Devotee

Sonny’s feet end up taking him to Fall Out Boy’s tour bus, after a couple laps around the pavement and half an attempt to wash up. He can’t argue with their logic. Sonny usually likes to listen to Fall Out Boy when he’s really upset, and Pete’s a great guy to be around. Honestly, Sonny feels lucky that Pete Wentz of all people even knows who he is.

The door’s been left wide open, so Sonny takes out his earbuds and lets himself onto the bus. 

It’s still and quiet inside, lit only by the front windshield and the light flooding in from the open door- the windows inside are all curtained off though they’re open, and a soft, gentle breeze blows through the bus, bringing with it the subtle warmth of the coming day. Sonny almost wonders if the door was left open by accident, the bus seems so deserted, but he hears a voice in the back just as he turns to leave. 

“No, that’s stupid. Maybe…”

It’s Pete, Sonny recognizes. Hesitantly, he makes his way toward the back. The back is brighter than the front, the window left open and uncurtained, shining light down onto the bed where Pete sits hunched over a notebook, scribbling. He hums to himself and then nods approvingly, apparently oblivious to Sonny’s arrival. Sonny coughs just a little. Pete looks up with wide eyes as he’s alerted to the boy’s presence. Sonny’s not quite used to seeing Pete without eyeliner on, so it’s a little jarring, but he greets him with a shy smile.

“Not interrupting your workflow, am I?”

“Oh, no. Not at all. Come on, sit down, kid.” Pete sets his notebook aside and scoots over, patting the spot next to him. “What’s up?”

Sonny sits down next to Pete and curls up, hugging his knees. He always feels small next to Pete; not in the literal sense of size, of course. Pete’s no stockier than Sonny is nor much taller- and most people are much taller, because puberty apparently missed the swing and left him standing at a measly 5’4. That’s not really here or there, though. He feels small next to Pete Wentz in the sense that, well, he’s Pete Wentz, and Sonny’s just… Sonny. Sometimes he’s scared that’s all he’ll ever be, even when he’s orbiting a star like Pete. That he’ll never amount to any more than he already has, he’ll never be able to reach to the masses- that even if he strains his voice singing, he’ll only ever be shouting into the void.

Pete’s arm snakes around his shoulders, and Sonny smiles a little. At least Pete seems to care about him. He’s glad just to have Pete Wentz as a friend. 

“Oh, I just needed to get away from the guys,” Sonny sighs, leaning a little closer into Pete and turning his head to peer down the length of the bus. “Where’s your band?”

“I think they’re hanging out with Matchbook Romance or something. I really just wanted to sleep in, so…” Pete shrugs, pulls Sonny a little closer until the teen is practically in his lap. “I’m assuming Matt and Derek are the, uh, graffiti artists if you’re upset with them.”

Sonny falters. Shit, did it not come off all the way? This is what he gets for trying to wash his face off in a fucking porta potty sink.

“Yeah,” he eventually mutters.

“We’ve got hand sanitizer in the bathroom, it gets sharpie right off,” Pete offers, standing. He holds out a hand and, appreciatively, Sonny takes it, following Pete into the little tour bus bathroom, which makes him super jealous. Sonny’s pretty sure his band is supposed to get an actual tour bus soon- he knows they have the money, but it’s sort of a logistical nightmare to just get a different vehicle in the middle of a tour. The van’s obviously useful enough for hauling them and their equipment places, but there’s a rule that someone has to sleep in the van to make sure nobody breaks into it and steals their shit overnight, and Sonny swears that rule was put in place just so they could make him do it. Sleeping in the van sucks, because it gets stuffy in there and it makes his back hurt, but Sonny still begrudgingly does it most nights.

As promised, Pete locates the hand sanitizer and starts rubbing it on Sonny’s face where he’s been sharpied, warm fingertips coming to caress the curve of his jaw as his thumb works it in. Sonny closes his eyes and lets Pete touch him. When Pete’s hands come away, they’re soon replaced by a hand towel wiping the excess sanitizer from his face, and then the cool wetness of a makeup wipe. It feels nice. Sonny waits for Pete to be done with cleaning him up before he opens his eyes again, greeted by a cozy, loving smile. It’s contagious, and Sonny feels his lips twitch upward, a soft, fluffy feeling blooming in his chest. Pete’s too good to him for being who he is. 

“Um… thanks, Pete,” Sonny mutters. He feels so small again.

“Hey, no sweat. I’m awful, but I’m not gonna let you walk around with a dick on your face,” Pete says with a smirk, and wraps an arm around Sonny’s shoulder, leading him back into the back bedroom. He pulls Sonny down onto the bed, and Sonny’s not quite expecting it, so he falls into Pete’s lap, and- 

Oh. Pete’s really fucking close to his face. His eyes are kind of cute, actually, now Sonny notices, and- 

Wait, shit, Sonny’s staring. Pete looks down at him almost smugly. 

“Hello to you too, Mr. Moore.” Pete’s hands trail up Sonny’s thighs, and it’s a little unexpected, but Sonny doesn’t stop him. He can feel the heat rising to his cheeks, the subtle uptick in his heart rate as he tries to figure out what to make of the simple touch.

“Um, sorry, that was a, um…” Sonny moves to shift out of Pete’s lap, but Pete stops him, hand on his wrist. 

“Don’t be sorry. I don’t mind.” Pete grins, and something about it feels almost sinister. “Besides, I think you like the attention, huh?”

“W-What?” Sonny stammers out. 

“You’re so cute. C’mere.”

Pete leans forward and catches Sonny’s lips in his. Sonny’s surprised at first, but- well, he’s kissed boys before, none-too-serious and loose from the weed and booze that seems plentiful at most parties thrown out of tour buses in parking lots. It’s not all that new. And it’s with Pete Wentz, so it’s not like Sonny can protest all that much, either. He melts into the sensation quickly, letting his eyes fall shut as he kisses back. Pete’s lips are soft, maybe a little too wet, but he’s not a bad kisser. Sonny goes to pull away, but Pete catches his bottom lip in his teeth, lip studs snagged by his canines, and- against his will, a pleased little noise escapes Sonny. Pete’s grip tightens on his hips, and his tongue invades Sonny’s mouth, and Sonny allows it- he’s not sure how to react, exactly, but it’s Pete fucking Wentz. What kind of idiot says no to Wentz? Of course he’s going to let this happen to him.

Pete’s hands slowly make their way up Sonny’s shirt, exploring his skin. Sonny’s stomach still hurts, painfully empty, but when Pete touches him there, caresses the baby fat that refuses to go away, all he can think is how ugly he must be, how repulsed he is by his own weight and now Pete must be, too. Sonny whines and pulls away from Pete, placing a hand atop his. 

“Wait, I…” Sonny hesitates, shifting nervously. 

“Yeah?” Pete asks, nose nestling half-lazily into the fabric of Sonny’s hoodie. “Something wrong, baby boy?”

“I just… don’t know why you’d want to- you know, like, do this with me . ”

“ Sonny, ” Pete whispers, voice pitying as he kisses up the teen’s neck. “You’re cute. And I like your face.”

“Yeah, but… out of everyone you could have.”

“Jesus, your bandmates need to stop ragging on you so much.” Pete presses his lips to Sonny’s again, chaste and brief. “You don’t have to be perfect .”

Sonny wants to squeak out something about how his bandmates don’t rag on him that much, they aren’t that bad, or at least they’re not why he’s insecure, but Pete doesn’t give him the chance before his lips are caught in another sloppy kiss. Pete’s hungry for more, for Sonny’s body. He slips his hands under the waist of Sonny’s skinny jeans, and Sonny isn’t sure he wants to go this far this quickly, but- maybe it’s just his insecurity talking, and maybe he’s more than a little curious about doing it with a guy, and- and maybe it’s because he’s Pete Wentz, and how many people can say their first time having gay sex was with Pete Wentz?

…probably more than Sonny thinks, but still.

Sonny doesn’t put up much of a fight when Pete unbuttons his pants and starts sliding them down. They catch around his knees, and now Pete can pretty clearly see the half-tent in his boxers, and Sonny vividly feels his face burning as Pete looks down at it with a smirk. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Pete grabs at his cock through the fabric, and Sonny bites on his lip stud to keep himself from making noise. “You’ve wanted this, haven’t you?” 

It’s been more than just a passing thought. Not really pertaining to Pete specifically, but about other guys- Derek, mostly, because Derek is always there for Sonny when he gets away from himself, whether he’s drunk or high or just exhausted after a long day. He’s the nicest guy in From First To Last, and he’s an idiot like the rest of them, but it’s always his arms Sonny ends up in when he’s at his breaking point. They’ve kissed more than a few times, and for some reason Sonny can’t place, his mind keeps wandering further than that. To Derek’s hands on his body, groping and squeezing. 

Sonny shudders as Pete pulls his boxers down as well, lifts one leg up so he can get them off his ankle. The other leg is quick to follow, and Sonny settles in Pete’s lap again when he’s down to just his socks, cock half-hard- he’s turned on, just nervous, but it’s somehow embarrassing that he isn’t totally rock-solid. Pete pays no mind as he fondles Sonny’s balls and pulls him into another kiss by the studs. Sonny whines a little with pain as his piercings are tugged, but it doesn’t matter, because Pete’s lips are on him and he’s touching his junk and holy shit, it’s actually happening. Pete fondles him, and all Sonny can think is that he’s Pete fucking Wentz and he’s touching his balls and how many other teenage emo kids would kill for this?

Pete gives his nuts one last little squeeze before he lets go, dragging a whimper from Sonny’s lips as his hands trail up his body, under his shirt. Pete gets it all the way up to Sonny’s armpits before he protests. 

“Wait, Pete, I… uh…” Sonny stammers, and he isn’t a virgin, but he feels like one. “Y-You’re still fully dressed…”

“You have a problem with that?” Pete teases, and lets go of Sonny’s shirt as he leans back. He crosses his arms and pulls his own shirt up over his head and- wow, fuck. Okay. He looks good. Sonny’s a little drawn in by the necklace of thorns, and runs a hand across the inked skin of Pete’s collarbone. 

“Yeah, I think I like this better,” Sonny mutters. 

“More where that came from, you know.”

Sonny really should have expected that comment, but he still blushes a little anyway. He watches, antsy, as Pete reaches down and unbuckles his belt, unbuttons and unzips his jeans, really makes a show of it- he runs a hand over his tented boxers, slow and teasing, before pulling down the waistband to reveal his cock. Sonny swallows thickly as the stiff length escapes its fabric prison, standing proud and ready. He’s almost intimidated, thinking about having it inside him, but… definitely turned on, regardless. 

He doesn’t realize he’s staring until Pete notes, with a smirk, “You’re looking at it like you’re starving.”

Sonny’s stomach once again growls at him, sends a stabbing pain through his system. He pointedly ignores it as he ogles Pete’s cock. Pete smiles and runs a hand through Sonny’s hair. 

“Go ahead. Have a little taste.”

Sonny looks up at Pete with wide, innocent eyes, and encouragingly, Pete pushes him off his lap. Sonny shuffles to allow it, hands resting on Pete’s hips as he gets on his hands and knees, and hesitates just inches from the tip of his dick like he doesn’t know what to do for a moment, until he gathers the courage and slowly sinks down, letting his tongue hesitantly dart across the tip. There’s a little wet spot of pre-cum beading at Pete’s slit, and the slimy texture of it surprises Sonny just enough that he pulls himself back. 

“ Oh-” Sonny mutters, not sure why that surprised him. He licks the thick fluid from his lips, taking in the salty taste. He hesitates just a moment longer before he lowers down again and lets his lips envelop Pete’s cock completely. Pete sighs out with satisfaction and lets his hand fist in Sonny’s hair, eyes falling shut as he whispers half-reverently.

“Yeah, just like that, pretty boy…” Pete tugs just a little as Sonny begins to bob his head. “Fuck, Son. Where’d you learn to suck dick like this?”

Sonny only hums in response, lashes fluttering as he sinks down further. His mouth is a bit full at the moment, so he doesn’t say it, but really, he’s just mimicking what he’s seen girls do- and right now, he’s thinking how he really likes when girls try to deep-throat him. He’s pretty intimately familiar with his gag reflex, and he thinks he can handle it. So, he tries. He sinks down as far as he can go, opens his mouth wide to accommodate Pete’s girth. 

He feels the tip hitting the back of his mouth as it plunges into him, the grip on his hair tightening as he fucks his throat on Pete’s cock. Pete moans above him, and fuck, the sound is encouraging, almost sweet. Pete shoves Sonny’s head down further, bucks his hips. Sonny gags- Pete doesn’t let up. He rolls his hips upward, forces his cock deeper into Sonny’s throat. 

“Fuck, Sonny, that’s it…” Pete grunts as he tugs the teen’s hair, ignoring the way tears well in the corners of his eyes. Sonny gags again, and this time, he pushes himself up, drooling on Pete’s cock and gasping for air. He looks up at Pete, nervous that he’s somehow disappointed his idol.

“‘M sorry, I just gagged- I can keep going,” Sonny offers, but Pete shakes his head. 

“No, I want to try something else, anyway. You’re not bad at sucking dick, but…” Pete grins, letting his hand run down the length of Sonny’s body and caress his thigh. “Turn around. I want to see that cute ass of yours.”

Sonny flushes, but he obliges Pete. He pushes himself up onto his hands and knees on the bed and turns around, feeling altogether far too exposed like this. He can feel Pete’s gaze on his backside, the way he practically salivates with lust. Sonny shudders as Pete’s hands come to squeeze his scarred thighs, rising up to the curve of his ass and parting his cheeks.

“Look at you…” Pete whispers, half-reverent. “Jesus, Sonny, what you do to me. You’re so fucking tempting. ”

Sonny isn’t sure he’s been trying to tempt Pete into anything, but before he can get a word out, he feels something warm and wet against his entrance and- oh, yes. Sonny squeaks out a surprised moan as Pete licks a long stripe over his asshole, biting his lip stud as Pete’s tongue pushes past the tight ring of muscle. 

“Pete,” Sonny gasps out, breath hitching. “Oh, g-god…”

“Shhh,” Pete coos, pressing a kiss to his pucker. “It’ll be good if you stop clenching and relax.”

It’s a little easier said than done, but Sonny takes a shaky breath and forces himself to relax. He feels Pete’s hands glide over his thighs and ass, fingers gripping his flesh. Sonny shudders as he feels a fat, wet glob of spit drip onto his hole, and then Pete’s fingers massage it in. One finger enters Sonny at first, slow, and he clenches again, against his will- it doesn’t stop the painful intrusion. Sonny whimpers as Pete buries his finger to the knuckle. 

“Pete, it hurts…”

“Hey, hey, I know.” Pete’s free hand caresses Sonny’s thigh, courting his muscles to relax. “I’m just getting you ready. It won’t hurt for long, promise.”

Pete spits again, uses the additional lubrication to press in a second finger. It’s not as bad as the first, and Sonny feels the pain slowly melt away as Pete fucks him on his fingers. After a few moments Pete’s fingers pull away, and something larger presses to Sonny’s entrance. Thicker. Sonny swallows dryly. Fuck, this is really happening. Pete Wentz is really going to fuck him.

Sonny bites his lip ring and tries his damnedest not to tense up as Pete pushes into him, and oh, fuck, he’s big, Sonny thinks.

As hard as he’s trying to hold it back, a pained whine still escapes Sonny, and then opens the floodgates to a truly pathetic sob as the head of Pete’s cock sinks fully into him. It hurts. Fuck, it hurts. As Pete’s hips meet his, Sonny feels tears well in his eyes, and Pete either doesn’t see them or doesn’t care, because he shoves Sonny’s head down into the pillows as he starts to thrust. 

It feels, to Sonny, like being split in half- he knows he’s clenching and making it worse, but he can’t stop it, because it burns with every movement; the reaction is involuntary. Pete rocks into him, rhythmic and just a little rougher than Sonny would like, fingers tugging at his hair. 

“Shit, Son, you’re fucking tight,” Pete groans, punctuating his sentence with a particularly hard thrust. “You’ve never been fucked like this, have you?”

Sonny chokes out a pained moan, gripping tightly at the sheets beneath him. It still hurts, and he kind of wishes Pete would stop or slow down, but the pain is beginning to subside, anyway, so Sonny says nothing.

“Y-Yeah,” Sonny whimpers, feeling a hot tear roll down his cheek.

“ Fuck,” Pete says, clearly turned on by the knowledge that he’s one of Sonny’s firsts- maybe not the first, but a first all the same. To emphasize it, he ruts into Sonny a little harder, and it still hurts but Pete hits just the right spot inside him and, oh. Sonny makes a pleased little noise, and as if satisfied by it, Pete repeats the motion. Sonny can feel the pain slowly melding into pleasure, a low whine escaping him. Pete smirks as he thrusts into Sonny again, hitting his prostate and drawing another sound of pleasure from the boy. 

“Pete,” Sonny sobs out as Pete fucks him, almost overwhelmed by the sensation. Pain still lingers at the edges of his lust, but all he wants is for Pete to keep going. Pete grips at Sonny’s thighs, altogether too soft and giving for his own liking but perfect for Pete as he squeezes the milky flesh, agitating cuts that are only mostly healed. Sonny feels one hand let go of him and pull away, only to return a second later with a stinging smack, the sound of which rings in his ears. Sonny yips with surprise, and Pete hits him again, fucking into him harder, a little rougher. 

“Yeah, fuck, Sonny. Just fuckin’ take it,” Pete groans, half-thought out nothings babbled mindlessly as he gives into chasing his own pleasure. Sonny cries out as Pete slaps his ass again, hips bucking erratically and fingernails digging into him like talons. Sonny feels himself being filled, and eventually, Pete draws to a slow still, breaths falling hard and heavy.

There’s a sense of finality to it, but Sonny’s still hard and wanting beneath Pete. He whines and rocks his hips back, but Pete pulls out, leaving Sonny feeling empty and with the distinct feeling of cum dripping down his taint. It’s kind of gross, but Sonny is too turned on to care. 

“Pete,” he whimpers, wiggling his ass just a little in a bid for attention. “Pete, please…”

“Mm?” Pete hums, reaching around Sonny and wrapping his fingers around the teen’s arousal. “Please what, Son?”

Sonny whines and bucks his hips, fucking into Pete’s hand, desperate and half-pathetic. “Please touch me, please-”

Pete smirks just a little, finally indulging him. He pulls Sonny up into his lap, letting the boy slump bonelessly against him as he strokes his cock. Pete spits into his hand to slicken the motion, but it’s hardly necessary, Sonny’s cock already dribbling pre-cum down its own length. Sonny writhes and squirms under Pete’s ministrations, heat slowly building in the pit of him. He’s almost there already, so close, so needing. He bucks his hips desperately, fucking up into Pete’s hand until, finally, he reaches satisfaction, shooting his release into Pete’s hand, some missing the mark and coating his own thighs.

Once it’s over, Sonny feels kind of bleary and heavy- and when’d it get so hot in here? He’s weighed down by a sheen of sticky sweat, and his hoodie is like the world’s heaviest weight around his shoulders, but he’s so exhausted he can’t even think to take it off. 

There’s movement and sound- Pete says something to him, but in the moment, Sonny can’t think to do much more than lay back on the plush bed. Pete disappears for a minute and comes back with something wet to wipe Sonny’s own jizz from his skin, but by that point, Sonny’s already half passed out.