Pat will never understand why Jonny ever doubts Pat’s willingness to follow through on their wagers. He hadn’t been at all joking when he’d told Jonny “loser gets fucked on the plane ride home” (over shot totals with an amendment for goals and assists, because Pat has learned his fucking lesson), but judging by the expression on Jonny’s face when he opens the door of the airplane bathroom to see Pat leaning casually against the opposite door, well. He’d doubted.
“What are you doing,” Jonny hisses as Pat pushes his way into the tiny room, tugging the door shut behind him and locking it. They don’t really fit like this, both too broad to be comfortable, knees knocking together and chests pressed tight, so Pat just licks a stripe up Jonny’s neck in response. “Patrick,” Jonny gasps.
“I’m not doing you in the seats,” Pat says, tilting his head back to grin up at Jonny’s red face. “Turn around.”
“Wha—no, this is crazy,” Jonny says. He pushes against Pat’s chest, but Pat just braces his feet between Jonny’s against the base of the toilet and leans against the wall, waving a hand in the tight space between them.
“Turn around, lover,” Pat says. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a travel-sized bottle of lube and a condom—they don’t need it, technically, but he’s pretty sure Jonny would actually kill him if they didn’t use one tonight.
Jonny stares, mouth round, but when Pat waggles his eyebrows, he flushes a deep red and drops his hands to his fly. Pat sticks out his tongue, pleased, and puts the condom on the counter next to the sink so he can crack open the lube. He pulls his feet back so Jonny can turn around before shoving his pants and boxers down over his hips. With Jonny’s feet spread as wide as the small room will allow, they pull tight on his thighs.
“Fuuuck,” Pat drawls, sliding a palm over the smooth skin of Jonny’s ass. It’s a good view, leaning low down on the wall so he can see the warm, huge curve of it, his thick thighs, the flex of his shoulders under his shirt as Jonny presses his hands to the wall behind the toilet. When Patrick slides his nails down Jonny’s thighs, Jonny shivers and then peers back over his shoulder with an unconvincing frown.
“Get on with it, asshole,” he says grumpily, and then gasps when Pat slides his fingers up to press between his cheeks and thumb at his entrance. “Shit.”
“Shh,” Pat says, letting go and wetting his fingers with the lube before putting it by the sink. “Gotta be quiet, babe.”
“I hate you,” Jonny grumbles, but he drops his head and arches his back when Patrick pushes a finger in. Pat twists his wrist to press his thumb behind Jonny’s balls as Jonny relaxes. “C’mon, faster,” Jonny says, low. “I can take it.”
Pat grins and straightens up so he can get a better angle to stretch Jonny out, quick and efficient as he works in the second finger. He slides his free hand up under Jonny’s t-shirt, scraping his nails along Jonny’s spine. Jonny sighs and folds his arms against the wall so he can lean his head against them.
“Good?” Pat murmurs, rubbing his hand over Jonny’s hip. Jonny likes the prep but never wants to admit it, is always bitching at Pat to get on with it so Pat can’t see how stupid being fingered open makes him. One day Pat’s going to tie Jonny up so he can’t interrupt, just to see how desperate he can make Jonny with it, but today is not that day. More pressing matters await.
“Yeah, I—” Jonny groans as Pat rubs the tip of a third, thick finger against the rim. “C’mon, just fuck me.”
Pat curls his fingers in the hot clench of Jonny’s hole. “Yeah, not going to hurt you,” he says with a low laugh. “You worried somebody’s gonna come knocking?”
“Pat,” Jonny says breathily, thighs trembling as Pat splays his fingers and holds Jonny open.
Pat smiles and works his own fly down with his other hand. “Or maybe,” Pat says, pulling out his dick and fumbling for the lube, “you’re hoping somebody will, huh?” Jonny tightens around him. Pat’s lips quirk up, and he pulls his fingers out to roll on the condom. He slicks himself up and presses the head of his dick against Jonny’s entrance. “Ready, babe?”
Jonny just nods, back arched and tense, so Patrick goes ahead and starts working his dick in. Jonny’s still pretty tight, and Pat’s dick is fat and full, so he takes his time with it, thumbs spreading Jonny’s cheeks wide. It’s not exactly a hardship to watch Jonny’s hole open slowly around the head of his dick. When it slips all the way in, Jonny groans loud and deep.
“Shh,” Pat says absently, rubbing at the stretched, pink skin around his dick before shoving in a little deeper. Jonny’s hot and so tight, but Pat doesn’t want to rush. It’s a five hour flight, after all, and it’s not like there isn’t a second bathroom. “The guys are right out there, Tazer.” Except Jonny just groans louder at that. Patrick flushes, dick twitching and hips pushing forward, working further in and looking up at Jonny’s face.
Jonny’s cheek is pressed to his forearm where it’s braced on the wall. His eyes are shut, eyelashes fanned out on his pink cheeks, and his mouth is slack and open as he groans. Patrick’s considering wrapping his palm over Jonny’s mouth to keep him quiet when the plane jolts. The sudden turbulence knocks Pat flush against Jonny, his dick sliding in deep and hard and Jonny yelps.
“Fuck, fuck, sorry. You okay?” Pat asks, grabbing the safety rail with one hand and wrapping the other tight around Jonny’s hip to keep them together.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jonny says, shifting his feet to steady himself as the plane rocks, a little less violently. “Ugh, fuck, Pat.”
“You want me to stop?” Pat asks, worried, but Jonny arches back against Pat’s hips and shakes his head. “Then you gotta be quiet, okay?”
“Fine,” Jonny says. “Just move.”
The swaying of the plane eases up enough for Patrick to get a deep, grinding rhythm going, keeping one hand tight on the rail in case of more turbulence, the other pulling Jonny back onto his dick by his hip. Jonny’s making too much noise, but Pat knows from fucking Jonny alone in well-soundproofed condos that it’s not actually a show, has nothing to do with the guys outside. It’s just how Jonny is when he’s getting fucked, lost in it and a little overwhelmed. Hopefully the white noise of the plane is enough to keep the team from getting an audio track of their fucking, but Pat’s not holding out too much hope. He can’t bring himself to care, though, because between Jonny’s needy sounds and the hot slide of Pat’s dick inside him, Pat’s going hot and tense and shivery, small gasps punched out of him when Jonny squeezes tight.
Jonny’s head is tipped down, forehead pressing into his arms, back of his neck flushed and shiny with sweat. Pat plasters himself over the curve of Jonny’s back so he can lick at the damp skin, tasting salt and Jonny as he works his hips up in short, desperate strokes. Jonny groans and tilts his head back, arching all the way through his spine. Pat slides in deeper with the new angle and shudders hard.
“Oh god,” Jonny says, hands gripping into his arms. “Yeah, c’mon, Pat, please.”
“Fuck, fuck,” Pat pants. He presses his forehead to Jonny’s neck, squeezing his eyes shut. Two more sharp, short thrusts and he’s coming, grinding deep into Jonny’s ass. And, god, the best part about coming in Jonny is always, always how he gasps and goes tight and shakes with it like he’s coming too, sunk deep into Pat’s pleasure. It’s like getting off twice in the space of a single moment. Jonny has to take some of his weight in the aftermath of his orgasm, Pat's knees are so weak from it.
Jonny lets him catch his breath and then starts shifting against him, fucking himself on Pat’s oversensitive dick. When Jonny pushes up against the wall and drops a hand down to his own dick, Pat inhales and gets it together to bat Jonny’s hand away.
“I got it, I got it,” Pat says, wrapping his fist around Jonny’s hot, hard cock. “Flip up the lid, eh?”
“Sexy,” Jonny says, dry even through his rasp, but he reaches down to turn up the lid of the toilet. Pat squeezes his palm high on the shaft of Jonny’s dick, drawing the foreskin up to slide over the head, and Jonny lets out a loud oh.
“Stick your fingers in your mouth,” Pat says, thumb rubbing into the flare of Jonny’s cockhead. It’s obvious how close Jonny is from how he doesn’t bitch about it, just sucks two in to muffle his moans. Pat’s softening up, now, but Jonny’s keeping shivery-still, pushed back against Pat, so Pat figures he wants Pat’s dick in him when he comes. It’s gotta be soon, then, so Pat presses his mouth to Jonny’s ear, jacking him off with firm strokes, and whispers, “So hot, babe, listening to you when everyone else can hear. Everybody’s gonna know I fucked you in here, took you hard and made you crazy for it.”
And yeah, that’s enough, and Jonny’s not the only one making low, shocked noises as he comes, clenching tight around Pat’s dick as he shakes against him.
“Wow,” Pat says, head thunking against Jonny’s shoulder. “Nice.”
“Jesus christ,” Jonny mutters, like he’s still—or was ever—pissed about this. Pat grins into his shoulder blade, warm and sweaty under Jonny’s t-shirt, and then leans back to pull his dick out. Condom in the trash, lube back in his pocket, dick tucked away and fly done back up—all in all a pretty efficient fuck, even if it did take longer than Pat anticipated. He lets Jonny handle his own clean-up while he washes his hands off, but when Jonny turns in the narrow space, Pat slides his arms over Jonny’s shoulders and leans up for a kiss.
“You’re such a dick,” Jonny says against his lips, his hands gripping Pat’s hips. “This was so inappropriate.”
“You loved it,” Pat says. “Don’t even front.”
Jonny rolls his eyes and kisses him hard, biting at Pat’s lower lip. Pat hums into Jonny’s mouth and licks at the scar on his lip and then reluctantly pulls back.
“We better get out of here before they start knocking,” Pat says as he straightens his shirt. “Ready?”
“You first,” Jonny says darkly, unlocking the door and leaning back over the toilet so Pat can slide out. The cabin is dim and the rest of the team quiet, so Pat relaxes as Jonny steps out behind him.
“I think we’re—” Pat starts in a whisper.
Except Shawzy leans around his chair at the back and starts a mocking slow-clap. And, okay, yeah, that’s pretty much the whole team joining in. Pat’s scarlet but what the hell, none of them just got laid, so he wraps a hand around Jonny’s wrist to keep him from heading into the kitchenette to find a knife for a ritual suicide, and takes a little bow.
“Yeah, yeah, quiet down,” Pat says when the clapping doesn’t slow.
“Us quiet down?” Seabs calls from eight rows up.
“No fucking way could you hear anything up there, Seabiscuit,” Pat says, sauntering down the aisle with his best post-coital swagger, Jonny following reluctantly behind.
Seabs reaches out for a fistbump. “Shawzy was giving us the highlights,” he says.
“That’s definitely gay,” Pat chirps, and Jonny makes a pained sound behind him and shoves him into their seats.
“Shut up, Kaner,” Jonny says, voice strangled as he collapses beside him.
“I’m not the one who can’t keep quiet, babe,” Pat says, stretching his legs out in front of him with a satisfied groan. “Next time you’ll have to suck me off instead.”
“TMI, boys, T-M-fucking-I,” Sharpy says from in front of them, arms braced on the back of his seat. “But that’s half the fun, isn’t it?”
Jonny kicks the back of Sharpy’s seat. “Go back to sleep, Sharp,” he says, shutting his eyes.
“Sure, Toes,” Sharpy says, sounding amused but disappearing back into his seat.
“Jesus,” Jonny groans. He sags into his seat, head tilted back.
“Too far?” Pat asks quietly, nudging Jonny with his elbow until he opens his eyes and looks over at Pat. It’s never been before, but Jonny looked pretty surprised at Pat’s insistence on following through on this particular wager. “You gotta let me know if—”
“No,” Jonny interrupts swiftly, pressing his fingers to Pat’s knee. “No, it was—you know I like it.”
“Well, yeah,” Pat says, keeping his voice low. “Just checking.”
“I know you—you don’t have to. It’d be fine if… we maybe shouldn’t—”
“Hey,” Pat says, knocking his forehead against Jonny’s. “I’m into this, okay? Because you are. And I’m into you.”
“If you’re sure,” Jonny says, doubtful. Pat reaches up to thumb Jonny’s lower lip out from between his teeth, cupping his chin and kissing him before sitting back.
“You can bet on it, babe.”