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Patrick liked you.
Oh, he really fucking liked you. He liked the way you walked, and how your voice sounded. He liked how you looked when you had no idea he was watching. He liked how pure and innocent you were, and he liked to think he could one day corrupt you.
Surprisingly, this all started at Church. That's where he discovered you. You had been new to Derry a few months ago, and your family being Catholic like his, he'd met you. It was amusing, you were obviously uncomfortable under his stare when your families introduced themselves. Though, you acted nice. Too good, too good.
And ever since then his infatuation has escalated. You've talked a bit with him a few times, due to Church, due to similar classes. You always act so fucking nice and you're so easy to him. Yet, he still hasn't jumped on you. Why?
He's still collecting information. He wants to know everything about you. He wants to know all your weak points so he can use them to his advantage. And when he gets you in that vulnerable state, he'll be your God.
Or, maybe he hasn't talked to you because whenever you walk by you make his chest feel heavy. Are you making him nervous? No way, that can't be it, can it? Is there a possibility you could be real? No. That can't be it.
He's just too impulsive around you. Keep yourself under control, Patrick. You're just so intoxicating and Patrick just wants to fucking grab you and do all the things that keep him awake late at night.
Yet, it isn't time. He's still gathering information. And Sundays are a good day to do so.
He watches you throughout all of Mass. He makes note of all your expressions and movements and fidgeting. He can't help but let his eyes rake over your body, soaking in your appearance and resisting the urge to just grab you by the wrist and drag you to the nearest bathroom and fuck you so hard that everyone can hear you.
He knows he's getting hard just thinking about it. He doesn't care if it is wrong to be thinking this kind of shit in Church or whatever. And he doesn't care that he's about to excuse himself to the restroom at this very moment and jack off to the thought of you writhing beneath him.
Patrick is usually quiet when he does this sort of thing. Still, he locks himself in a stall and tries to be quiet about the sound of his zipper going down. Even though he'd have to do it anyway, when did he become so self-conscious?
He runs his thumb over his sensitive head and smears precum over himself. He wonders what he would do to you if he had you right here. Maybe he'd shove his cock down your throat? Or pin you to the stall and fuck you until you were begging him to stop? Were you a virgin? Well, you were Catholic and you did seem like a good little girl, so maybe you were. He didn't know he could get harder at the thought of taking your virginity.
And that's what really got him off.
When he finishes and cums all over his hand, he licks it all up. He couldn't have anyone else getting any of his essence. Would he cum in your mouth? Cum inside of you?
He goes back to his parents, catching your eye before he sits down.
Oh fuck, he can't wait any longer. He needs you. He needs you so damn bad.
He wants to bite your neck and leave bruises for everyone to see. He wants to wrap his hands around your neck and put his fingers in your mouth. Patrick wants to fuck you until you cry. He wants you to want more.
"Hey," he approaches you in the library a day later. "Whatcha readin'?"
You look up at him, a little surprised. "Oh, something for Church."
Patrick can smell your perfume. "Really?"
"Y-yeah," you reply, "The sermon that Father John delievered the other day is the topic of Bible Study this week. He really knows how to preach."
Patrick wants to preach his own sermon at you. He wants you to be the first and only follower of his religion, where he's God. "Yeah," he agrees, trying not to stare at your lips for too long.
"You know, Patrick," you make eye contact before averting your gaze to the book again, "You're one of the last people I'd expect to go to Church every Sunday."
"Why do you think that?" He raises a brow. The only reason he went to Church was because it was routine. Patrick didn't like when things were off schedule, and ditching Church may just throw him more off balance than you have already.
You blush. Patrick recognizes that you talk a bit too much when you're nervous. Wait, is he making you nervous?
"W-well, uh..." you look at everywhere else but him. "You don't seem the religious type."
You're right, he wants to say. "I'll have you know," he leans closer, "I'm very devoted." Very devoted to his own religion, that is.
"S-sorry," you're blushing and fidgeting the more the closer that he gets.
"No, it's fine," he wants to kiss you, just to see how you'd react. He lets his eyes flick down to your lips before raising them back to your wide eyes, "I'll see you at Church on Sunday."
*
It seems like you don't do this very much.
No one is home. Your parents are working on this Saturday evening, and it's just you. You are settling down in bed once again, and Patrick is watching through the window. It isn't the best view, but hey, it works. Thankfully, you have the lights on.
You look a bit embarrassed, like you know someone is watching. You're wearing a t-shirt and just your underwear. Your hand is rubbing over the fabric of your panties, which seem very thin. You're biting your lip, like you're trying to contain the noises even though there is no one here to hear you. Well, besides Patrick of course.
You finally remove your panties, and Patrick feels himself getting harder and harder as you let the pads of your fingers run through your folds. He can't tell if you're soaking wet or not, but your face is contorted in pleasure as you rub your clit.
Patrick wishes that was him between your legs. Oh, the things he would do. And he's actually considering breaking your window and coming to help you, but he wants to watch for a little longer at least.
And he doesn't realize he's palming himself through his pants as you throw your head back, fingers rubbing your clit. You reach down a little more, and it looks like you're trying to put your fingers inside, but your face twitches and you go back to pinching and fucking your clit.
It must hurt. Which means you must be a virgin. Patrick can't take it, and he pulls his cock out of his pants and starts to fuck himself, too. He doesn't want to do anything tonight to you. Your back is arching and he knows you're moaning loudly. And even though he's not quite the loudest, he's letting out shaky breaths as he moves his hand up and down his length.
He wants to fuck your tight, virgin cunt. He's squeezing his dick harder and just imagining that it's you, so tight and small. His eyes are closing and opening and watching you, hypnotized. He runs his thumb over his head and slit, making his spine shiver. You're bucking into your own hand, how cute, and he knows you're close. Adorable.
The next thing he knows, you're convulsing and he can't help it and he's cumming and spilling all over his hand and your rose bush. He lets out a particularly loud grunt as he's coming down. He looks up at your window and sees your chest rising and falling. You're taking long blinks and Patrick knows you're falling asleep. It's his cue to go.
He's actually excited to go to Church on this very Sunday.
He's watching you the whole time, reminiscing about the night before and seeing you cum all over your fingers. And it must be his lucky day because you excuse yourself to the restroom. Patrick knows what he has to do and follows suit just a few minutes later.
He enters the women's restroom with no hesitation, and you're the only in there, washing your hands. You catch his figure in the mirror and freeze. "P-Patrick," you turn around to face him, "This is the g-girls'--"
"I know," he begins to saunter forward, and your back hits the sink as he stands right in front of you. "I just wanted to... help you."
"Help me?" You're blushing like crazy again. "With?"
"Well, I saw you last night," he doesn't know why he's saying this, but his hands are on your hips and you're not complaining yet. "And it seems like you need some real help."
"Saw me?" You look confused. You're probably thinking but I didn't even leave the house yesterday, because you didn't. Patrick is rubbing your thighs over the skirt, and you gasp, blushing harder. "I don't--I don't--"
"Shh, Princess," he's pushing the skirt up now, "Imma take care of you now, don't you worry."
He slides a hand up your thigh, and realization dawns. You look horrified, but you still aren't protesting as he's massaging your inner thigh, so close to your core. "You saw me?" Your voice is small.
"'Course I did," he squeezes the soft skin.
"Do you know?" Your voice takes on a more tense tone at this. He's not sure what you're talking about exactly, but he doesn't pay mind to it.
He doesn't answer, just begins to rub you through the silky material of your underwear. He leans in towards your ear, "I know everything about you." And he does, because he's your God.
You whimper a little louder than he expected as he presses on your clit. "Shh, we don't want anyone hearing you, do we?" He grins widely.
"So... you know?" your voice shakes as he moves your panties aside to touch you directly. "I..."
"What, baby?" He's rubbing your clit and watching your face to see if you like it better when he did it.
"I... like you."
That goes straight to his cock.
"I-I'm sorry Patrick, I kn-know it's stupid," he's really working your clit now and your breath is hitching, "This st-stupid crush, I-I'm sorry."
You have a crush on him? How sweet.
"Don't apologize," his lips are on your jaw, "Just let me work you so that they don't get suspicious out there. And we can talk later."
You shut your mouth, which is good because ten seconds later you let out a suppressed moan. You're not as wet as Patrick would want, but he's running short on time and he just wants to feel you.
He doesn't give you a warning as he finds your entrance and shoves his two, long fingers inside of you. You let out a choked noise and grasp onto his arm. Patrick smiles, seeing tears prick at the corner of your eyes as he fingers your tight cunt.
"Ever really fingered yourself, Sweetheart?" He whispers.
"N-no," your voice is shaky.
He hums against your neck. You feel way better than he imagined. There's resistance and that's what keeps getting him harder. "You're so tight, feel that?" He spreads his fingers apart within you.
You put a hand over your mouth as you let out a small cry. "You'd take me so well, wouldn't you?" He bites down on the skin below your ear as he finger fucks you. Soon enough, you're grinding against his hand and your face is buried into his shoulder to muffle your moans.
"I-I'm..." your legs shake and you dig your nails into his clothed arm.
"You're gonna cum in church, little girl?" He snickers, and you tighten around his fingers. You must like this, being defiled in Church of all places. "Cum around my fingers, you whore... like getting fingered in Church, so dirty."
Your knees buckle as you cum, riding out your orgasm as you push back into his long, nimble fingers. He pulls his fingers away and looks at them, and he can't hide the euphoria behind his wicked grin. There is blood on his fingers. "Guess I popped your cherry, Church girl," he brings his fingers to his lips and sucks them.
You're watching him, transfixed. Patrick takes his fingers from his mouth and squeezes your thigh before saying, "I'm not done with you, but we'll have to finish this later."
You nod and seem a bit reluctant before returning to Mass.
And Patrick finishes himself off.
*
The next week, he's all over you.
But you don't seem to mind. He's dragging you into supply closets at school and shoving his fingers knuckle deep inside you over and over. And you've actually given him a hand-job twice. But he's not going to fuck you yet. Not because he's sentimental, no, but because he wants to prolong your last piece of purity. You being a virgin still gets him off.
But you can't be one forever.
He lets it last one more week. The next Sunday, you guys steal glances and go to the restroom at a similar time and he actually eats you out against the stall and you give him your third hand-job accompanied with a bit of mouth. Patrick doesn't want to face fuck you yet. Still wants to keep you partially innocent, plus, people would see your makeup running after he was done with you. and that would be breaking the rules, patrick!
But the next Sunday, the third Sunday, it is time to install his agenda.
His tongue is in your mouth, scraping against your teeth as his fingers are shoved inside of you. He gets hard so quickly when he's with you, and he's practically dry humping you in no time. He parts from you, along with his fingers, and you look up at him.
"Go lock the bathroom door," he instructs.
"What?"
"I have something special planned for you, so go lock it," he repeats, a bit more impatient. You slip out from under him and lock the door. You come back, wondering what he'll do next. "Now, bend over the counter for me," he taps it, his rings clicking along with it.
You look a little concerned, but you do it. You are so submissive for him. He loves it. He comes up behind you and rubs his boner against your ass, looking at you in the mirror. You look a concerned as he flips your skirt up. When he removes your panties, he gives you a devil like smirk in the mirror, and you immediately realize.
"Patrick," you say, alarmed.
"Shh," he holds a finger up, and everything is quiet. Then he hears the Church choir break into song. "That'll give us enough time, nobody will hear your precious litle noises." He chuckles a bit at that.
You stare at him as he takes his cock out of his dress pants. "Whatever happens..." you swallow, "D-don't stop, okay?"
Patrick wasn't even in the slightest going to consider stopping if you asked. Then he grabs your legs and spreads them a bit more, positioning himself. You look anxious as he presses in, and your eyes water as he fills you all the way. Patrick can't help but let out a moan. It was like he was waiting his entire life for this, and now he was going to have what he wanted.
He starts thrusting and you whimper in pain. He was stretching you to new extremes, and he wasn't going to let you adjust. There are tears falling from your eyes but all it's doing is getting Patrick off.
"So tight, baby," Patrick groans, "You're taking me so well."
You cry, and look into his eyes within the mirror. He looks wild as he pounds into you from behind.
But pretty soon you're moaning and spreading yourself wider for him. He's going deeper and fucking you so good. It's sloppy and rough, and disgusting and nasty and you can still hear the church choir singing.
You whimper, now loving how hard he was fucking you.
"You like that, slut?" He seemed to be falling apart himself. "Like my cock inside of your little pussy, baby?"
"Y-yes!" You cry, "F-fuck, Patrick! Don't stop!"
His hands are gripping your hips hard enough to bruise and he is absolutely drilling you at this point. If the choir wasn't singing, you would be able to just hear the sound of skin smacking and your wet pussy.
Patrick lets one hand tangle in your hair and pulls up. Your head goes back and you look into the mirror. "Look at yourself," Patrick moans, "Getting fucked in a Church, like the whore you are. Someone's gotta teach you a lesson." His teeth find your neck and bite down.
He whispers into your ear, "Am I your God?"
You look into his eyes from the mirror. His chest is against your back as he's leaning over you, fucking you so hard and you know that you'll never be fucked like this by anyone else.
"Yes!" You cry, "Patrick! Y-you're... fuck! I'm gonna cum!"
Patrick pulls on your hair harder, and his own hair is falling into his eyes. He's completely animalistic, fucking you with purpose. "Cum on my fucking dick, slut," he's hitting you so fucking good and the next thing you know your body is shaking and Patrick has to let go of your hair to keep your hips in place.
Right now, Patrick doesn't even fucking care. He can perfectly pull out, but this is too good. So he cums inside of you, letting his thick hot cum fill you up, and when he pulls out, he watches it seep and drip out. The song the choir is singing, ends.
You're twitching still, breathing hard. Patrick puts his dick back in his pants and he's taking a mental picture, watching you shake and fidget so that he can think about it later.
"Take some birth control," he says, face and voice void of any emotion.
You just nod, resting against the counter. Patrick almost wishes he could say something more meaningful, but it just isn't in his nature.
But that doesn't mean it's not in yours.
"Patrick, I..." you raise your head and look at him in the mirror. "I love you."
Patrick forces a smile.