The Egotistical, Self-Absorbed Bitch... (slash_goddess) wrote in petetonylove,
The Egotistical, Self-Absorbed Bitch...

Peter Pan Owns Me

Title: (I'm Not) The One He Loves
Author: Slash Goddess
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Tony Lovato/Pete Wentz
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. In simpler terms, this is NOT REAL!
Summary: I'm not the one he loves... I'm just the one he loves to fuck...

* ~ It's nights like this that define me, define us. Nights of nothing but pure, uninhibited sex. Nights without regret, without shame, without judgment. Nights when all that matters is the feeling of him inside me, stretching me, filling me, completing me... ~

* I squeeze my muscles around him, feel the tip of his cock moving so slowly in and out of me... Squeeze. Release. Squeeze. It's carefully synchronized so that each time he pulls out, my ass is pinching the head of his cock, making him moan... a deep, throaty moan that almost seems to come from someone else and not this beautiful man above me.

The way he feels inside me is perfect. I can feel every inch of him, sliding in and out, filling me, making me feel so complete. It's like we're made for each other. I've never felt like this about anyone.

His hands are in my hair as he stops to kiss me. He just goes still, lying against me, his mouth against mine, his tongue stroking along my teeth and it's so hot. I could stay like that forever, just letting him kiss me.

But I'm impatient. I want more. I want to feel him inside me, cumming. I want to hear the way my name gets ripped from his lips just before he orgasms. I want to see his eyes roll back in his head, his teeth bite down on his lip, and his body quiver. And I want that all now.

I can barely breathe, barely swallow. Choking. Choking on his kisses, because he's sucking the very air from my lungs.

He shifts and his lips travel down my neck. I take this moment to suck in some much needed air, opening my eyes to look at him as he lifts his head, blue eyes twinkling, smile lighting up his flushed face. Then those lips are back on my skin, traveling over my shoulder, down my chest, where he nips playfully at my nipples before sitting up, causing himself to slide deeper inside me.

Blinding white lights start to flash behind my eyelids, and I arch my body upward, trying to take him further inside me. I can't get enough. He thrusts into me from this new angle, and I'm moaning like some cheap porn actress, but he doesn't seem to mind, because he's grunting just like the cheap actors do.

Something about the way his eyes are locked on mine right now, makes me feel like I'm all that matters, that I'm all he has ever needed, all he wants, all he will ever want, though sadly, I know it's not true. I know his heart will never be mine. But I don't care. Not when we're like this. Not when we are connected so deeply, be it physically or emotionally.

I feel him start to shake, and he slows his pace, his fingers curling around my long neglected cock. He sits back a little, just rocking his hips as his hand pumps up and down my swollen cock.

That's when he makes my heart stop. When his other hand comes up and his finger starts to trace the tattoo just above my cock. It's not a spectacular tattoo, but he likes it. He seems almost fascinated by it, because each time he strokes my cock, he touches it, traces it, memorizes it.

My heart stops at that first touch, and I don't even care if his hand is stroking my cock, because just seeing the way he looks at my tattoo, at his finger sliding over it... Just seeing that is enough to take my breath away and make me tingle all over.

He looks up at me, and I catch a look of sadness in his eyes before he looks down again, his hand leaving the tattoo to slide up my thigh instead. He pushes my leg back further, slightly altering the angle in which his thrusts are coming.

I'm so close that I can feel my body start to tighten, feel the orgasm as it travels from deep inside me, ripples of pleasure that come cascading over me like a waterfall. I cry out, whimpering, then open my mouth in a silent "OH!" as my warm cum shoots up my chest, over his hand, and off to the side a little, splattering the cheap hotel sheets.

When I've started to breathe again, and my body has stopped quivering, he grabs my hips, leans back, digs deep inside me, thrusting once, twice, three times... hard. Then he groans, my name ripping from his lips almost painfully, and goes still, so still that it always scares me. It's like he dies in that one moment, and then he comes back to life with a shuddering breath, hunching over me, gasping for breath.

Then we lie there, him against me and inside me, our hearts pounding as one, and it's almost like time stands still.

But then it's over, and he's getting dressed, and I'm fighting to hold back the heartbreak I feel every time he walks out that door. I know where he goes, and why he goes, and I know that it won't ever change. I know I'll never be the one his heart belongs to, the one whose voice he has to hear every night before he can close his eyes and sleep.

I can't hear his last words of the night, because they're safe in his room across the hall, but I've memorized them in my mind. I know them like they were my own...

"I love you, Benji."

Words that he'll never say to me, because I'm not the one he loves... I'm just the one he loves to fuck...

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