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Pete and Patrick have been officially dating for over a month now. What this consists of is as follows: Patrick doesn't take the train to and from school anymore, because Pete drives him, in his brand new car (technically it's used, actually, but for Pete it's new.) Pete invites Patrick on cute dates like to the movies or coffee shops or diners. Pete holds Patricks hand or puts an arm around his waist as they walk around town, like he's proud to show everyone that Patrick is his (this is one of Patricks favorite parts of the dating). And theres also the kissing. Lots of kissing. Sweet chaste goodbye kisses when he drops Patrick off at school. Slow searching kisses when they're on the couch in Pete's apartment and his roommates aren't home. Forehead kisses and cheek kisses and tip-of-the-nose kisses when they're being that cute annoying couple. Whipped cream flavored kisses when they share a milkshake at Pete's favorite diner. Distracting make-out kisses in the back of the movie theater when the movie turns out to be super boring. Lots of kisses.
What dating Pete does not consist of, is this: sex.
And, Patricks got to say, he's feeling pretty frustrated about it.
You'd think that after those phone calls and pictures and the panties Pete literally bought him that they'd be all over each other, right? Well, Patrick tries. He really does. Whenever they're making out in Petes room, Patrick will try to slide into his lap, or let his hand wander down Petes torso to the front of his jeans. But then Pete just stops everything. Awkwardly, too. He's really not smooth about it, which would be endearing and funny if it weren't for the fact that Patrick really wants to have sex already.
He's ready, okay? He knows he is. He's been ready since he got home from the train and opened the present Pete gave him out of nowhere to find cute girls underwear. He's been ready since the first time they kissed, when Pete wrapped his hands around Patricks hips and yanked him close, like he didn't want any space between them. He's been ready since Pete got out of his car when he was dropping Patrick off at school to intimidate the asshole boys who were making fun of his skirt (school has been a bit easier ever since then. Apparently getting bullied for being gay gets canceled out when your boyfriend is strong and older and cool and could beat anyone up.) He's ready, is the point.
But they haven't talked about it at all, and Patrick doesn't want to bring it up, because, like, thats so embarrassing. And awkward. And, also, just, how? What would he say? 'Hey, Pete, why haven't you shoved me down onto your bed and fucked me through the mattress yet'? Patrick doesn't know how to approach this kind of thing! He's a virgin! And kind of a loser! (A lot of a loser, actually, but Pete hates when he says that about himself.) It's supposed to be Pete, whose had girlfriends and regular hook ups and friends with benefits (Patrick learned about all this after asking Petes roommate, Chris, about his dating history. Apparently Pete has been a bit of a slut in the past. Which just makes Patrick that much more annoyed,) who brings this topic up. Pete is supposed to be the one to say, 'hey, so, I've been thinking, we've been together for seven weeks now, do you wanna have sex?'
So, if Pete isn't going to let Patrick make a move, then it's up to Patrick to seduce him. But that hasn't been working either. He's tried everything. He goes over to Petes place in his shortest skirts, he went to town on a cherry red popsicle in Petes kitchen once, he bites his lip, he licks his fingertips after eating something, he's tried everything. And none of it has worked! Or, like, it has sort of worked, in that Patrick could tell Pete was turned on, with his face going red and his eyes getting dark and his hands pulling Patrick closer. But all he does about it is make out. No sex. It's weird. Patrick doesn't know what to do.
Today, specifically, the two of them are watching a movie at Petes place. It's something dumb directed by John Hughes that they both secretly admitted to liking on one of their dates. But Patrick isn't paying attention at all. Currently, Patrick is laying on the couch with his head in Petes lap while Pete gently plays with his hair. It's very sweet and very relaxing and also makes Patrick think about Pete pulling on his hair. So, he keeps trying to subtly shift in a way that gets his mouth closer and closer to the seam of Petes jeans. It's right when he's nearly at an angle that he can feel the soft bulge in Petes pants that Chris bursts through the front door. Goddamn this apartment and it's open-plan layout, his eyes immediately fall on Patrick and Pete on the couch.
Patrick nearly jumps off the furniture entirely, but Pete just glances over at Chris, all calm and collected.
"Whats up?" Pete asks, as Patrick scrambles into a normal sitting position. Maybe he shouldn't try to seduce Pete in the communal living areas. Thats on him.
"I ran into Travie today. He says theres a party at Gabes place tomorrow night, wanna come?"
Pete just shrugs and turns to Patrick.
"What do you think?" He asks, "Wanna go to a stupid party?"
Okay, this is big. This would be Patricks first ever real party. Not counting elementary school birthday parties at the roller rink where he falls on his ass in front of everyone and they laugh. Of course he wants to go. But he doesn't want to seem too eager and come off as the total loser he is, so he just says "yeah, sure," like it doesn't matter to him at all.
Pete smiles at him like he can tell just how excited he is.
"Sure, count Patrick and I in," he shouts to Chris, over in the kitchen now.
Okay, Patrick is excited. Possibly unreasonably so. But, come on, this is his first party! Is it a little sad that he's seventeen and has never been to (or invited to, for that matter,) a party? Also possibly true, but whatever. His heart is racing and he's been smiling to himself all day. This is going to be good. Patrick is going to be a real, normal teenager.
Pete is going to be over to pick Patrick up any minute now, and Patricks mom thinks that he's going to a friends house for a sleepover. In reality, he's just going to stay over at Petes after the party. It's all coming together. Patricks mom has been a little suspicious of this new friend Patrick has made who he's been hanging out with a bunch recently and she has yet to meet, but she's been trying to loosen the reigns a little ever since his last birthday. After all, he'll be moving out for college in just a year.
So, here Patrick stands, in front of his full length mirror, trying to convince himself that the pleated black skirt and Effigies t-shirt are the right clothing choice. He doesn't really have time to change again at this point anyways. He's already been through three different outfits. Which, okay, he knows that this is just some stupid house party. He's not dumb. He knows you're just supposed to throw on a t-shirt and jeans without any thought for aesthetics. But he just really wants to make a good impression on all of Petes cool older friends. Like, what if they think he's lame? What if they convince Pete he's lame??
He decides the outfit is good enough just before getting a text from Pete saying he's at their meeting spot.
Patrick walks to the end of the block, where they agreed for Pete to pick him up (so as to not raise suspicion from Patricia. She would definitely notice the tattooed older boy in the drivers seat of the car right in front of her house). Pete is sitting on the hood of the car, like this is some 80's movie. Patrick imagines them as Claire Standish and John Bender in the breakfast club. Then, Patrick blushes, embarrassed about picturing them as Claire Standish and John Bender in the breakfast club.
Pete hops off the hood and heads towards Patrick once he's a few feet from the car.
"Hi baby. You look great," he says, pulling Patrick into a hug and pressing a kiss to his lips. Patrick tries to chase it when Pete eventually pulls away, but to no avail. He pouts to himself when Pete turns around to get in the car, but climbs into the passengers seat without complaint.
"Your first party, right?" Pete asks, turning the keys in the ignition.
"Yeah." Again, Patrick fails at his attempts to sound casual. The smile he can't keep off his face gives him away.
"I can tell you're excited, 'Trick," Pete teases, grinning as they drive to wherever this Gabe guys house is.
"Shut up, no I'm not."
"It's okay, Pattycakes. It's cute. But don't get your hopes up too much, because this stuff tends to just be kind of boring. We can leave whenever you want, by the way, just let me know when and we'll go home."
Home. To Petes apartment. Patrick smiles down at his lap and bites his lip. Technically, Patrick has slept over there twice before, and both times they didn't get any further than making out. But it's still the greatest feeling in the world to curl up with Pete when he's falling asleep, and then wake up surrounded by his smell the next morning.
Sex would be nice, though.
Soon enough, Pete is pulling up to a random unassuming suburban house with the front door propped open and a few people crowded around on the porch drinking out of plastic cups. Pete holds Patricks hands as they walk up the lawn, which definitely helps Patricks nerves, but he knows he'll have to let go eventually. Probably soon. He doesn't want to look like a kid at the mall holding his moms hand so that he doesn't get lost.
Pete nods to a few people on the porch, and one tall guy with a bunch of tattoos slaps him on the back and says "hey, man, whats good?", but Pete just hurries through some quick pleasantries - The guys name is Travie, if Patrick heard correctly - and then they're through the door.
It's loud. Theres music blasting from somewhere and lots of people talking over each other, and then a crash followed by some cheers and laughs somewhere deeper in the house. Patrick must flinch or something, because Pete pulls him into his side and kisses his temple, whispering a quick "it's alright. Remember, we can leave whenever you want" into his hair.
But Patrick is seventeen. He is not going to be a loser who runs away at the first hint of what he's pretty sure most teenagers call fun.
"I'm good," he tells Pete, smiling up at him.
And he is. Once they enter the living room, Patrick can actually discern what music is playing, and he stands nodding his head along to it while Pete introduces him to a few friends. Chris and Andy are there, too, which is nice. He actually knows people, yay!
The night goes on, and it mostly consists of Pete and Patrick listening to the music and talking and sometimes kissing and then Pete introducing Patrick to a friend and then the three of them talking for a few minutes before the friend goes off to do something else.
"Is this really what people do at these things?" Patrick asks, not sure if he's missing something.
Pete laughs.
"Yeah, pretty much. This and get wasted. But I'm driving tonight, so nothing for me. I told you it's a little boring."
It looks like everyone is having fun, but it also looks like they're all pretty drunk and just sitting around talking and laughing and dancing. There are a few table top games going on, but they look pretty dumb and all have the end goal of drinking as much beer or taking as many shots as possible.
That is, until some tall skinny guy with long hair comes stumbling into the room like he's about to fall over.
"Shit, Bill, how much did you drink?" Pete asks him, letting the guy put an arm around his shoulder for balance.
"Dunno, but 'm definitely gonna throw it up soon," he says.
Pete looks kind of worried, and glances between Bill and Patrick a few times before turning to Patrick and saying "hey, I think I should go help Bill sober up a bit really quick and make sure he's not on anything weird. Think you can chill here alone for a few minutes?"
Patrick nods quickly, also kind of concerned for the guy that looks half asleep while standing up. Well, half standing up, half leaning on Pete.
It hasn't even been a minute after Pete has left Patrick standing there against the wall that someone approaches him.
"And who might you be," the guy asks. It's another tall lanky dude. Christ, why are all of Petes friends so tall?
"Patrick," he responds quietly, his eyes flickering between making eye contact with this guy and staring down at the floor to avoid said eye contact. How do people talk to strangers normally? Patrick has been going to school with the same group of kids his whole life, and he's never had any actual positive interactions with any of them. He's not sure how this whole making-friends thing goes. Or just regular conversing, really. Which is sad, and Patrick decides now that he really needs to change that.
"Patrick," tall-guy says, squinting like he's trying to remember something. "You know, I don't think I recognize you. Weird to not know someone at my own party."
Patrick goes cold. Oh god, is he going to get kicked out? Is he doing something wrong? Is he not supposed to be here at all? Has everyone realized he's just a loser high schooler who doesn't belong here?
"I- I'm sorry, I'm- Chris said, and I- I thought-"
"Relax, relax, I'm just fucking with you," tall-guy laughs. "I don't know half the people in my house right now, baby." He drops the pet name so casually, that Patrick thinks maybe it's just a normal thing for Petes friends to call people. Maybe it's something friends say to each other - it's not like Patrick would know. "Sorry, didn't mean to make you nervous. You're just so cute, and standing here all alone."
It's on the tip of Patricks tongue to tell him that he's not alone or anything, he's okay, he's here here with Pete, but he falls into sudden silence when tall-guy reaches out and tucks a loose lock of hair behind Patricks ear. Patrick feels like he's gotten closer. Wow, he really is tall.
"My names Gabe," he says. Which, yeah, that makes sense. He said its his party, and this is Gabes party. So. "You having fun tonight?" he asks, all casual, like he's not standing inches away from Patrick.
"Um- yes, yeah. It's... my first party," Patrick cringes at himself internally. Why would he admit that? He's going to seem like such a loser and none of Petes cool older friends are going to ever want to hang out with him. He's trying to make a good impression, not a lame one.
But Gabe just smiles sharply down at him, so he thinks he's in the clear.
"How sweet. We're popping your party cherry."
Patrick turns bright red all over and curses his pale skin. He needs to get this blushing thing under control. He can't be out here blushing at the mention of sex if he wants to look cool.
"Um, like... I guess."
"You're so pretty when you blush," Gabe smiles. It's something Pete has said to him a handful of times. "Want to get a drink?"
Yes, thats what Patrick needs right now. Maybe having a drink in his hand will make this less horribly awkward. Now that he thinks about it, he's not sure why he didn't just get a drink as soon as they got here. Thats supposed to help you relax, right? And it's what everyone else is doing.
Patrick just nods instead of trying to open his mouth again.
Gabe casually takes Patricks hand and leads him to the kitchen, just a few feet away. Patrick looks around for Pete or Chris or Andy, but none of them are in there. Maybe thats for the best. Pete would probably stop him from drinking. He'd probably try to be responsible or something. But this is what Patrick wants to do, this is why he's here. To be a normal teenager, who hangs out with other people at parties and drinks and has fun!
"Lets start you off on something simple, okay? I'm assuming you don't drink often?" Gabe asks, pulling a beer can out of the fridge. Patrick nods and blushes again (god, can that please stop happening) as he takes the can and pops it open. It doesn't fizz as much as a soda does, Patrick thinks to himself. And then he feels stupid for thinking it.
Patrick screws up his nose at his first sip. It's not the worst taste ever, but it's just... not good. It's strong and bitter and the taste stays on his tongue after he's swallowed it.
It's only when Gabe smiles and says "you're adorable, you know that?" that Patrick realizes he's also holding his beer with both hands like it's a hot chocolate or something. God, he's such a baby. He blushes all over again and just takes another sip rather than trying to respond.
They each sip at their drinks - Gabes is something mysterious in one of those red plastic cups - until Patrick just decides that chugging his in one go would be better for his poor taste buds.
He doesn't actually get it all down at once, it takes three long gulps, and he coughs a bunch once he's done because he almost chokes on it, but it's gone, and he's starting to feel a little floaty, so thats nice. Gabe laughs at him a bit, but it doesn't feel mean.
Once the first can is empty, Patrick surprises himself by asking for another. He wants to be drunk, and he's pretty sure that all that that first can is doing is making him feel a little loose around the edges.
"You sure, sweetheart?" Gabe asks as Patrick hops up backwards to sit on the edge of the island countertop across from him. This time, the pet name goes completely over Patricks head, not really registering. He's definitely not drunk. He had one beer. He can drink another.
"Definitely," he says with a nod, decidedly.
Gabe chuckles and grabs another from the fridge, this one a different color from the last. Patrick reads the label; it says "lite" on it this time. Gabe must notice him reading it, because then he's saying, "I don't want you to get drunk. Wouldn't reflect very well on me, would it? Getting a sweet boy like you all wasted at your first party."
"I'm not drunk," Patrick protests, his words maybe sliding together a tiny bit more than they normally do. Whatever. He wants to protest the 'sweet boy' comment too, but it's not wrong.
Gabe laughs again and shakes his head.
"You laugh a lot," Patrick points out, opening his new can and taking a big gulp. The taste is different, and gross all over again, although it's much less strong. He just swallows more of it down, fast. Same strategy as the last can.
"Maybe you're just a funny guy," Gabe says.
"Oh, I am definitely not funny. Only to laugh at. Wait, are you laughing at me?" Patrick is aware that he's talking much more than he was earlier in the night, and he's glad that he's finally actually able to socialize. This is how normal people who fit in and have friends act, right?
"What? Not at all," Gabe says, his brows furrowed. "Why would I laugh at you?"
"Because I'm a loser guy in a skirt who has never been to a party before?"
Gabe sets his now empty cup down and steps closer to Patrick, almost between the V of his legs on the counter.
"I think your skirt is very pretty. It suits you," he says smoothly, looking down at Patrick.
It is then that Patrick realizes Gabe might be flirting with him, which is kind of funny to Patrick right now. It also kind of feels good. Like he likes the attention. Does that make him a slut? It's not like he wants to do anything at all with this Gabe guy, but he sort of likes the way Gabe is looking at him like he could if he did want to. Like Pete looks at him, but less restrained. Where Pete pulls himself back and stops their make outs, Gabe looks like he'd keep going, put his hand up Patricks skirt. And Patrick doesn't want that, not from Gabe. But thinking about Pete's hand doing that is making his stomach stir.
Thats when Pete shows up in the doorway, like he's been summoned. Patrick looks over and smiles. There he is! His hot boyfriend who really needs to put his hand up Patricks skirt!
But Pete doesn't look happy, for some reason. He's frowning and his eyebrows are drawn together, all intense. He sets the can of coke in his hand down rather hard on the kitchen table next to him and strides up to Gabe and Patrick, grabbing Gabes arm to pull him away.
"Hey, dude, I was wondering when you'd get here!" Gabe sounds happy to see Pete, but Pete looks like he's about to punch the smile right off his face. Oh no. Did Patrick do something wrong? Is Pete mad because of him?
"Are you giving him alcohol?" Pete asks, definitely angry, gesturing at Patrick.
"Yeah, he wanted some. Patrick, you know Pete?" Gabe asks, directing his attention back at Patrick. It doesn't seem like Gabe is picking up on Petes agression.
"Yeah, he's my fucking boyfriend." Pete says before Patrick can respond. Whatever, thats basically exactly what Patrick was about to say. But probably in a different tone. And without the cursing.
Patrick hops down from the counter quickly, sensing that the situation needs to be defused.
Just as Gabe is putting his hands up and saying something like "whoa, dude, sorry, I didn't know," Patrick moves to stand between the two of them, facing Pete.
"Pete, it's okay, we were just hanging out."
"We're getting out of here," Pete says to Patrick, grabbing his hand - still gentle, despite his anger - and leading him out through the front door without so much as a goodbye to their host.
When they get to the car, Pete opens the passengers door for Patrick and basically herds him into his seat before walking around to the drivers side and getting in himself.
Patrick buckles his seat belt and gets ready to apologize. He didn't mean to make Pete angry.
But Pete speaks before he gets the chance.
"What was that?" He asks, starting the car and focusing intensely on the road as he pulls out. Is he avoiding looking at Patrick?
"I- I just wanted your friends to like me," Patrick says quietly, voice a little strained, looking down at his lap. It's silent for a moment in the car before Pete responds with a sigh.
"Sorry. Sorry, I didn't mean to ruin your night. I shouldn't have pulled you out of there. I'm sorry," Pete says, but he continues before Patrick has a chance to forgive him. "I just- I saw Gabe standing so close to you and I saw red. You're mine."
Patrick shivers. He's never heard Petes voice sound like that, all rumbly and low like a growl. He likes it.
Patrick works up all the courage he can muster to say, almost under his breath,
"If I'm yours then why won't you have sex with me?"
Pete steps on the breaks, hard. Patrick and him both lurch forward slightly, caught by their seat belts. Patrick is grateful that they're just in a mostly empty suburban neighborhood with no traffic. Pete drives up to the curb and goes into park, not turning to look at Patrick, even when he starts talking.
"Have you... been thinking about that?" Petes voice shakes and Patrick feels a surge of confidence that might have something to do with his earlier alcohol consumption. He slowly unbuckles his seat belt and climbs over the center console to straddle Petes lap. Now, finally, Pete is looking at him.
"Of course I've been thinking about that, Pete. It's just, you always stop anything from happening. And I've been trying to get you to make a move but you just don't. And I want it, Pete." He squirms around a little in Petes lap until he's more comfortably seated - and if that happens to coincide with him being able to feel Pete getting hard in his skinny jeans, then so be it. "I want you to fuck me. I'm seventeen, and I have the hottest boyfriend ever, and you're so perfect in every single way, and I'm ready, okay? I'm ready for it. I think about it all the time, Pete, it's distracting. Every time you put your arm around me, or kiss me, or pull me closer. I know you're sweet and gentle and kind, but I just want you to fuck me already."
Patrick doesn't swear often, and he kind of stutters as it comes out, but if there was ever an appropriate time to say the f-word, it's now.
And his little speech works, because Pete is yanking Patrick closer by the back of his neck and crashing their mouths together. He sucks and bites at Patricks bottom lip before licking into his mouth, hands roaming all over his torso, over his tight shirt. Patrick moans and arches his chest against Petes, wiggling in Petes lap, feeling his dick through his pants. The only thing separating Patricks (now drooling, hard) cock from Petes are Petes jeans and Patricks panties. He doubts Pete wore underwear of his own tonight, not with jeans that tight.
He rolls his hips down and groans, open mouthed, into Petes kiss, slopping and hot.
But suddenly Petes big hands are on Patricks hips, stopping his movements and pushing him back, just enough that he's not right above his dick anymore. Patrick, embarrassingly, pouts.
"Patrick-" Pete starts, voice rough and strained, "of course I want to have sex with you. I mean, fucking look at you. God, you're so fucking tempting, all the time. With your skirts and your lips and your smile and your thighs, god, Patrick, your thighs are going to be the end of me. But it's- I... I want it to be perfect for you. Like, really perfect. Not just crammed into the backseat of a car, or having to keep quiet because my roommates are next door or something. And I didn't want to push. I didn't want to do anything without having a conversation first. But I never knew how to bring it up. I just want you to be comfortable and feel... like, special."
Pete is blushing and avoiding Patricks eyes.
"... oh," Patrick says. He decides, in that moment, that he loves Pete. What he's feeling right now - it's love.
"I think I should drive you home," Pete says, quietly, after a second.
"What? Why?" Patrick panics for a second. They were supposed to go to Petes place now. Did Patrick do something wrong?
"Nothing, just... I really don't think I'll be able to help myself if we slept in the same bed tonight, after everything you said. And, like I mentioned, I don't want to have to be quiet because Andy and Chris will be getting home."
Oh. Thats why. Patrick can't help but giggle a little bit. Pete joins him, and eventually they're just sitting there in the drivers seat of Petes car, laughing together.
Patrick climbs back over into his own seat, and yes, he notices Pete noticing his ass while he does it. They're both still obviously hard, if the tantalizing bulge in Petes pants is anything to go off of.
But they don't do anything about it. Pete drops Patrick off close to his house and wishes him a goodnight with a chaste kiss. Patrick still desperately wants more, but he doesn't push. Instead, he runs home and just tells his mom that he came home early from the sleepover because he wasn't feeling great. With that, she lets him just go up to his room and rest.
Patrick doesn't rest when he gets to his room, though. No, instead, he leans back against his door the second its shut behind him and shoves a hand down his skirt and under his panties.
He can't stop thinking of Pete growling "you're mine" in the car. It's true. He is Petes. Pete, who takes such good care of him, whose arms he fits into perfectly, who always makes him feel special. It's all Patrick thinks about recently. He thinks about Pete hovering over him, weight pinning him to a mattress, controlling everything Patrick feels. He just knows that Pete is the only person for him.
And he knows the sex will be amazing. He knows it from the way Pete carries himself, the relaxed confidence he has, the security and comfort in his body. Patrick can tell that it'll be the best sex he'll ever have. Not that he's planning on having sex with anyone else. (Unless Pete wants him to. Oh, god, thats hot.)
Patrick comes all over his hand to that thought, Pete telling him to fuck someone else, telling him what to do, ordering him around while he's on full display for someone else.
The next weekend, Patrick is at Petes place after school. It's a regular Friday, Patrick laying on his stomach on Petes bed and doing his math homework, kicking his legs in the air. Pete is at his desk doing whatever work it is he does for school on his computer. This is all very normal for them. Maybe later Patrick will ask his mom if he can have dinner at his friends place, and they'll eat pizza in front of the TV with Chris and Andy and then make out in Petes bed until Pete has to drive Patrick home again. It's a routine Patrick is used to by now. So, he isn't expecting it when the bed dips and a gentle hand comes to rest on his back. Normally Patrick has finished all of his own work, and then waits patiently for Pete to be done with his (until he gets restless and starts bugging Pete about what movie they're gonna watch, or if he can stay for dinner). This is a deviation from that.
Patrick twists his head to look back at Pete, who is looking over Patricks shoulder at his homework.
"Fuck. I do not miss trigonometry," he says. Patrick scoffs. Pete is, like, one of the smartest people he knows. He probably got A's in all his classes, or something.
"Well, lucky for me, this teacher grades homework on completion. She says she's got too many classes to check through every problem," Patrick says, going back to his work.
"Well thats alright. I'll just grade it for you when you're done."
Patrick raises his eyebrows at Pete.
"Why would you grade my math homework?"
"To make sure you're getting a good education, duh."
Patrick just stares at Pete for another moment before going back to his work. Fine, whatever, if Pete wants to look Patricks homework over, then why not?
It does get a little distracting, though, when Petes hand starts rubbing circles on his back, breath fluttering in Patricks hair as he watches him work out the problem. But, it's fine, nothing Patrick can't work through.
And then Petes hand starts wandering down, just slightly. His thumb brushes the waistband of Patricks school skirt
Patrick puts his pencil down and looks up at Pete again, who’s still just looking at Patricks worksheet calmly.
“What?” Pete asks. “Come on, go back to your work. Maybe we’ll have time to finish that Star Wars movie before I have to take you home.”
Confused, Patrick just goes back to his trig problems. He's only got one more after he finishes this one.
But now all he can think about is the warmth coming from Petes broad hand on the small of his back, so close to somewhere Patrick desperately wants it to be. It is decidedly more distracting than when Pete was just rubbing circles between his shoulder blades. But he keeps working, because, whatever.
And then Petes hand slides down to rest on Patricks ass. Patrick puts his pencil down immediately.
"Pete?" He asks.
"Patrick," Pete responds calmly, as if he isn't currently feeling Patrick up through his skirt.
Patrick gets up from his position laying down and moves to straddle Pete. Petes hands automatically go to Patricks waist, just holding him there. Patrick is about to duck his head in for a kiss, but Pete pulls back.
"You have to finish your homework, silly," Pete says, picking up Patricks pencil and handing it back to him. Patrick gapes. Is he serious? They're finally getting somewhere, after having discussed that they're both interested in sex, and Pete is making him do his freaking homework?
Patrick huffs and grabs his worksheet, pressing Pete down until he's laying flat on his back, Patrick seated in his lap. He looks at Pete, wiggles a bit in his lap, just to feel him through his jeans, and puts the paper down on Petes chest. He quickly scribbles down some work, not bothering to double check his answers like he normally would, and then puts the pencil down, crossing his arms.
"There. Now kiss me," Patrick says. Pete laughs - laughs! At a time like this! A sexy time! - and just shakes his head.
"I've still gotta check it for mistakes."
Patrick can't believe this. He rolls his eyes and sighs loudly and generally acts very put-upon as Pete makes a show of pulling the paper up in front of his face and squinting at each and every problem.
"Okay, good thing you've got me here, because problems two, thirteen, and fourteen are wrong," Pete says. He flattens the paper back down onto his chest and points at it. "Fix 'em. And then maybe I'll kiss you."
"I hate you," Patrick says, grabbing his pencil anyways and going to see where he messed the problems up. Pete just smiles sunnily up at him.
The second problem is a pretty easy fix. He sees what he did wrong right away and just has to rework the problem from there. He's starting on thirteen when Pete starts shifting his hips under Patrick.
Okay, yeah, thats definitely Petes dick getting hard under his jeans. All of the blood in Patricks body redirects to his own dick. He gets hard so fast it makes him dizzy. This is happening. Finally finally finally, Pete is initiating this, and they're going to have sex.
Patrick drops his pencil and ducks down to kiss Pete. For a few glorious moments, Pete kisses back, his hands on Patricks hips, holding him steady while he grinds up. Then, he turns his head away.
"Doesn't look like you've finished your corrections, 'Trick."
"Are you kidding me?!?"
Pete just smiles, as if he isn't obviously hard and wanting.
Patrick bites the inside of his cheek and gets back to his math work. Freaking Pete and his freaking need to always be in charge. Yes, it's hot, but still!
It is difficult to focus on trig homework when you have Pete Wentz under you, the bulge in his pants rubbing right against your own when you sit a certain way. Patrick is going crazy. But every time his pencil stops moving and he closes his eyes to relish in the feeling of grinding down against Pete, Pete tells him that he'd better finish his work.
Once Patrick has finished question thirteen, and is sure that it's the right answer, he moves on to fourteen. And then Pete starts stroking Patricks sides. Just gently swiping his hands up and down his body in a way that makes Patrick shiver. But he's determined to finish this homework now, and he won't let Pete keep messing with him.
For a moment, he thinks Petes done, when his brings his hands to a stop low on Patricks thighs. But then his fingers start creeping up under his skirt, and that is when Patrick makes a squeaking noise, high in his throat. Pete just smiles, watching Patricks face while he slowly moves his hands up his thighs and around his hips under the skirt, to grab at his ass.
"Pete," Patrick says, though it comes out more like a plea.
"Come on, baby. I know you can finish your work for me."
And thats all Pete has to say, really. He could probably add 'for me' to the end of any request, and Patrick would do it in a heartbeat.
It feels like it takes forever to finish fixing the last math problem, and by the time he does, Petes got two fingers swiping over his hole, on top of his panties.
"Done," Patrick squeaks, shoving the paper into Petes face and tossing the pencil off the bed, racing to get a hand on his dick.
Pete chuckles and squints at Patricks work, as if he actually cares at all. But pretty soon he's tossing the worksheet to the floor, and Patrick takes advantage right away and starts kissing Pete like he's starving for it. (He kind of is.)
Pete kisses back, but makes sure that he's the one in control. He nips at Patricks lips, pulls just far enough away that Patrick has to reach for him, then surges forward again, licking into Patricks mouth like he's made of sugar.
Patrick doesn't really realize that he's mindlessly grinding his hips down against Pete until Pete's hands go to his waist, stilling him. When his hands move away, Patrick gets the message, and stays still. Petes hands start roaming all over Patricks torso, up his arms, light touches to his hips, chest, stomach. His palms slowly drag down Patricks back over his shirt. Patrick gasps into Petes mouth when Petes hands grab his ass, but Pete just keeps kissing him relentlessly.
They've never touched like this before. Sure, Pete has put a possessive hand on his lower back when they're in public, or stroked his sides while they're making out, but never this, never, like, groping. Patrick decides right away that he likes it and thinks Pete should do this all the time.
But before he knows it, Pete is smoothly flipping them over so that he's on top. Patrick also gasps at that, but it's getting harder and harder to be embarrassed by his reactions to all the hot stuff Pete does as he gets more turned on.
But then Pete stops. Stops kissing him, stops touching him, instead using his elbows to bracket Patricks head and look down at him. His bangs almost reach Patricks forehead like this. Patrick is just about to try to pull Pete back down to him, but Pete speaks up first.
"I'm gonna ask you something," he says, "and I want you to actually think about it, and answer me honestly. Okay?"
It sounds more like an order than a request, which is really doing things for Patrick right now, so he just nods quickly and tries not to blush even more than he already is.
"Chris and Andy won't be home until later tonight. You don't have to be back home for a few hours. Do you want to have sex?" Pete asks. Even though he says it in such a serious and sincere tone, Patrick can't help but reach a hand down and grind into his own palm. Any time that Pete mentions sex will always be hot, even if he sounds all business-like. He's biting his lip and nodding as soon as the words are out of Petes mouth. "I need to actually hear you say this one, Trick."
"Yes. Yes, yes please. Please, just. Just kiss me again, okay?" See, when Patrick makes a request it totally sounds like begging, and not the commanding that Pete was doing when he was asking for something.
Pete smiles down at him, all smug and fond at the same time.
"You know, Patrick, some people might hear that and call you easy," Pete teases.
"Only for you."
Pete laughs.
"Aw, so you're my little slut?"
He's joking. He's definitely just joking. But Patricks dick does not get that memo and decides that Pete has just said the hottest thing of all time and that it needs attention right away. Patrick tries to communicate this, but it just comes out in an awkward squeak sound.
Petes expression darkens a little, then. In fact, if Patrick looks closely, he would almost say it looks like Petes blushing.
"Yeah? You gonna be a slut for me, 'Trick?"
Patrick nods. He wants so fucking desperately to yank Pete down, pull their hips together, rut against him until he comes, but just Petes stare has him pinned to the sheets, unmoving.
"Fuck, 'Trick. You're so fucking hot. Been so hard to keep my hands to myself," Pete says, as he starts kissing Patricks jaw and neck, working his way down. All Patrick can do is whine and put his hands on Petes shoulders. He wants to say something like, 'you didn't have to' or 'now you don't have to' or even 'just please fucking touch me' but words evade him.
"You’ve got this gorgeous fucking body,” Pete continues, "never seen a guy with a body this sexy. When you untuck your shirt after school and I catch a glimpse of your stomach, your hips, God.”
He keeps kissing down Patricks neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin there.
“And your fucking ass, ‘Trick. Your thighs. Some of your shorter skirts don’t cover a whole lot when you bend over, you know that? Takes so much to not just pull your panties down and fuck you right then and there sometimes.”
Patrick is possibly going out of his mind right now. He can feel himself leaking into his panties, shocks of pleasure going through him every time Petes lips move against his skin. It’s like being electrocuted. It’s relentless.
“Pete, please,” Patrick tries, pouring all his need into his voice, hoping Pete hears it, gets what he's trying to say - trying to ask for.
Pete looks up at Patricks face.
"I've got you, baby. Don't worry."
Pete starts slowly unbuttoning Patricks shirt as he kisses lower and lower down his neck, his chest. By the time the shirt is unbuttoned to his stomach, Petes licking across Patricks nipples. And, wow, Patrick never thought that would be sexy, but it's so sexy. Petes hot tongue against his sensitive chest is enough to have his back arching off the bed, hands clawing at Petes back to try and get a grip on his shirt. Pete takes the hint and sits up for a moment to pull his t-shirt over his head.
Thats when Patrick kind of stops short. Pete must be able to see it on his face, because he doesn't immediately go back to touching and kissing.
"Anything wrong?" He asks, sitting up above Patrick.
"No, no, just... like, looking at your body, then looking at mine... I feel like I'm a little disappointing compared to you," Patrick says. He didn't even realized that he was thinking it until the words come out, but it's true. Seeing them right next to each other like this, Patrick feels kind of stupid.
“Baby. Nothing about you could ever ever disappoint me. You’re perfect. I already know that, and nothing can change it.”
“But I’m not really… in your league, I guess.”
Wow, this conversation is totally ruining the mood. Patricks dick doesn’t seem to think so, though, if the way it’s still definitely hard in his panties says anything.
“Patrick,” Pete sounds genuinely shocked in a way that maybe makes Patrick feel a little better. “You’re everything I could ever want. Both your looks and who you are as a person. You’re beautiful. And if you’re ‘not in my league’, it’s because you’re way too good for me, and nothing else.”
“But, Pete, I’m… sort of chubby, you know? And you’re all muscly and lean and stuff.”
“More to love,” Pete says, leaning down to kiss Patrick again, deep and slow this time, before sitting back up.
Patrick is blushing from head to toe. Pete just said love. Like, the big L. Love. About Patrick and his body. He covers his face with his hands to hide his stupid wide smile and tomato-red face.
“I love you,” Patrick says quickly, like the words are in a rush to get out of his chest.
Pete carefully grabs his wrists and pries his hands away from his face.
“I love you too.”
They sit there with big dorky smiles, just staring at each other for a while, until Patrick starts guiding Petes hands back to the buttons of his shirt.
When Pete unbuttons the shirt the rest of the way, pushing it to the side, Patrick sits up to make it easier to take the shirt off entirely. After that, all bets seem to be off, because Pete starts attacking Patricks chest with lips and teeth and tongue, starting high but moving towards Patricks nipples pretty quickly.
It feels better than Patrick ever imagined something like this would feel. He hasn’t imagined a lot, really, since he doesn’t have any experience to draw upon. But he definitely hadn’t thought that something as simple as Pete kissing his chest would be enough to make him arch off the bed, chills rising on his skin, body begging for more.
It’s when Pete catches skin between his teeth, right next to one of Patricks nipples, that Patrick moan-whimpers in an embarrassing display of helplessness. He can feel Petes smile against his chest and grabs at Petes shoulders, just needing something to hold on to. Pete just keeps teasing, avoiding Patricks nipples but surely leaving temporary marks all over the rest of his chest.
“Pete, please,” Patrick begs, not even sure exactly what he wants, until Pete finally gives it to him. Pete just glances up before taking Patricks nipple in his mouth and pinching the other.
Patrick can’t help but gasp, arching up and moving away at the same time. The contrast between softwarmwet tongue and lips on one and the sharp hot pain on the other has him writhing against Pete.
“Fuck,” Pete says, moving to lick and kiss and bite all around Patricks chest, cupping him there in both hands. “So pretty, ‘Trick. Like a girl.”
Patrick decides to think about the fact that that comment definitely made his dick leak more precome later, and just grinds up mindlessly against Petes hips for now. And, wow, that friction is perfect, and this is going to be over way too soon if they continue like this.
“Pete, Pete, Pete,” Patrick chants, pushing at Petes shoulders for a moment.
“Yeah, whats up, baby?”
“I’m, like, seriously going to… finish. Soon. If we don’t get a move on,” Patrick says, knowing he’s blushing terribly from the heat he feels in his face and spreading down his chest.
Pete laughs, pressing his smile against Patricks jaw and kissing him there.
“Alright, alright. We’ll get a move on,” Pete says. He rolls over and reaches into his bedside drawer to pull out a bottle of lube and a condom. By the time he’s back, Patrick has spread his legs apart, bent at the knee. He’s ready for this, okay? He’s been ready for this.
Pete inhales sharply when he sees Patrick like that, eyes going dark. For a moment, Patrick feels self conscious, exposed, but it goes away when Pete settles down between his legs, two warm heavy hands on his thighs, spreading them further.
“Fuck, Patrick,” he says, reaching down and just caressing his cock through his panties. Patricks hips jump, another noise coming out of his mouth that he never knew he could make. He tries to keep himself still as Pete hooks a finger through his panties and pulls them aside, the cold air of the room hitting his dick.
Pete brushes his thumb over Patricks bare hole, and Patrick can’t help but tense up, holding his breath. Pete doesn’t push in yet, but that little bit of pressure makes Patricks dick jerk anyways.
Pete is pouring lube onto his fingers like he can’t move fast enough, giving Patrick a warning before he puts some directly onto his hole, too.
Patrick tenses and his hips jump, once again, but Pete just smooths his dry hand down Patricks side, to his hip.
“Its okay, baby. No need to get jumpy.”
Patrick nods, not really trusting his voice at the moment. The feeling of lube on his rim is strange, new. Patrick has only ever used spit and one of his own fingers, and even then he’s only done it a few times.
Pete reaches down, presses the tip of his index finger to Patricks rim, circling it a few times. Patrick can see his chest, red with blush, rising and falling quickly with his breath.
“You need to calm down, okay ‘Trick? It’s alright, we can stop whenever you want to,” Pete says, finger still there, just a steady pressure.
“I definitely don’t want to stop!” Patrick blurts. “I just- I really want this. I’ve really wanted this for a while.”
Pete smirks, looking down at Patricks hard cock where it’s jumping out of his panties. “I can tell,” he says.
Patrick can’t see himself really well from this angle, lying down on his back, with his skirt still on, but he can imagine that his dick looks flushed red and angry, wet at the tip.
Pete starts pushing in at a slow and steady pace. It’s… pretty easy, actually. It doesn’t really hurt. The first knuckle slides in seamlessly, and then the second. It feels… not dirty, thats not the right word, but… obscene. In a really hot way. Like this isn’t something Patrick is supposed to be doing, but he’s doing it anyways, and it feels good.
It doesn’t take long for Patrick to realize that he’s pushing himself down onto Petes finger as it pumps in and out, Pete whispering nonsense to him about how good he’s doing, how well he’s taking it, how pretty he is.
“Another one, Pete, please,” Patrick whines, hands fisted in the sheets of Petes bed.
Pete adds more lube - as if there isn’t already double the amount they need - and twists two fingers together, pushing them in at once. That certainly feels different. Theres a stretch, a sharp spike of something close to pain, but not quite there. It all goes right to Patricks dick, after shooting through his whole body, making him go breathless.
“That okay?” Pete asks, slowly moving in and out, crooking his fingers just slightly. Patrick gasps and nods and generally tries to communicate as well as he can that this is all so okay.
Patrick is impatient, but Pete doesn’t let him go straight from two fingers to actually being fucked, so they do three, but once Patrick starts begging, it seems that Pete has run out of patience too.
“Fuck, fuck, okay, Patrick, just a second, just,” Pete pulls his fingers out, grabbing the condom. Patrick whines at the weird empty feeling, like he’s lost something, and reaches down to tear the condom wrapper open himself. Petes slippery fingers would take too long anyways. He practically throws the condom at Pete before laying back down, spreading his legs as wide as they’ll go.
“Jesus, Patrick,” Pete growls, situating himself above him, one hand rolling the condom on and the other next to Patricks head on the mattress, holding himself up. The second the condom is on, Pete is kissing Patrick. Well, devouring him is probably a better word. One hand, the one not covered in lube, comes up to grab Patricks jaw, directing him on where to turn his head, and he only lets go when Patrick whines at bites at Petes lip.
“Come on already,” Patrick moans.
Pete shoves his jeans and briefs off in one quick motion, reaches down, and adjusts himself so that the tip of his cock is pressing right at Patricks hole. He doesn’t even get the chance to push in himself before Patrick is baring down on him, grabbing Petes shoulders and levering himself onto his cock.
It’s bigger than the fingers, and Patrick regrets not getting to look at it, see how big Pete is, how long, how wide, questions he’s had for so long, things he’s fantasized about since they first started dating. But then he’s too busy feeling fullfullfull to think about anything at all.
Pete is slow, but when he’s finally fully buried in him, Patrick can’t help but hum happily and wiggle down. He’d heard this was supposed to hurt, but other than that stretched out feeling, it doesn’t. It feels perfect. It feels like Pete was made for him.
“Shit, Patrick,” Pete moans, probably the hottest sound Patricks heard in his life, “feels so fucking good, fuck. Can I move?”
“Yes, definitely, please,” Patrick squeaks, voice high and breathy.
Petes thrusts are slow, but steady and unrelenting, reaching deeper every time. The drag of Petes dick inside him keeps bringing Patrick back to that obscene feeling of hotdirtyshameless that has him dragging his nails down Petes shoulder blades, trying to somehow get closer closer closer.
Patrick doesn’t even realize that he has his eyes squeezed shut, face probably all screwed up and pinched other than his mouth thats hanging open and panting, until Pete hits that one spot inside him. He gasps, eyes jumping open, hand going right to his cock, just to grab, just to squeeze the base, because he doesn’t want this to be over yet, can't have this be over yet. But that feeling, that one place Pete hit inside him, it felt like fucking gold shooting through his body, felt better than anything he's felt before when touching himself. He can't help the cry that comes out of his mouth. He needs more of that, of Pete touching him right there.
“Yeah?” Pete asks, grinning down at Patrick, thrusting in again, “there?”
Patrick nods quickly and bites his lip, grabbing at Petes shoulder with his free hand.
From then on, Petes cock keeps dragging over that place inside him almost every time he slides his hips forward, gradually going harder faster better until all Patrick can hear is the slap of their skin, the beautiful sounds falling from Petes mouth, and his own heartbeat loud in his ear. Petes fucking him so hard that he doesn’t even have to move his hand on his dick, he just keeps his grip loose enough to move with Petes thrusts.
“Pete, Pete, I’m-“ Patrick barely gets the words out before he’s coming all over his stomach and chest, some getting onto Petes abs as well.
“Fuck, Trick,” Pete grits out, hands both going to Patricks hips, grabbing on tighttighttight and dragging Patrick up and down on his cock like he weighs nothing. If Patrick could come twice in a row, he would just from that.
And then Pete is groaning Patricks name and falling forward onto him again, breathing into the crook of his neck.
“Fuck,” Pete finally says, leaning back up onto his elbows and brushing sweaty strands of hair from Patricks forehead. “Patrick you are fucking amazing.”
“Shut up,” Patrick says, unable to hold back his smile at this point, blushing down to his chest. He looks up at Petes green brown eyes and his wide smile and can’t help himself from saying “I love you so much.”
“I love you so so so so so much Patrick you have no fucking idea.” Pete says back, leaning down to kiss Patrick, long and languid and relaxed.
“‘M gonna pull out now, okay?” Pete mumbles against Patricks lips. Patrick just nods, and tries not to cringe at the strange feeling. It’s like when Pete pulled his fingers out but just… weirder. He shivers as Pete sits up and quickly tosses the condom into the trash bin, half from the chill that comes from Pete’s body heat leaving him, and half from the sudden emptiness. The weirdest part is all the lube all over his panties and some even on his skirt, cold now, touching his skin.
He can’t help himself from grimacing over at the little trash bin in the corner of Petes room, though. Gross.
Pete laughs, and it sounds more free and happy than Patricks ever heard before. It’s like the best kind of music.
“I’ll take the trash out later, I promise,” Pete says, grabbing a few tissues from his bedside table and wiping Patrick and him down. “First can we finish cleaning up and just cuddle?”
If it was possible to blush even more, then Patrick would be doing it. How did he get the sweetest boyfriend in the whole world?
“Yeah, I guess cuddling is okay.”
“You liar, you love cuddling!”
“I love you,” Patrick mumbles, feeling stupid after he says it, but Petes mile-wide smile makes it worth it.
“Patrick loves me,” he says, all singsong-y.
“Whatever, you love me too”
“I do,” Pete says earnestly. “So, so much.”
Then Patrick is yawning and tries to snuggle close to Pete, but a hand on his shoulder stops him.
“Wait, wait. I should get a washcloth and, like, actually clean us up first. And then also set an alarm, because you need to be home later. But then we can pass out. Promise.”
“Ugh, why can’t we just skip that stuff and sleep. I’m tired. Is sex supposed to make you tired?”
Pete laughs at Patricks post-coitus lack of filter.
“Sometimes it does that, yeah. But don’t worry, I’ll clean you up and take care of the alarm and drive you home later. You just lay there and look pretty, okay?”
“Easy peasy,” Patrick says, smiling all smug and stretching out languidly on the rumpled sheets when Pete gets up.
Once Pete is back from the bathroom with a wet washcloth, though, Patrick is glad for the extra clean up, because the cursory wipe with some tissues definitely didn’t do the job entirely.
Petes careful when he peels Patricks skirt and panties down his legs.
"Can't believe I didn't even have the patience to take these off," Pete laughs, setting the clothes aside on his bedside table.
"It's okay," Patrick says, still smiling, "I wouldn't have had the patience to let you, anyways." That, and also, the idea of Pete wanting him so bad that he just pushed Patricks panties aside and fucked him like that is going to be seared into his brain forever.
Pete drags the washcloth tenderly all over Patrick, even the places that can’t possibly have lube or come on them. He's especially gentle when cleaning up between Patricks legs, which Patrick appreciates because he’s sort feeling sore and sensitive there now.
But finally Pete’s done, and Patrick can curl into him for real, tangling their legs together, resting his head on Petes chest, making sure theres no body part that isn’t touching Petes warm skin. He makes for a good heater. Also, he’s the best at hugs and spooning and all things cuddly. Patrick got pretty lucky in the boyfriend department.
Hours later, when Patrick is asleep in his own bed, wearing a sweater he stole from Petes room, he still can’t stop smiling.