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The first time Patrick notices it, he shrugs it off as something that Jonny just… does.

They’ve just come off the ice, getting a shutout win against the Stars. The crowd had been insane at the UC, and everyone’s laughing as they all pile into the locker room. Even Q’s mustache is curled upwards in a satisfied way, and he lets them go early. They decide to celebrate at a bar nearby. Patrick catches a ride with Jonny, announcing that Jonny better get him home safely tonight. Jonny frowns and grumbles, but ends up checking the give of the seatbelt around Patrick’s torso anyway, so Patrick knows he doesn’t really mind.

Within the first hour of arriving at the bar everyone is well on their way to getting drunk. Patrick comes back from grabbing a few beers at the bar, and slides into one of the booths the team has confiscated. Sharpy’s busy with something on his phone and Jonny is across from him, listening to something Seabs is saying.

Patrick slides them all a beer, and takes a sip from his own. It’s a new brand, low on alcohol with a sharp lemon flavor. It’s good. He smacks his lips and lets his tongue slide across his bottom lip, chasing the flavor. His eyes catch on Jonny’s, who is staring intently at him from across the table. “What? You talkin’ shit about me?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at Jonny.

Jonny just shakes his head, his eyes averting again as he continues to listen to Seabs’ story. Patrick snorts softly at Jonny’s behavior, and drains the last bit from his bottle. The drink is somehow making him more thirsty, and he darts his tongue out, chasing a few drops that are beginning to slide down the neck of the bottle. The table shakes a little as Jonny loudly thunks his beer bottle on the wood of the table top.

“The fuck?” Sharpy startles, nearly dropping his phone.

“You okay?” Seabs asks Jonny, giving Patrick a quick glance.

Jonny clears his throat, briefly looking at Patrick but then nods his head at Seabs. “Yeah, just remembered some stuff I gotta do tomorrow morning.”

Patrick leans back in his seat, trying to balance the chair on two legs. He keeps one hand on the table to keep his balance, and holds his empty bottle with the other hand. He lightly taps the opening of the bottle against his lower lip. “Does that mean you’re gonna head out?” Patricks asks. And damn, Patrick knows how to deal with Jonny’s lazer eyes when they’re out on the ice, but right now the intensity of it is warming the back of his neck.

“No, I’m good,” Jonny grits out. He stands up from his seat. “Anyone want another beer?” Seabs and Sharpy nod, but before Patrick can ask for another one, Jonny has already stalked away.

“Fuck you,” Patrick calls after him, but Jonny doesn’t seem to hear him.

“Probably the other way around, Kaner,” Sharpy mumbles, not looking up from his phone. Patrick rolls his eyes and aims a kick at Sharpy’s shin. His kick might not reach, but the coaster he flings at Sharpy’s head does.


The next time it happens is during a morning practice.

Patrick slept like shit the night before. He’s got a bit of a cold and every time he’d almost fall asleep, his nose would close up and he’d get stirred out of his doze. The cold of the rink and the hustle and bustle of the people around him have managed to wake him up some, but he’s still a little drowsy. Q is explaining a drill, and Patrick stands in line to wait for his turn. He’s planted his stick on the ice, leaning on it. He rests his chin on his glove, feeling one of the edges against his lips. Darting his tongue across his lips, he bites down on the material, feeling it give way to his teeth. He’s following the drill with his eyes, examining his teammates’ moves.

On the other side of the ice is Jonny, and their eyes meet. Patrick gives him a grin, the part of his glove still stuck tightly between his teeth. Jonny, though, is standing still and looking at him, not smiling back. Duncs gives Jonny a shove to go further up the line, and Patrick snorts when Jonny stumbles like he’s never been on the ice before.

Once practice is over, Patrick trudges down the hallway and waits for Jonny in the corridor to the locker room. Jonny’s coming off the ice and Patrick’s chewing on one of the fingers on his glove again, ready to chirp his captain for almost losing his footing.

Jonny’s walking up to him, but before Patrick can make his quip about Bambi on ice, Jonny yanks his glove out of his mouth.

“What the f-”

But Jonny cuts him off and crowds him against the wall. “Don’t chew on your fucking gloves, Kaner, it’s nasty.”

“You’re nasty,” Patrick retorts lamely, wiping his spit slick lips on the back of his hand. He can feel his heart beating loudly, fully aware of how close they are standing and how Jonny has him boxed in. He tries to get his glove back but Jonny’s already moving out of his reach and stalking into the locker room, his long fingers clenched tightly around Patrick’s glove.


His cold doesn’t fade away, and combined with the biting winter weather, he feels his lips getting dry and chapped. Every time he comes back inside after having been outside for a while, the temperature shift makes his lips burn. He’s been whining about it to Erica on the phone for long enough, and she forces him to buy some chapstick. Even through the phone his sister has enough authority over him, so he buys the chapstick and spends the next few days rubbing the balm over his lips.

He goes over to Jonny’s when they have a rare night off. The small walk from his car into the building has him blowing warm air between his hands.

Jonny opens the door for him, rolling his eyes at Patrick’s attempts to get the blood flowing in his hands again. “Weak Americans."

Once Patrick’s gotten rid of his coat and scarf, he lets Jonny push a beer in his hand. Jonny steers Patrick towards the couch with a warm hand at the base of his neck. They settle into the couch together, and Jonny takes pity on Patrick’s pathetic sniffling by pulling a blanket over both of their laps.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Jonny says when Patrick noisily blows his nose. His eyes are fond though, and he tucks Patrick against his side as they watch the new episode of the show they’re currently watching together.

Patrick feels his lips drying out, and runs his tongue across them. He shifts a little, getting out of the comfy position against Jonny’s side to take his chapstick out of the pocket of his jeans. He takes the cap off and gently glides the balm across his lips. Jonny is staring at him, he realizes a few seconds later. “What?” he snips, “Like you’d want pieces of your skin hanging off of your nasty dry lips.”

Jonny doesn’t reply, and Patrick turns to meet his eyes, running the chapstick along his lower lip. Jonny swallows hard, and Patrick can see his throat move. “Does it work?” Jonny asks, and his sincere tone throws Patrick a little.

“Um, I guess,” Patrick shrugs, clicking the cap of the chapstick back on and putting it in his pocket. “When they’re dry I keep biting at the skin, and this keeps me from doing that.”

Jonny just hums, and lifts his arm so Patrick can settle into his previous spot again.

They keep watching TV until Patrick literally falls asleep on the couch, so Jonny makes him get up and brush his teeth. While Patrick is blinking blearily at his reflection in the mirror as he brushes his teeth, Jonny is leaning against the wall, watching Patrick’s movements and patiently waiting for him to finish. When he’s rinsed his mouth, he follows Jonny into his bedroom. Jonny hands him an old UND t-shirt and sweatpants, and goes to plug the charger into his phone while Patrick changes into the clothes. Jonny moves to throw the pillows away from what’s usually Patrick’s side of the bed whenever he stay over.

“I’m gonna crash on the couch, okay?” Patrick says instead, nodding his head in the direction of the living room.

Jonny frowns. “Why? What’s wrong with my bed?”

Patrick laughs softly at Jonny’s indignant expression, and shakes his head. “Nothing, I’m just pretty sure I snore super loudly because of my cold. God knows I don’t wanna deal with your cranky ass being even crankier tomorrow morning because you couldn’t sleep.”

Jonny still doesn’t look happy about it, and he demands to make up the couch with enough pillows and blankets. Patrick knows better than to argue with Jonny once he gets into his mother hen mode. He sends Jonny a thankful smile when he’s tucked in until his chin, and only then Jonny orders him to ‘Sleep well, Kaner’.

Patrick rolls over once the light underneath Jonny’s bedroom door goes off. He’s been sleeping with a stuffed nose for a few days now and he’s gotten the hang of it. He needs to breathe through his mouth while he sleeps, so he tucks his index finger and middle finger into his mouth. That way his mouth won’t fall shut in the night, which would eventually wake him up. He doesn’t mind the feeling of his fingers in his mouth. He’d sucked his thumb right up until he got drafted for the NHL, and then he only stopped because his mom asked him if he’d ever seen an NHL player suck his thumb. Now he realizes she probably only said that because she didn’t want him to have to get braces. He can’t suck on his fingers like he used to because he needs to keep his mouth open. But while he’s running plays through his head, he does let his tongue move between the digits and lets sleep pull him in.

The following morning, he slowly opens his eyes to the sight of Jonny eating his yoghurt with muesli on the couch. He meets Jonny’s concentrated stare and groans softly. He slides his fingers out of his mouth and wipes them on his shirt.“Why didn’t you wake me up, you creeper?” he mumbles, his voice sounding off due to his nose being completely stuffed up.

Jonny just chews on his raisins, not taking his eyes off of Patrick. “Why do you suck your fingers?” he asks, voice monotone, jaw working as he chews.

P atrick is too tired to come to the revelation right away, but after breakfast, when they’ve piled into Jonny’s car to go to practice and Jonny’s once again staring at him while Patrick smears his chapstick across his lips, then it all comes to him. Just the idea of Jonny being into Patrick’s mouth and everything Patrick’s mouth does is enough to set him off on a coughing fit.

Jonny claps his back a few times, looking at him with a worried furrow between his brows. He turns a sharp left where they should’ve gone right. “We’re stop by the pharmacy first because I can’t look at you being all pathetic anymore,” he declares, determined look on his face. And yeah, that’s how Patrick realizes Jonny’s got both a physical and an emotional boner for him.


The days following his epiphany he keeps wondering whether he’s not just making it up. Maybe Jonny is just being extra weird this season and that explains all the staring at his mouth and the obsession with everything he does with his mouth. Besides, his brain has even more trouble trying to get around the possibility of Jonny liking him. Because, yeah, they might’ve been best buddies for years now and they hardly do anything apart, but Jonny’s never even shown interest in guys before. Patrick likes to think that he has thrown enough hints around about himself that people expect him to at least be bi-curious, but with Jonny, he has no clue.

And after a week in which basically nothing happens that proves to him that Jonny’s into him, Patrick is ready to believe the whole thing was just a weird dream induced by a wrong combination of DayQuill and NyQuill. But then they’re on the road again, and Jonny has just muscled Sharpy out of the way to sit next to Patrick on the plane. Patrick braces his elbow on the armrest between them, and tucks his hand underneath his chin. He smiles at Jonny, and Jonny smiles back before taking out his iPad and reviewing some gametape from yesterday. Patrick watches as well for a few minutes but then he lets his eyes droop and dozes all through take-off.

The sleeves of his hoodie are too long, reaching well past the tips of his fingers. Patrick rubs away a tickle underneath his nose against the fabric that’s covering his hand, and the end of his sleeve brushes against his lips. Instinctively, he opens his mouth and traps the piece between his lips. He worries the fabric between his teeth, slowly chewing it. He doesn’t know how long he stays like that, waking up every now and then when one of his teammates is being loud. Eventually, it’s Jonny who wakes him up.

“Hey,” Jonny says softly, and Patrick feels Jonny’s fingers against his mouth for a quick second. Jonny pries the fabric of the hoodie’s sleeve out of Patrick’s mouth. “You know that’s mine, right?”

Patrick wonders why Jonny can sound both sarcastic and ridiculously fond at the same time. But then he remembers the past weeks, and oh, yeah, that’s why. He opens his eyes and stretches slowly. “I thought after we signed our contracts what’s yours would be mine,” he says, feeling his joints pop.

Jonny doesn’t say anything to that, he just folds up the sleeve Patrick was chewing on. Patrick tries to press it, wants to see Jonny react. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind sharing everything. Your shower is fucking amazing.”

This time he does see the flush that is slowly creeping up Jonny’s neck and dusting his cheeks in a soft shade of pink. Patrick bites his lip, trying not to smile too wide because fuck yeah , Jonny wants him. He knows he could say something, or tug Jonny into his hotel room and just let things go from there.

The thing is, though… Jonny’s behavior towards him since the whole obsession with his mouth began has been exactly what Patrick likes the most about him. He’s a gentleman, okay, but he’s definitely rubbed a out a few orgasms imagining Jonny yelling at him, pushing him around a little, and just overall being the demanding guy that he is. Jonny can be pretty high strung when it comes to Patrick, and now that he’s discovered how much his mouth can affect Jonny, it's only logical he’s gonna use it for all its worth.


Over the course of a week, Patrick gives it his all. He chews on the caps of his pens, taps the TV remote against his lips, nearly ruins the sleeves of many of Jonny’s sweaters. He even breaks out the ol’ lollipop maneuver. And yeah, it causes Jonny to look constipated (but in a hot way), and he goes all rude and pushy which is great, but he doesn’t snap. Patrick’s gotta give it to him, Jonny can even make restraint into a professional sport if he wants to. The thing is, Patrick is going crazy. He just wants Jonny to push him up against the wall, dig his fingers into his hair and tug on his curls. And maybe Jonny would let him suck his dick because Patrick’s seen Jonny’s dick and that’s a dick he wants to lick all over. Still, even if Jonny didn’t have a pretty dick he’d still wanna rub his face on it. Realizations like that make him roll his eyes, because feelings . For Jonny. How could he have let that happen? For now, he’s dealing with it by jerking off like a teenager and putting his mouth on basically every object he can find.


At the end of the week, he’s not feeling optimistic about his mission anymore. Nothing indicates that Jonny is going to snap anytime soon, and he even held his finger out for Patrick to lick and taste the pasta sauce.

So here here they are, lounging on the couch and pushing their empty plates further up the coffee table with their toes. “You should cook more often, man,” Patrick sighs, rubbing his stomach absentmindedly. “Hell, I oughta lock you up and stockholm you into cooking for me.”

Jonny snorts, pushing his shoulder against Patrick’s. “I’ll think about it,” he says, rifling through one of the many fishing magazines he leaves around Patrick’s apartment. “You gonna get dessert?”

Patrick grins, and gets off the couch. While he’s grabbing the spoons and bowls, he hears Jonny puttering around in the living room and the TV going on. He puts two scoops of ice cream in both of their bowls, and just to annoy Jonny he adds a dollop of whipped cream on top of his own. Walking back into the living room, he sees Jonny sitting up straight on the couch, chewing on his bottom lip like he’s thinking about something way harder than his brain can handle.

“Here ya go,” he says, dropping the bowl in Jonny’s lap. He sinks back down on the couch, and makes sure to take a mouthful of whipped cream on his spoon before popping it into his mouth.

Jonny frowns at him disapprovingly. Patrick swallows, turning his eyes to the TV and using his tongue to turn the spoon around between lips.

He hears Jonny exhale loudly, and startles a little when Jonny lets his own spoon clatter back down into his bowl. “Patrick,” Jonny says, voice low. Patrick turns to him, raising his eyebrows innocently.

“I know what you’re doing, you know,” Jonny says, “Do you?”

Patrick takes the spoon out of his mouth, dropping it into his bowl as well. He’s trying to ignore the quick beating of his heart. “What do you mean?”

Jonny looks kinda moody. “If you’re just doing it to fuck with me, I swear to God, Kaner--”

“I’m not,” Patrick interjects.

“You’re not?” Jonny echos. “So everything, you biting down on your gloves, the mouthguard, the fuckin’ lollipop is just for, what?”

Patrick averts his eyes, not trusting his face to betray everything when Jonny’s looking at him like that. “I just wanted you to, um,” he clears his throat. “To do something.”

“To do what?” Jonny asks.

“To snap, okay!” Patrick blurts out, feeling his cheeks redden. Jonny stays quiet, still looking at him quizzically. “When I, um, saw what it did to you, my mouth I mean, I realised I was into it as well. And I’ve just wanted to make you snap.”

“You wanted me to?” Jonny asks, shifting a little closer, the confused look still on his face but a lot less hostile now.

“Yeah,” Patrick swallows hard. “Like that one time, after practice. I’d been chewing on my glove and you pushed me against the wall, and yanked the glove out of my mouth. Fuck, Jonny, I jerked off in the shower right after I got home, it was so fucking hot.”

Jonny’s eyes are dark, and they follow the movement of Patrick licking his lower lip. “You like that, huh? Me pushing you around?”

Patrick nods, meeting Jonny’s eyes for a second before casting them down to his lap again. “I sort of guessed, you know,” Jonny confesses, reaching his hand out and dropping it on Patrick’s wrist. He encircles it, Patrick’s wrist looking thin and pale in Jonny’s hand. “You always bitch a little less whenever I push you against the boards.”

“Hey,” Patrick protests softly, a smile on his face.

“But lately it’s not been about you bitchin’ though,” Jonny says, gently squeezing Patrick’s wrist. “It’s what your actions made me wanna do. God, Pat, it makes me so fucking hard when you use your mouth like that. It makes me--”

“What? C’mon, tell me,” Patrick asks, shifting closer.

Jonny looks at him, eyes dark underneath his lashes. “It makes me want to push you down on your knees, with you back against the wall so you got nowhere to go and just, fuck, I’d just push my shorts down and feed you my cock right down your throat.”

“God, Jonny,” Patrick breathes out, pushing the heel of his hand down against his crotch.

“You want that, too?” Jonny asks, eyes focusing on the way Patrick’s shorts are tenting.

“Yeah,” Patrick nods quickly, “I’ve just been waiting for you to shove me around, just let you do to me whatever you want to.”

“Even if I wanted to tie your hands to the headboard, not letting you move while I straddle your chest and fuck your face?” Jonny asks. He brings his other hand up and traces the pad of his thumb across Patrick’s bottom lip, hungrily drinking in the sight of him.

“Yeah,” Patrick breathes, “Whatever you want, Jon--”

Jonny cuts him off by closing the distance between them, their lips crashing together in a kiss. Patrick moans into Jonny’s mouth, readily opening up to him. Jonny frames Patrick’s face with his hands, so soft in contrast to the way he’s licking into Patrick’s mouth. Patrick tries to regulate his breathing through his nose, but then Jonny tangles his fingers in Patrick’s curls and pulls.

“Nggh,” Patrick moans, the sound muffled against Jonny’s lips. He can feel Jonny’s lips curling into a smile against his, and it makes his heart sing.

His breath latches in his throat when Jonny suddenly pushes him into the pillows, straddling his lap. Jonny has one arm across his chest, holding him down against the back of the couch while he continues kissing Patrick like it’s his only goal in life. Patrick feels a tremble going down his legs, his toes curling in his socks. Jonny’s other hand is still firmly holding onto Patrick’s curls, making sure to tug Patrick’s head back and expose his throat.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes out, as Jonny uses his mouth to make his way down Patrick’s neck. He can feel the rough stubble on Jonny’s jaw rub against the tender skin of his throat, and he squeezes his eyes shut when he thinks about the stubble burn Jonny’s probably intending to leave behind. He should’ve known Jonny would also be a possessive fuck when it comes to sex. He can feel the hickey starting to bloom under his ear, Jonny’s using his teeth, too, fuck.

The back of his head throbs a little when Jonny releases the handful of curls, and pulls Patrick’s chin down with his thumb, pressing two fingers into Patrick’s mouth. Instinctively, Patrick closes his lips around the digits and sucks, his eyes falling closed again.

“Fuck, just like that, Peeks,” Jonny says, pulling away from Patrick’s neck to take in the sight of Patrick sucking on his fingers. “You’re fucking made for this, I should just keep you like this all day, pushin’ my fingers into your mouth whenever I fuckin’ want to.”

Patrick moans, his imagination running wild. His brain fills with images of Jonny and him sitting on the plane, and Jonny just pushing his fingers into his mouth while he keeps reading his book and pretends nothing is happening. God, and he’d take it, he knows he would.

“You like that idea, hm?” Jonny asks, smirking down at him and slowly fucking his fingers in and out of Patrick’s mouth. “I imagine you’d be bratty about it, just pushin’ yourself into my face and annoying me, just so I’d snap and hold you down. Ain’t that right, Peeks?”

Patrick nods, knows his cheeks must be bright red by now.

“And maybe some fingers would be enough for a while, but soon you’d be wantin’ more. You know that I’d make you wait, don’t you?”

Patrick nods again, opening his eyes and meeting Jonny’s. At the sight of Jonny, his breathing stops in his throat again. Because yeah, that’s Jonny , looking down at him like he wants to take Patrick apart like he’d asked him to. But he also doesn’t miss the glimmer of fondness in Jonny’s eyes, the wonder that they’re actually doing this, that it’s happening. And he knows Jonny must see the same thing in his eyes because he pulls his fingers out of Patrick’s mouth and crashes their lips together again.

“C’mon,” Jonny mutters against Patrick’s lips, and he gets off of Patrick’s lap. He pulls Patrick upwards with one hand on his arm, and the other curled around the collar of his shirt. “Gonna put that mouth of yours to some good use.”

“Promise?” Patrick asks, letting himself be turned around and pushed in the direction of the bedroom.

Jonny latches himself along Patrick’s back, the thick bulge of his cock rubbing against Patrick’s lower back. “Promise,” he says, briefly sucking on the hickey below Patrick’s ear.

He guides them both through the door, and maneuvers Patrick towards the bed before giving him a shove. Patrick lands face first, legs dangling off the mattress. He moves himself further up the bed, humping his hips against the bed for some friction on his cock. He yelps when Jonny grabs him by the ankles and uses his grip to twist Patrick around on the bed. Jonny manhandling him like this sends a surge of heat down Patrick’s spine and he lets his arm fall across his face.

“None of that,” Jonny says, sternly, and he pulls Patrick’s arm down. “You’re not gonna hide your pretty face from me, are you?”

Patrick makes a sound high in his throat, close to a whine. Jonny tugs him further down the bed by his ankles, and then lets them drop. Patrick feels the floor underneath his feet, and shifts his toes a little. Jonny’s looming over him, taking in the sight of him. Then he moves closer, tugging Patrick’s socks off of his feet and taking off his shorts. The side of his mouth curls upwards when he sees the damp patch on Patrick’s boxers. “So fuckin’ needy, Peeks.”

Patrick wants to bite out a retort, but Jonny captures his lips in a quick kiss before reaching for Patrick’s t-shirt and pulling it over his head. This leaves Patrick almost naked while Jonny’s still wearing all of his clothes. Patrick’s cheeks flush when he realizes, and he purposely avoids Jonny’s eyes. Jonny is moving closer though, pushing Patrick’s knees together and then climbing onto the bed. He’s hovering over Patrick, moving up the mattress until his knees are under Patrick’s armpits. Patrick tries to avoid Jonny’s eyes, still, playing up the brattiness. He presses his lips tightly together when Jonny takes his chin between his fingers and forces him to look up at him.

“Tryin’ to make me snap?” Jonny asks, smile playing around his lips as if Patrick’s antics are nothing but endearing to him.

Patrick shrugs up at him, trying to look defiant. His eyes, however, drift downwards to Jonny’s crotch, and fuck . He can clearly see the outline of Jonny’s cock in the fabric of his sweats, and his mouth waters. He wants that in his mouth. It must show on his face because Jonny tugs his chin up with his index finger.

“Tryin’ so hard not to be needy, but it’s written all over your face, Peeks. You wanna suck my cock? Take it between those pretty lips of yours and just let me push in as far as I wanna go?”

Patrick swallows hard, his throat bobbing. He nods, and lets his tongue drag across his bottom lip. “Yeah, c’mon,” he says, his gaze shifting between Jonny’s eyes and the thick bulge of Jonny’s cock.

“I’m gonna need a little more than that,” Jonny says, matter-of-factly. He traces his pinky finger along Patrick’s lips and pushes it inside his mouth. Patrick curls his tongue around it, sucking hard. “Ask me,” Jonny says, pushing his ring finger into Patrick’s mouth as well. Patrick looks back up and Jonny nods, “Yeah, ask me while I’m fucking your mouth with my fingers, Pat.”

Patrick groans, the humiliation warming him up from the inside. “Please, just,” he tries to say, and the sound comes out all different. Jonny’s eyes darken and he pushes his fingers further into Patrick’s mouth, before slowly withdrawing them. “Nggh, c’mon, fuck me, fuck my mouth, make me take it,” Patrick breathes out fast, hands curling around Jonny’s knees to try and tug him closer towards his mouth.

Jonny is quick to take Patrick’s wrists in his hands, though, and he pushes them down against the mattress. Patrick feels trapped, his legs dangling uselessly off the bed, Jonny’s hips hovering above his chest, and now his hands are pushed above his head while Jonny’s looming over him.

His eyes meet Jonny’s, and just like that, the fight goes out of him. He feels the muscles in his shoulders relax, sinking deeper into the mattress. Jonny must notice it, too, because he squeezes Patrick’s wrists once. “Stay,” he orders. Patrick doesn’t move, just watches as Jonny straightens up to tug his sweats and boxers down his hips. He doesn’t take them off completely, just lets the waistband sit around his thighs. Patrick is once again aware of the stark difference between them, both in size and in how Jonny’s still fully clothed.

His eyes latch on Jonny’s cock and he strains his neck to try and take it into his mouth, all sense of humiliation gone. He just wants to lap at the head of Jonny’s cock, taste the pre-come on the tip of his tongue.

Jonny circles his hand around Patrick’s throat and pushes him back down against the mattress. “You good?” he asks, his thumb slowly tracing across the pulse point in Patrick’s neck.

Patrick nods quickly. “Yeah, c’mon,” he mutters, eyeing Jonny’s cock hungrily. He vaguely hears Jonny cursing softly above him, but his focus is completely on Jonny’s cock.

Jonny pushes onto his knees, both of his hands curling around Patrick’s wrist. He lets his hips lower, the head of his cock pushing against the plush softness of Patrick’s lips. Patrick darts out his tongue, lapping up the pre-come that has gathered on the tip of Jonny’s cock. The salty taste is so inherently Jonny, he can’t help but let out a groan and take the spongy head of Jonny’s cock between his lips and swirling his tongue around it.

“Jesus, fuck,” Jonny curses, his hand momentarily tightening around Patrick’s wrists. “Take it, Peeks, c’mon, you look so fucking good like this.”

The encouragement sends sparks down Patrick’s spine and he takes in more of Jonny’s cock, sucking in as much as he can and getting the shaft wet with his spit.

“Ngh, god,” Jonny moans, rocking his hips into the velvet heat of Patrick’s mouth. “I was right, you’re made for this. Just wanna push my dick down your throat and watch you take it. Deeper, come on.”

Patrick sucks harder, feeling the weight of Jonny’s balls resting against his chin. His own cock is straining against his boxers, pre-come leaking from the slit and soaking the fabric.

“Gonna fuck your mouth now, make you feel what you’ve been doing to me these past weeks,” Jonny groans out, moving one hand away from Patrick’s wrist and tangling it up in Patrick’s hair.

Patrick groans as Jonny pulls his head back a little, and feels his throat opening up. “Fuck, Peeks,” Jonny groans, pushing his hips down against Patrick’s face, his cock sliding down Patrick’s throat. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, I just wanna fuck you face all day, make you sloppy with it.”

Patrick moans around Jonny’s cock, feels the wetness of his saliva dripping out of the corners of his mouth. His throat constricts around Jonny’s cock every time he pushes it down deep, and he feels everything. The muscles in his legs are tensed up and his toes are curled, pleasure rocking through his body every time Jonny shoves his cock down his throat.

Jonny’s balls slap against his wet chin with every thrust and it makes him open up his mouth even wider. “You’re gagging for it, god,” Jonny grunts, “Look at you, fuckin’ shameless. You wanna suck on my balls, huh?”

Patrick feels the hot rush flood down his spine and he tries to nod. Jonny pulls back and Patrick can take in a few gulps of air before he latches his lips on Jonny’s balls. He sucks on them, feeling Jonny’s wet cock rub across his face every time Jonny rocks his hips.

“So pretty like this,” Jonny breathes, staring down at Patrick, his eyes crazy with lust. Patrick closes his eyes, basking in the feeling of letting go, just surrendering all control to Jonny. With Jonny talking to him like this, so fucking filthy yet with so much adoration in his voice, Patrick’s sure it could nearly send him over the edge.

Jonny’s rubbing the pre-come from the slit of his cock into Patrick’s skin, marking him up. “Open up, babe,” he says and Patrick lets Jonny’s balls slip from his mouth, taking Jonny’s cock down his throat again. And fuck, he shouldn’t love the feeling so much but he does. It’s filling him up just right.

He flattens his tongue against the underside of Jonny’s cock, feeling the texture of the skin, mapping it out with his tongue. Jonny’s breathing is getting louder and the flush on his cheeks is spreading until the collar of his shirt. Patrick keens, wanting to see more of him but at the same time loving it that Jonny doesn’t let him.

Jonny shifts his weight forward, his hands circling Patrick’s wrist again. This position allows him to fuck his cock even further into Patrick’s mouth, pushing down on Patrick and thrusting his hips harder. Patrick feels his jaw ache with the repeated onslaught of Jonny’s hips onto the bone of his jaw. There’s saliva running down his chin and tears are slipping out of the corners of his eyes. It feels fucking amazing and he clenches his eyes shut tight, relishing in the feeling of a few tears slipping down his temples.

“Peeks, fuck,” Jonny moans, his thrusts becoming erratic, “You should see yourself right now. You fuckin’ love this, don’t you?”

Patrick just moans around Jonny’s cock, trying to suck as hard as he can. Jonny curses, pushing down harder. “I’m gonna come, fuck. Gonna shoot down your throat and on your face, sweetheart,” he pants, chest heaving.

Patrick feels another burst of arousal moving down his stomach, making his cock jerk in his boxers. He feels the orgasm building, feels Jonny’s cock pulse before the first spurt of come fills his mouth. He swallows instinctively.

“Fuck, Patrick,” Jonny moans, pulling his cock out from between Patrick’s lips and lets ropes of come stripe across Patrick’s face. Patrick feels some of it land on his cheeks and forehead, moaning when Jonny moves the pad of his thumb through it, rubbing it into his skin. His cock jerks inside his boxers at the feeling of being completely used up and owned by Jonny.

Jonny breathes heavily and lets himself fall sideways, his body aligning alongside Patrick. “God,” he pants, pressing kisses across Patrick’s face, cupping his cheek in one palm. “You’re fucking incredible. So fucking gorgeous.”

Despite his pressing arousal, Patrick lets himself bask in Jonny’s tenderness, not quite ready yet to take control of his body yet.

“Look at you,” Jonny mutters, pressing a kiss against Patrick’s lips. He moves his hand down, curling over Patrick’s erection in his boxers. Patrick moans, lifting his hips up into Jonny’s touch. “I’ve got you,” Jonny says, kissing the small bit of skin between Patrick’s earlobe and his jaw. “What do you want?”

“Your hand,” Patrick croaks out, voice completely ruined. He takes in Jonny’s dark eyes, knows that Jonny likes it. “Your mouth, too.”

“Where do you want it?” Jonny asks, pushing Patrick’s boxers down with his hands and encircling Patrick’s cock in his fist.

“Talk to me,” Patrick pants, and he throws his head back, pushing his hips up into Jonny’s grasp.

Jonny stays close to him, his body a warm line alongside Patrick’s. “Yeah? You want me to talk to you?” he asks, slowly jerking Patrick off, twisting his wrist when he gets near the head. “Want me to say how fucking gone I am for you? That you’ve got me, and I’d let you do whatever you want? Jesus, Patrick, look at you. I’d win you another three Stanley cups if it meant you’d let yourself be like this around me forever.”

And God, if that doesn’t rush Patrick right to the edge of coming. “Yeah?” he encourages, pushing his hips up into Jonny’s fist, fucking the ring of his fingers.

“Yeah, I’ll fucking treat you right, Pat, you know I will. I’ll sit you down on my cock whenever you fucking need it, and I’ll take care of you after. I’ll fuck your throat, let you take me down so good, and wake up right there next to you in the mornin’.”

Patrick feels his eyes rolling back, his toes curling. Trust Jonny to combine dirty talk with a fucking love confession. And it’s doing it for him, too, because he feels his orgasm building in his lower stomach, the muscles contracting. “Jonny, please,” he whines, urging Jonny to speed up the movement of his hand.

“I’ll get you there, Peeks,” Jonny promises, sounding so fucking sincere.

Patrick feels Jonny push two fingers against his lips and he happily sucks them down. Jonny fucks his mouth with his fingers, using the same rhythm as the hand on his cock. It sends Patrick right over the edge, and he’s biting down on Jonny’s fingers as white ropes of come spurt from his cock, all over his stomach and Jonny’s hand.

Jonny slowly pulls his fingers from Patrick’s mouth and uses his hand to gently push some wayward curls away from Patrick’s forehead.

Patrick’s pretty sure he’s out for the count for a few minutes, vaguely taking note of Jonny kissing his lips and his cheekbones.

The cold wet feeling of the wash cloth across his stomach gets him back, though, and he opens his eyes. Jonny’s looking down at him, cleaning him up meticulously and then discarding the cloth somewhere on the floor. “Slob,” Patrick mutters, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Jonny leans up over him, kissing his lips briefly before making him drink some water from a glass.

After Patrick's had enough to drink, Jonny moves him around a little so he can pull the blanket over their bodies. “C’mere,” he says, gathering Patrick in his arms and spooning up tight behind him.

Patrick lets himself relax into Jonny’s hold, needs it to face the onslaught of emotions suddenly washing over him.

Jonny must realize it, because he lets his face drop against Patrick’s shoulder, pressing a kiss in the nape of his neck. “I told you, I’ve got you, okay?” Patrick nods, relief joining in the mix of emotions.

He stares at the Chicago skyline, the lights flickering against the dark clouds. He turns around and presses his face against Jonny’s collarbone, breathing him in. When he hears Jonny’s breath going even, he presses a kiss against Jonny’s skin, closing his own eyes as well.