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When Rock Stars Collide
by Zachary Langston (iwonttellifyouwont@gmail.com)

***

Pete Wentz (of Fall Out Boy) and Chris Daughtry may 
seem like an odd couple to be touring together. But 
when Pete breaks down and Chris consoles him about his 
troubles, they find they're better matched than anyone 
would have dreamed. (MM, 1st-gay-expr, oral, anal, 
celeb-parody)

***

Author's Note: This story is entirely a work of 
fiction. Although the characters are based on real 
people, the author has taken complete creative license 
when including them in this work. No inferences should 
be made regarding the sexuality of either Pete Wentz or 
Chris Daughtry, or any aspect of their personal or 
professional lives. That said, have fun. ;-)

***

Pete sat on the sofa of his anonymous Sheraton hotel 
suite turning an almost full bottle of Klonopin around 
in his hands. I've been taking more of them lately, he 
thought. And I've been thinking more about just taking 
them all at once. Thinking about just high-siding it in 
a random hotel in Denver, light years away from 
everything he thought he loved.

Pete Wentz had fallen, and hard. After marrying the 
woman he truly believed was destined to spend his life 
with and (accidentally) fathering a child with her, 
things had gone downhill fast. Married life and 
motherhood brought out aspects of Ashlee's personality 
that he hadn't dreamed existed. Their relationship had 
become an armed camp. 

Sometimes, when they yelled in one room and Bronx 
yelled in his crib in the next, he thought helplessly 
that they were just a small step removed from the high 
strung trailer trash families that he always felt so 
sorry for and repulsed by. Even when they were together 
and mostly content, he felt alone now. He and Ashlee 
were broken somehow, and Pete felt that it was 
something that just couldn't be fixed. Typically 
successful celeb couple.

Worst of all was having to keep up appearances. 
Grinning like apes and pawing each other at premieres, 
giving interviews, all the rest. They had decided and 
their publicists had agreed: they couldn't separate so 
soon after the baby. The world would think of Ashlee as 
an abandoned mother and Pete as an irresponsible 
asshole, no matter what they said to the contrary. They 
would just have to tough it out for a while. "Tough" 
being the operative word.

Of course the trouble at home had brought all his other 
neuroses to the fore. Feelings of failure in spite of 
his success, random periods of depression and mania, 
sorrow for the world in general. The drugs didn't keep 
them in check as well as they used to, and he already 
traveled with a damned pharmacy. There just didn't seem 
to be anything he could do to make it all seem worth 
it.

And now he sat alone in his rumpled suite, playing with 
a prescription bottle like a kid with a mildly 
interesting toy. He was wearing only black boxer 
briefs. His head hung down toward the floor, his long 
black bangs falling over his eyes. Next to him lay an 
empty bottle of Cabo Wabo tequila. No one had helped 
him finish it. He'd been crying, but tears had given 
way to a numbness that was even worse.

A knock at the sitting room door. Pete didn't plan to 
answer, but he'd left it slightly ajar before he'd 
gotten plastered and forgotten to close it. Another 
fuck up. Chris came in wearing his sleepwear: white 
wife-beater and plaid pajama pants.

"Hey man, I thought you seem…" his voice trailed off 
when he saw the condition Pete was in. Without saying 
anything else, he crossed the room and stood looking 
down at him.

Chris Daughtry and Pete hadn't initially wanted to tour 
together—the match just seemed a little off—but after 
meeting they became fast friends. When it came to 
books, movies, and so forth they didn't have a lot in 
common, but they clicked on an emotional level. Soon 
they were working together amicably and hanging out 
almost constantly between shows. Chris had been a great 
sounding board for Pete's family troubles, although his 
own happiness with wife and kids made Pete wonder how 
much he could really relate.

Chris took the bottle of Klonopin away from Pete, who 
never the less let him, and sat on the sofa.

"You know it'll get better," he said. "Deep down, you 
know it will. You had a great life before she came into 
it, and you'll get it back."

Pete finally looked up. "It's not just Ashlee and 
Bronx," he slurred. "I feel like it's all been…wrong. 
Everything I've ever done. None of it has ever really 
mattered. Like I've been kidding myself the whole 
time."

"That's just the situation talking," Chris replied. 
"You can't see the big picture right now. Especially 
not through all the booze and your chemicals going 
crazy."

Pete glared at him. "You think this is all some kind of 
bipolar bullshit? That I'll swing back the other way 
and it'll all be fine?"

"Of course not. Anyone would feel like shit going 
through this. I'm just telling you that you WILL get 
through it, no matter what you think."

Pete smiled a little, bitterly. "You should respect 
guys who are older and wiser than you, you know that?"

"Ooh, a big five month difference. As for wiser, well…" 
Chris chuckled. The two talked for a few more minutes, 
mostly more of the same. Pete being fatalistic, Chris 
trying to talk him around.

Pete looked blearily at Chris. "You're the best friend 
I ever had," he said, tears in his eyes again.

"Hey," Chris said softly, putting his arm around Pete. 
Pete leaned against him, laying his head on Chris's 
shoulder.

It didn't take Pete long to realize that the time had 
come to call it a night. Maybe it was a combination of 
liquor and misery, but Chris's arm around his bare 
shoulders was starting to feel too good. Pete wasn't 
really into guys. A few times when he'd been single 
he'd been in some heavy make-out and groping sessions 
with other dudes, but it never went any further than 
being on the receiving end of the oral action or 
exchanging handjobs. 

He thought the male body was beautiful, but it wasn't 
something he'd ever commit to full time or anything. 
Only now he was weak and low. He needed to be touched. 
And Chris made him feel so comfortable and cared 
for…with a little panic he realized that his cock was 
stiffening inside his underwear, and knew there was no 
way Chris wouldn't notice.

Pete pulled away. "Listen man, I gotta get to bed."

Chris furrowed his brow. "What's the matter? Suddenly I 
have leprosy or something?"

"No, huh uh. I just think…" Now it was Pete's turn to 
trail off. Chris was looking down at his crotch, where 
his traitorous penis went on swelling up. That's it, 
Pete thought. He'll think I've misinterpreted our whole 
friendship and it all goes out the fucking window. But 
Chris didn't look horrified or disgusted, just a little 
amused. Pete flushed bright red. "Hey, I—"

Chris cut him off by doing the single most shocking 
thing Pete had ever experienced. He grasped his left 
wrist gently and put Pete's palm against his own 
crotch. Pete had been so distracted that he hadn't 
noticed the growing tent in Chris's sleep pants. There 
was sure as hell no ignoring it now.

"See? It's not just you," Chris said, and grinned.

Pete was stunned. "You're not—"

"No," Chris said. "I'm really not. I've only ever 
wanted to with a guy a few times, and it's always been 
because of the specific guy, not because of the 
equipment. You know? I can honestly say I'm attracted 
to the person. The person is just almost always a girl, 
that's all. When you and I got together, though…it was 
there for you right off. It freaked me out at first. 
Then I just went with it, and thought whatever happens, 
happens."

"Yeah. Speaking of girls. Deanna?"

Chris looked grim. "You think you're the only one 
putting on a show? That everything with me is hunky 
dory? Pete, Deanna and I are finished. I caught her 
with our next door neighbor two months ago, screwing on 
the living room couch. With Hannah and Griffin playing 
in the backyard." Pete's jaw dropped. "Haven't you 
noticed how I've called her exactly twice since we've 
been on the road, and then only for a couple minutes? 
My stuff is already packed. After the tour, I'm out."

"Why the hell didn't you say anything?" Pete demanded, 
his erection momentarily forgotten.

"Because I didn't want you to think I was trying to 
dumb down your problems by dumping mine on you," Chris 
said. "I'm coping with it. You, my friend, are not. At 
least not very well. Your sanity takes priority over 
mine right now."

Pete nodded. For a few seconds they just sat there 
silently, looking vaguely toward the coffee table. Then 
Chris took his hand off of Pete's wrist, reaching over 
to trail his index finger over the bulge of Pete's 
hard-on. Pete moaned and shifted. Precum was trickling 
from his cock now, spotting his shorts.

"You said before that I was the best friend you've ever 
had," Chris said. "But a true friend wouldn't do what 
I'm doing right now."

"What?" Pete whispered. He had closed his eyes and 
leaned his head back against the wall.

"Thinking about taking advantage of you when you're 
drunk and lonely. If we go through with this, a hundred 
bucks says you'll wake up hating me tomorrow."

Pete slowly turned his head to look at Chris. "I'll 
take that bet. Double or nothing." And he leaned in for 
the kiss. Pete's soft, full lips lightly brushed 
Chris's mouth before pressing against it hungrily. 
Their tongues found each other as their hands began to 
explore chests, arms, shoulders.

Chris abruptly slid down onto the floor, pushing the 
table back so he could kneel in front of Pete. He slid 
his mouth up and down over the cotton hugging the shaft 
of Pete's boner while he stroked his lightly furred 
thighs. Pete raised his hips and Chris tugged the boxer 
briefs down. Pete's cock sprang up eagerly, and Chris 
assumed a mock thoughtful pose.

"Looked bigger online," he said smugly.

Pete finally broke into the huge, boyish smile that his 
fans loved so much. "Fuck you."

"Maybe, maybe not," Chris teased, opening wide and 
deep-throating Pete's unit in one smooth movement. Pete 
gasped and moved his hands down to Chris's shaved head, 
which bobbed up and down eagerly. His mouth was like 
velvet. 

Even if he stopped right then and just walked away, 
Chris would already have given Pete one of the best 
sexual experiences of his life. He showed no signs of 
doing that, thankfully. As he blew him he plunged a 
hand into his own pants, stroking himself.

A few minutes of that and Chris stood up. "Let's go 
where we can't get carpet burns," he said, and walked 
into the adjacent bedroom. Kicking off his underwear 
Pete followed, realizing as he stood that he had almost 
completely sobered up. Crazy. Chris flounced down on 
his back on the bed and began flogging his prick inside 
his pants again. Pete stood in the doorway.

"This isn't fair," he said. "When do I get to see YOU 
naked?"

Chris stood back up. Slowly he stripped his shirt off, 
tossing it on the floor. There were no lamps on in the 
bedroom, but the pale light filtering in from the 
sitting area made his body even sexier. His chest was 
covered in neatly trimmed brown hair. Same for his 
belly, which instead of having washboard abs pudged out 
just the tiniest bit—Pete found that even hotter. 

Chris untied the drawstring on the pajama pants and 
pushed them down. Pete's pulse quickened a little. His 
own junk was nothing to be ashamed of…except when in 
the company of someone like Chris, apparently. 

The other man's cock looked like a thick eight inches 
or so, and stood out ramrod straight. His balls were 
enormous, the better to fill out the tight jeans he 
usually wore. He wasn't just sexy. He WAS sex for Pete, 
everything that was carnal made into human form. Pete, 
who had lived a life dealing almost exclusively with 
tits and pussy, was barely able to hold back from a 
full on attack.

"Like what you see?" Chris asked.

"Get your ass back on that bed and I'll show you how 
much," Pete growled. They moved toward the bed from 
opposite ends of the room, meeting on the king sized 
mattress where they began to kiss sloppily again. Lying 
down the two men worshiped each others bodies. Chris 
was fascinated with touching Pete's many tattoos, 
tracing them with his tongue and kissing his hot skin.

A little hesitantly Pete guided Chris onto his back and 
got into position over his cock. "You know I've never 
done this before," Pete said.

"Well, I only have once," Chris said. "Didn't you like 
it?"

Once again, Pete was taken aback. "Are you serious?"

"I said I'd only ever WANTED to a few times. I never 
had before."

Pete smiled broadly. "I hope I have some of your 
beginners luck, then." He slowly licked his way from 
the base of Chris's shaft to the tip, loving the feel 
of his penis throbbing against his tongue. He encircled 
the head with his mouth, then slid as much of it into 
his throat as he could. Chris began to grind his hips 
against the bed; Pete could hear his breath coming 
faster.

"Rub my balls," Chris groaned. Pete gently toyed with 
Chris's nuts while he kept on blowing him. Chris was 
almost panting. Then he WAS panting when Pete wrapped 
his lips around one of his balls and began sucking them 
instead, reaching up to jack him off. 

"How much more do you want to do?" Chris breathed.

Pete came up for air and moved to lie next to him. "I 
don't know. I mean, since we're both pretty new at 
this."

"I wanna fuck you," Chris said quickly.

Pete paled a little, thinking of that massive rod 
boring him out. "Wow. I've used some little toys before 
when I've been with girls, and that was great, but this 
is different."

Chris was practically jumping up and down with 
excitement, though. "If it hurts just tell me and we 
don't have to keep going," he said. "I just want to 
feel it inside you so bad."

Pete nodded. "I have some great lube I've been using to 
jerk off, but that's it."

Chris bounced up and over to his discarded pants. "I've 
been faithful to my wife, but since I can't say the 
same for her, better safe than sorry." Reaching into 
the pocket he pulled out a condom.

"You jackass!" Pete said, half irritated, half 
laughing. "Did you plan this whole thing?"

"Hey, you started it by getting wood in the first 
place," Chris chided. "However, I have been keeping one 
on me whenever I've known we'd be alone together. I 
guess I'm just that optimistic. Besides, when you've 
got…a little more than most guys, you can't trust 
anyone to have your size in stock."

Pete opened the nightstand and pulled out the bottle of 
I.D. lube, handing it to Chris. Chris began to nudge 
Pete over onto his stomach, but Pete shifted away.

"No," he said, looking at Chris darkly. "If you're 
going to fuck me, I'm going to watch." On his back, 
Pete lifted his ankles a bit, suggestively. Chris 
licked his lips as he unwrapped and rolled on the 
condom. Squeezing a little lube on his index finger, he 
rotated it against Pete's hole then eased it in. Pete 
grabbed his dick and began squeezing and tugging, 
loving what Chris was doing.

Chris lubed himself up and pushed Pete's legs up and 
toward the headboard. Pete was scared, but trusting 
enough to be eager. Chris held his cock and aimed, then 
slid in a bit. When Pete whimpered he pulled back out.

"Sorry, does that hurt?" Chris said, alarmed.

Pete smiled. "Just gotta get used to it slowly. Go easy 
at first, but I'm gonna take that thing or die trying."

Chris smiled back. "I don't think you'll have to try 
THAT hard." A little at a time, Chris pushed himself 
inside Pete as the strained expression on Pete's face 
gave way to one of absolute ecstasy. Once he was in up 
to the hilt, he began slowly thrusting in and out, 
leaning close over Pete's body. Pete was crazy about 
the feel of Chris moving inside him, filling him up 
with that giant prick. Looking down he couldn't see 
where Chris ended and he began—because there wasn't a 
place like that anymore.

"Now," Pete said. "Harder."

"Are you sure?" Chris said.

"Chris?"

"Yeah?" Pete leaned up as much as he could toward 
Chris's ear.

"Fuck me like you're trying to kill me," he whispered.

Chris did. He sped up gradually until he was slamming 
against Pete's buttocks, sometimes whipping his cock 
completely out so he could thrust it in again. The bed 
creaked and slammed against the wall. Chris held Pete's 
ankles in a death grip. He stopped long enough to 
straighten up so he was sitting on his knees, then kept 
on going. Pete was entranced by Chris's powerful body, 
now covered in a thin layer of sweat that glistened in 
the dim light. Everything about him seemed bigger: his 
biceps, his pecs, even his cock seemed to be swelling 
inside him. 

Pete jerked on his own dick mercilessly, feeling his 
orgasm starting to build. Finally he couldn't hold back 
anymore. Feeling Chris's penis moving against his 
prostate was just too much. With a breathy "Uh…uh…UH!" 
Pete exploded. Spurts of cum arced up and splashed his 
slim chest, then traced their way down his stomach. 
He'd never known pleasure like that in his life; it 
took over his body and mind completely. He saw stars by 
the time he was done, his penis slowly deflating and 
leaking the last few drops of semen onto the heart 
tattoo below his navel.

That seemed to be Chris's cue. His rhythm sped up until 
he was almost a blur, then he pulled out and tore off 
the condom. He grabbed himself and began yanking his 
cock almost angrily. A growl built up in his throat and 
voiced itself as a deep throated yell that could have 
woken the dead. He froze, then spunk shot from his 
penis and directly into Pete's face. 

Chris wheezed as he kept on spasming and pumping his 
massive load all over Pete's prone body, emptying his 
big nuts. Finally he was finished, and collapsed next 
to Pete breathing hard and deep. Pete could watch the 
beat of Chris's pulse in the flesh of his stomach. He 
wiped the cum from his cheek where it had landed and 
sucked it from his fingers.

"Not bad. I could get used to this, I think," he said.

Chris snickered. "There's plenty more where that came 
from, but I need at least five minutes to whip up 
another batch."

Pete sighed. "I think I need at least a few hours 
between adventures like that," he said. "But it was 
great."

"Yeah. It was. Know what else would be great? A shower, 
especially for you. You look like an ad for queer 
gangbangs."

"Yeah. Because they run ads for queer gangbangs."

"Well, if they did," Chris added, then got serious. 
"Feel better?"

"Mmm hmm. Amazing."

"Let's grab that shower then," he said, moving to get 
up. After a long, lustful look at the "DAUGHTRY" tattoo 
stretching across his back, Pete pulled him down.

"In just a minute. I just want to lie here for a 
minute."

Chris lay back down, propping himself up on one elbow. 
He absently traced his fingers over Pete's body. Pete 
smiled, closed his eyes, and rested his head against 
Chris's chest. Yep, they understood each other pretty 
freakin well.

END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Celebrity Parody Archive