January 15th, 2009
Title: Outside of a Dog
Rating: It's going to be for grownups only. Expect sex.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
Late afternoon sun fought it out with the ambient dust in Andy's room to tangle in the dangling pink ribbons of the balloons, and if Patrick wanted to avoid laughing again, he'd better either take his glasses off or close his eyes.
His glasses clattered onto the floor, and the hilarious balloonscape disappeared into a muted blur, then Andy bit at just the right place on Patrick's neck, and Patrick closed his eyes anyway and groaned, because it felt so fucking good.
The satin sheet under his bare shoulders was stupidly slippery and had bits of squelchy rose petals embedded in it, and Patrick would have been having traction problems if Andy didn't have a solid grip on him. But Andy had Patrick securely held down; one hand wrapped around Patrick's wrists and held above his head, the other hand in Patrick's hair and holding his head still, and one knee between Patrick's thighs and planted firmly on the dragged-down crotch of Patrick's jeans. Pinned down. Not moving at all. Kissing Patrick senseless. Biting his neck. Driving him fucking crazy.
"Fuck, Andy," Patrick said. "Are you trying to kill me deliberately? Or is this all unintentional?"
Andy loomed over Patrick, letting go of Patrick's hair long enough to push his own out of the way. Andy without his glasses looked naked, early morning and vulnerable. He grinned at Patrick.
"This is deliberate, but don't die yet."
Patrick tried squirming, managing to get his chest in contact with Andy's, smearing sweat between them. Andy's jeans were undone as well, which meant when Andy ground down against Patrick, during the next kiss, Patrick got some actual fucking friction, some contact, and it felt so unbelievably good.
Patrick's groan was deep and loud, against Andy's mouth, and Patrick found himself released from Andy's grip suddenly as Andy scrambled off the bed to strip.
Very occasionally, Patrick didn't need an actual invitation. He dragged his jeans and boxers off, almost falling off the bed because of the crazy satin sheet.
Then, seconds later, they rolled across the bed, tangling arms and legs, cocks riding together between their bellies, wilted rose petals stuck in unlikely places, and Patrick thought it might actually be possible to burst from wanting and needing and having.
"Can you wait?" Andy asked, his voice steady even though his cock was hard as rock against Patrick's belly.
"What am I waiting for?" Patrick asked. "Because I'm not waiting for Christmas, but I could manage five minutes."
Andy chuckled. "Can you wait long enough for me to roll you over?"
Patrick swallowed, and Andy said, "Or I could blow you first...?"
"Do it," Patrick said. "If I lose it, it doesn't matter, does it?"
Andy was close enough that, even without glasses on, Patrick could still see him clearly, and he looked indulgent more than anything else.
"Come your brains out the instant I touch you, if you want to," Andy said. "It all works for me."
The glasses that Patrick found weren't his, so the world was a little odd, though still more in focus than with no glasses, and Patrick tossed the larger of his anal screws on the bed, along with the pump pack of silicon lube. The owners of the satin sheets were going to regret ever lending Matt, or whoever, their best pink bed linen, because that stuff stained like crazy.
Andy ran careful fingers over the screw, checking the surface for chips, as Patrick slithered back onto the bed, Andy's glasses sliding off his nose.
"This is not new, is it?" Andy asked, as Patrick sprawled face down on the stupid sheets, grabbing one of Andy's pillows to shove under his face.
All of a sudden, Andy was crouching over Patrick, and the screw was right in front of Patrick's face, making Patrick exceedingly glad he'd taken the time to wash all of his toys properly before shoving them in his pack.
"This looks to me like something you like to use, when you're by yourself."
The tip of the screw nudged against Patrick's bottom lip then clinked against his teeth, and Patrick groaned and nodded. "Yeah," he admitted. "Feels so good, hard and cold inside me."
The screw pushed inside his mouth for a moment, tasting of soap rather than ass, then dragged across his chin.
Andy's mouth touched Patrick's ear, whispering, "I'm going to fill your ass up, with the screw, then with my cock."
"Oh, fuck," Patrick gasped, and Andy bit at his shoulder and the cold of the screw touched his back, between his shoulder blades, then traced slowly down his spine.
The screw was heavy, resting across the small of Patrick's back, and Patrick closed his eyes and listened to the click of the lube pump pack and the hiss of the sheets as Andy slid down the bed. Lube dripped across Patrick's buttock, then down the crack of his ass, and the bed dipped.
"Still with me?" Andy asked, and the weight of the screw was gone.
"Barely," Patrick said, because, fuck, he was so fucking close to coming already, his whole body hurting from hanging on, his cock so hard he thought he was going to fucking die, and that was nothing compared to the burning inside his body...
The first touch made Patrick jump, and Andy spread a hand across Patrick's hip, steadying him, then the slow twist started, cold lube and glass.
Patrick tried not to thrash around on the bed, and he tried not to yell, without much success.
The screw twisted in steadily, a gentle slide and stretch that had Patrick pretty much screaming in frustration.
“Fuck,” Andy said, and his knee dug into the back of Patrick’s thigh and he loomed over Patrick’s shoulder. “Pete was right. You’re a noisy fucker, aren’t you?”
Breathing was hard work, and sweat ran into Patrick’s eyes when he opened them and turned his head to look at Andy.
“You… fucking… try staying quiet,” Patrick said though gritted teeth. “Under the same circumstances.”
Andy knelt back, clambering so he was straddling Patrick’s thighs, his hands moving across Patrick’s hips and buttocks, then the twisting pressure was back on the screw, sliding in easily.
“Enough,” Patrick said, somewhere between ‘too much’ and ‘heaven’, and the cold twist stopped.
The noise Andy made was raw and low, and his fingers touched Patrick’s ass, a flicker of contact around where the screw was a band of burning pressure, spreading lube, rubbing gently, easing the ache.
“Oh, fuck,” Andy whispered. “I want…”
“What?” Patrick asked, then the rough tips of Andy’s fingers were replaced by the flat slither of his tongue, slick and hot around the coldness of the screw.
Patrick’s body clamped down, on the screw, short-circuiting whatever control he had left, and he ground down on the satin sheet, shuddering helplessly as he came, Andy’s mouth still pushed against his ass.
“Gngh,” Patrick said, once he’d stopped coming. “Gngh, gngh, gngh.”
Andy flopped onto the sheet beside him. “Sure, you say that now, but that’s not what you were yelling a moment ago.”
“Gngh. Fuck. Was it embarrassing?” Patrick asked, pushing sweat-wet hair out of his eyes and removing a mangled rose petal from his chin.
“I don’t think so,” Andy said. “I’m going to consider it a set of instructions, actually, if you’re ready?”
The screw twisted back out easily, and Patrick listened to what could only be the sound of Andy wiping it on the sheet. The sheet was doomed.
Andy leaned across him, to rummage through the mess in a basket beside the bed, and Patrick nuzzled at Andy’s arm randomly.
After bopping Patrick on the nose with the condom he’d found, Andy tore the wrapper open with his teeth and said, “How do you want to do this?”
Andy looked up, a moment later, from rolling on the condom, and raised his eyebrows at Patrick.
“You’re embarrassed?” Andy asked, and Patrick grabbed a pillow and whacked Andy with it. “We just had some seriously dirty sex, which you didn’t seem to have any problems negotiating and which was unbelievably hot, and now you don’t know how to ask for the next bit?”
“You’re not fucking helping,” Patrick said. “Are you?”
“Look, I don’t have any suspension gear here, or any expertise in that stuff, but apart from that, I’m ready.” Andy grabbed a squirt of lube and slapped it on his cock, and something about the way he looked at Patrick while he smeared the lube over his cock made Patrick scramble onto his side.
“You, over the top of me,” Patrick explained, and Andy’s smile widened.
“Oh, yeah,” Andy said, and there was the inevitable moment of elbows and knees, and lube, then Andy slid sweetly into Patrick, and they both groaned.
Patrick twisted, changing angles, shoving a hand down to grab his own cock, and Andy said, “Go on, touch yourself, I wanna watch you jerk off.”
He could see Andy’s face, just inches from his own, and feel Andy’s cock, riding his ass. Sweat mixed with lube, gluing the sheet to Patrick’s side, and the smell of crushed roses was going to be forever imprinted on his brain as something improbably fucking hot.
Andy dug teeth into Patrick’s shoulder and drove in harder, hitting all the right places, ripping the satin, making Patrick howl, and smashing the bed frame against the wall.
Patrick hung on, one hand on his cock, the other on the edge of the mattress to stop himself from falling off the bed, and tried to keep breathing, tried not to die right then.
He did die, just a little, when Andy’s eyes slitted closed and Andy shuddered and groaned through coming, closer and more gorgeous than Patrick had ever imagined possible.
“Andy?” Patrick said, his voice coming out all tight, and Andy groaned and lifted his weight partially off Patrick, propping himself back up again.
“Go for it,” Andy said.
With Andy’s cock still inside him, and Andy watching his face, Patrick closed his eyes and straightened his knees, pushing his cock into his hand more firmly, and both he and Andy moaned.
“C’mon,” Andy said. “Or I’m going to have to change this condom and fuck you again.”
Andy rocked his hips, and fuck, he was hard again, or still, and Patrick lost it, kicking out as he came, almost crashing off the fucking bed because of the stupid fucking sheet.
He hauled himself back onto the bed, with Andy’s assistance, then Andy peeled the condom off his dick and examined his anatomy with a pained look on his face.
“Oops?” Patrick said.
“Oops is about fucking right,” Andy said. “Let’s not do that again.”
Patrick ran the few seconds when he had begun to come back over in his memory and grimaced. “Um, yeah. Next time, I’ll work on not clamping down on you then falling off the bed, right?”
Andy sprawled across the bed. “Satin-fucking-sheets. Who’d have them?”
“No one, at least not these ones in particular ever again,” Patrick said, dragging himself across the wrecked sheet to collapse half across Andy, face down near Andy’s groin. “Are you injured?”
“Not mortally,” Andy said. “But you get to top later. I’m out of action for fucking for a few hours.”
“I broke you,” Patrick said, and he knew sounded smug.
Andy’s hand rubbed the back of Patrick’s neck lightly. “You did.”
The bedside light clicked on, and Patrick breathed in the thick smell of fucking, letting it get right inside his head, then crawled up Andy, to collapse down beside him.
“Hungry,” Patrick said. “You know.”
“Lasagna,” Andy said. “You know. You could eat it frozen, directly from your mom’s freezer, via my backpack, or one of us could venture out to find a microwave.”
“Why don’t you have a microwave in your room?” Patrick asked.
“Because I’m not Joe,” Andy said, stretching up to grab the dangling ribbon of a balloon. “The real question is can we fuck entirely in cartoon duck voices?”
Patrick grabbed a ribbon too, and yanked a balloon down.
On to the final chapter