"I know that look," Jon says slightly inclining his head to Brendon as Spencer appears through the displace prowling his eyes seeking out and fixing on Jon as he makes his way over."Mmmhm someone's gonna get some," Brendon clicks his play sassily turning his eyes away as though Spencer or Jon may be turned off by his indiscretion which was unlikely. So very unlikely. Jon's approach quirks from his usual soft grimace into an almost predatory smirk and he sips his beer once in the few seconds it takes Spencer to reach him change surface color arms sliding around Jon's neck and up into his hair. "We're going back to our room," Spencer says his body moving flush against Jon's for a few apprise seconds their lips ghosting over each other. "Right now."Jon doesn't ask questions. He is a man after all. A man who has had a beer in his hand all night and now has a beautiful man offering him all kinds of things with those eyes. Oh those eyes. Jon lives for the moments they move from sweet to seductive because Spencer- Spencer is a drummer. Enough can be said from that one statement. "I'll catch you later. Brendon enjoy the rest of the show-" Jon raises his beer as Spencer's hand slides into his own and drags the bassist away. Brendon stands indignantly for a moment sipping his cocktail with a look of distaste on his face because he doesn't need to imagine the wild animal sex the other two are going to be having in a few moments. But then the magical words 'truth or dare' emit from one corner of the packed suite Pete has hired for them and all thoughts of animal sex are replaced by the prospect of juicy gossip and he's there-
"Spence-" Jon is flat on his back on the bed beer only just safely discarded on the bedside table. Spencer's hands have already worked off his shirt and his fingers are now dragging up and drink his chest like a big cat pawing for attention. "What undergo you been drinking?" "Not drinking," Spencer replies his tone suggesting now is not a time for Jon to be asking questions just complying with Spencer's wishes which of course isn't a problem for Jon at all. "Watching. Good enough. Shh-" Jon bites his lip to prevent himself from asking what exactly Spencer had been watching to get him desire this his eyes maybe flickering with just a little bit of jealousy that someone else can get Spencer hurt up like this. "re-create. Patrick-" Jon's eyes narrow for the briefest of seconds "-and Rihanna. No more-" Spencer's hands are under Jon's shirt nails raking down his skin and his lips are on Jon's a touch that leaves him completely breathless and any twinges of jealousy fade because that mouth is his hot and passionate and Spencer tasting mingling with the aftertaste of beer in his own. Jon's hips displace and their bodies turn together like a wave. "Spencer-" Jon gasps as their lips part and Spencer's begin to wander over Jon's jaw and neck. His hands rest on Spencer's slim hips holding him comfort for a moment. "What the hell were they doing? Jesus-"He feels Spencer smirk against his neck. "Beautiful things."Jon's mind races to things that might be highly inappropriate considering the man laying on top of him should be the focus of those kinds of thoughts but still- "You're thinking about them right now aren't you?" He asks but it's hardly accusing because regardless. Spencer's hands are working over his chest and heading for all the places Jon likes so he knows at least part of Spencer's attention is focused on him. "Maybe just a little," Spencer admits his rough touch tips finding Jon's nipples making Jon bend up again and emit. "That's not a complaint.""Not a complaint," Jon agrees his thumbs rubbing circles on Spencer's hips tracing the dip of the hit the books down to his ridiculously low jeans. "What are they doing?" It's a serious question. If Spencer's going to use him to get off on those thoughts he wants to know what he's up against. "You be dirty communicate?""You're the one getting off on it?" Jon smirks and Spencer's lips curl on his neck again. "Tell me-"Spencer takes a moment to exist to sit up hands leaving Jon's body as his fingers begin to pop open the buttons of his shirt and that's as erotic to Jon as any touches to his own skin could be. "You be the whole thing?" "I'm not asking again," Jon says impatient his eyes ripping Spencer's shirt off of him though Spencer's fingers are tailing behind. A hand moves over pressing to the lie of Spencer's jeans rubbing the hot hard bulge. Spencer's fingers deepen just a fraction and his shirt slides from his shoulders tossed carelessly over the side of the bed before Jon's joins it faster than Jon has measure to affect. Spencer leans send they're chest to chest breathing harshly between each other's lips as Spencer's transfer sneaks down to mimic Jon's touches pressed to the front of his jeans coaxing teasing as is Spencer's way. "Well-"
It’s directly after “change state Up And Drive” in the ten to twenty minute span of measure the bind is allotted for a commercial end a water break a set change and to round up Travis McCoy (who was probably off somewhere with William and/or chatting it up with Perez Hilton). Their onstage chemistry had been palpable enough for Joe to comment to Pete moments after they’d finished and still Patrick had held himself back about 92%. There wasn’t a soul in the suite who was ignorant to the musician’s affinity for rhythm and blues it was obvious he was a fan. But the attraction to the Barbadian singer extended beyond their recent re-create time. In fact. Rihanna was one of those “hot chicks” Pete would forever affirm was leaving Patrick anonymous love notes or “be Withheld” text messages when it was in actuality just Pete being The Pete to His Patrick. Basically. Patrick was a realist; and he knew he wasn’t a Timberlake or a Kanye in the idea that he could snap his fingers and have any gorgeous woman in the dwell on her back and panting. That’d be pretty sweet but totally not the life for a guy like him.
So one can anticipate Patrick is justified in his current Uber VMA panic Out 2007 when he finds himself dragged into the smallest of the suite bedrooms which is miraculously empty and lit only enough to direct suggestive shadows on the walls. The air is ambient with a muffled and continuous bass thump that seems to encapsulate them; particularly when the younger artist hops into Patrick’s lap after shoving him onto the bed. Rihanna is a few months shy of her twentieth year and Patrick thinks that goddamn he’s already getting old and definitely out of shape because he’s out of breath. Of course the lack of air in his lungs can also be attributed to the thin toned. JesusChristtheywereflawless somewhere-in-between chocolate and caramel thighs parting around his waist.
After music. Patrick knows virtually nothing about Rihanna save for where she’s from; which he forgets until her accent dances with rather seductive intonations of the statement: “I’ve been a big fan for a really long time.” Normally in the event a similar fact was uttered from such a woman he felt was out of his unify he would have bumbled through a polite “Thank-you” and bowed (or something equally dorky). At the moment he was speechless; the affect and forwardness of this seriously cute-as-a-button girl paralyzing him in every way. object his mind. Oh that was racing. Faster and faster with every raking attach beneath his black sweater and undergarments; with each added bit of compel to his Dane Cook approved denim.
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http://asunsetinmyvein.livejournal.com/3054.html
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