Work Text:
[1:29 a.m.] bringin love of ur life back cab home careful yelly fight wai drunk now frowny
Pat stared down at Korn’s text; his eyebrows stitched together in confusion. Korn’s messages barely made any sense when the guy was sober, so there was no real chance to decipher any of what he was trying to say drunk off his ass.
He put the phone back on the charger, and walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge to grab a cold bottle of water for when Pran would return, his mind stuck on the word ‘fight’ written in that text. Pran and Wai didn’t really fight, it was more along the lines of Wai pouting about something and Pran trying to reassure him. Pran never got angry with him, no matter how much Pat thought he should have…
Pat cleared his throat, trying to not let his mind wander back to the past and focusing on the now, and what could have happened at that party for Pran to leave it upset.
The farewell party was Pat’s idea, a nice friendly gathering at their usual hangout for everyone to say their goodbyes before Pran left them all to be the most successful architect in Singapore, as Pat had lovingly said to Paa when he told her about it, charging her with the planning.
She had done the best job, as he had known she would when he had begged her to do it. She had taken care of everything that needed to be done; inviting people, getting the place decorated, ordering enough food for everyone to enjoy, even buying a pretty cake with lots of colours. The only thing Pat had had to do himself was to call the bar and arrange a date to rent the place out…
Of course, Pat, in all of his glorious silliness, had to schedule it on the only damn day of the week he had to work late, preventing him from attending. It wasn’t like he could just tell his dad that he couldn’t be there tonight because he had to attend a party he had thrown for the son of their neighbours that he was still currently dating and madly in love with and would probably marry one day… also it wasn’t like he was even really talking to his dad lately…
He could have kicked himself.
There was no real need to in the end, for as soon as Paa had realised the mistake he’d made, she came barging into the store, in the middle of a quiet day, to place a nice sharp kick in his shin and yell at him for 7 minutes about the fact that he was a stupid morron, that Pran deserved someone so much smarter, asked him how he thought Pran would be able to enjoy a farewell party if his dumb boyfriend wasn’t there too to celebrate with him, and that it was too late now, of course, to change the date, because it was so close to Pran’s departure that nothing was available.
She had finished her long speech by throwing another kick, this time at his right leg, and then left the store without another word, an indignant flurry of hair sweeping behind her as she had stomped through the door.
So, the plan had definitely been to be there with Pran. Get drunk with his boyfriend, ending the night hanging off his arm, making out while battling tears as he would have gotten sentimental and started crying his ass off thinking about Pran not being there with him anymore, thinking about being left behind, alone, with only memories and lingering traces of Pran’s deep sweet scent left around their place to keep him company and nothing more.
Pran abandoning him, leaving him to a life of boredom and sorrow just as before…
Pat, shocked, blinked down at the bottle in his hand, before physically shaking himself out of the weird depressed slope his mind had decided to take him down out of nowhere. He was usually so good at keeping those kinds of thoughts at bay.
This was his job; not to let himself drown enough in his misery that it would show itself on his face or demeanour, and consequently not leaving a chance for Pran to feel bad about taking the offer to go to Singapore. That was the duty he assigned himself.
He took the few steps separating the kitchen from the couch, the cold bottle still in his grasp, and sat down, leaning back with a long sigh, his eyes settling, unfocused, on one of the architecture magazines scattered on their coffee table, trying to think of a good reason why Pran would have had a fight with Wai.
That was the only thing he was sure about what Korn had tried to communicate in his message, that Pran and Wai fought and that it didn’t end with them hugging it out…
Last time they had Wai over for dinner, a week ago, everything seemed to be alright. Pat had certainly been able to attest to it by the flare of jealousy that had roused vaguely in his stomach when Wai and Pran had started sharing private jokes about some anecdote from their shared time in high school over dessert, Pran’s bright eyes lively, happy and Wai’s voice light and airy.
Another sigh came out of Pat at the irksome memory, his hand tensing slightly around the bottle, the plastic crunching under the pressure.
The front door opened, without warning, startling Pat into an upright position, an endeared smile taking over his surprise expression when an unstable Pran came through the door. His hair mused and damp, wearing all black, an oversized t-shirt hanging on top of a pair of loose fitted jeans, followed by a very drunk looking Korn.
Right away, Pat caught something in Pran’s eyes, something that twisted his stomach unpleasantly, something that looked too much like sadness for his liking. Pran should have been happy, pleased about the night. He should have come home with a beaming smile pulling at his lips, not this sorrowful expression.
Pat’s stomach churned, feeling responsible about the mishap, not being able to stop himself from thinking that things might have gone better if he had been there with him. He could have protected him from whatever put that expression on his face…
“Hey baby.” Pat said, his tone already remorseful, rising from his seat and stepping up to him, stopping Pran’s assertive stride mid step by grabbing his attention with a warm smile.
Pran’s gaze was hazy, with a deep frown twisting his brow, making Pat reach up for his cheek and place a soothing hand there, his thumb touching the corner of his mouth. Some focus seemed to come back to his eyes as he blinked up at Pat.
“Here, drink.” Pat pushed the bottle into Pran’s hand, giving his cheek a little caress before throwing a curious glance at Korn.
Pran, with the bottle in hand, walked around Pat, stepping close to the kitchen counter, to lay his hand flat atop the smooth cold surface for support. Pat’s eyes stayed on him as Pran let out a weary sigh, his shoulders losing some of the tension he had noticed was there as he had walked through the door.
“Pat.” Korn called out, bringing Pat’s attention back on him.
“What happened?” Pat asked with a quick jerk of his chin, trying to keep the worry he was feeling out of his voice.
Korn shrugged his shoulders high, throwing his hands up to accompany the gesture, his bushy eyebrows doing some sort of a clumsy dance on his forehead to communicate his confusion.
“Listen, I don’t know, don’t ask me.” Korn used both his thumbs to point at himself. “But. If you ask me, it’s about Pran leaving.” Pat chuckled quietly at Korn’s slurred tone. It must have been quite the party.
“You don’t say... Well thanks man, for bringing him back home safe.”
Korn gave him a quick nod, and two finger guns before stepping back out through the front door yelling his goodbyes on the way. “Bye Pran!”
Pran hummed, in the middle of downing the entirety of that water bottle, without spilling a drop, leaned back, his elbow behind him on the kitchen counter holding his weight, his dark eyes on Pat, and his throat working to swallow the refreshing liquid.
Pat let the door fall shut behind Korn before joining Pran, stopping in front of him, his hand reaching up automatically to push Pran’s fringe away from his sweaty forehead.
Even like this, dishevelled and drenched in sweat, Pran was attractive, sexy, the collar of his t-shirt loose around his neck, showing the hint of a clavicle. Pat swallowed, pushing any thought about latching his mouth on the wet skin of his neck far in the back of his mind, and focused on making him talk. Knowing Pran, it was going to be a chore to get him to share anything tonight, Pat could tell by simply looking at his eyes, and the sharp way they were aimed at him.
“You ok?” Pat asked, his fingertip softly pushing a few strands of his hair away from Pran’s eyes.
Pran gulped down what was left of the water quickly, pulling a surprised expression out of Pat by crushing it in his hand and uncaringly throwing it on the floor once empty.
“How was work?”
“Boring. I missed you.”
“Great.” Pran said as he ran his tongue along his lower lips, licking at the stray water drops left there, and giving Pat a slow once over. “Fuck me.” Pran’s voice was sure, leaving no doubt that this was an order and not up to discussion.
So, Pran’s expression turned from something sultry and enticing to confused when Pat’s response wasn’t to grab him and fuck him to next Sunday on the kitchen counter but to sigh his name and turn a downcast gaze to the side.
“Pran. What happened?” Pat asked with worried eyes and a soft hand running through Pran’s damp hair.
“Nothing happened.” Pran’s tone was dismissive, not interested in talking about tonight, about why his best friend had gone off on him when he had talked about his stupid fucking doubts. He just wanted to get fucked, preferably as soon as possible and as hard as possible by his boyfriend.
He wasted no time fisting both his hands in the front of Pat’s buttoned-down shirt, and pulling it out of where it was neatly tucked in his pants. “Why are you still dressed?” Pat didn’t stop him, but his expression stayed the same; conflicted, his big beautiful eyes boring into Pran’s bleary gaze.
“Come on.” A whisper. It was when Pran reached for his belt that Pat grabbed his hands in his to finally stop him.
“Pran.” Pat gave a slight shake of his head, his voice soft, cautious. “No.” He started rubbing small circles using his thumbs in the palm of Pran’s hands, a soothing gesture, something to calm him. “Talk to me.”
Pran frowned, annoyed, wishing that Pat, for once, wouldn’t care so much, that just for tonight he would stop talking and just do him…
“You don’t want me?”
Pran sloped his eyebrows up in a timid manner, his eyes big, pleading, and talked using that coy tone he knew Pat liked. “Huh?”
He used to revert to that flirtatious voice during the entire time they were going through that stupid bet era. It would make Pat go completely crazy, he hadn’t done it in a while now, he only reserved that for special occasions such as this one, when he really, really, wanted Pat to give in and take him without a fuss.
Pran gave his lips a slow lick, Pat’s eyes following the movement. Heat pooled down, low in Pat’s crotch, stirring arousal brought on by the lovely eyes that pierced through him. Pran and his black eyes. And that way he changed his voice, syrupy and slow. Pat wanted to submit, he wanted to make Pran his, but it wouldn’t be fair, it wouldn’t be right. Not now, not tonight.
Pran managed to pull his hands out of Pat’s grasp and get them back on his belt, using his hold on it to pull Pat’s hips flush against his, with a quiet moan. Drinking always made him so fucking randy, and if Pat had had been as drunk as he was, he would be a cuddly little puppy right now, an obedient one that would have done what was asked of him and put his dick in him already. “You don’t want me babe?”
“Of course, I want you baby.” Pat said, with a reassuring smile, and lifting his hands up to place them gently on his cheeks, the need to see his dimples pop bringing the pads of his thumbs right where they usually appeared.
There has never been a moment where Pat had not wanted Pran, his desire for him always there, thrumming along under his skin, deep in his belly, no matter where they were… but Pat preferred when Pran was actually there, fully present, not trying to run away from whatever was going on in his mind. “Just, not with you like this.”
Pran narrowed his eyes at that, sliding the palm of his hand lower, along Pat’s crotch to cup him, insistent, the familiar shape of Pat’s soft but prominent dick a pleasant feel against his hand. A sharp smirk pulled at his lips at the idea of getting him hard and ready enough to slide inside him.
“We’ve fucked drunk before.” His tone was back to being dismissive, trying to get Pat to stop with the worried boyfriend trope and get on with the show. He tightened his hold around Pat, making him reach down and circle his wrist with his fingers, tight, to get him to stop.
“Yeah, we were both drunk, it’s different.” It was different, and that wasn’t the only problem. “And you’re upset.” Pat told him with an irritated frown forming along his brow.
“I’m not upset.” Pran lied. Still holding on to the hope that maybe Pat would indulge him, no matter how much his hero complex would pull at his conscience. That was all he ever wanted to be, the strong saviour that would always protect his loved ones. And Pran did love him for it, but it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t rather just get fucked sometimes, instead of getting taken care of with sweet words and soft touches.
Sometimes all Pran wanted was Pat’s stiff dick. Preferably shoved inside him. Or sometimes what he needed was Pat to be quiet and take it, or loud and take it, hard… but tonight it was about himself, about Pran getting fucked.
“Pran.” Pat’s tone, this time, was bordering on annoyed. Pran rarely acted like this anymore, trying to run away from troubles instead of confronting whatever the issue was.
Pat always made sure to make him feel like he could rely on him, that he was there to support him no matter what… still it happened from time to time. Pran doing his best to escape the situation by ignoring it, pretending nothing was wrong.
Pran let out a resigned sigh, reluctantly letting go of Pat’s crotch, before giving his shoulder a few condescending pats, and aiming an exaggerated toothy smile at him, his dimples making an appearance.
Pat let his hands fall along his body, his eyebrows raised in a sad slant in response to that mockery of a smile slapped on Pran’s face.
“Fine.” Pran said with a sharp nod. It was obvious that Pat wasn’t going to indulge him this time.
Pran sunk his teeth in his lower lip, and roamed his eyes along Pat’s face, thinking of a good punishment for his insolence. Something that would make him regret not complying with his demand.
Pran knew that Pat was the voice of reason in this situation, he was not drunk enough to not be aware of that, but he was drunk enough to not care about it. His smile turned to something wicked.
He gave one last tap on Pat’s chest, hard enough on his pec to make a sharp clapping noise echo through the place, making him jolt backward slightly, before walking away, towards the couch, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and lifting it off over his head. “Well, I’m horny so if you don’t mind…”
“Pran…” Pat whispered, his eyes on Pran as he threw his shirt on the floor, before pretty much throwing himself on the couch, resting his head on the pillow pushed against the arm.
Pat’s eyes stayed glued to his long dainty hands, following their movements.
Pran undid his belt with deft fingers, and turned his gaze towards Pat, still standing tall, handsome, in front of the counter. Pran knew the best way to make Pat sorry for not agreeing, what would make him wish he had accepted the invitation to fuck him. Something Pat secretly loved.
“I’m gonna jerk off.”
A show.
Pat swallowed down the wave of arousal those words alone made run through him. They both always got off when the other one would talk dirty, each for different reasons.
Pran because he loved making Pat lose it enough to talk about all the filthy things he wanted to do to him. A retribution for all the times Pat made him go crazy by acting so much more than what they were, friends… rivals… So oblivious for so long, this idiot.
As for Pat, he got aroused like there was no tomorrow when Pran was acting anything else than proper, hearing him say words like “cock, dick, fuck…” drove him to the edge.
Obscene Pran was is kink.
“You’re welcome to watch.” Pran told him, his eyes still on him. He pushed his jeans down his legs, making sure to grab his underwear with it, not wasting any time. “I know how much you like to watch.” There was a teasing edge to Pran’s voice, almost a taunt.
Pat stayed quiet, and Pran stared, one of his elegant eyebrows lifted challengingly. He kicked his pants off, letting them fall to the floor to join his shirt.
His dick, already hard, twitched at the touch of his own hand sliding around it. He closed his eyes, starting a slow up and down motion, his hand too dry, the pull a little uncomfortable…
“What are you thinking about?” Pat finally broke the silence by asking, and took a few steps toward Pran’s laid out body. His eyes running along his long lithe frame, nearly as long as the couch. He sometimes forgot how tall Pran was. Long limbs that fitted nicely around his body.
His gaze stopped on Pran’s slow hand, fighting the burning need inside him to touch him… to put his mouth on him, everywhere. His gaze slid to his nipples, small, dusty pink hard nubs, tempting. All of Pat’s mind was filled with images of sucking Pran’s skin into his mouth, digging his fingers in his flesh, making him moan and ask for more…
Pat pursed his lips, a soft amused scoff out of his mouth.
“Tell me what you’re thinking about.”
This was going to be one of their games now.
A dare of sorts.
How long Pat would be able to keep his hands to himself, how much time he could restrain himself from giving in and taking Pran.
Pat kneeled down on the floor in front of the couch and sat back on his heels, close to Pran’s head, whose eyes opened to give him a luscious look. Pat was terrible at these sorts of challenges, never able to stop his hands from reaching out and grabbing on to Pran, especially when any kind of sound escaped his mouth. Pran was always the quiet one. Poised and sedate. So, nothing made Pat harder than Pran’s mouth stretching open to let out a noise of pleasure.
“You.” Pran all but moaned the word, and Pat fisted his hands into the fabric of his slacks where they laid against his thighs. “You and your big cock splitting me open.” Pran took care of letting the tip of his tongue out after saying those words, looking salacious, before acting shy and turning away, closing his eyes back up in fake bashfulness.
Pat exhaled loudly at the little show Pran was giving him, doing everything to get him to give in. Pran quickened the motion of his hand, with a loud whimper, much louder than what he would usually let out…
This was going to be extremely difficult. Pat could feel the length of his own dick easily hardening inside the confines of his stupidly tight pants, in response to the lovely image of a completely naked Pran playing with himself and acting needy for him.
“You want my cock baby?” Pat’s question turned Pran’s attention back on him, his eyes opening big to look at him and give him a slow nod, his teeth pressing gently on the tip of his tongue. Pat’s eyes stayed fixedly on his face, darting between his big dark eyes and his pretty opened mouth.
If there was any chance for Pat to not jump Pran’s fucking bones, he would have to absolutely keep his gaze away from the way he was rubbing his hand along himself. Pat was so weak for Pran’s dick, merely seeing it in passing would make him open his mouth wide to welcome it in there. He wished he was better at giving head, he wished he was as good as Pran…
One of his fantasies ran through his mind. Getting fucked in the mouth by Pran. They had tried it once, but after Pat had almost choked, Pran had refused to continue, no matter how much Pat had reassured him that it was fine. Still, he wondered if he hadn’t omitted the fact that he had actually enjoyed it… the choking, whether Pran would have kept at it.
Pat exhaled slowly, his eyes focused on Pran’s parted lips and the small pink tip of his tongue peeking out, coming back slowly to the present, leaving thoughts of putting Pran’s dick down his throat for another time.
Now was time to play. It was time to compete. For who will hold out the longest…
Pat licked his lips before making his first move; telling Pran what he would do to him if the situation was different.
“You know I have to open you up before I can put my cock in you, right?”
This time Pran’s nod was more vigorous, the demand for Pat to do it, to use his fingers on him on the tip of his tongue, the only thing stopping him from asking for it was Pat’s own tone. Sharp and strong, his voice low and placating. “I will have to use your mouth to wet my fingers, rub them on your tongue.”
Pran kept his eyes open, his gaze on Pat’s plump mouth, tightening the hand around his erection, his movements picking up in speed.
“Make sure that you’d give me enough spit to be able to get them in.”
Pat was better at this then he had imagined… he let out a soft chuckle thinking about how easy the phone sex would be once they would be too far from each other to touch.
“And then put them inside you. Slow. One knuckle at a time. Stretch you out good.”
“Yes. Do it.” Pran said urgently with a whine to his voice. “Pat.” A drawn out plea. Pat’s dick twitched aggressively, the sound of Pran begging so rare. He was the best at this game. Pat bit the inside of his cheek to ground himself, and made his next move.
“I can’t.” Pran let a quiet disgruntled whine out at Pat’s denial. “You know that…” Pat leaned closer to Pran’s face, taking the time to lick his lips before continuing. “You’re going to have to do it yourself.”
A silence fell in between them. Their gazes locked together. A nice cocky smirk stretched Pran’s lovely mouth, before he quickly brought his empty hand up, and all but shoved it in Pat’s face.
“Suck.” An order again.
It was Pat’s turn to smile. He shook his head, the gesture slow. And the small annoyed scoff his action pulled out of Pran’s mouth was why his dick jerked approvingly this time.
Pran rolled his eyes, and put two of his fingers in his own mouth, slobbering over them. He knew it wasn’t going to be enough to really get any more than one finger inside, but it was going to have to do, if Pat wasn’t going to indulge him.
Pat glanced quickly down when Pran reached in between his legs, but regretted it right away. The image of his hard flushed leaking dick not helping his resolve. He closed his eyes and took a few measured breaths to regain some composure.
Pran, with the tip of his wet finger rubbing at his entrance, not yet pushing in, but there only to tease himself, shifted his face closer to Pat, placing his mouth on his, with a quick peck that Pat responded to, instinctively. But when Pran's small tongue came out to give the seam of his lips a quick lick Pat jerked back, opening his eyes to throw a scolding look at him. Pran chuckled, his hands not slowing down.
“Keep talking.” Pran told with a breathless voice, much closer to the edge than he would have liked to be, but the idea of losing the game was not really important anymore. The desire to get off to the sound of Pat’s lovely tale of what he would do to him taking over his competitive side. “Tell me.” He said before bringing his hand to his mouth and licking a fat wet stripe along it to make the slide on his dick smoother. “Tell me what you would do to me.”
Pat, this time, couldn’t stop his gaze from following Pran’s hand, staring at the swift way he was tugging himself off. He bit his lip, and tightened the hold he had on the legs of his pants.
“Baby…” Pat blinked a couple of times, looking back at Pran’s face, where a nice wet sheen of sweat had formed once more. Pran’s smell hit him out of nowhere, as if it was waiting for the right moment to assault him, and almost brought his efforts to nothing when it nearly made him crash his face into the side of Pran’s neck to get closer to that delicious scent.
He managed to stop himself, deviating the trajectory of his head, ending up with his cheek pushed roughly against the arm of the couch instead. Pat swallowed, finding his throat progressively drier as the seconds went along, and spoke. He spoke to distract himself from the painful feel of his zipper digging incessantly into his twitching dick. “I would go slow with my finger, making sure you would be able to feel the drag of it pushing inside you.”
Pran arched his neck, finally breaching inside himself with his index finger, his other hand still relentlessly rubbing his dick.
“I’d make sure you’re completely used to one before adding any more fingers.”
Pran pushed in deeper, slow, the stretch, even around only one of his fingers, enjoyable, his other hand still going, fast. Too fast. He slowed down his movements, before stopping completely, and letting go of his length to stave off his nearing orgasm.
He kept his eyes on Pat’s beautiful dark ones, as his finger moved slowly inside him, placing his other hand just above his dick, pushing there gently, testing how long he would have to wait to start touching himself again.
Pat carried on talking, telling him what would have probably happened if the idiot hadn’t chosen the wrong date to throw this party, the party where he spent most of his time there missing his boyfriend and regretting ever accepting that job, because he was scared…
“No matter how much you would ask me for another one, I would make you wait.”
Pat’s intense voice pulled him back to the present, to the sensation of his own finger fucking into himself. He let out a long whine, his hand reaching down to give his balls a small tug before finding its place back around his hard-on, and starting a steady rhythm again. Never lingering too long at the top, not yet.
“No matter how much you would demand it, I wouldn’t stop fingering you until you would be relaxed enough for me to just slide right in.”
“Fuck.” Pran moaned the word, and Pat, instead of sliding his hand in Pran’s hair like he wanted to, fisted it in his own, pulling hard enough to sting, his elbow along the arm of the couch, above Pran’s head.
Pat took a few breaths, his eyes on his, just listening to Pran’s quiet whimpers, to the wet sound of his hand moving, the slide of his foot against the seat cushion. He lowered his gaze to Pran’s crotch, licking his lips, thinking about the last time he had him in his mouth, the weight of it, the feel of the silky skin of the tip against his tongue.
His fingers tightened in his hair, to stop himself from leaning down and shoving Pran’s dick in his mouth to suck on it until he made him come all over his tongue… instead he kept on talking, to bring Pran to the end and make him come with his words alone.
“It’s only when you wouldn’t be able to take it anymore that I would finally stop.”
Pran entire face scrunched up when he finally managed to reach his prostate, barely grazing it, the angle too awkward to get any deeper than that. He was going to make Pat regret it, regret being so fucking courteous and not fucking him. He could have had his long thick fingers in there. Pushed at all the right angles. He moaned loudly, this time genuinely, and Pat’s erection jerked in response, demanding to be let out and fit itself where it rightfully belonged.
“And then you’d be ready. Once you’d be too far gone to talk, let alone order me around…”
Pran opened his eyes only to narrow them at Pat, one of the corners of his lips lifting in an amused smirk. They never really talk about their dynamic, their slight Dom/sub relationship. It just happened on its own, they fell into their respective roles… probably even before they started dating, before the flirting.
Pat gave him a sweet smile, that did nothing to stop the ripple of heat from going through Pran at the next thing he said.
“I would lift you up by the hips, and make you sit on me, make you sit on my hard cock, bare, and make you jump on it until you came around me, so hard, squeezing me so tight that you would make me come, fill you up inside, full of my cum.”
Another moan ripped out of Pran, loud and high-pitched, his hand a blur as it moved up and down his shaft, concentrating most of the motion near the head to make himself come faster. He took his finger out, forgoing fucking himself to play with his balls instead, starting to feel the pull of his orgasm deep in his lower back, heat spreading pleasantly to his crotch.
Pran tilted his face up, towards Pat. “Kiss me?”
“Yes. I would kiss you. Of c-”
“No. Kiss me. Now. I want to come while I suck on your tongue.” It sounded like a supplication, Pran's voice so soft in Pat’s ears. So, Pat obliged him, knowing he’d already won anyway, and with pleading eyes such as the ones Pran had directed at him it was impossible to deny him. He quickly leaned closer, his mouth attaching itself onto Pran’s.
Their tongues met in a wet slide first, Pat pressed deeper in for Pran to close his lips around it and give it one hard suck, moaning quietly, just as long white jets came out of him, coming with his hand tight and fast at the top of his cock and his abs tensing under splashes of his warm spunk.
That was, without a doubt, one of the best orgasms in Pran’s life. He turned his face away from Pat’s, with one last suck on his tongue, and slowed down his hand, giving one last tug, one last rub at the head before letting go completely. He stretched his arms up, only because he knew that it would look enticing, that it would make Pat bite his lips with want.
And it did. Pat did bite his lips, his gaze roaming along Pran’s stretched body, down to his belly, enjoying the softness of the flesh there, covered in streaks of his cum, striking white against the golden colour of his skin. Fighting the need to put his mouth on his supple stomach and dig his teeth in there was hard, was the hardest thing in his life right now, harder than his dick, and the only thing that managed to prevent him from indulging, was the nails he was harshly digging in his own scalp.
“Tomorrow, I’ll do everything I said I would.” Pat’s voice was a lot more stable than how he really felt, his entire core was aflame with desire, unsteady. “Tomorrow…” He gave one last long look to the delightful vision that was Pran’s long satiated body, bringing his gaze back to his face, stopping on his lips, red from having his teeth pressed into them too hard, before standing up, slowly, to accommodate his protesting knees.
“You wanna shower?” Pat asked, shifting his legs around, the pressure of his pants against his erection uncomfortable. Pran’s gaze dropped down from Pat’s gentle smile to his huge bulging crotch, his tight hole spasming a couple of times at the simple idea of having him in there. “I can clean you instead, if you’re too tired.” Pran blinked back up to his face, a cocky little smile pulling at his lips.
“Yeah, use your tongue.” Back to the ordering tone, no more plea, nor begging. Pran, with a smile that stirred Pat’s insides hotly still on his face, reached down to run two of his fingers along his abdomen, using the tips to gather some of his semen. Pat’s eyes following, eagerness at the idea of doing just that, of using his tongue to lick him clean, made his heart beat faster, the noise deafening in his own ears.
“Pran…”
Pran wasn’t playing fair. The game was already over. He’d won…
“Come on.” Pran whined exaggeratedly, a pout on his lips that Pat desperately wanted to get in between his lips. Pran brought his hand up, his arm stretched up towards Pat. “I know how much you love my cum.”
Pat chuckled, his eyes down on the extended arm, the offering slick, thick at the tip of his fingers.
Pran was such a sore loser.
“You’re evil.” Pat whispered, amused, and bent down enough to put his mouth around the fingers, sliding his tongue in between the two of them, the salty sharp taste exploding on it.
Fuck.
Pran was right.
He loved it.
Pat gave another quick lick before straightening himself up, and gently pushing Pran’s arm back down, his thumb rubbing softly inside Pran’s wrist before letting go.
“I’ll get a wet rag to clean you up.”
Pran smiled up at him, relaxed, with a small agreeing nod. The serotonin doing its job inside him, as he closed his eyes after watching Pat leave in direction to the bathroom. Elation coursed through his veins, aftershocks of coming so hard, his toes still tingling, it was almost enough to make him completely forget about what had happened at the party…
Almost.
~
“Are you a fucking idiot?! Pran! Don’t walk away!”
“What do you mean don’t walk away? You just fucking insulted me!”
“I mean, did you hear yourself talk?! What do you think Pat would say if he heard you?”
“Oh, fuck you!”
“Pran!”
~
The quiet moan Pran let out from under the comforter was nothing like the ones Pat had pulled out of him yesterday. Pain throbbed across his skull. This was the kind of hangover that made you say that you would never drink again. Ever.
“I’m never drinking again. Ever.” Pran’s voice was quiet, his throat dry, raw. The trip from the bed to the bathroom was slow and painful, every step he took jolting his brain inside his head, spikes of sharp pain assaulting him. He took a minute to throw on a shirt, left on top of the pile of Pat’s dirty clothes, no real point in wearing anything clean before taking a shower.
A shiver ran along his naked legs, the ac always left too high by Pat, that warm fucker. Pran took the longest piss in the history of pissing, washed his hands and fought through the agony of glancing at his scruffy reflection to brush his teeth and get that awful taste out of his mouth.
His mind wandered back to last night. The great party. The heartfelt goodbyes from so many of their friends. That stupid fight with Wai…
Pran rinsed his mouth, throwing his toothbrush back where it belonged, next to Pat’s. At least for this week it was its place. Then it would come with him, to Singapore, alone.
He grabbed an ibuprofen, hoping it might calm some of that pulsating pain, before giving himself an unimpressed look, and running a hand along his stubble. Nothing too noticeable yet. He exhaled slowly and left the bathroom.
The sight that welcomed him as he stepped through the bedroom door assaulted him in all its gloriousness. His heart squeezed painfully. A scene that was so common by now, and so beautiful for it. Images of habits. Little things, little moments that he would have to say goodbye to…
Pat was leaning back against the counter, his green coffee mug in his hand, the other holding his phone, his thumb scrolling through what was probably some news feeds, a routine he picked up when they got the apartment. Acting like adults together was Pran’s favourite thing to do with Pat. Waking up together and sharing coffee and breakfast and kisses over their kitchen counter.
“Hey.” Pran’s voice was still quiet, from misuse and simultaneously a night of too much talking, too much drinking.
“Hi.” Pat said, the smile that split his face almost in half getting those little butterflies deep in Pran’s core to wake up and join in on their morning tradition.
Pran stepped up to Pat, fitting himself into the warm side of his body, his hand finding the curve of his slender waist and taking hold there. He tilted his head to the side to receive a quick kiss. A peck. The taste of black coffee on Pat’s lips.
“Did you put me to bed yesterday?” Pran asked, grasping Pat’s mug, with his hand still around it, to bring it to his mouth and take a sip.
The bitter liquid made him wrinkle his nose, a little gesture Pat loved, a little detail he had to kiss every time he saw it happen. Pat gave him a short hum as an answer, and another kiss, this time a gentle touch at the corner of his mouth.
“You were super clingy.” Pat let out a cute short chuckle at the memory. Pran hanging off his neck, asking for him to stay and let him spoon him.
Pran’s smile as a response was guarded, timid, before he talked.
“I’m sorry… about last night.” Pran bit his lips, his hand reaching up, the tips of his fingers tracing the shape of Pat’s dark eyebrow. “Not about the sex. About acting like nothing was bothering me.”
Pat’s only reaction was to give him another warm smile, a sign of acceptance, to show that he was already forgiven. Pat never held a grudge, at least not with Pran. He wouldn’t be able to suffer through not talking to him if he ever did, which was not to say he didn’t get mad… it just didn’t last long. Pran always reached out to make things better anyways. Most of the time…
“Are you ready to tell me what happened?” Pat said, bringing his coffee cup to his mouth to take the last sip and separating from Pran to give the mug a wash in the sink.
Pran, his eyes on Pat’s soapy hands, let a small smile pull at his mouth. It was something Pat did to please Pran… washing things as soon as he was done with them. Something he picked up on his own.
Pran’s gaze followed the cup, Pat lifting it up to his face to make sure it was properly washed, that no dark lines were still there or traces of coffee left on the porcelain. Pran’s compulsions could be such a hindrance. He had had to go over clean dishes again before, checking for anything left behind, he had had to rewash them, little spots left behind that he couldn’t let pass, obsessing… and Pat had noticed. Pat always noticed everything.
Pran walked to him, grabbing the wet mug from his hands, his hips leaning on the counter.
“I had a fight with Wai.” He told Pat, pulling a clean rag out of a drawer to dry the cup. His gaze down, away from Pat’s eyes, not ready to see what reaction would colour his features when he would tell him what the reason had been for that dumb fight. “About reconsidering leaving… because…” He continued, placing the now dry cup in its place, in the cupboard, right next to his blue one… “Because I’m scared, you’ll….” Pran had to swallow, taking a few seconds before being able to let it out. Let out his fears. It was when he finally looked back up, back into those fierce eyes that he could finally say it. “I’m scared that eventually you’ll hate me for it. For leaving… after everything.”
“What?!” Pat exclaimed, his entire frame slouching, physically burdened by the idea that Pat, himself, would have done something to make Pran give any kind of thought to the idea that he could ever hate him. He quickly stepped closer to Pran, his expression stunned first, then panic taking over quickly, coursing through his veins like poison, painful.
He placed his hand along Pran’s neck, his thumb resting where his pulse beat, strong and stable, his own getting in sync with it. Making each other steady. That was their thing too, both being a strong presence for the other. Well matched. Balanced. Equals.
“Pran, I would never hate you. I’m obsessed with you. I’m in love with you. You’re it for me. You know that.” This was no new information, all things Pran knew, for a long time now, still, hearing them coming out of Pat’s mouth, relief spread through him, reassurance that Pran’s foolish heart made the right decision when it started beating for this tall goofy guy.
Pran, reached up, sliding his hand on top of Pat's, pushing his fingers in between his. Fitting perfectly.
“I know it’s a silly fear, and it doesn’t make much sense.” Pran told him, not surprised when Pat opened his mouth to argue with him, probably to tell him that none of his worries were silly.
Pat has always tried to reassure him about anything Pran has deemed him worthy of sharing; doubts, insecurities. Pat felt valued when he told him what was weighing heavy on his mind… it was a euphoric feeling, being trusted by Pran. After having been kept at arm’s length for so long, because of who they were, who they were born as, it was a solace for Pat, being let into Pran’s life. Existence.
Pran lifted his other hand to press the tips of his fingers on Pat’s dry lips, resting them there to stop him from talking. “I just… I don't want you to be unhappy, waiting here, alone…” Pat gave a slight shake with his head, a gesture to attempt to dispel his worries. “I love you.”
Pat inhaled sharply, his heart picking up, a familiar flutter inside his stomach, every damn time those words left Pran’s mouth. It was such a rarity Pran exposing himself by expressing what he felt, it was almost something Pat could get off on, arousal and euphoria waltzing together inside him.
“Baby.” Pat barely recognised his own voice, low and emotional. He brought his other hand up, resting it on the other side of Pran’s neck, his thumb at the edge of his jaw. “I’m happy. You make me happy.” Pat roamed his eyes everywhere on his face, looking from his slightly parted lips, where his breath was coming out in little puffs of air, to his big shiny eyes, soft hazel in the light reflecting into them.
It was still tough at times realising that someone like Pran would give Pat the time of day, let alone be with him, letting him love him. “You, doing what you love, you being happy, is what makes me happy.” Pran felt his eyes prickle, blinking a few times to get rid of the unpleasant sensation. He would really have preferred not to cry this morning, especially with his hangover still making his brain pulsate sorely. “If staying is what will make you happy then I’ll support you, of course. But you have to make sure it’s about you, ok?” Pat’s gaze was sure, intense. Pran fisted his free hand in the side of Pat’s shirt, near his waist, fighting the need to pull him closer. “Not for me, or anyone else. For you.” Pran wanted to kiss him. So bad. His eyes falling to the enticing way the corner of his lips lifted. “I’ll support you no matter what Pran.”
Pran’s intention was to open his mouth and tell Pat that he was such a sappy asshole, but a quiet sob came out instead. And tears started to slide down his cheeks, warm and salty when they reached the seam of his lips.
“Dumbass.” Pran’s voice was wet. “You made me cry.” Pat has had that power forever, making Pran feel, making him sad, happy, in love… tears, smiles and laughter he could never fight off.
He made him alive.
Pat, with a soft laugh, shifted his thumbs higher, under Pran’s eyes to wipe the tears away. He leaned forward, gently pressing his forehead against Pran’s, his eyes gentle, he talked, his voice soft but still as unwavering, strong.
“Listen. I’m not saying it’s gonna be easy. It’s gonna be fucking hard, for both of us. But we got this. It’s because of all the things we’ve had to go through that I know we’ll be ok. That we’ll always be ok. No matter what”
“Kiss me.” Pran demanded, talking through the lump inside his throat. His entire body trembling slightly, desire and love burning in the cavernous space of his chest, where his heart beat strong and hard, responding to Pat’s words.
Pat obeyed him, with his eyes closed, he fitted his mouth against Pran’s, and found it already open, just enough to suck his lower lip in, a usual gesture that made Pat’s knees weak and stomach twist in pleasure. The kiss wet, a mix of saliva and tears slicking their lips as they met.
“I’ll wait for you. Forever.” Pat murmured, a tickle against Pran’s smooth mouth, before giving him one last kiss, a slide of wet lips, ending on a breathy moan out of Pran. “You’re stuck with me baby!”
Pat laughed, fighting the beginning of his own tears by using humour, and grabbing onto Pran’s waist to give him gentle pokes. Making Pran laugh was always a sure way to lift his spirits.
“Pat!” Pran exclaimed, with one of his hands pushed on his chest, and the other across his chin to keep him at bay from shoving his face into his neck. “Pat stop!” Pran chuckled the words out, shifting away against the counter, trying to escape Pat’s creeping fingers.
Pat threw his arms around Pran, an attempt to make him stay, pulling him flush against him. Big happy similar smiles painted on both their faces. Pran’s arms loosely held around Pat’s neck. His eyes followed one of Pat’s eyebrows as it lifted teasingly, high on his forehead. “Wait… so… you fought with Wai coz of me… do you mean to say, that, your best friend… defended me?”
“Pat.” Pran warned, his lips pulled in a fine line, knowing that this was going to be something talked about more than once, something Pat will use to annoy Pran to no end…
“Your best friend likes me more than you!” Pat’s tone was playful. He poked his tongue out, to add to the tease. Pran, a deadpan expression on his face, threw a punch at his stomach, soft enough not to hurt, too much, but hard enough to wipe that pleased smile off of his attractive face.
Pat, folded in half with a hand on his stomach called for a truce, his other hand lifted in surrender, a loud goofy laugh coming out of his mouth.
Pran would think that after dating for so long now, the teasing would have stopped or at least tapered down… He didn’t miss the irony of his own thoughts, as he was the first one to latch on to any kind of opportunities to tease his boyfriend.
Being with Pat sometimes felt like being in high school all over again. If he had pigtails, Pat would probably be pulling on them… Pran chuckled at the mental image, memories of last night running through his mind next. Pat refusing to fuck him. Pat winning…
“So…” Pran stepped back to Pat, welcomed by one of his happy smiles, he reached up and dug the fingers of both his hands into Pat’s clean hair. Pat followed the movement, automatically, arching his neck. “If I remember correctly.” Pran kept talking, slowly fisting his hand in Pat’s hair, the hold light. “You mentioned something about making me jump on your dick last night?” He pulled Pat’s head back, his grasp tighter now, getting a nice surprised groan out of him, his hands lifting up to grab onto Pran’s hips for support.
“Pran…” Pat said low and breathy. His silly soft dick already stirring, interested, recognising the tone of Pran’s voice for what it was. A promise. A promise that punishment was coming, always an assurance that a good time was to be had.
“Huh?” Pran’s voice was soft, a challenging light burning deep in his eyes, the same familiar one that was there when needed… Pran often did his best to dare Pat to do things, to go over and beyond what he thought he was capable of. This was not just about sex, it was about that and everything else, it was about making Pat someone stronger, someone that could hold both of them up without faltering.
Balance was core in their relationship. In between them, their dynamic, it had meaning. That was why there was no doubt in Pat’s mind that this was forever for him. In each other's eyes, they meant something. They mattered. And that was why he would always do his best to reassure Pran, to make him safe, erase his fears and insecurities. Hopefully for the rest of their lives…
Pran leaned forward to press his lips on his, slowly, waiting for Pat to respond before sliding his mouth lower, and opening it to bite down along Pat’s jaw.
“Pran… I have to go to work…” Pat whispered, pulling slightly against Pran’s hold. He should have fucking knew this was going to happen, from the moment Pran decided to step through the bedroom door, still messy from last night, wearing nothing more than his boxer shorts and one of Pat’s own dirty shirts hanging off his shoulders.
Their smells mingling nicely was enough to excite him. He should have known this was planned, nothing Pran ever did was random, everything was always very deliberate, with a goal in mind. Pat fucking hated it as much as he loved it.
With one last hard bite on Pat’s chin, Pran pulled his head lower, fitting it against his neck, where Pat moaned loudly, getting a strong whiff of his sweet fragrance. “Fuck.” The curse was muffled on Pran’s neck. “Your smell.” Pat lifted his hand up, grabbing at Pran’s neck, on the right side, his fingers digging into all the spots they could reach.
“Yeah.” Pran let out a sharp moan, the tip of Pat’s tongue drawing a long line along the column of his neck, ending with his mouth open on the spot right under his ear and sucking. Hard.
Pran, with his teeth digging in his own lower lip, took hold of Pat’s waistband and pulled him close, their hips meeting, the nice shape of Pat’s erection pressed against his crotch.
5 seconds, that was all he needed, to skillfully open Pat’s pants, and shove them down with his underwear, just enough to get his dick out, tucking them under his balls. He seized Pat’s dick, tightly and paused until Pat, no longer being able to wait, thrust forward, to start stroking him, swift and dry. Just like Pat loved. Fast and dirty.
Pran brought his mouth to Pat’s ear, to whisper his question. “You like that?” His hand picked up the rhythm along his dick, pulling gasping noises out of Pat. “Huh?”
“Yes. Yes.” Pat told him, in between two slobbering kisses placed on the crook of his neck. He’s been on fucking edge since last night, almost had ended up jacking off to Pran’s sleeping form, but had decided against it when the idea of waiting a little longer to get off, with Pran, was worth it. A self-inflicted edging that Pat has played with before, especially during the beginning of their relationship…
Pat raised his head up, pulling against the hold Pran had in his hair with a groan, when the blunt edge of his nails scratched gently at the underside of his cock. “Pran.” The tips of the fingers he still held around Pran’s neck pressed harder in the flesh, making a ball of molten heat drop down deep in Pran’s lower abdomen… Pat was not begging. Not yet. Just asking.
“What’s wrong babe?” Pran croaked, leaning forward slightly to feel the hold Pat had around his neck harder, his eyes closing under the pressure of Pat’s thumb on his Adam’s apple. “You wanna fuck me?”
Pat’s answer was to lean closer, Pran’s hold in his hair loose enough for him to be able to fit his mouth on his. Tongue out, demanding, pressing. Pran pushed his own out to lick along Pat’s, before giving it a noisy suck and tightening his fist back up against Pat’s scalp to pull him away. “Huh?” Pran asked, with a rise of his eyebrows and a cheeky smirk.
“Yes.” This was a plea; it was never really the choice of words that mattered but the tone Pat used. There was no doubt about the way Pat had breathed the word out, high-pitched and whiny, that he was begging Pran. Begging him for anything. Pran’s smile stretched wider, already celebrating his victory…
Pran blinked up, his gaze on the wall behind Pat, his entire expression switching to something completely different, a displeased frown stitching his eyebrows together. “Shit.”
“Hum?” Pat was out of breath, Pran’s hand still moving, jerking him off.
“Is that the time?” Pran gave a quick look to the clock hanging on the wall, before looking into Pat’s hazy eyes, unfocused, horny.
This was the punishment.
Pat moaned, not really hearing the words out of Pran’s mouth, his eyes squinting closed, his attention taken by the still tight grip Pran had on his dick, the quick up and down motion of his hands concentrated on the head. The efforts, obviously, to bring him close to the edge fast.
“I’m gonna be late, I promised your sister that I’d get breakfast with her.”
And with that Pran let go of him, fast. A frustrated whimper ripped out of Pat, his cock twitching, forcefully, the absence of Pran’s hand around him leaving him cold and painfully hard. Pran pecked him on the mouth with a quick bye and a pretty pleased smile, walking away towards the bedroom, without another glance, leaving a confused Pat behind.
“Pran…” Pat let out, strangled, the hand he had had around Pran’s neck frozen midair. The noise of the bathroom door closing and the shower starting bringing him back down to earth… He gave a look down at his erection, hanging out, flushed.
“Are you kidding me right now? Pran?!” Pat yelled, taking a step towards the bedroom, but a quick glance to the same clock Pran had looked at, told him that he was already late for work. “Shit!”
Pat rolled his eyes, tucking himself back in his pants, groaning, sensitive. Pran was such a little shit. A sore loser, and always had to have the last word… he loved that cruel dick.
Pat chuckled, grabbed his car keys, and planned his revenge for tonight as he left their apartment, an amused smile on his face.
He was going to miss this, once Pran was away… so better make the most of it before that.
):)