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And I Just Might Say It Tonight

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He's been waiting for this for so long and he's going to ruin it. He'd already fumbled getting the condom on, his fingers too slippery with lube, and he's probably bruised David's ribs, but the push in is so overwhelming that his hips have taken over from his brain and David is urging him on with soft, breathy murmurs tickling his ear—"Yes, Patrick, right there!"—gripping his ass with one large hand, fingers splayed and digging in, and Patrick's hips are moving faster now, bucking and stuttering.

"Oh no. No no," Patrick whimpers, and David squeezes his ass, pulling him in harder. "Ah, ffffuuuu—" With two final, long thrusts, he comes.

Any strength left in Patrick floods out of him. He sinks heavily onto David's body, hands hooked under David's arms and clutching at his shoulders. His hips twitch with aftershocks, his legs tingling, almost numb, his whole body still humming, and his head is swimming. He buries his flaming face in David's neck and wants to die. He's never come that fast with another person in his life. He's never just completely lost it like that before, not even as a teenager.

He's not sure if he should apologize. He feels like he should apologize, but his mouth is not working right now. He can barely catch his breath. He's pretty sure he's crushing David now, but he can't move.

David still has a hand on his ass, not squeezing so much anymore, his legs still bent around Patrick's hips. But his face is turned away and he's being very quiet.

Worried, Patrick tentatively noses along David's sweaty hairline and behind his ear. He thinks he feels David shiver at that, so Patrick does it again and points his tongue this time to taste David's salty skin.

Another shiver, and Patrick starts to press a smile into David's shoulder, but the whole bed is shaking now, and oh—Oh. Patrick remembers that he's still inside David and this is a new sensation. David's shoulder hitches beneath Patrick's lips and a sound like a snort puffs out of David's nose.

David is laughing. Patrick is sprawled across his entire body, half-hard inside him, David's cock jutting into Patrick's abdomen, and David is laughing at him.

Patrick feels himself start to shrivel, and he drags his hands out from under David's shoulders to push himself away. David tightens his hold on Patrick's ass to keep him in place.

"No, don't," David sputters, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm not—"

"David." He tries to draw back again, but David holds fast, bringing his other hand up to cup the back of Patrick's head.

"No, no, no, I'm not, I'm not. I'm not laughing at you." He sounds like he's trying to be reassuring, but he is, in fact, still laughing.

"Kinda feels like you are," Patrick mutters, letting his face drop back into David's neck.

"No. Patrick, no. I'm just—you're—" David cradles his head in one hand, fingernails scraping gently through his short hair. David turns his face as much as he can, his stubble rasping against Patrick's cheek. "I wouldn't laugh at you, Patrick," he whispers.

Unable to look at him just yet, Patrick nods into David's neck, maybe just to feel the scratch of that stubble against his skin again. He believes David. He wants to believe David.

"Sex is supposed to be fun," David says, grazing his cheek now with soft lips. "This is fun. With you." His breath hitches, hot against Patrick's ear. "It's not always—with people, I don't—"

And Patrick doesn't want that. He doesn't want David comparing him to other people. He doesn't want David thinking about other people. Patrick finds his mouth and kisses him quiet. Not quiet. David makes a soft sound and opens for him. He rolls so that he's no longer fully on top of David, their sweat-slick skin sticking to each other, without breaking the kiss. David groans, so Patrick kisses him harder, but then he feels David trying to tug his leg out from under him. He moves off of David, breaking the kiss before one of them chips a tooth, and they both laugh when David finally pulls his leg free.

He watches David laugh, his smile small but not trying to hide, open and honest and present in the moment. David catches him staring and their eyes lock. Then David shies, turning his face into the pillow, but the corner of that smile is still peeking out.

Patrick rests his head next to David's, practically nose to nose. "I wanted it to be good," he confesses.

"Wasn't it?" David counters, looking at him again. Grinning. "Certainly seemed like it was."

"I meant, for you," Patrick says, forcing himself not to hide his face in the pillow.

"It was." David nudges him with his nose. "It is. This is... this is good." They maintain that light touch, that tiny, fragile point of contact, sharing breath for long minutes. Then David says, "I can't stay in that position for that long, anyway." He stretches out his long legs, drawing Patrick's eye.

"But you're still..." He gestures to David's mostly hard cock, and looks down at himself, as well. And realizes that he's bare. In all his humiliation, he hadn't even noticed that the condom is gone. "What—where—"

"Um, yeeaah—" David squinches his eyes shut, repositioning himself in the bed, "—that's..."

"Oh god." Patrick panics, but David puts a hand on his arm.

"No, it's okay. I got it while you were... occupied."

"Oh god," Patrick groans for a different reason, definitely hiding his face in the pillow this time.

"It's down there in the sheets somewhere," David says, petting his arm.

"Oh my god!" He buries the sound, mashing his face into the pillow as hard as he can. David rubs up and down his arm and over his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it," David says, and he is laughing again. Patrick lifts his head to look at David, that smile, those eyes, and something in him eases.

He does worry about it, though, and he moves David's legs until he finds the messy deflated condom, discreetly wrapping it in tissues and dropping it in the wastebasket by his bed. Nobody wants to sleep in slimy, sticky, crusty sheets and he's determined to get David to stay the night. Ray is out for the evening and won't be home until late, and it's been nearly two long weeks since they've had any kind of privacy for more than an hour.

And they're coming up on their two month anniversary soon. David said that 'Months are not anniversaries, Patrick,' but it still gives Patrick a little thrill to think about. They haven't defined anything yet, besides not seeing other people, but he likes to think of David as his boyfriend. He loves having a boyfriend. Loves that it's David. Doesn't think it could ever be anyone but David.

"Hey," David says, sliding a hand down Patrick’s arm to get his attention. "Come back here." He pulls Patrick down, fingers tickling around his ear and into the hair on the back of his head, pulls him down until their mouths come together. There’s nothing in the world like kissing David. Except…

"I want to make you come," Patrick murmurs against his lips.

"I'm not going to stop you."


"Mm, okay, yes, yes," David says, nodding, knowing what Patrick wants to hear.

Trailing a hand down David's chest and over his stomach, Patrick swerves around his cock and goes lower, between his legs. He touches lightly, with just his fingertips on David's ass.

"Can I?" he asks, and David nods again.

He feels around David's slick hole, but he wants to see so he moves down the bed to get a better view. David spreads his legs wider and Patrick slowly circles his rim.

David breathes out, "Patrick," and he feels a jolt hearing his name said like that.

"I just want to..." With one fingertip, he smoothes around the tender skin, barely inside. "I just wanted to make sure, but it's okay, it didn't... leak," he says as steadily and confidently as he can.

David's stomach muscles jump and his whole body shakes with laughter. "I wasn't worried about that," he says, both hands over his face.

He should be. Not... not with Patrick, he doesn't need to worry, but in general, he should. Patrick won't say anything about it, though. As particular as David is in almost every aspect of life, Patrick had expected him to be just as fastidious about sex. He really isn't. He's vocal, but also great at listening. He likes getting filthy, doesn't mind the lube smeared all over his body right now, and really, really enjoys being covered in Patrick's come.

Patrick has discovered that he likes all of that, too. He especially likes being able to take David apart. He swipes his thumb across David's hole then guides three fingers inside, curving gently.

David gasps, head thrown back into the pillow. He starts moving his hips to the rhythm of Patrick's hand. "Nnn, you're so good at that."

"Yeah?" Patrick slows his movements, undulating his fingers in long, deep waves. "Can you come like this? Just from this?"

Mouth open wide, not a sound at all, David starts to nod then he's shaking his head 'no.' He's gone nonverbal and befuddled. Patrick smirks to himself. This, at least, he's done before, knows what David likes now, can get him there how he wants. David's fingers are digging into the mattress, like he might tear the sheet into shreds, still shaking his head pressed hard into the pillow.

"Okay," Patrick soothes, bending down to lick the head of David's cock, realizing at the first taste that it's still wet and shiny with lube from earlier in the night. He doesn't think he's coordinated enough to do that right now, anyway. David's done it to him a couple of times, sucking him while fingering him at the same time, but Patrick hasn't dared to try it yet.

Using both hands, though? That he can do. It's just like playing the piano. Patrick wraps a hand around David's cock, and he makes the most exquisite sound.

God, he's so beautiful.

"David, you're so beautiful."

At that, David's eyes open, dazed but trained on Patrick. He reaches out, and Patrick shuffles up the bed a little so that David can touch him. Just one hand gripping his thigh, his hip.

"I got you," Patrick says, working his fingers faster, in and out, jerking David harder until his back is arching off the bed and he looks so gorgeous. Patrick can't stop staring at his face, the way his eyelashes flutter, the way his lips tremble, his mouth open in a round, soundless 'O' as he comes apart beneath Patrick's hands. He loves that face, he loves that soft, breathy sigh as David's body melts into the mattress, he loves the hand relaxing on his hip and caressing the skin there.

He loves David's laughter when he looks down at his come-covered stomach, and the way he swipes a finger through it, almost like he's found a pleasant surprise. He loves the way David tastes when Patrick takes that finger into his own mouth then kisses the flavor onto David's tongue. He loves the way David holds him, one hand around his neck and the other tickling down his spine. He loves just lying here, in bed, with David, breathing the same air, the air that smells of them.

"We should shower," Patrick says, even though he doesn't want to move. "Before Ray gets home."

"Mmm, in a minute," David mumbles into his hair, so Patrick settles into his side, resting his head under David's chin.

"You were laughing at me a little," he says, circling a finger around one of David's nipples.

David buries his nose in Patrick's hair, releasing a huffy breath. "Okay, a very, tiny, little bit. But not in a mocking way." He pulls his head back to say, "You laugh at me all the time!"

"Mm, except it is in a mocking way." Patrick nuzzles his neck, mouthing along his jaw and across his cheek.

"No, it isn't," David whispers, lips curving into a smile. Patrick kisses his dimple, and his chin.

"No. It isn't," he says softly, but firmly, into David's mouth.

Downstairs, the front door squeaks open then bangs shut. Ray is home. David breaks the kiss and they both turn to stare at Patrick's closed bedroom door.

"The bathroom door has a lock, right?"