"I'm so fucking hungry," Patrick mumbles, his stomach growling as he groans against Pete's side.

"Mmm," Pete hums, too invested in his show to pay attention to Patrick.

"Pete."

"What?"

"I'm hungry."

"Then go make something to eat," Pete replies.

Patrick frowns, "We don't have any food."

"Than go buy some."

Patrick swallows, then, "Maybe I don't wanna eat food."

"What the hell do you wanna eat, then?" Pete groans.

"Are you fucking stupid?" Patrick whispers, looking at him.

Pete meets his eyes right back with a confused expression on his face, "What?"

"I said I'm hungry but I don't want food."

"Yeah, what the fuck are you gonna eat, then?"

Patrick sighs and after a moment, he meets their lips in a passionate kiss. Pete gasps, quickly weaving his fingers in Patrick's hair as they fall back on the couch and Patrick immediately yanks down Pete's skin-tight jeans, down and off his converse but he somehow manages to keep the shoes on as he squeezes Pete's thighs.

"Do you get it now, Pete?"

"Fuck," Pete whispers.

"Lift your hips. Like you do onstage, y'know?"

"Is that how you think of it when I do that?" Pete grins, lifting his hips and exposing himself to his boyfriend.

"Fuck yes," Patrick growls, nipping around Pete's balls and thighs before spreading Pete open with his thumbs and delving his tongue in, sucking and licking and dipping his tongue past Pete's entrance.

"Ah," Pete gasps, "Patrick, fuck, your tongue."

"You like that?" Patrick grins before kissing across his hole in big, sloppy rounds.

"Yes, Yes, Yes, Patrick, oh god," Pete seizes Patrick by his hair hit the next thing he knows, he's being flipped over on his stomach and Patrick is pinning him down with an aggressive growl.

"Don't you dare fuckint touch my hair."

"Okay, Okay, sheeh, keep eating me out, though. Please?" Pete whines, looking back at his boyfriend.

It's not long before Patrick's digging right back in, thank fuck, and Pete feels his tongue and a finger delving in to his prostate. His hips are grinding back and his eyes are shut against the cushion. His cock is achingly hard and he's sure it's leaking into the cushions but, fuck, he's way too lightheaded to think on it. He feels so good as he grabs it and begins pumping himself, breathing fast pants into the couch and watching Patrick's pale skin contrast against his own, darker and tattooed. He's gonna cum. He knows he is.

Patrick delves a second finger into his entrance, raking hard against his prostate and watching Pete squirm under him.

"Patrick," Pete gasps, gripping his cock and fucking his hand in time with Patrick's tongue and fingers, "I'm gonna..."

"Cum," Patrick grunts.

It doesn't take long before Pete's back is arching, white exploding across his sight and fingers raking against the cushions.

Patrick grins as he licks his lips and pulls back with a quick slap to Pete's ass.

"Delicious."