Eventually it was clear that his options were (1) give in, (2) listen to Pete whining about it for the rest of forever, or (3) kill him, and Patrick wasn't entirely confident in his ability to commit the perfect murder yet. "Fine, fine, fine," said Patrick. "Just, um... don't talk."
"That's it? That's all I get, don't talk? I got enough of that making out in the basement when my parents were upstairs."
"Pete. I didn't need to know that."
"You so did," said Pete smugly.
Patrick spared a wistful thought for the perfect murder option before crossing his arms and glaring at Pete. "For someone who wants to be bossed around, you're still talking a lot."
"Not bossed, Patrick! Ordered."
Patrick tried to think non-murderous thoughts. If this resulted in being too embarrassed to ever have sex again, he was going to do something really horrible to Pete. For starters, he was going to tell Gabe. "Okay, okay... um... take your pants off. And then don't move."
Pete scrambled to get out of his pants, at least, and then he just sat there.
"Um." This was so awkward. Seriously, Patrick thought, in a brief, panicked break from blaming Pete, why didn't they cover basic BDSM in sex ed? Nothing too intense, just maybe a pamphlet: Giving Orders in Bed for Dummies. "No, don't not move like that. Get... Do you want me to blow you or not? I can't even reach your dick, Jesus."
"You're the one who said not to move," said Pete, smart-alecky, but he was staring at Patrick in that creepy midnight stalker who sits on your windowsill until 4 am way which Patrick had eventually come to identify as Pete's idea of romance.
"Okay, you can move!" said Patrick. "This is – I don't know what I'm doing here, Pete." He covered his face, and while he was looking away Pete started to undo Patrick's belt. "Not to undress me!" Patrick snapped. "Get the fuck on the bed, all right, this was your stupid idea, and lie on your back!"
And when he looked up, it was like Pete had fucking teleported or something. He was stretched out on the bed like he'd been tied there, arms and legs apart, and he was still staring, now out of half-closed eyes. Huh.
"That was hot," Pete said hopefully.
"Shut up," said Patrick. And here was the weird part: Pete actually did.
Patrick could get used to this.