by Jerry Cole
“Yeah, thanks yourself,” Patrick said, still not good at being in touch with his feelings, but Natasha had been pretty invaluable. “Not sure I could have done it without you.”
“Yeah, you could have,” Natasha said dismissively. She was smiling, though, so Patrick figured she’d accepted it.
With the door closed on their friends, and Isaac standing in the kitchen, looking delectable in his jeans and shirt, Patrick tugged him forward, planting a kiss on Isaac’s lips.
“So,” Isaac said when they parted, resting his hands on Patrick’s hips. “You wanna actually fuck a bit?”
“A bit?” Patrick said with a laugh. “I’d prefer longer than just a bit.”
Isaac smirked. “Depends on how easy you are for it.”
Patrick snorted. “Yeah, can’t argue with that.”
“Or,” Isaac said, hand on the back of Patrick’s head, bringing him in for a quick kiss. “We could just make out for a while.”
Making out was one of Patrick’s favorite things to do with Isaac. Isaac led him back to the couch, and Patrick settled over his thighs, arms over Isaac’s shoulders. Isaac’s mouth was hot, already red and swollen from kissing, and Patrick was going to keep it that way. His fingers played with the short strands of Isaac’s hair, tilted his face enough to make the angle just perfect, his tongue sliding against the back of Isaac’s teeth. It was wet, Isaac’s soft noises drowned out by Patrick’s own moans, and Patrick could feel his dick perking up.
Isaac let his hand drop to Patrick’s lap, pressing his palm to Patrick’s dick, rubbing gently as Patrick’s mouth went slack, Isaac tugging him forward by the hair, thrusting his tongue into Patrick’s mouth in a mimicry of sex. It was a lot, Patrick’s hips making small motions against Isaac’s hand, trying to get some friction.
“Easy,” Isaac whispered against Patrick’s mouth, popping the button of Patrick’s jeans to slip his hand inside, stroking his fingers over the shaft of Patrick’s cock, the fabric of his briefs growing wet with precum.
Patrick groaned, “Isaac,” turning against Isaac’s face and panting, fingers flexing at Isaac’s shoulders, “please.”
Isaac pressed forward, kissed Patrick’s shoulder and sucked the skin of his jaw between his teeth, working at the skin while his fingers made slow, torturous strokes around Patrick’s dick. There were two points of contact for Patrick to focus on, but he found it difficult to do, wanted the bite of Isaac’s teeth on his jaw, his neck, and the whole of Isaac’s hot palm against his dick, working him through his orgasm.
“All right,” Isaac said affably, and Patrick didn’t know how he could sound so calm when Patrick thought he was going to vibrate right out of his skin.
“Fuck you,” he bit out, moving one hand down to Isaac’s crotch, smirking when he felt Isaac straining at the zipper, and raised an eyebrow. “Not so calm, huh?”
“Not when you look like that,” Isaac said, and Patrick could hear the catch in his breath then. He blew out a slow breath, shoving Patrick’s jeans down haphazardly over his hips, and fingers sliding into the waistband of Patrick’s briefs, fingers finally, finally wrapping around Patrick’s dick.
“Fuck,” Patrick groaned, his own hand trembling as he fumbled with Isaac’s zipper, managing to work it down even with chasing his own pleasure.
They were panting into each other’s mouths, Isaac’s teeth nipping at Patrick’s bottom lip, and Patrick’s soft noises turning into groans as Isaac’s thumb swiped against the head, his fingers tracing the vein on the underside of Patrick’s cock. Patrick shuddered, fingers twitching against Isaac’s dick, and Isaac whimpered. It was the kind of noise that shot through Patrick, pleasure settling in his belly, and fuck, fuck, Patrick wanted.
“Yeah,” Patrick muttered, the two of them working each other’s dicks, the only noises the slick stroking of fingers, and the pants and moans they were making. It was more than Patrick could ever have expected a few weeks ago, and now he had Isaac back, Isaac who was so focused on making Patrick cum that his brow was furrowed in concentration, his eyes half-lidded as he stared down, to where his hand was twisted, pace picking up as Patrick’s hips were making small thrusts.
Patrick’s own hand was lax, Isaac fucking into the curve of Patrick’s fingers, and Patrick wanted to feel bad, but he was too focused on his orgasm, on the pleasure he could feel building, Isaac’s name on his lips.
“Come on,” Isaac whispered, breath catching as Patrick jerked his wrist, kept his fingers tight. “You feel so good.”
“Please,” Patrick said again.
“Maybe when we take it to the bedroom,” Isaac said abruptly, and Patrick moaned. “I’ll stretch you out on the bed, finger you open until you’re begging me for it.”
Patrick could imagine it, the burn of Isaac’s fingers, the brush against his prostate, his dick forgotten as it leaked against his stomach. The pleasure that had been building seemed to take him by surprise, had him coming over Isaac’s fingers, his own twitching half-heartedly against Isaac’s dick. He wasn’t expecting Isaac to cum not a beat later, shuddering beneath Patrick’s body and fuck, Patrick closed his eyes, buried his face in Isaac’s neck.
“Fuck,” he said, boneless. He was sure he was crushing Isaac, but Isaac didn’t say anything about it, seemed content to brush his fingers through Patrick’s hair, his own breath heavy as he removed his hand from Patrick’s pants. Patrick did the same, wrinkling his nose weakly at his hand. “Gross.”
Isaac laughed gently. “We’ll clean up in a minute.”
Patrick was smiling as he pulled back, leaning in to kiss Isaac chastely. “You mean when you spread me out and finger me to another orgasm?”
Expecting a blush, Patrick was surprised by Isaac’s wicked smile. “Well, I did promise.”
“You’re gonna kill me,” Patrick said.
Isaac shrugged easily. “If you don’t wanna do that, we could always have another shower.”
That reminded Patrick of the first intimate moment they’d had, showering together. He had missed those moments, he realized, more than the sex. It was nice, having a regular partner who knew what Patrick liked and just how to touch him, but more than that, he loved the small moments. Isaac making him coffee, Isaac joining him in the shower, Isaac popping in when Patrick was working just because he could.
Patrick said as much, whispering the words against Isaac’s neck, and Isaac’s grip tightened on Patrick’s hair, the other against Patrick’s hip. It should have been gross, but Patrick didn’t care, wanted to drag Isaac into the shower, wanted to spread him out on the bed and take care of him, relearn Isaac in ways he couldn’t have predicted he’d forget.
“I almost didn’t have you,” Patrick said, able to hear the anguish in his voice.
“Patrick,” Isaac said gently, lips pressed to Isaac’s cheek. “We have each other again. We shouldn’t forget the breakup exactly, but we’re learning from it. Just focus on us being here, together.”
Patrick smiled, pulling back to raise his eyebrows. “I would like us to be together somewhere else.”
“The shower?” Isaac asked, moving his hands to the hem of Patrick’s shirt. Patrick obediently lifted his arms and Isaac tugged the shirt up and off, tossing it somewhere in the direction of the bedroom. “I could be persuaded.”
“Liar,” Patrick said, shivering at Isaac’s hand playing with the knobs of his spine. He was more than aware that he’d cum over Isaac’s hand not a minute before but fuck it, they were clearly headed for the shower. “You’ll cum easily.”
“Sure,” Isaac said, at the double-entendre. “Then we can sleep together.”
“Fuck,” Patrick said, closing his eyes at the thought of waking up next to Isaac. “I’ve missed that.”
“Me too,” Isaac said gently, and this time, the kiss was soft and overwhelming and full of promise. “I’ve missed you.”
“You have me,” Patrick promised. “For as long as you want me.”
“A really long fucking time,
” Isaac said, with just as much promise.