duck into a room with either Ryan or Brendon is Chicago. He won’t hurt Patrick like that.

~*~

Patrick, for his part, doesn’t really care. He knows what Pete does with Ryan and with Brendon.

In all honesty, he’s just jealous he didn’t get to them first.

~*~

Before they seclude themselves in the cabin for the season, or however long it takes to write, Ryan comes out to LA. He’s freaking out already about the sophomore album.

Brendon is Ryan’s voice like Patrick is Pete’s. But, unlike their mentors, Ryan and Brendon don’t fuck each other.

Pete finds this sad for many different reasons. Most involving himself.

While Pete is acting rational and trying to convince Ryan that his band will survive without Brendon’s dick in his ass, Patrick walks through.

Ryan’s eyes grow wide like he’s had an epiphany. Pete really hates that look.

~*~

Ryan wants Patrick.

Pete refuses.

Ryan suggests a threesome.

Pete trips over his own feet on the way to Patrick’s room, thumbing his boxers down and yelling for Andy and Joe to “get the fuck out of my house if you want to keep your virgin eyes intact.”

~*~

Patrick feels himself blush as he looks at a naked Pete and a fully clothed Ryan, both of them propositioning him.

“Why?” he asks, not trusting his luck.

“Ryan thinks he can’t have a hit album without fucking Brendon.”

“So what do you want with me? I’m not Brendon.”

“Patrick, don’t question it!” Pete shouts, trying to cut Patrick off before Ryan can change his mind.

Ryan doesn’t. In fact, he adamantly insists.

~*~

Pete laps at the back of Patrick’s neck, slipping an arm around his waist and pulling him in tighter.

This is nothing new. Pete and Patrick have been PeteandPatrick since the day Joe brought the boy into Pete’s basement. Pete has strayed many times but they’ve never sat down and defined their relationship, so Pete’s never apologized and Patrick’s never asked him to.

Pete knows all of Patrick’s spots and he directs the youngest boy around Patrick’s body.

This is for Patrick. Ryan may have been the one who needed something from them, but this is Patrick’s.

~*~

Patrick’s on his hands and knees between the two of them, Ryan heavy on his tongue and Pete slamming into him from behind.

Ryan goes to reach for Patrick’s cock but Pete bats his hand away.

“Wait, just wait,” Pete moans, thrusting deeper, sharper, angling so he’s hitting Patrick’s prostate on every thrust.

Patrick’s got tears on his face, his gag reflex kicking in when Ryan loses control and comes deep down Patrick’s throat, thrusting erratically.

Before he’s choking though, Pete’s pulling him up on his knees, Patrick’s back pressed to his chest. Pete thrusts once, twice, coming harshly and burying himself in Patrick as far as he can, bucking through his come-down.

There’s barely a second’s pause before Pete’s running and hand down Patrick’s chest. He makes eye contact with Ryan, who’s eyeing Patrick’s leaking cock, hunger on his face. “Suck him,” Pete orders, breathless at the amount of wantwantwant on Ryan’s face. He watches in awe as Ryan crawls forward on his hands and knees, stopping once he’s close enough and parting his lips, slipping them around the head of Patrick’s cock.

“He’s so beautiful, isn’t he?” Pete asks. Neither boy knows who he’s talking about and attribute the compliment to the other, moaning in agreement.

A groan rips through Ryan as a burst of precome splashes on his tongue.  The vibrations send shivers down Patrick’s back and he loses his control, bucking forward. Pete runs a hand down the back of his trembling thighs. “Just hold on,” he whispers in Patrick’s ear, placing a kiss on the lobe. “Don’t want you to miss any of it. Get the whole experience, baby. He’s so talented with his mouth.”

Patrick whimpers. Ryan is excellent with his mouth. Ryan’s “so fucking perfect, oh my god, do that again pleasepleaseplease.” Patrick’s still thrusting down Ryan’s tight throat and Ryan’s still taking it, swallowing every time Patrick pulls out, coaxing his orgasm out.

But Pete’s still whispering in his ear, so close that the moisture on his breath transfers to Patrick’s skin before Pete licks a line behind his ear. Pete’s still whispering, telling Patrick to “hold on, one more minute, god you gotta feel it all.”

Patrick thinks sharply that it’d be a hell of a lot easier to not come if Pete would just stop talking. Pete’s normally rough voice is a thousand times worse now, his moans having ripped his vocal chords to shreds and now the beaten voice is all Patrick can focus on.

He’s so focused on tuning Pete’s voice out that he almost doesn’t hear him when Pete whispers in his ear to let go.

Patrick doesn’t wait another second. He throws his head back onto Pete’s shoulder, shooting down Ryan’s throat, coming harder than he can ever remember as Ryan milks it all out of him.

His vision gets blurry around the edges as he thrusts down Ryan’s throat, and the last thing he remembers before he blacks out is Pete’s lips nuzzling his ear.

~*~

He wakes up to hands stroking his hair. He tips his head back into the touch, knowing already from the shape of the fingers that it’s Pete. He smiles when they make eye contact and Pete leans in to kiss his lips gently.

“Welcome back,” he whispers.

Patrick smiles and stretches luxuriously. “I get it now,” he murmurs.

“Get what?” Pete asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Why you went to the boys.”

Pete’s smile fades, his face serious. “I always came back,” he reminds Patrick. “I always will.”

“I know,” Patrick whispers, reaching a hand up and cupping Pete’s cheek. He rubs his finger against his cheekbones. He smiles, and the crinkling of his eyes removes any worries Pete has that Ryan’s presence has caused a rift.

“I’ll stop. If you ask me to, I’ll stay away from them.”

Patrick waves his hand in a tired gesture. “I don’t care who you fool around with, Pete.”

“Okay,” Pete says slowly. A devilish smirk crosses his face. “Do you want me to invite them to play with us?”

Patrick nestles against Pete’s body further, curling in to his niche. “I think we should let them play with each other for a little while first.”

“Then after that?” Pete asks eagerly.

“Maybe,” Patrick whispered noncommittally. He breathes in the scent of Pete’s skin and lets the rhythm of Pete’s breathing lull him to sleep.

Right before he’s about to slip over the edge into unconsciousness, he feels the soft press of lips against his forehead and hears a soft voice whisper “I meant it when I said I’d give them up for you.”

Patrick gathers up the energy for a sleepy “And I meant it when I said I didn’t mind.”

~*~

La Fin.

Sidenote: Okay, so a couple people have asked me why I say 'La Fin' as opposed to 'El Fin'... This is because 'La Fin' is the correct french version... or at least the one we always used in class...

End.Digression...

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