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Summary
Joe and Patrick kind of fail at the whole gay sex thing. (Ignore the lame title, that was the original name for it and I thought it was funny so it's staying.)
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Patrick nods approvingly. "Good. Don't hold back, okay? This should be good."
Joe starts to ask how he wants it, but then Patrick's rolling onto his stomach, getting on hands and knees, his ass in the air. "Oh," he says, because Patrick's rode him and they've done it missionary, but this is new. This is - wow. This is hot.
Joe gets behind him. "Tell me how it feels, okay?"
"We've done this, like, four times now, okay, I'll be fine. Fuck me."
Joe nods and lines up, then braces a hand on the small of Patrick's back and pushes in. Patrick groans and rocks back, his back arching, and holy shit, Joe's so fucking in love. He's so fucking hot, Joe can't stand it.
Joe says so in a weak voice, thrusting a little, and Patrick glances back over his shoulder, smirking a little, though he still looks a little overwhelmed, eyes glossy and lips parted. "I know," he says breathlessly, clenching around Joe's cock deliciously, and Joe groans and finds his rhythm, sharp, jagged thrusts that get Patrick losing his cool, sexy persona in minutes. He starts crying out, but not in pain, and then he's grabbing the sheets and writhing and biting the pillow and moaning and trying to roll his hips and Jesus Christ, what the hell. Joe's not complaining, but he doesn't understand.
"You're, like, totally slutty now. What happened?"
"It doesn't hurt anymore," Patrick answers, "and pain ruins everything good." Joe doesn't have a chance to answer, though he briefly thinks that that could totally be a song lyric, because Patrick says, "Wait, pull out," and Joe does, carefully, and Patrick says, "I wanna see you," turning onto his back. He brings his knees up, showing Joe where he's red and open, and Joe curses, shoving inside fast and instantly setting his pace again. He gets a hand around the back of Patrick's left thigh, pushing it up towards his head, and he's sure Patrick's not that flexible but the singer's not complaining anyway. He's making desperate little whining sounds, trying to keep up with Joe's erratic thrusts with slow, purposeful thrusts of his own, and then he reaches down to jerk himself off. It's harsh, fast, and desperate, and Patrick looks like he's enjoying every second of it.
Joe comes first, thrusting into Patrick one last time, hips pressed to his ass, spilling into the condom. He doesn't like it, doesn't like having a layer of latex between them, but he's too distracted to care. When he comes back to himself, he sees Patrick jacking himself off erratically, pushing down against Joe's dick like he's trying to fuck himself on it, his eyebrows crushed together and his tongue caught between his teeth.
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