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Patrick has his eyes firmly fixed on the door after Tashi leaves, her presence hanging heavily in the already muggy air of the little hotel room. As he tries not to glance over at the blonde boy next to him, close enough to touch.
"Remember when you said you'd let me win?" Art asks, his lips still pink and swollen, from both Tashi and Patrick's kisses.
"That was a lifetime ago" Patrick retorts, his signature smirk even more annoyingly charming on his equally post kissed lips.
"What about my grandmother?" Art says indignantly standing up, his boner painfully obvious in his tented shorts, which even Patrick as resolute as he feels right now cannot help but take in, his own boner twitching slightly as he does so.
"I hope she has a fucking stroke" Patrick says, pointedly looking down at arts dick and then landing a smack to it directly. Art crumples in on him self in pain in a string of curses.
Patrick can only smirk despite his own untouched erection which grows more painful in his own shorts, as he gets up leaving an indignant art still in pain on their pushed together beds, as he heads for the bathroom.
Patrick who is hunched over the sink in their shitty dimly lit ensuite has two options, jerk off now and most certainly be heard by art, which now that Patrick thinks about it would not be the worst fate in the world, it's not like he hasn't heard arts hand against his dick in the night during their many years as room mates.
Or he can wait until art is asleep to jerk off... Patrick splashes some water on his face, his mind races with images, Tashi, her face, her neck, her fucking mouth on his, then her mouth on arts and then steadily images of his child hood best friend dominate his mind, arts muscular arm flexing and he palmed at Tashi's thigh with his calloused fingers, the way he nipped at her jaw and ear, so close to Patrick's own mouth that he could almost taste him, and then he could taste him as Tashi with a knowing gaze directed them, pulling away and letting them get lost in each other. Patrick remembers all too clearly the way arts mouth went pliant beneath his as he had the chance to explore his mouth with his tongue, devouring every shred of art he could get.
The heat in his body by now is almost unbearable, so resolutely he decides he will wait until art is asleep, tucking his boner (has he ever been this hard?) into his waist band and re-entering their shared room.
He's met with arts all too innocent gaze, his boner still at full mast and perfectly visible in the thin fabric of his shorts.
"Not jerking off?" Patrick says, the corners of his mouth curling up in their all too familiar taunt.
"Fuck off" he says, a shadow of a grin on his bitten lips.
He groans and springs off the bed, begining to pace.
"Holy shit man that was like-" art babbles "we just made out with THE Tashi Duncan, Holy fuck" Patrick grins, ever amused by his best friend as he follows him with his eyes around the room, he comes to a halt and plonks back down on the bed and sighs, head in his hands.
Patrick observes him, trying his best to keep his eyes trained up, feigning a nonchalant attitude he places him self next to his friend, feeling the springs in the mattress creak beneath him.
"Just a shame I'm gonna get her number tomorrow" he says teasingly giving art a nudge in the shoulder, who in response glares at Patrick though his hands, still flushed from head to toe, red is so his fucking colour Patrick thinks, perfect for a Stanford boy.
"Even more of a shame she didn't blow you, imagine your first blow job being Tashi Duncan" Patrick quips at a reddening art. Shoving him play fully, trying not to linger on his touch for too long.
He actually gasps "don't, it's lucky enough she was even here" he says chewing his thumb nail.
They both dissolve into a fit of giggles, truth be told Patrick also thinks it's a miracle they even got her in their room, but there's an idea mounting in Patrick's head, and he wants to see if art will rise to the bait.
"You've really never had a girl on her knees for you then?" He says, testing the waters. Art curls his nose up at Patrick's taunt, and his crude language.
"Yes you know that pat" he says, clearly bothered by Patrick's all too familiar teasing, Patrick smiles at the familiar nick name and then decides to plunge in head first.
"I could do it y'know" he says fiddling with the hem of his unbuttoned shirt.
Arts head shoots up to look Patrick in the eye as if to check if hes joking, his jaw practically hanging open.
"As in- you suck my dick?' he says a little bit too fast, in utter disbelief, but Patrick can tell he's got the idea under arts skin as his already wide pupils darken with what Patrick can only hope is lust.
"Yeah, I mean I taught you how to use your dick only fitting I show you this too" Patrick says as nonchalantly as he can muster, despite his aching hard on and his heating face.
Art deciding to ignore the obvious tease still looks wary as if at any moment Patrick will reveal this is one big joke at his expense.
Patrick senses his hesitation and immediately wants to retreat lifting of the mattress trying not to look too hurt.
"It's fine if you don't want me to man i-" but art grabs Patrick's forearm, his fingers hot a rough against the tones skin.
"No I want- I do want you to" he says, face heating up, as he gnaws at his lip, trying his best to meet Patricks eyes but instead settling for locking his gaze on the highest point of Patrick's cheek bones, close enough.
Fuck yes - Patrick says internally, as he licks his lips. He crowds Infront of art who is sitting on the edge of the bed, his lips brushing the intersection between his jaw and his neck.
"Don't worry arty" art cringes at the name , "i'm gonna take good care of you" he says with a humourless laugh, his smirk pressing against arts exposed collar bone briefly before Patrick makes his descent downwards, feeling art tense against him, still temporarily in awe at his friend.
He feels arts hot gaze on him as he trails down, lifting his shirt slightly to kiss along his v line and naval before settling on his knees framed betweens arts toned legs as he reaches for the hem of arts boxers, causing a small stirring noise to escape arts mouth.
Patrick pauses looking up at his friend.
"You look so good like that" a beat passes and Patrick can hear the cogs turning in arts head. "On your knees I mean" art says in a moment of boldness, bringing his hand to hover in front of his own mouth, as if resting the urge to bite down.
This causes a breathy gasp to escape Patrick as he hooks his fingers into arts boxers. Who just says effortlessly hot shit like that?
"Fucker" Patrick murmurs as he finally frees arts cock from it's confines. It's pink leaking and a lot bigger then Patrick remembers from sneaking glances in shower and locker rooms, and he feels a faint ache in his own dick at the thought.
He brings his hand up and teases along arts length, dipping his thumb into arts pink slit to gather pre come as lube. Making art hiss.
"Ah- fucking hurry up" he says impatiently, biting his already wrecked lip.
"Patience" Patrick taunts, still lazily dragging his hand up and down arts length. Nervousness builds in Patrick gut, admittedly overshadowed by his desire to swallow art down to the root.
He finally puts his mouth on the tip and a pained gasp leaves arts lips just like the grunts he makes during tennis, just a little more breathy and desperate.
Patrick licks a long stripe up arts dick, making it twitch.
"Fuck" arts whines as he finally places a hand in Patrick dark curls, making him groan against arts twitching cock. Art notices and experimentally tugs a little harder at Patrick's hair, and he smirks when he realises Patrick groans and clutches his dick at every pull and tug of his hair.
Patrick fully takes art in his mouth now, swirling his tongue against it and rotating his head, pained noises escaping art as Patrick forces his mouth further down.
Both boys hum in pleasure when Patrick's lips eventually reach arts base, his hair brushing Patrick's nose, obscene pornographic gagging noises fill the air and arts legs begin to shake, as he tries not to finish to early, his composure hanging by a thread,
Patrick is trying his hardest to remember to keep his teeth covered by his lips but he can't think about much of anything other than arts blazing dick in his throat.
He stops briefly for air, making art whine at the loss of contact. Patrick grins, breathless.
"So bossy" he scoffs, his jaw aches with exersion. Art huffs, The knot in his stomach growing as his dick longs for contact again, so using the large hand tangled in Patrick's dark hair he shoved him back down on his cock, making Patrick gag momentarily but then clutch desperately at his own dick in arousal,
he remembers briefly telling art in their boarding school years that Julie Parker had almost made him come just from tugging on his hair while they kissed. But damn this jerk for using it against him.
"Do you ever shut up zweig?" He says teasingly, rocking his hips into Patrick's mouth at the same rhythm that he pushes down his head, spit and precum dripping down his chin, their eyes locked as art takes in the positively filthy site beneath him.
He continues to fuck into Patrick's face hearing chokes and groans as he goes and he starts to feel the knot in his stomach come dangerously close to unraveling.
"Fuck I'm close" he chokes out barely and Patrick humms against his dick in acknowledgement, digging his nails into arts hips where his hands rest.
With one finally wild jerk on arts trembling hips he spills into Patrick's throat an obscene animalist moan wrenching its way out of his throat. Patrick tastes the salty cum spread across his tongue, snapping him back into reality from his dazed state as he swallows convulsively around Arts cock.
He releases Patrick's hair and slumps over, chest heaving as the roaring in his ears dies down, which is overshadowed when he hears a loud gulp.
He stairs down at Patrick who appears to have just swallowed his load.
"Your nasty" he giggles in disbelief, despite the stir the action caused in his softening dick.
Patrick grins, staggering to his feet and wiping his chin, slick with spit and cum. They both smile breathlessly and Patrick hits the light,a comfortable silence permeating in the room, this almost feels natural for the two. Patrick shrugs his shirt off in the dark and settles into bed a little away from art. Who has already shed his shirt and crawled into bed.
They sit in the silence for a moment, the weight of what they have just done hitting them both simultaneously.
"Patrick?" Art says into the darkness of the humid room.
"Hmm?"
"We'r good right?" He says, a pang of insecurity invading his chest.
"Of course" Patrick says knowingly, finding him self smiling against the not so soft sheets of the hotel bed.
A beat passes and art scoffs.
"If you think I'll throw the match tomorrow because you sucked my dick then keep dreaming zweig" he scoffs
"Of course not, good fucking tennis art."
The next morning they'd both conveniently find them self huddled together, arms wrapped around each other waists and faces buried in each other necks.
Which of course means nothing...