The Unapologetic Hot Dudes

[chuckaloonie]

A while ago, villiagegreen introduced us to hot Paul; his model friend that she hires sometimes to dress him up and make him pose for her. gracie321 has an icon of hot Paul, and she used it to comment on my previous post; and, long story short, villiagegreen asked me to write a fic featuring hot Paul. Clearly someone more talented (like her or gracie321 ) should've written this; but I love Bee with all my heart and I can't deny her anything.

For those of you who aren't familiar with hot Paul, here's a picture:




Title: The Unapologetic Hot Dudes
Characters: Pete Wentz, hot Paul and Gabe Saporta
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Unbeta'ed, ridiculousness, and the above characters being delusional douchebags.
Summary: Pete hires hot Paul to be Clandestine's newest model. Pete takes Paul to a party, Gabe Saporta is there, and the three of them discuss their hotness. Also, Pete has the best idea ever because he's a genius. A hot genius.

Pete’s been interviewing models all day long. He’s in a good mood, because some of the people he’s seen today are exactly what he’s looking for in a model for his new collection. The ‘sweet little dudes’ pile of pictures on his desk is actually bigger than the ‘only if they suck my dick’ and the ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ piles. He only has one model left before he can go home and call it a day. Maybe he’ll call Patrick to celebrate the success of his productive model search. That is, if he can think of a way to separate Patrick from his three thousand instruments. Maybe he’ll show up unannounced, and dance in the middle of his set-up until Patrick gets so nervous that Pete will trip and break yet another one of his guitars, that he’ll be the one who proposes going out for a drink.

He tells Melissa that he’s ready to see the next model, and that she can go home. She reminds him about a work lunch that he has the next day, wishes him a good night, and tells him that she’ll send the model right over.

The model doesn’t even knock; he just opens the door of Pete’s office and twirls his way to Pete’s desk. Pete doesn’t even have to look at the guy’s portfolio, he’s fucking sold. He doesn’t tell him that, of course; he has to keep an unimpressed face because despite what everybody else thinks, he’s a professional.

The first think that Pete notices about this guy, is how fucking tall he is. Seriously, he’s like ten feet tall; all bones and sharp angles, like a giant Mikeyway. He’s handsome, unlike most of the models he saw that day, who were pretty. This guy almost looks like a regular guy, not like a model; but there’s just something about him that makes him look so fucking hot. Maybe it’s his confidence, or the fact that he fucking twirled instead of walking; or maybe the fact that right now, he’s standing in the most ridiculous and clichéd pose Pete has ever seen: he looks as if he was frozen right in the middle of blowing a kiss. Zoolander has nothing on this guy, seriously.

“Wow,” says Pete; because seriously, what else he can say after that?

“I know, right?” The model drops his portfolio on Pete’s desk, and takes a seat in one of the leather chairs. “I’m Paul; although everybody calls me ‘hot Paul’. I think it’s pretty obvious why.”

“Um, I think I’m gonna call you just Paul, if you don’t mind.”

Paul winks at Pete, and says, “It’s okay, man. In fact, every time someone calls me ‘hot Paul’ I’m like, ‘well thank you very much, Captain Obvious.’”

Pete laughs. It’s not a polite ‘ha, ha’ kind of laugh; it’s a spontaneous, spit-out-your-drink kind of laugh. Fuck being professional, this guy is just too good to be true.

“Wow,” says Paul, “your fucking teeth, man.” Paul’s face is a mix between amusement and awe.

Pete feels totally self-conscious and exposed. “What the fuck?”

“I mean, they look even bigger in person! How the fuck do they fit in your mouth?” Paul reaches out a hand, as if he wanted to touch them.

Pete leans back and covers his mouth with one hand. Then he retreats his hand because it’s not like Paul was actually going to touch him, and now he feels ridiculous on top of everything else. “Fuck you, they’re charming. They’re like my fucking signature, man.”

“Hey, I didn’t say they weren’t. Although I sure as hell wouldn’t want your mouth anywhere near my dick, man. There’s no way you’d be able to blow someone without your donkey-teeth getting in the way.” Paul closes his legs and covers his crotch with his hands to emphasize his point.

“Yeah, well, some guys like a little bit of teeth, asshole.” Pete mumbles, defensively. Thank God for his dark skin, because he’s sure he’s fucking blushing.

“Maybe,” says Paul, pensive. “Although, to be completely honest with you, I think they like the fact that they’re getting blown by Pete Wentz, you know? I mean, I’m sure it’d be an honor for a lot of guys.”

“Damn right it’s an honor. After all, I only break my ‘gay above the waist’ rule with very few guys. They must be really, really special.”

“Same here, man. I mean, we’re really hot, right? So of course we won’t get on our knees for an average Joe.”

Whatever embarrassment Pete had left just vanishes after hearing this. Obviously Paul finds him hot despite his huge teeth, so he’s back to being Pete’s favorite model ever. It’s amazing, like talking to an equal. All of the other models were too shy, some even star-struck; treating Pete as if he was the President or something. Granted, he loves that kind of attention; it makes him feel important and powerful. However, it’s nice to talk to someone like Paul every once in a while; someone who’s not impressed by his fame or his money, someone that doesn’t love him or hate him and just sees him for who he really is: a really hot guy. And if that guy happens to be a hot model well, that’s just a bonus.

“Fuck yeah. It’s one of the many benefits of the beautiful people. We’d be stupid not to take advantage of them, right?” Pete says, smirking.

“Exactly!” Paul’s expression is one of relief, like he finally found someone who understands. “Like, we operate on different rules than the rest of the world. I mean, ugly people have to get an education, and be nice to everybody, and wait in line to get into a club, and fuck the first boy or girl desperate enough to give them the chance; but not us! Also, have you noticed? The only people who criticize our lifestyle are the ugly ones. I don’t blame them, though, I’d be jealous, too.”

Pete is about to answer to Paul, when his phone rings. He opens it and finds a text from Gabe. It’s the address of the party Gabe invited him to a few days ago, and that Pete had completely forgotten about. Gabe also asks if he’ll be bringing Patrick. Pete considers it for a moment. He really misses Patrick, but he knows he’ll have a really hard time convincing him to go to a party; especially if one of Gabe’s friends is hosting it. He looks up at Paul, who’s holding a hand mirror with one hand and fixing his hair with the other. He grins, texts a quick reply, and puts his phone back on the pocket of his skin-tight jeans.

“So, what are you doing later?” Pete asks casually, still grinning mischievously.

“I’m going to some club with some friends, nothing special. Why? You have better plans?”

“Actually, I do. There’s this party, and I think you should come with me.”

“Totally!” Paul says excitedly.

“Then call your friends and let them know so we can leave. I want to grab a bite before we get there. I don’t like to drink on an empty stomach.”

“Nah, they know I only hang out with them when I don’t have anything better to do. They’re used to being stood up by me.” Paul says, and Pete really can’t wait to introduce him to Gabe Saporta. Maybe the three of them can have their own gang; the “Unapologetic Hot Dudes” or something. He’ll work on the name later.

Pete shuts his computer off, and sees Paul’s portfolio lying on his desk, still unopened. “Shit, I totally forgot you came here for an interview, man.” He opens the portfolio, and finds just one picture. Nothing else, not even a resume. He looks up at Paul, who’s looking at Pete with a smug expression on his face.

“Pretty awesome, huh?” Paul says, proudly.

“Um, where’s the rest of it?”

“The rest of what?” Paul asks, clearly confused.

“I mean, there’s only one picture here. Don’t get me wrong, it’s an amazing picture, it’s just that there are usually a few of them, plus some sort of resume or at least contact information.” Pete explains. He wants to get this over with so they can leave as soon as possible.

“Well, why would I need more pictures if that one is amazing? Besides, you’re looking at me, so really, that picture is just a formality. The hotness is right here, in front of your eyes. And I also don’t need a resume, I mean, you already saw me walk. I can give you my number if you want. Seriously, what else do you need? Either you appreciate my awesomeness or you don’t.”

If there’s something Pete’s always been good at, it’s at recognizing talent and potential. Paul definitely has both. He’d be a fool to let this opportunity pass up just because Paul is clearly not familiar with how things work in the fashion industry. Besides, Pete’s never been a fan of conventionalities; he’s always done things on his own particular, Wentzian way.

“You’re right. You’re hired. You can come back tomorrow; my assistant will get your contact information and give you the paperwork you’ll need to sign.”

Pete holds out his hand, but Paul offers his fist instead. They fist-bump, and Paul says, “Awesome,” and that’s it. Paul is Clandestine’s newest model.

 

~~ * ~~

 

They get to the party fashionably late, because only losers and ugly people arrive early at parties. They’re both a little bit tipsy, because after having dinner they decided to go to a bar to have a few drinks while it was late enough to arrive to the party.

They didn’t change their clothes, even though Pete wanted to; because Paul explained that they were hot enough that they didn’t have to dress up to go to a regular party. Hot people only dress up for club openings and red carpet events. Pete really doubts that Paul has gone to any red carpet event; but he doesn’t mention it because the guy really seems to know what he’s talking about. The point is, they’re still wearing the same clothes: gray, skin-tight jeans, a red Clandestine t-shirt and bright yellow sneakers for Pete; black, skin-tight jeans, a too-tight, too-short plain white t-shirt, a black vest, and black combat boots for Paul. They’re both wearing perfectly-smudged eyeliner, and purple, glittery eye-shadow (that Paul was nice enough to lend to Pete).

As soon as they walk into the house, they’re greeted by a very drunk Gabe Saporta.

“Peter Pan!” Gabe says, lifting Pete off the ground with a bone-crushing hug. He puts him back on the ground, gives him a wet smooch on the lips and ruffles his hair.

“Not the hair, fucker.” Pete says, fixing his hair back into place.

“Well hello there, gorgeous.” Gabe says to Paul, and kisses him on the mouth too, a little bit longer than he kissed Pete.

Pete is really impressed with Paul, because he doesn’t even blink at Gabe’s behavior. Maybe he’s used to be greeted like that. He looks completely comfortable, as if he was the one who was invited to the party, and Pete was the one tagging along with him.

Gabe turns to Pete, and asks, “Where’ve you been hiding this fine piece of man meat?”

“He’s a model, I just hired him today. Gabe, Paul, Paul, Gabe.”

“Nice to meet you, hot Paul.” Gabe says.

Paul says, “You, too,” and turns to look at Pete with a smug expression on his face, one that says, ‘see? Everybody calls me ‘hot Paul.’’ Pete is really impressed. He actually thought that Paul made his friends call him that. Apparently not, then.

Before Pete has time to ask Paul if he wants something to drink, Gabe drags Paul to the middle of the living room, that’s working as a makeshift dancefloor. They start grinding against each other to the rhythm of the music; Paul practically straddling Gabe’s thigh. Pete goes to the kitchen to get himself a drink; he doesn’t want to lose his buzz. He fixes a red-bull and vodka, and spends a few minutes talking to Victoria. She starts talking about work, though, so he excuses himself and goes back to the living room.

When he gets there, Gabe and Paul are still dancing. Except now they’re both shirtless. Fuck it if Pete’s missing all the fun. He’s the one who brought Paul, after all. He finishes his drink in one gulp, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and takes off his t-shirt. He approaches them, and attaches himself to Paul’s back. Gabe grabs Pete’s arm, and moves him until Pete’s situated in the middle of Gabe and Paul.

“A Pete sandwich!” Paul says. Pete approves. His dick approves as well.

They’re grinding and dancing and generally being their hot selves; people are making a circle around them, watching and whistling and cat-calling and taking picture after picture, probably video too.

“Look at them, they all wish they were us.” Paul says to Pete’s ear, biting his earlobe.

“Fuck yeah,” says Pete; to both Paul’s words and actions.

“That’s right, fuckers, feast your eyes with all the hotness!” Gabe yells to their audience, who cheers in response.

After dancing for a while, they break the Pete sandwich to start posing for pictures. They do the obligatory Charlie’s Angels pose, and the body-builder pose, and reenact several of the Victoria’s Secret’s catalogue pictures that Gabe has memorized.

“Dude, seriously, like, I’m so fucking glad to be hanging out with hot people,” says Paul, taking a sip of his drink. “I mean, I don’t have model friends because they’re all so fucking jealous of me. So most of my friends are like, regular people. Not ugly, though, I do have principles.”

“For real, man.” Gabe agrees; he’s already starting to slur his words a little. “Like, I have to pretend that looks aren’t important and shit like that, because I have like, some ugly-ass fans, but they buy my albums and pay to go to my shows; so I have to pretend that I love them as much as I love my hot fans. Which, yeah, not really.”

“Hey, I have an idea.” Pete says, already excited about it. He’s a fucking genius; it’s about damn time somebody nominates him for a Nobel Prize. He’s hotter than Bono, anyway. “We should have a blog, the three of us. We can post pictures, and blog about what it’s like to be a hot dude. Like, for the fans, you know? Like Gabe said, a lot of our fans are ugly, so they can like, I don’t know, live vicariously through us. And our hot fans can learn about the proper behavior for a hot person.”

“Yeah! Like, there are hot people that act as if they were homely-looking, and it’s such a fucking shame.” Paul says, shaking his head sadly.

“I think that’s because society makes them feel guilty about their hotness. Like, I used to be like that before, but then thanks to the power of the Cobra I learned to embrace my hotness.” Gabe says, making his signature hand sign.

“Totally. So this would be like, our way to give back to our fans.” Pete says, already making mental notes about his first blog. It’ll be fucking epic. “Besides, since my band went on hiatus, the number of fanfiction about me has fallen dramatically. I’m sure this will put me back on the fucking spotlight.”

“Dude, do you think people will write fanfiction about me?” Paul says, hopefully.

“Fo’ sho’ my man.” Gabe says; patting Paul’s back in a reassuring way.

“I just hope they don’t pair me up with ugly band boys.” Paul says, worriedly. “I also hope they don’t forget to mention the fact that I have a huge dick.”

“Maybe you should post pictures, then.” Pete says. After all, it’s only fair that all the members of the gang have pictures of their dicks on the internet.

“Man, I wish I could post pictures of my dick. It’s truly impressive.” Gabe says, grabbing his crotch. “I can’t, though. I already promised my mom.”

“Fucking wimp.” Paul says, teasingly.

“No, dude, I’m with Gabe on this one. Mama Saporta can be fucking scary when she’s mad. I don’t want to get on her bad side like, ever.” Pete says, and Gabe nods in agreement.

“Fuck it, I’ll post pictures of my dick.” Paul says. Pete grins like an idiot.

“Dibs on taking the pictures!” Gabe hurries to say.

“Aw, fuck you.” Pete says defeated. Whatever, it’s not like he can’t be there when the pictures are taken.

“Boys, boys, no need to fight. You can both take pictures. There’s plenty of dick for everybody.” Paul says, and seriously, Pete’s so glad he met him. If Patrick keeps hiding from him, he’ll have to fight Paul for the ‘best friend’ title. Well, not really, but Pete hopes Patrick feels threatened by Paul all the same. Maybe then Patrick will be the one who calls Pete for a change.

“Oh, guys, guys, fuck, I just had the best idea ever!” Gabe says, bouncing in his seat and clapping excitedly. He looks like a giant seal, but a hot seal, nevertheless. “I’m sure that our fans will start writing fanfiction with hot threesomes between us, right? Well, what if, to celebrate the first-month anniversary of the blog, we choose the best-written one and reenact it?”

“Dude, like, totally!” Paul says. “Man, not only are we hot, but also fucking smart. Who says people can’t have it all?”

“Losers who don’t have it all, obviously.” Pete says. Fuck Fall Out Boy, fuck Clandestine, fuck FBR, fuck Decaydance, fuck all his other projects; this blog will be his baby, and his number one priority. “I vote we do it every month. We can’t let the fans know, though.”

“Nah, that’ll be just for us. Our own special celebration.” Gabe agrees.

“But we will videotape it, right?” Paul asks.

“Fuck yeah!” Pete says. He’s already half-hard with the idea of having that kind of jerk-off material. He already has that one tape he made with Mikeyway, but he’s been using that one for years. It’d be nice to have something else. Besides, the Mikey tape always leaves him feeling a little bit sad and nostalgic.

“Dude, everyone’ll be so fucking jealous that they didn’t think of this first.” Gabe says. “Of course, they’ll mask their jealousy by saying that we’re classless douchebags.”

“Whatever, it’s the best idea ever. Haters to the fucking left.” Paul says, holding up his left hand to the side.

“Amen, hot Paul. A-fucking-men.” Pete says, nodding in agreement.

The three of them share high-fives and a group hug. Pete pours each of them a shot of vodka; he raises his glass and toasts, “To the Unapologetic Hot Dudes!”

“Huh?” Paul and Gabe say in unison.

“Whatever, we’ll work on the name of our gang later.” Pete mumbles.

“Cheers!” Gabe says, and they all raise their glass and drink their shots.



Comments

[rockeandroll.livejournal.com]

He’s a fucking genius; it’s about damn time somebody nominates him for a Nobel Prize. He’s hotter than Bono, anyway

THE DAY YOU STARTED WRITING FIC WAS A GREAT ONE FOR FANDOM.

[chuckaloonie.livejournal.com]

\o/ I'm glad you read it, even if you weren't familiar with hot Paul!

Thanks Meg, you make me so happy!

[b-dsaint.livejournal.com]

LOLOLOLOLOL -- excellent Laura. \o/

Bee will you show the fic to hot Paul?

[chuckaloonie.livejournal.com]

:D :D :D

NOOOO I HOPE SHE DOESN'T!!! Bee, don't do it, I don't want him to think I'm a creep, even if I am.

[villiagegreen.livejournal.com]

I ALREADY PRINTED IT OUT.

this is the kind of thing paul eats up with a spoon, i am stapling it to my easel in big print so he can read it.

he will love it, this guy once accepted stickers i made with his face on them as payment.

[chuckaloonie.livejournal.com]

HE'LL NOT LOVE IT BEE, I SLASHED HIM WITH PETE WENTZ AND GABE SAPORTA FOR FUCK'S SAKE!!!

But you know him better than I do, so if you think he'll like it, then go ahead and show it to him. BUT THEN I WANT HIM TO COMMENT. Or at the very least, I want you to tell me if he liked it or if he was offended by it.

I LOVE YOU HOT PAUL, IT WAS A TRIBUTE TO YOUR HOTNESS, PLEASE DON'T BE MAD!!!

[villiagegreen.livejournal.com]

oh, i see him latter this week, he will FLIP, he eats this kind of love up.

[xstunt-pilots.livejournal.com]

You wrote fanfiction. About Hot Paul. And Pete's Giant Horseteeth. And Gabe. And...Laura. I cannot. I don't even. DOES NOT...HOW...I DON'T EVEN. I DON'T EVENNNNNNNNN.

I could kiss you.

[chuckaloonie.livejournal.com]

BEE MAKES ME DO THE MOST RIDICULOUS THINGS. I don't even know either, Julia.

But yay! I finally get to kiss you!

[villiagegreen.livejournal.com]

PAUL REALLY IS ZOOLANDER

every time he's a good boy his word-cookie is me telling him he's "not a mermaid, he's a mer-man... A MER-MAN".

lol, you put him in purple eyeshadow, im going to have to buy him some now.

i have seen paul's dick, it should be on the internet, it's fantastic. it's an epic art-peen.


GABE....GET OFF MA PAUL, DON'T MESS UP MY BOY, I NEED HIM TO DRAW HOT GUYS.

I love this, this is going to make paul's life.

[chuckaloonie.livejournal.com]

HE'S NOW IN THE HANDS OF PETE WENTZ AND GABE SAPORTA, BEE. HE'S A LOST CAUSE.

He has epic art-peen, you say? Mmh, interesting... (which is code for I WANT TO SEE IT, BEE!)

I'm MORTIFIED, Bee. I don't want him to hate me!

Anyway, I'm glad you liked it, I hope I made him justice!

[villiagegreen.livejournal.com]

god forbid they really meet, they would bond for life.....


I am not allowed to take nude photos of his peen, but i have drawn it, i only know one guy who has ever taken nude pics of hm and they were epic, i kinda wanna buy a print.

It's like.... massive.

paul is blessed.

it really did, he's going to just love it, i promise.

[chuckaloonie.livejournal.com]

FUCK!!! Bee, I'm a total size queen, you have no idea... OMG HOT PAUL COME TO MAMA!!!!!

[villiagegreen.livejournal.com]

you'd be impressed, i'm shocked he does walk with a limp due to it's cumbersome nature....

he's build perfect minus being a bit of a lol-filled dope.

[chuckaloonie.livejournal.com]

Seriously Bee, IDK how you managed to remain professional with a monster cock in front of you. I would've been on my knees, hands behind my back and licking my lips in anticipation as soon as hot Paul would've dropped his pants.

[villiagegreen.livejournal.com]

girl... you should know big peen is not my thing, i mean, it's nice to look at it but i am personally, like..."don't let it touch me or i will stab you".


I mean, it's pretty, i would love to see someone else touch it... like pete.....

but not me, you know me laura, when i see a guy i love, i what to see him on his knees, not the other way around.


plus paul is so not top, he's more pet-pete, just sweet in his vanity, looking for a cookie and a hug.

[chuckaloonie.livejournal.com]

paul is so not top,

Oh, no! Everything's ruined! I can only imagine what would happen if we were to be face to face:

PAUL: "So, how do you want me?"

LAURA: "Huh? YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO!"

PAUL: "What? How am I supposed to know?"

LAURA: "..."

PAUL: "No, seriously. On my back, on my stomach... just, tell me how do you want me."

*Cue long, awkward silence, both of us just staring at each other expectantly*

LAURA: "Yeah, um, I have to go. Bye Paul! I'll send Bee, she'll tell you what to do."

PAUL: "Thank god."

[villiagegreen.livejournal.com]

ya, it would be that our he's be all "you know... you can like... rub my back if you want... and tell me i'm pretty".

...

oh paul.

ya, he's a model, he isn't paid to think, he is paid to take orders and look pretty.

and he's very good at it.

i don't know, he might shock me and be a total hardcore top, but i doubt he can even touch himself without needing help.

[chuckaloonie.livejournal.com]

BEE, HOT PEOPLE DON'T HAVE TO TOUCH THEMSELVES, THERE'S ALWAYS SOMEONE WILLING TO DO IT FOR THEM!!!

Pete really has to get that blog started, people really have a lot to learn. YOU'RE HOT BEE, YOU SHOULD BE FAMILIAR WITH ALL THESE RULES!

[villiagegreen.livejournal.com]

I AM NOT HOT, JUST TRICKY WITH MY WORDS AND MAKE UP AND COY NATURE.

SORRY TO BREAK THE BUBBLE.

[chuckaloonie.livejournal.com]

YOU'RE A LIAR WHO LIES, AND ALSO A CRUEL PERSON WHO WANTS TO SHATTER MY DREAMS.

YOU'RE HOT, I WON'T HEAR ANOTHER WORD THAT SAYS THE CONTRARY.

[b-dsaint.livejournal.com]

oh my god, bee you have to like, videotape his reaction and post it. I'm so highly entertained when people i know read fic about themselves

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

*puts up hand* I second the video taping!

[villiagegreen.livejournal.com]

"What's with the little blinking red light.... is that a videocamera?"

"....no.... now read the paper"


"but..."


"NOW."

[b-dsaint.livejournal.com]

"read it outloud"

"... what?"

"DO IT."

".... pete's been interviewing.."

[villiagegreen.livejournal.com]

"Wait a minute, i'm in this story"

"I KNOW"

"People write paul stories?"

"YES".

*long silence*

*high five*

[b-dsaint.livejournal.com]

\o/ YESSSSSSSSS

[chuckaloonie.livejournal.com]

OMG I HOPE THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS!!!!

[gracie321.livejournal.com]

Bee! Bee! Hey!

When you tell Paul all about this situation, make sure you mention that I was the first person to ask for an icon of his face. BECAUSE, HOT.

Also; art-peen. Lol and yes please.

WE HEART HOT PAUL.

[villiagegreen.livejournal.com]

oh, he'll know he has a little fanclub with miss gracie grace in it, no fretting.

[bebunny.livejournal.com]

Oh hey! look what you did! ;)

Oh the ridiculous Pete Wentz, how I love him!

[chuckaloonie.livejournal.com]

Me too, baby, me too. It's like, the more ridiculous he is, the more I love him.

[gracie321.livejournal.com]

WHAT IS THIS AWESOME, OH MY GOD I CANNOT EVEN.

Why did you withold your ficcing skills from us for so long? You are clearly the greatest of them all. EXCEPT FOR THE UNAPOLOGETIC HOT DUDES, OF COURSE.

I'd like to quote favorite parts, but instead I'll just make jazz-handy gestures to EVERY SINGLE LINE and hope you understand my enthusiasm.

[chuckaloonie.livejournal.com]

GRACIE YOU MAKE ME SO HAPPY!!!

See, this one was easy, because there's no hot Paul fic out there, so people wouldn't have anything to compare this against!

ME ENTUSIASMA TU ENTUSIASMO!

ILU

[ladyfoxxx.livejournal.com]

I AM DYING.

THERE IS A PETE SANDWICH. OMG Pete smushed between Gabe and Hot Paul? HE WOULD COME UP TO THEIR ELBOWS. THEY ARE SHIRTLESS. THIS IS SO RIDICULOUS IT MAKES MY LIFE.

Gabe calls hot Paul hot Paul without even being TOLD TO. Hot Paul TWIRLS. Pete has a 'only if they suck my dick' pile. They are going to re-enact fanfiction and video tape it. PETE HAS A SEX TAPE OF HIM AND MIKEY THAT MAKES HIM SAD.

THERE IS TOO MUCH WIN HERE. I HAVE TO LIE DOWN NOW.

[chuckaloonie.livejournal.com]

I just figured Pete spent the whole time licking Gabe's chest because it was just RIGHT THERE, in front of his face.

You see, it's not that Pete wants to take advantage of the models, or that he's a creepster, or anything of the sort. It's just that Pete's convinced that there's a lot you can learn about a person based on their dick-sucking abilities. BUT HE DOESN'T DO IT FOR THE PLEASURE HE MAY GET, IT'S JUST A SACRIFICE HE'S WILLING TO MAKE FOR CLANDESTINE.

YOUR COMMENT MAKES MY LIFE, FOX \o/ \o/ \o/